#She would have taken care of all 5 of the missing kids and Charlie so well if she got the chance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jackiequick · 1 year

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Meet more of the family, Miss Stark & The Youngest Barnes | Marvel OC

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Liv Stark ⌚️

Full name: Olivia Charlotte Stark-Vega

Nicknames: Liv, Vi, Lottie, Lola, Clary, Char, Charlie, Miss Vega, Snark Central

Age range: 5-18

Height: 5’1

Relationship status: Single

Background: American with Peruvian, Polish and Italian descent

Father: Anthony Stark

Godmother: Elizabeth Stark

Godfather: Jason Underwood

Brother & Sister: Rei and Morgan Stark

Step-mom: Pepper Potts

Uncles: James Rhodes, Happy Hogan & rest of The Avengers

Abilities: A bit of geek and hacker due to her love of technology, basic hand to hand combat since she enjoys boxing and her witty personality. She’s young so she hasn’t gotten plenty of skills yet.

Personality: Liv has a smart touch, gentle soul, sweet, charming and easy going. She is a bit of a bitchy girl and stubborn about everything she does. If she wants to do something, she will probably sneak out to get it done. She got a some of anxiety and a nervous twitch (which would grow over the years since Liv is afraid of being alone and in the dark about a lot of things), this creeping fear and sadness that will take over her if not careful.

- However Liv is very accident prone, she’s always getting hurt one way or another, giving everyone an heart attack since the age of 9 since she’s always been a active little girl. So in result she give Tony and something for Rei to roll his eyes about.

- From an young age, she has always been into tech, jewelry and over all. Wanting to build and grow a her own little things, she was a Stark it’s a given! She watched a lot of movies so she got creative with her ideas.

- Random fun fact, one of her favorite movies is 10 Things I Hate About You, just because she likes Kat Stratford’s aesthetic and attitude. But it’s many Action Movies and Rom-Coms that she will watch with Pepper, that she enjoyed. It’s where she gets her inspiration for things.

- She adored the idea staying in the lab, tinkering and cleaning up the inventions that were made. She practically lived in there, staying home to help and learn. It caused never want to leave that house in general, having a bit of mouth on her after hearing the adults always speak their minds (so don’t be surprised this girl start rambling and throws out whatever bullshit that appears in her thoughts), but it allowed her to be a safe within those four walls.

- It didn’t take long for her to start filling up a notebook with designs on how to incorporate technology into fine jewelry (aka The Stark Watch, necklaces to tracking and security measures, bracelets to be use for defense purposes and rings can be transformed into gauntlet).

- She’s always been bit of business women! Wanting to create products to help people, keeping an eye on things from behind the scenes, represent and model for Stark industries and such.

- But she was still so young, so her parents and siblings didn’t want her to grow up so soon in the spotlight of it. She’s a kid! And she understood that, it bothered her but she understood why. So she stays hoping her time could come where she can help out the group.

—> Because little did she know that theses little gadgets and gizmos that would be incorporated into the ideas her father and older brother would use as fashion purposes in the future with their own suits. Aka they’re Iron Man suits!

—> I know you may be wondering about her family life, well Liv raised well per say. She had to move around a lot as a child, especially since Tony never wanted the public attention to be on her just yet and her mother wasn’t sure that she would taken care of. It took convincing from Pepper and Jason to let her stay home with them, so everything was fine after that.

Her relationship with her father was an nice one. When it comes to parenting his kids, Tony was a rather dramatic, embarrassingly loud at times, a little cocky and stubborn parent per day, so it’s a bit difficult to get him to calm down and talk softly with him. Tony cares a lot about his children, having Rei and Liv to take care of but he was always busy with the company having to arrive home late, events he had to attend and ending up being tired.

Other than that, he tried to make time for his son and daughter, bringing them to the lab and everywhere he could. Even if he got in trouble afterwards. Tony always tries to inspire his daughter to do what she loves and experience things, be caring, make sure she was alright too and etc. But they make it work!

Ohh, did I forget to mention how annoying and protective Tony can be as a parent? He will take everything very seriously or not serious at all, acting out if something goes wrong and he tends to be questioning his motives. Even blaming himself if something bad were to happen to his family. Tell Tony Stark you have a crush? He sends JARVIS to keep an eye on you. Ask Tony for something like a new backpack for school? He buys you something else.

In his defense, he does everything with so much love (even if he doesn’t always portray it in the best way).

Her relationship with Rei however—you wouldn’t think it but rather wholesome, since she’s the little sister he never exactly wanted. They were completely opposite to one another, he’s grumpy and she’s easygoing, he rather work alone in silence and she rather work with music blasting and etc. But as much as Rei may be annoyed and want to throw his little sister out of the house, deep down he cares about her, even though he didn’t show it to her very often and he’s very protective of her ever since he was a child.

Rei and their father, always trying to keep Liv out of harms way and safe at home. Even if they tend to fail at times.

Since Tony was always busy, Rei tends to be one to look out for Liv and keep her in check, being her personal bodyguard for everything she does. If it was up to him, Rei would wrap his baby sister in bubble wrap and not let her leave the house!!

When they were kids (and even now) Liv would follow Rei wherever he went and wanting to copy him, be like her big brother because he always around the corner with something snarky to say to her and a huge potty mouth (it resulted in her having a huge attitude as well). She will always be the one to encourage Rei’s designs for suits and talk to dad about something.

He talks and she will absolutely love to listen to him (even if 85% of the time she has no idea what he’s talking, cause he’s smarter than her at a lot of things.)

Sometimes you will find Liv in a moody way shutting everyone out of her room and just curled up in a ball, similar to brother and to be honest, it concerns Rei a bit when it happens. But he would probably try to snap her out of it, even not he will let her be in her moody moments. He knows how it is

At the end of the day, no matter how different they were with one another and the paths they choose, they cared in their own way. Even if when they’re public, they act like they don’t know one another.

—> As for her relationship with the Avengers and Young Avengers! Ooof let’s stick to first impressions, shall we?

She met all of them when she just a child, joining Rei and Tony on a simple basis day with the group. She first started watching her father talking with Bruce Banner, and she took a liking to him very much seeing how nice, gentle and reserved he can be. But there an edge to him, that she found to be cool.

As for when she met Rick, it was when him and Rei were chatting. Her first impression of him, to her the young man is that he looked like a old school Disney Channel Star with a nice smile and warmth, with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

So when she saw Bruce, Rick, Rei and Tony all work together in their own separate labs blasting music so loudly..the only thing Vi said, “Oh no, there’s 4 of them!”

When she met Natasha, she just cool and rather chill per say acting like the nonsense agent with a soft side. Romanoff’s daughter on the other hand, she was just curious about her and Vi liked that.

Same thing goes for Clint and his daughter, they were just cool people. She was always amazed with the skills they had, and a part of her always knew that Clint Barton was a family man. And she was right, when they appeared at the Barton’s Barn years later.

Meira and Luna were just so relaxed, gentle and sweet girls. She adored how they acted with their teammates and siblings, especially Meira since she was a little sister just like her. Sweet and snarky.

Ethan was just super chill and suspicious of everything, Rei didn’t like him and carried Vi alway from from very quickly. Cole was just so mischievous, snarky smile and tossing jokes every day, making Vi laugh or snort. But a part of her respected him greatly, cause she heard he was VERY powerful.

Liane, well she didn’t like her right away. She annoyed Olivia very quickly and she sent painful glared toward the girl who tried to make friends with her. After a while she softened toward Ms Felton, but it took a long time cause she saw Rei didn’t like her either.

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Daphnia Barnes-Wilson 🪫

Full name: Daphnia Ramona Wilson-Barnes

Nicknames: Daphne, Nia, Daph, DD, Sparky, Daffy, Fifi, Birdie,

Other name while on the run: Davina, Robin

Age range: 7–20

Height: 5’7

Relationship status: Single

Parents: Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson

Background: American with Mexican and Chilean Origin

Aunt: Sarah Wilson

Uncle: Steve Rogers

Sister: Laurie Wilson

Brother: Benjamin Barnes

Abilities: Marksmanship and Acrobatics, having took some gymnastics classes. She’s also a bit of a fast learner so she’s fluent in English, Spanish, Russian, Portuguese and some French.

Personality: Gentle, a little broken due to being let down a lot in life, warm-hearted, clumsy, a bit shy and humorous at times. But if she’s anything like her fathers, she’s stubborn enough, a little self-sacrificing, and willingly to help no matter what.

- Sam and Bucky have been together for a while now, since their chemistry was a challenging one it always hard to settle down and figure out what they want. However a house, family and future for their kids was always one of them.

- They already had Laurie and Benjamin, so they thought two kids was enough as it is. But things took a small turn when they stumble at a orphanage in Brazil for a mission and met this no named little girl who gave both of them the most honest smile.

- Sam has always been one to have a big heart, so wanting a big family was always part of that. So his heart spoke before his words ever could, wanting to adopt her. Bucky Barnes on the other hand was a little hesitant—well more like worried—about the whole thing, he always wanted a little piece of normalcy and he got it with Sam and their kids. But adding a 3rd? That was a lot of responsibility, but he caved as soon as he hung out with the girl.

- To be honest, they saw a bit of themselves in her. So she was adopted when she less than 10 years old and brought into a family of oddly comforting heroes. They named gave her a name and did everything they could to make her feel comfortable. Welcomed.

—> So Davina (or Daphne) as they called her grow up with her parents and siblings. As loved as she was, she always felt alone and feared that it will all be taken away from her. Especially with the fact that her parents were heroes themselves, there was always a chance that they can end up hurt or worse, if not careful.

- But Bucky always made sure to tell her and every single one of his children, “Don’t worry, I’ll always come back home to you guys, no matter how long it takes.” And Sam would tell them, “You’re our kids, we will always love you and be there to tuck you in bed whenever we can.”

- Sometimes they would be gone for 2-3 days, maybe a week or a whole month leaving the kids in care of family and friends. Laurie was the oldest of the siblings, so they could handle themselves very well and or sneak off to join the fight ending with them in trouble. Benjamin being the second oldest, so he rather stay behind during the fight and stay with his sisters and friends.

- Speaking of fights and travel, when if plenty say battle isn’t place for children. Sometimes Sam and Bucky had no choice but to bring there kids with them to places like Wakanda, Stark Tower, France and or let’s say Germany for instance. Even though it was a hassle to bring children along for the ride, it was an interesting learning experience and a way to test out their kids

- And to be honest, Daph and her siblings enjoy it a little too much. Cracking jokes, running around, exploring different places and meeting interesting people, and creating new ideas among one another. It was a field trip for them sometimes.

-> And if your wondering, yes Daphnia is team #HateJohnWalker! When she found out, she was ready to take her baseball bat and wack his head with it, demanding the Shield back with a glare. Bucky couldn’t be more prouder of her in that moment laughing, meanwhile Sam rolled his eyes unable to believe what he heard.

- Random fun fact, she played baseball before she was ever adopted and had really good aim, depending on where she was hitting. It was a trait her siblings carried on as well, especially Benjamin even if he was more reserved one, he had a great aim.

- She always loved any sport that involves movement and play, soccer being one of them (since she lived in Brazil for a while). She liked to think she was rather talented when it came to that, even if she was a problem when it came to being around other kids, having a small temper and glaring at other people. Mainly, it was her insecurity that she hid underneath her own glares.

- Matter a fact all the kids were talented in their own way ever since they were younger. Daphne when she was very little, believed at the time that she didn’t have any good talents and wasn’t as smart enough as it is. Until Sam took her out to the shopping and noticed that she stopped in front of small gymnastics building with wide eyes, softly grinning at the sight. She pleaded for him to let her walk in and see the girls, he nodded letting her watch. As she did, Daph realized she wanted to join in on the fun and dance as well. Sam couldn’t stop himself and called Bucky for his opinion on it.

- She started her classes soon enough and enjoyed it for the most part, her body was rather sore after some classes. So she wasn’t too happy about that part. When Bucky told Nat about it, the Russian spy came in shocked and said, “If she wanted to learn some acrobatics, why didn’t you come to me or Lydia? Barton would’ve showed her!”

- Bucky just rolled his eyes and replied, “Cause she wanted that to be her own thing. And it doesn’t hurt to have some normalcy around her, Romanoff. I think it’s a good thing..” And Bucky was right about that, since he loved seeing his husband and children happy, enjoying themselves and having a break from the hero world. Hell, he goes to every talent show, buys items needed and participates in whatever is needed. Even if he’s not too happy about it at first.

- Of course as much as acrobatics were her own thing and all she ever wanted to do, so she can have that skill set. That didn’t stop the idea of having good marksmanship in her left corner, she was already good with a baseball bat and Bucky was more than happy to show the basics of how to hold/use a gun to his kids. Sam wasn’t too pleased about that idea though saying, “They’re too young!”

- And to be honest, Daph was pretty good with a gun. Swinging it swiftly and tossing the gun in her hands, holding it up to her target (which was an old target board hanging outside nearby the trees). However that didn’t mean she didn’t play around with the gun at first, holding in her hands and pretending to be a spy. “Barnes, but you can call Agent Daphnia Wilson, at your service.” She said with a giggle, humoring herself.

- Daph was always a little silly, cocky and daring. Not thinking first and asking questions later kinda gal—oops! So it lead her to getting in trouble sometimes, breaking certain curfews if she out at the movies with a friend (like with one of the young avengers), being a little lazy about things and running away from her problems like a champ. But by the end of the day, she was good girl.

-> Speaking of Young Avengers and Older Avengers. You’re probably wondering who’s her favorites are and first impression were of the teams huh? Well, here are your answers.

Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff were a given to being liked by her, due to her parents being friends with them. I mean come on, they are basically Captain America, The Black Widow and the rest of Cap’s Quarter.

Moving down the list Thor was always a silly man to her, hearing stories how he speaks in old English and is very noble when it comes to the things that he does. According to the stories from Sam, he was a rather loud fella with a good heart.

Clint Barton, she took a liking too finding his simple ways of life and honest charm to be a nice thing to see. Plus Clint has a similar murder stare to Bucky, so it was funny to see their resting faces when they’re in the same room together.

The man, the myth, the legend himself (or that’s at least what people like to say) Tony Stark was always one of a kind. She was very nervous to meet all of The Avengers, one of them being Stark having seen how the persona he displayed on TV screens and the stories. But in reality, Tony was just a genius goof with snarky humor, so it lighten up her mood.

It was like Bruce Banner sensed her nervousness from a mile away since she appeared in The Tower. He noticed the child behind Sam Wilson holding her jacket, leaned down to her level to kindly introduce himself to the girl and watching parents reactions. Soon enough, with Bucky leaning against the wall with a nod of encouragement, Daph started talking to Bruce with such softness and gentleness.

As for the rest of them, she met them some time later. The Young Avengers. She met the Stark siblings, Rei wasn’t in the lightest mood having no like the idea of meeting Barnes or Wilson’s kids but Olivia gave her a warm welcome and waved at her before rushing off to meet her friends at the mall.

Natasha Romanoff’s daughter Rochelle was kind enough to show her and her siblings around, chatting with them knowing it felt to be the new kids. Daph liked her reddish hair and kind smile.

Liane was something else, having been on a rambling mess when she met Daph and trying to figure out what to do with her plans. Laurie laughed as her sister snicker at the blonde, meanwhile Benji just rolled his eyes confused wanting to get away from there.

Meira was and will always be a delight to meet, since Daphnia met her that same week in The Tower’s kitchen and taste testing her new batch of cookies. They were delicious.

Speaking of food, when Daphnia met Rick she got the same warmth and kindness she remembered from being Bruce. But this time it involved snacks and jokes around his week at The Tower, she was all ears listening to him as they entered the kitchen to find some chicken nuggets.

Cole and Luna, it was more magic and fun spells when she came to see them. The two were casting some spills, when she got caught in one of them being turned into a little mouse by accident. Cole laughed as Luna worried, but they turned her back to normal soon enough.

Ethan was the 3rd sibling she met, and she thanked all the Stars and Stripes that it was a simple meeting. He was watching a movie, being Monsters Inc. when she met him the guy joining The Young Avengers for a movie night.

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I hope you liked it and thank you for taking your time to read this!

If you want to know anything about theses OCs, let me know in the comments below.

Please like, comment, share and reblog if you like.

Tags: @gcthvile @rickb-chaos @msrochelleromanofffelton @mallowbee4 @mandylove1000 @gaminggirlsstuff @whitewiccan @rooster-84 @parisparker269 @sherloquestea @starkleila @meiramel @blueboirick and etc

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jacksdinonuggets · 8 months

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Little Vaggie needs a babysitter! luckily, Lucifer is there for her.

Vaggie woke up in the big soft bed that she and her partner shared. It was really cozy and warm. She didn’t feel like doing adult things that day. In all honesty, today just felt like a regression day for her.

“Babe, we have to get up,” Charlie tried shaking Vaggies shoulder.

“Don’t wanna,” She brought the blankets up to her nose.

“Why not, sweetie?” She asked.

“Not feeling big today…” She admitted shyly under the blankets.

“That’s okay, Vaggie, you can be small today but I can’t look after you. I have errands to run,” She told her.

“What? B- but you always ‘ook after me!” Vaggie objected. What was she going to do? Charlie couldn’t leave her!

“I know, I know…” Charlie tried to calm her little one down. She knew she’d be out for almost the whole day and Vaggie wasn’t exactly comfortable regressing around the other residents. But, someone she did get along with well was her dad.

“Alright, I have an idea. I’m going to call over my dad so he can babysit you, ‘kay?” she told her.

“O-Okay…” Vaggie pouted. Charlie ruffled her messy hair before helping her get changed.

After they finished, Charlie got out her phone and called her dad.

“Y’ello,” He answered.

“Hey, Dad. I was wondering if you could come over in like 5 to 20 minutes to watch over Vaggie for the day? She’s regressed and I don’t want to force her to be big,” She explained the situation to him.

“Sure! I’ll be happy to babysit! See you in 10!” He said before hanging up.

Charlie sighed in relief. She was glad he was so supportive of them. If he wasn’t she wasn’t sure what she’d do.

As they waited for him, Charlie tried entertaining Vaggie with a couple of stuffed toys. It managed to keep her busy until he arrived.

“Hey, Charlie!” Lucifer appeared in the room in a puff of smoke and glitter. He gave her a hug before kneeling down before Vaggie.

“Heya, little one, I’m going to be babysitting you today. Want some candy?” He pulled out a piece of wrapped chocolate and gave it to her. She gladly took it.

“Dad, she hasn’t had breakfast yet, you can’t give her candy!” Charlie scolded her father.

“Oh right! Sorry, apple pie,” He stood up and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Its okay, you didn’t know. Now, it’s pretty easy, just keep her entertained, fed, and make sure to change her when she needs to be. Sometimes she’ll be pretty embarrassed and won’t tell you, just make sure to check every now and then, alright?” She whispered into his ear. Vaggie had to wear protection because she was pretty out of touch with her bladder when small. It was sort of like a trauma response though since she mainly regressed due to her traumatic experiences during exterminations. Using the big kid bathroom also made her slip out of her small headspace a lot.

“Alrighty, Charlie. Remember, I was around when you were a baby, I can handle this,” He assured her.

“Hmm, okay,” Charlie replied nervously. This was the first time Lucifer would be babysitting Vaggie. Sure, he’d taken care of her every now and then but Vaggie was a lot different.

“Okay, Sweetie, I have to leave now, but my dad’s going to stay here and watch over you. You’ll have tons of fun, I promise,” She kneeled down to the floor where Vaggie was playing.

“I’m gonna miss you…” She mumbled behind her pacifier.

“Oh, baby, I’ll miss you too,” She gave her a hug before she left the room and hotel.

Now she and Lucifer were alone in their giant bedroom. It was very nerve-wracking for Vaggie since she’s barely regressed around him before. It was scary. Her stomach grumbled which snapped her out of her scared thoughts.

“Looks like someone hungry! I’ll fix something up for you, don’t you worry!” He assured her. He summoned a small, floor chair with a tray attached to it. It was the perfect size for Vaggie. She was embarrassed at first and hesitated but once Lucifer assured her that it was alright and he wouldn’t judge, she crawled in. He set the tray down and made some cut up eggs appear. As he fed her, he noticed how worried and scared she was during the whole thing. She would eat with uncertainty and nervousness.

Once she was done and full, he took her out of the small seat and set her back in the middle of her mess of toys and books.

“What do you feel like doing?” He asked her. She shrugged, not knowing exactly what she wanted to do.

“How about a story? You want that?” He suggested. She nodded and slowly crawled over to his lap, still worried about being small around him. He smiled and opened the book.

He read about five books before Vaggie got bored. She held a kitty stuffed animal that reminded him of key-key. The stuffed toy was cute and he pet its head when he was done, which made Vaggie giggle a little.

She wanted to play by herself for a while so he sat at the desk, scrolling on his phone and updating Charlie about what was happening. He also made her a sippy cup with some juice in it.

“T-t’ank you,” She mumbled when he handed it to her. Lucifer lit up. She spoke! That must mean she trusts him! He got so happy that his smile reached all the way up to his eyes.

She drank all the juice so fast that it kind of scared him. Was she that thirsty? Or maybe she just liked the juice.

“You like the juice?” He asked. She nodded happily. Lucifer smiled.

The rest of the day went pretty smoothly. Vaggie did however have a tantrum when he went to change her diaper. She only allowed Charlie and Charlie only to change her but in the end, she ended up getting a fresh, new one on her anyways.

When Charlie came back, she found that Vaggie had managed to age back up on her own. She was now doing chores around the hotel, trying to make up for the time she’s lost. Lucifer told Charlie about what happened and all the details. She thanked him and the two went their separate ways.

#age regression #sfw agere #agere fanfic #regressuary #hazbin hotel agere #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel age regression #agere writing #padded age regression #padded agere #ageredips #agere diaps #sfw agere diapers #sfw diaper wearing #sfw age regression #sfw littlespace #sfw interaction only

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satashiiwrites · 2 years

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wip whenever

Was tagged multiple times quite a while ago for this and am now just finally having some time to post something. Tagging whoever would like to play along.

Title: Mana’olana, Chapter 3

Fandom: Hawaii 5-0

Pairing: McDanno (not quite there yet), past Danny/Rachel, current Danny/Melissa, past Steve/Catherine

Other tags/warnings: fixit fic for the end of season 5. Not Rachel friendly fic. Deals with child custody arrangements and canon child illness. First draft. Danny POV.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when Rachel met him at the door to the hospital—she said she was there to be supportive but he suspected she was there just to make sure he did the test. The weight of her hand resting on his elbow made his skin crawl but he held still as the needle went into the other arm and the tube filled with the dark maroon of his blood. The nurse who’d drawn his blood was good and told him he had nice veins—whatever that meant.

He got a nice smiley face band aid for his efforts.

“Thank you for doing this for me,” Rachel said as he stood to leave. They’d not made small talk while he’d had his blood drawn.

“I didn’t do it for you,” he said, maybe a bit too sharply.

She pressed her lips together, vexed at his tone but trying to hide it. “For Charlie then.”

“For Charlie,” he agreed.

Rachel paused, seeming to pick her words carefully. “We should have the results back in two days.”

“Okay.” That was what the nurse had said. He’d made sure they had his phone number as well as Rachel’s. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her to tell him but that he wanted to be on equal footing. He was tired of being pushed aside.

Danny was maybe more angry now than he’d been in a while with Rachel. Everyone thought he just was the type to blow up when angry about something but they missed the fact that when he truly got incandescently angry about something he got quiet about it. Rachel knew this and it was why she was trying to make him talk to her when all he wanted to do was snarl at her.

“If it matches we’ll have to set up the donation. The doctors said sooner was better.”

“I figured as much.” The docs wouldn’t want the disease doing more damage—made sense to Danny. Steve would make sure he got the time off and with Kono being gone on her honeymoon they’d talked about having a two week stand down period for 5-0 where they’d have limited cases assigned due to being down Kono.

“Well then… take care of yourself Danny.” Rachel leant forward as if to kiss his cheek and he pulled away from her, making her hand also fall away from his arm. He didn’t want her touching him right now. Didn’t want her trying to manipulate him.

Danny was done with her. She’d kept his kid from him. She’d played enough head games over the years that he was just so done with her after today. Watching Malcolm Leddy and seeing the pain the guy was in over his only daughter had finally made something click in Danny about his own relationship with his kids.

He’d completely understood Leddy’s drive for revenge and what drove him.

You’d do anything for your kids.

Anything.

Rachel had taken that from him. Taken away his opportunity to be there for Charlie and blocked so many attempts to spend time with Grace over the years. Made him move thousands of miles from home because it’d been what she wanted with her new preferred father for his kids. Dictated the time and place when he could see Grace that changed at the whims of the woman he’d thought he’d always love but now could barely stand the touch of or be in the same room with her he was so angry and hurt.

He said nothing as he turned and walked away from her—she’d be hearing from his lawyer as soon as Charlie was out of the woods. He’d do anything for his kids just like Leddy had—including fighting for primary custody of them.

Danny was done being shut out of his kids lives because of what might happen. Tomorrow wasn’t promised to anyone and he was done with Rachel setting the conditions of his life.

#mana’olana #mcdanno #first draft #wip whenever #angst so much angst #not Rachel edwards friendly

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prvtbugsbuggins · 3 years

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Caboose and his ungodly amount of sisters.

A post for both my reference and for you all to enjoy.

The idea of Military Alphabet being used as names was inspired by Red Battalion, Blue Regiment by @tinfoil-jones. It's a great fic u guys plz.

More stuff under the cut.

Caboose and his sisters were all taken from a pool of war orphans during the great war. All of them had their homes glassed and barely escaped with their lives. The oldest at the time was little more than a small kid, so many of them don't remember having parents or a life before they were taken into the SPARTAN III program. For all they know, this was all normal to them.

Indiana was the oldest and was the one to remember what parental love was all about, so she was the one who kept an eye on everyone else and did her best to be sure that they had love while growing up. Their training was extremely harsh and she made sure it was as fair as it could be.

Here are the siblings, from oldest to youngest. Once they were old enough to leave the program, all of them chose their own names. Caboose was chosen as the last name, and all of them keep it as a sign of solidarity.

Name: Indiana ‘Indy’ Carnation Caboose

Rank: Lieutenant General

Armor Color: Dark brown and tan

Designation: INDIA

Description: Freckled pale skin with green eyes and red hair that she keeps short. Absolutely stacked. 9Ft tall even. Is missing a leg but has a cool cyborg one to replace it. Defacto ‘leader’ of the Spartan Siblings and tends to call the shots. Is high enough rank to make sure her siblings are treated well no matter where they end up.

Currently: Alive and still in active duty. Works mostly with Holly.

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Name: Holiday ‘Holly’ Yuletide Caboose

Rank: Major General

Armor Color: Green and Red

Designation: HOTEL

Description: Tan skin with brown eyes and black hair that she keeps long. 8’11’’ tall. Is built more slender but can still break your neck. Is the one who usually keeps track of all the siblings and makes sure they are okay. Organizes the yearly get together.

Currently: Alive and still in active duty. Works mostly with Indiana.

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Name: Winter Solstice Caboose

Rank: Chief Warrant Officer 5

Armor Color: White and Winter-mint Green

Designation: WHISKEY

Description: Pale skin with blue eyes and white-blonde hair that she keeps short. 7’9’’ tall. Is built more slender and is stupidly flexible, giving her a rep as an escape artist.

Currently: Alive and still in active duty. Works as a battlefield tactician and invents war-games for training purposes.

---

Name: Tango Rio Caboose

Rank: Second Lieutenant

Armor Color: Black and White

Designation: TANGO

Description: Tan skin with brown eyes and blonde hair that was kept short. Was more short and squat but absolutely stacked. 8 ft tall even. Used to bench press actual benches with people on it.

Currently: MIA. Was last seen on Reach.

---

Name: Vicky Ableton Caboose

Rank: First Lieutenant

Armor Color: Teal and Pink

Designation: VICTOR

Description: Pale skin with blue eyes and hair that’s always in a different color done in a ‘fluff hawk’ hairstyle. 8Ft tall even and built more slender. Is faster than the other siblings in terms of speed.

Currently: Alive and retired. Currently works as a DJ and plays for raves while making her own music.

---

Name: Sierra Nevada Caboose

Rank: Second Lieutenant

Armor Color: Tan and Gold

Designation: SIERRA

Description: Rust colored skin with black eyes and black hair kept long. 8’5’’ tall and was more focused on martial arts, so she was rather slender. Could one inch punch people across a room.

Currently: MIA. Was last seen on Reach.

---

Name: Charlie Beatrix Caboose

Rank: Sergeant Major

Armor Color: Green and Brown

Designation: CHARLIE

Description: Warm dark skin with brown eyes and black hair kept short. Built more chubby and squat at 8’6’’ tall. Can hug you to death though, so be careful. Used to be able to pick up cars so the wheels could get changed faster.

Currently: Alive and retired. Writes and illustrates children's books based off stories she told Caboose when he was little.

---

Name: Luna Moonbeam Caboose

Rank: Sergeant Major

Armor Color: Black and Blue

Designation: LIMA

Description: Pale skin with pale blue eyes and pale blonde hair kept long. Just pale, lol. 7’11’’ tall and built slender and trim. Is really good at psychology and has a knack for motivating people without them realizing it. Takes active interest in troop morale and writes papers on how to improve it.

Currently: Alive and in active duty. Works as a drill sergeant and her teams perform better because she gives them all lollipops when they do a good job.

---

Name: Juliet Romeo Caboose

Rank: First Lieutenant

Armor Color: Yellow and Green

Designation: JULIET

Description: Freckled pale skin with brown eyes and blonde hair kept long. Built like a muscular country farm-girl at 8’7’’ tall. Can pick up fully grown cattle and move them where they need to go.

Currently: Alive and retired. Works on a farm where she raises various livestock with her wife. Caboose gets to name all the baby animals born on said farm.

---

Name: Fox (Foxy) Trot Caboose

Rank: First Lieutenant

Armor Color: Orange and Black

Designation: FOXTROT

Description: Tan skin with blue eyes and red hair kept short. More wiry and slender than most other sisters and stuck more to stealth tactics than outright assault. 7’10’’ tall.

Currently: MIA. Last seen on Reach.

---

Name: Echo Echo Caboose

Rank: First Lieutenant

Armor Color: Dark Blue and light Blue

Designation: ECHO

Description: Dark skin with brown eyes and black hair kept short. Quite muscular and built at 8’6’’ tall. Usually specialized in hand to hand combat and liked to use knives and other bladed weapons.

Currently: MIA. Last seen scouting uncharted territory.

---

Name: Ollie Oxenfree Caboose

Rank: Major

Armor Color: Pink and White

Designation: OSCAR

Description: Pale skin with brown eyes and black hair, kept short. Is more slender and built more for stealth and misdirection type of combat. 8’4’’ tall and can pluck your heart out of your rib-cage if need be.

Currently: Alive and retired. Works as a therapist and specializes in PTSD traumas.

---

Name: November Showers Caboose

Rank: Lieutenant Colonel

Armor Color: Dark Red and Orange

Designation: NOVEMBER

Description: Tan skin with brown eyes and orange hair kept short. Is built like a bruiser at a good 8’10’’ tall and a body to put bodybuilders to shame. Likes to count how many teeth she can knock out of someone’s head with one punch.

Currently: MIA. Was last seen on Reach.

---

Name: Kiki Piña Colada Caboose

Rank: Major

Armor Color: Light Pink and Light Yellow

Designation: KILO

Description: The smallest sister at 7’8’’ tall and slender. Pale skin with blue eyes and pink/blonde hair kept long. Enjoys looking pretty but is scarily good at assassinations. Likes to use her unassuming looks against people. Has beaten up selfish lovers.

Currently: Alive and in active duty. Trains special forces troops.

---

Name: Bravo Blue Caboose

Rank: Lieutenant General

Armor Color: Blue and Black

Designation: BRAVO

Description: Pale skin with blue eyes and brown hair kept short in a buzz cut. Likes piercings and body mods. Has an unbelievable pain tolerance and likes to freak out her recruits using it. 8’10’’ tall and built like a linebacker. Sometimes will stand there and let people attack her and laugh at their attempts to hurt her. Will kill you if you make her siblings cry.

Currently: Alive and in active duty. Works on top secret things that are secret. It’s mostly boring stuff, like paperwork. She hates it.

---

Name: Quinn Sable Caboose

Rank: Captain

Armor Color: Grey and Purple

Designation: QUEBEC

Description: Tan skin with green eyes and brown hair kept short. Tends to dye tips of hair purple. Is covered in tattoos. Is very muscular and big at 8’7’’ tall and can pop someone’s head off their body like a grape. Makes a newsletter for all her siblings so they know what’s going on with each other.

Currently: Alive and in active duty. Trains forces in how to work together as a team and not die.

---

Name: Zelda Triforce Caboose

Rank: Captain

Armor Color: Dark green and Light Blue.

Designation: ZULU

Description: Dark skin with brown eyes and long dreads dyed in a wide range of colors. Built to be trim and slender. Could choke you out with her legs. Is 8ft tall even. Probably has ADHD and is very excitable.

Currently: Alive and retired. Currently makes VR video games and programs for a living.

---

Name: Michael Jaybird Caboose

Rank: Major

Armor Color: Blue (the best blue)

Designation: MIKE

Description: It’s Caboose, our boy. 7Ft tall even with brown hair, blue eyes, and is built like a brick house. Gives the softest hugs, though.

Currently: Alive and in a mix of active duty and ‘retired’. Pets dinosaurs and plays ‘games’ with his squad.

---

If possible they all try to meet up together at least once a year and they actively send letters to each other. They will call if close enough, but since everyone is doing something different, it's unlikely that two siblings would be on a planet together at the same time. All of them are extremely protective over each other, especially to Caboose since he is the baby. Despite some being retired, they still have and wear their armor because it's so ingrained in themselves. Eventually many more will decide to retire and pursue other interests once they figure out what they like.

Also all of them have a barcode tattooed on them somewhere. Not for evil purposes, but because it's easier to scan a code that can't be removed and make sure you aren't going to kill your Spartan by accidently giving them a medication they are allergic to.

Feel free to use if you like as well. I will be using this as a reference for my own works, lol.

#rvb #red vs blue #caboose #Michael j caboose #caboose's 17 sisters #spartan!caboose #best siblings #for me and other people #mostly so i don't fuck up when I write #caboose is the literal baby #all of them are eccentric in their own ways #you can't help to be that when you've been raised from toddler stage to be warriors #the yearly get together is a real fun party tho #it goes on for days

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official-weasley · 3 years

Text

Headcanon time (Part 4)

I can't believe I am back! I have been away for such a long time (almost 2 months since I posted any of my content I have been told) and I missed writing so much (even though it felt good to take a break too) so I decided to return with a Charlie HC since I love writing these and it's something lighter to come back with 💙

Nobody’s going to tell me that with the amount of knowledge Charles Weasley possessed about animals that he wasn’t invited to teach Care of Magical Creatures at Hogwarts.

It wasn’t something Charlie ever thought about doing – even though there were moments when he reached his fifties when he wondered what will he do if he ever gets too old for dragons. Just the thought sent shivers down his spine but he had to at least think of the possibility.

Charlie Weasley loved his job more than any of the Weasley siblings loved theirs. He was proud of every scar and bruise he had and he worked hard to get to where he is. He blew people in the Sanctuary away on the first day of him working there because they haven’t had such a talented lad in quite a while.

Everybody wanted him on his team and even though he was quite a popular sibling in the house he couldn’t deny that the amount of attention and praise he got from his co-workers felt nice.

He loved working in the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary – so much so that when they offered him a job in both Chinese and Swedish Sanctuary he turned them down. Not that he didn’t like working with Chinese Fireballs but he liked his variety of dragons more – always said that it kept things interesting being surrounded by so many breeds.

With that being said he did not expect to get a letter one morning from his former Head of House (now Headmistress).

He stared at the closed envelope for a minute more than necessary and no matter how much he tried figuring out what she could possibly want from him he couldn’t and the curiosity got the better of him.

He breezed through the letter, his eyes stopping at the signature just for a moment before flicking back up to the beginning so he could read the letter – slower this time – as he couldn’t believe what he was reading.

Hagrid has taken his first proper vacation and they need someone to fill in for him for 2 weeks?

And out of all the amazing teachers and acquaintances the school had the Headmistress thought of him? But he only knows about dragons? Like REALLY knows. He is knowledgeable about every creature in the book but he isn’t confident about teaching about them.

He never taught anything in his life – maybe a newbie here and there but that’s different!

Charlie tossed the letter in a drawer in the hopes that he would remember to reply to Professor McGonagall in the morning and kindly decline her offer.

Of course, the opposite happened – he couldn’t sleep all night!

The question Charlie was puzzled with was why? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about the offer he got? He loved his job. He loved his routine. He loved his peaceful life in nature surrounded by creatures he adored since he was a kid.

Why would he go to Hogwarts again? He had nice 7 years there – there was nothing to complain about – but he would be lying if he said that he missed the place. Being in his books most days he didn’t have that many friends and the ones he did have disappeared after the war or he lost contact with them so nothing was connecting him to the place.

Perhaps it’s a thrill of something new?

To do something else.

Or maybe to share his knowledge?

Charlie’s favorite professor was Silvanus Kettleburn and he will never forget him. He remembers when he asked Ron about him but Ron replied that Hagrid is teaching them instead. Charlie was intrigued and wished he had the time to attend one of Hagrid’s lectures – his little brother, however, wasn’t so impressed.

He loved to listen to Hagrid and only Bill knows that he was probably Charlie’s best friend while at school. If Hagrid went for a vacation and Charlie was the next best thing – he couldn’t even imagine what an honor that is.

Hagrid!

That’s it! He wants to take the job for Hagrid’s sake – so he can take a proper vacation!

Without thinking twice about it, Charlie stood up and replied to Professor McGonagall. It’s only for two weeks, how hard can it be?

Charlie decided to take the Hogwarts Express to the school – purely for nostalgia and definitely not because he doesn’t like apparition.

The second the train conductor told him that they will arrive in 10 minutes Charlie’s nerves started to kick in.

This was a mistake! Who was he kidding? He can’t be a professor. What if the students don’t listen to him? Or worse –what if they laugh at him or mock him?

The work in the Sanctuary might be difficult at times but at least everybody minded their own business and they never laughed in his face if he made a mistake. But these are students – teenagers – he can’t deal with teenagers, he doesn’t know how!

A carriage was waiting for him at the station and brought him to the castle where his former Head of House greeted him with one of her special smiles. He knew that she appreciated him coming on such short notice and that she couldn’t wait to see how Charlie will do.

She kept saying what a wonderful job he will do and how excited the students are for Hagrid’s temporal replacement and how happy she is that she got such an amazing person for the job.

He, however, couldn’t share her enthusiasm. Charlie didn’t see the qualities she saw in him and couldn’t imagine how could he – with zero experience – be a good teacher.

Charlie thought of expressing this concern but he liked McGonagall too much to wipe that soft smile off her face.

“Will I sleep in Hagrid’s hut?” Charlie asked as they were making their way to the part of the castle Charlie never managed to explore.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Weasley. You will be staying in the teacher’s quarters. You are getting a nice room with a fireplace and a living room.” McGonagall replied and pointed to the door ahead of them.

Charlie was appreciative of the room when he saw it but he couldn’t help but be a bit sad that he can’t stay at Hagrid’s. Charlie wasn’t big on socializing so staying away from other professors and away from the chatter of students in a small hut seemed like a dream.

It didn’t matter that he had a nice room or a very comfy bed. Charlie woke up feeling like a mummy. He couldn’t sleep at all, the nerves kicking in, and it was even worse when he remembered that he didn’t even have a syllabus or any idea what he is about to teach in his first class.

On Monday morning McGonagall calmed his nerves at breakfast and told him that she prepared a list of topics for every year so that he will feel more organized.

Year 3 – Porlocks

Year 4 – Werewolves

Year 5 – Pixies

Year 6 – Dragons

Year 7 – Demiguise

Charlie’s chest felt lighter when he realized that he knew loads of fun facts about all these creatures but he couldn’t help but be the most excited about teaching sixth years about dragons.

He had one hour before his first class to prepare an introduction for Pixies and then talk and teach about them for 2 hours. It seemed like an eternity to talk about a creature like that for 2 hours and since Charlie was never a smooth talker or good at making small talk he began to feel nervous again.

He tried to remember how he was like when he was in his fifth year but failed. He knew that he was nose deep in the books Kettleburn gave him about dragon care but he doesn’t remember much else than that.

Charlie’s legs have never felt so heavy walking down for his first class. He was seconds away from just giving up and going to tell McGonagall he can’t do this when one of the students called for him to wait up.

He stopped walking and turned around to see a girl running toward him. She introduced herself and started asking him questions about the creatures they are going to study. Without letting him answer her first question she bombarded him with the next one about the Dragon Sanctuary and then started to name every creature she is fond of.

This calmed Charlie’s nerves – knowing he had a student just like he was in his first class.

After his second class of the day, he couldn’t believe how amazing the students were. Charlie couldn’t recall his classmates being so interested in Care of Magical Creatures as he was but fourth and seventh-year students were more than happy to listen to him talk about werewolves and demiguise. They also asked loads of questions and didn’t complain at all when Charlie gave them a bunch of homework.

Waking up the next morning, he felt rather confident in his ability to teach. He had nothing but a pleasant experience so far. The professors and students have both been so nice and he couldn’t help but think that he overreacted. Being a professor wasn’t so bad and perhaps if the day comes when he won’t be able to handle dragons anymore he might apply to work here full time or if Hagrid will still work then at least as his assistant.

Charlie was on his way to the last class of his second day. He met every year students except the sixth years. He was walking down the path with a big smile on his face and his chest was filled with confidence – dragons – he has to talk about dragons!

“Good afternoon, students, my name is Charles Weasley and I am your substitute professor until Professor Hagrid returns. We are going to talk about dragons today. Can any of you name 5 breeds of dragons?”

“Aren’t you a Dragonologist, you name the breeds!” One of the students said after a few seconds of silence.

“I am and I know all the breeds that’s why I am asking you.” Charlie wanted to swallow thickly but he also didn’t want to appear weak in front of the first rude student he had.

“Seems to me that you’re avoiding the topic. Are you a fraud?” The student kept pushing.

Charlie couldn’t believe it. The class he was most excited about and it didn’t go well! He looked around, all eyes on him. He won’t let this student ruin this experience and the ability to learn about dragons from a real Dragonologist for everyone else!

“Fine,” he said softly. “Ask me anything you want to know and I will answer. If I get one question wrong you are free for the rest of the lesson. If I get all of them correct you will write a summary of every breed of dragon – half a parchment each – and get detention for talking back at me as you did. Does that seem fair?” Charlie wanted to smirk, a look of triumph on his face, but he had to stay professional.

After a minute of silence – half of the students looking at Charlie and half at the boy who dared to talk back at a professor – they bombarded him with questions.

Charlie answered every question correctly from how many known species there are to how long do the Antipodean Opaleye’s eggs need to hatch and without having to think for 2 seconds about the answer.

The students stared at Charlie in pure awe and admiration and he couldn’t help but notice that even the boy that tried so hard to bring him down on his second day of work looked impressed.

Charles Weasley left that class with his chin high up, feeling confident for his next day, happy and humbled that he took this opportunity and with a student put in detention.

Doing all that in one day, he was now even more sure that he could do this and even though he missed all his dragons back at home in Romania, he couldn’t help but admit that this was a rather nice pace and change of scenery from what he is used to and perhaps – somewhere in the distant future when he will lose a hand and a leg like Kettleburn – he might see himself working like this every single day.

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley headcanon

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hauntthebodies · 3 years

Note

Do you have any fluffy domestic facts about the ros?

I love domestic shit so absolutely

Aman

Visits his mom and uncle every week, family is super important to him. Usually Riley is with him and they all do something together.

He technically has a cat, but she lives at his moms house bc he knew they would miss her too much

He likes to take Riley fishing (:

Avery

Is the eldest of 5 and super protective of their little siblings

Regularly volunteers at the local soup kitchen

Likes to crochet in their free time (they would never admit it)

Mason

Really likes the idea of decorating a home with someone they love, would want it to be a mix of their interests and be a lively place.

Currently lives with his sister and brother-in-law, they have weekly monopoly games with his nieces

There are just, so many pictures on social media holding random wild animals because of his job lol

Sloan

Likes to sing! They actually have a few songs recorded but they aren’t confident enough to share them with anyone. They were part of their church choir for a really long time tho

Still sleeps with stuffed animals and is not ashamed (their favorite is the shark)

They love hugs!! If MC is fine with touch they are getting hugged all the time in greeting

Carson

One of his biggest love languages is cooking for those he cares about or other acts of service. He rarely brings attention to it though, you might complain about something needing done and then you look back and he’s already taken care of it.

He has a dog named Hati who goes everywhere with him. The animal is so well trained he never needs a leash. When he orders the animal to do stuff it’s usually in Latin so others can’t tell his dog what to do lmao

He loves children and babies and really would love kids of his own.

Charlie

She regularly donates to charities like the Trevor foundation or other stuff that helps lgbt people

Has a chinchilla named Powder who she adores

Likes to hold open house dinners where anyone can come to their bar and get food for free, especially during the winters

#asks #c:carson #c:aman #c:avery #c:sloan #c:charlie #c:mason #kisses all of them

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

Where The Green Grass Grows

Chapter 1

Summary: Life changes, nothing ever stays the same. With most change comes with some degree of pain, that’s how we grow.

Jensen thought he had his whole life planned out, written for him in the bright lights of Hollywood. One failed marriage later, and a lifetime of lessons learned, lead him home to a place he thought he’d left behind him when he was only a teenager.

He thought his life was over. He felt like he’d lost everything, but who knew one little trip to the local diner that had just opened up outside of town would turn his whole world upside down. All because he met you. Maybe a little slower pace of life isn’t such a bad idea after all…

Warnings: Language, Angst, mention of past OC character death, mention of grief, dealing with a divorce. Drinking. I think that's about it for this chapter.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 2550

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

A/N: This fic is unbeta’d and all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! I hope you all enjoy this one! Feedback is golden! This series is complete on patreon.

My Masterlist My Patreon Series Masterlist

“Mr. Ackles! Good morning!” Alex, Jensen's longtime agent, said as he took his seat at the big oak desk in front of Jensen.

“Alex,” Jensen said, giving the man a tight smile as he watched him shuffle through the pile of paperwork on his desk. Jensen had been in the entertainment industry since he was a young boy in one sense or another. He was no idiot, and he knew the reason he was called into his agents office for the first time in almost 15 years wasn’t a good thing, and he knew just what it was about.

“I’m glad you could come in to see us on such short notice, Mr. Ackles. I’m sure you’re a busy man, and I’m not going to take up much of your time.”

Alex folded his hands in front of him, and Jensen couldn’t help but feel like the kid that had been sent to the principal's office for doing something stupid in class. The only difference was this time he wasn’t a kid, and this wasn’t a school. He was in his fucking forties, and this was his job. He hadn’t even done anything wrong!

“I’m sure you already suspect the reason I called you here Jensen,” Alex said, dropping all formality that was there just a moment ago. “Your recent divorce has affected you, and I don’t mean that in an offensive way!” Alex said as Jensen rolled his eyes. He knew that’s what this was all about.

His divorce with Danneel had been a very public one. There were children involved, and of course a substantial amount of property. What divorce has ever gone smoothly or quietly in Hollywood? None that he’d ever seen, and they were overall civil for the public eye? So what was the problem?

“Cut the shit, Alex!” Jensen said, barely holding his temper in check. He could feel his blood pressure rising in his seat. Why did people have to be so damn judgemental? “What the fuck is this really all about?”

Alex took a deep breath, and set back in defeat against his dark leather chair, and looked at Jensen almost as if he pitied him, and damn if that didn’t just suck worse than the wishy-washy shit.

“Look, Jensen, since your divorce you haven’t been as on your game as you were. You’re showing up late to set. You have been drinking more, I can tell it by the color of your fucking skin man. You’re exhausted. No one expected you to jump back to work before the ink even dried on the divorce papers, and the company thinks it might be time to take a little break, get yourself back together, and figure shit out before you try and take on another roll.”

Alex fell quiet as Jensen set there with his hands buried in his hair, no longer looking at him. Alex did not want to do this to Jensen, he really didn’t. It was the guys that were higher up than he was.

Sure they weren’t exactly wrong, he could see it in the actor’s eyes how tired he was, and how much strain he was under. He didn’t want another nervous breakdown under his belt like Charlie Sheen that had almost turned into an incurable disaster. Jensen had a stable following, and a break wasn’t going to hurt his career. If nothing else it may help it.

“Go back to Texas for a while Jensen, get away from all this shit here in California, go have a damn beer out in the country for fucks sake. Focus on you! Gigs will still be here. You need to take care of yourself man.”

Jensen nodded slowly before finally looking up to meet Alex’s now concerned gaze.

Jensen knew deep down he’d been slipping, but he didn’t think it was bad enough to warrant a forced vacation. If it really was that bad, he knew he needed to take a step back from the public eye until he could get his shit together before it did hurt his career. He’d seen much bigger actors than him fall because of shit they did while going through tough shit like this, and he didn’t work all his life to lose everything.

“Okay… Fine… I’ll go home for a while,” Jensen said, huffing in defeat, rubbing his hand along the beard that was now covering his jawline as he focused on a random spot on the building just outside the window. Completely done with this conversation.

Alex breathed a visible sigh of relief and flopped back into his chair. His eyes still on the man in front of him. He couldn’t imagine what was going on in Jensen’s head right now, but whatever it was, he knew he wasn’t in the sharing mood.

“I’ll let the big guys upstairs know, take as long as you need,” Alex said, getting up from his desk and extending his hand for Jensen to shake. Jensen looked at it like it personally offended his mother, but shook it all the same. He didn’t want to piss people off to the point he’d need to find a new agency to represent him, but man, did he want to tell everyone in this building to go fuck themselves.

It really didn’t sink in that he was going home until Jensen sat down at his computer at home with a glass of bourbon in his hand, looking at plane tickets back to Dallas. He hadn’t told his dad he was coming, and he knew his family would welcome him back with open arms, but it was his own mental struggle that kept him from hitting the pay now button on the screen.

Sure, Alex said that he could come back whenever he was ready, but the truth was he didn’t know when or if ever he’d be ready again.

He felt like going back to Texas was admitting defeat. When he’d shown up in California all those years ago, he’d struggled his way into Hollywood. No one had given him an exactly warm welcome, and it didn’t come without some damn near misses and shit that almost sent him back before his time.

Now, after all that. Several decade’s worths of struggling, and clawing his way to where he was today, he was going home. It left more than a little bitter taste in his mouth, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The agency wasn’t going to get him another job until he took a break, and sure he needed one, but he didn’t want to take one. On the other hand, if he didn’t take one, then he’d surely destroy his career because he was in no shape to be in the public eye.

There was no going back to Austin. He couldn’t live in the same town as her, that’s why he’d run off to California. If he was going back to Texas it was going to have to be Dallas. No matter how much he didn’t want to.

It wasn’t that he was afraid someone would make fun of him, or the locals would talk about him. He was loaded, and successful. He wasn’t concerned about their opinions. It was his own pride he was struggling with, not theirs. He had lost his wife and children, now he was losing his career, and he just didn’t feel like this shitshow could get any worse.

“Who says you can’t go home,” Jensen said with a dark chuckle as he booked his ticket, and stared at the departure time. 5:00 A.M. tomorrow. That only gave him a few hours to pack, but then again, he wasn’t sure he wanted to even take any of this shit with him.

“Order up!” you hear James call from the other side of the counter where the kitchen was separated from the bar by a large whole that took up most of the inner wall, much like a lot of older dinner kitchens did in the ’50s and ’60s.

You throw the rag you’d been wiping the bar down with in the laundry hamper that was hidden safely under the counter from the view of the customers and grabbed the tray of burgers and fries, bringing them over to the young couple that was sitting at the very back of the restaurant. They were the only customers left in the place, and it was obviously their first date.

You could tell it in the way the girl nervously played with the hem of her dress, while the young man did all he could to hold a conversation with her. It was evident that in the light blush that covered her cheeks she had feelings for the boy, and judging by the way he was gushing over her, his feelings went pretty deep too.

“Here you go guys, if you need anything else I’ll just be right over there,” you tell them with a smile. They thanked you, and you returned to your place behind the counter. You sighed deeply as you started to count down the register that was used earlier that day. Once this young couple was done, then it was time to get out of here. You were more than ready to get these shoes off your feet and sink neck-deep in a bath as hot as you could stand it in order to relieve some of the day's tension that was still evident in your back and legs from standing on your feet all day.

As you counted down the money in front of you, your eyes kept drifting over to the young couple sitting at the back table. You remember when Eric had taken you on your first date. It was at a restaurant much like this one. Then the night before you got married, he brought you back to the place where it all started. He was deployed to Iraq for another tour just three weeks after your wedding and returned in a flag-draped casket a year later.

It was one of the hardest paths you ever had to walk in your life. You were young, had little to no family, and Eric was your world, your whole life, and it seemed like so suddenly it was ripped violently away from you.

You swallowed hard and tried to remember to continue to count the money, crewing on your lower lip in concentration.

It had been three years since Eric’s funeral, and you still hadn’t moved on. Sure, there had been prospects. You were still young, only 30, and you were single in a relatively small town outside of the greater city of Dallas. So it was no secret that you were not with anyone. You knew you should find someone and try to settle down again, but you just didn’t feel the same way Eric made you feel about anyone that had approached you so far. He was your first love. There was a whole there now, that you didn’t think would ever mend.

Seeing that young couple that looked so happy and so in love brought up a whole lot of feelings that you wished like hell you could bury because they still hurt.

“Hey you, stop staring at the customers,” Jessica said, leaning against the counter with a smirk on her face.

You give her your best bitch face and go back to putting the money bag in the safe under the counter. “I’m just making sure the customers don’t need anything.”

“Liar,” she said simply. “You know it’s been three years, Y/N.”

You looked up at her and sighed deeply as your eyes trained back to the young couple that were laughing together.

“I know Jessica. I’ve thought about it. No one just… I don’t know, makes me feel the way Eric did.”

Jessica gave you a sympathetic look and threw her arm around your shoulder. She was working here with you when this place opened up right after you and Eric got married. She had been your friend ever since, and she was there with you through the grieving process, and she still kept a close eye on you all these years later.

“You know I’m only telling you this because I love you as a friend right?” she asked you, and you just stared at her. Afraid of what was about to come out of her mouth. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d tried to play matchmaker, and you didn’t know if you could go through that again.

“The reason you can’t find someone is because you're still holding on to him, Y/N. You have to let him go, let him rest!”

Your hand slipped up to the small silver locket that you kept around your neck. Eric had given it to you right before he left for your last deployment, and you never took it off. You knew she was right. You were still acting like you were a married woman. If you were ever going to move on, you were going to have to let him go.

“I know you’re right, but I don’t know how,” you tell her in earnest, as the young couple throws some money down on the table, and gathers up their coats to leave, waving at the two of you as they went.

“I’ll tell you what, tonight after we finish up, we’re going to head down to the graveyard, and you're gonna tell him goodbye for real, and bury that locket, and let him go. Then I want you to move on!! You're so young, you deserve to be happy, Eric would want you to be happy.”

“I he would,” you tell her. Letting go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding, and wiping the stray tear away that fell down your face before you nod and agree to go.

It wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be, but after you got off work, Jessica got in her car and followed you to the graveyard. You did just like she said to do. You told him goodbye and took the Locket with a spoon you’d grabbed from the diner that they were going to throw away, and dug a small hole, burying the locket, and a part of your heart forever.

When you got home to your small house and got in the shower to wash away the day, deciding to forgo the bath because it was so late, and you were exhausted, you felt a little more at peace than you had in years. Even though there would always be a part of you that missed Eric. You hoped this time that you could let him go enough to finally move on.

You wanted what that couple had tonight, you wanted a friend and a companion. Maybe now you could start to let yourself be happy again. At least the weight that you had been carrying for three years felt just a little lighter, and you closed your eyes that night in hopes that tomorrow was going to be the start of a better way of life for you.

You never know, maybe Mr. Right will just walk right in the diner tomorrow. Then again, would you ever be that lucky?

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ninnodesu · 3 years

Text

“Can I See You?” ch 5 || Modern!Thomas

It's time, guys. We've reached the ending of this little thing I created! I will be writing an epilogue, but the mainstory is now over.

I so hope you liked this little story, and I appreciate every single comment, kudos and share I've gotten from all of you! It's been so much fun actually writing and ending my first ever fanfiction! Thank you, thank you thank you! Tipjar/sneak peek collection

The more you started to walk on your own, the more the atmosphere in the house had changed. You could feel it, it was heavier. Charlie’s eyes had become colder. He started following you when he noticed that Thomas felt safer leaving you alone for longer periods of time. His eyes had almost gotten… hungrier.

The feeling of eyes dragging over your body during times you’d been alone and doing simple things such as baking, doing laundry, reading, was becoming something unbearable. You’d also begun to notice how Charlie had been home more in general. He came home earlier from his patrolling, and left later than he usually did. That is, if he left the house at all.

At first, it didn’t really bother you. You guessed he just wanted to spend time at home in general. But then came the subtle comments from him. Those… hints. Whispers directed at you if you were close enough to hear them; “Your leg looks nice ” and “I wouldn’t be runnin’ yet, though”. It was always either those hints, or he’d come straight up to you to stand close and breath in your scent. Charlie wasn’t stupid, though, he knew to keep away when Thomas was close by, but even if you remained close to your self-appointed guardian, you could still feel a pair of - literally - hungry eyes following you. Today, however, you were blessed. Because Charlie had decided to leave you alone thanks to Tommy, who you had dragged out to sit under one of the big trees at the end of the yard with. The weather was cool, the sun wasn’t as much of a scorcher for once, so you’d taken the opportunity to relax.

Tommy was leaning up against the tree while you resorted to lay down, starfishing in the grass. “Tommy?”, you spoke up, and he grunted in response. So you turned your head to look at him, noticing he had his eyes closed and arms crossed behind his head. “Does your face still hurt?”. Your only response from him was a side glance and a cocked eyebrow. “I mean…”, you sat up. “Does your face still hurt where you cut it?”, at that moment his brows knit together, still not giving you a proper response. “I’m just saying… If your face isn’t in pain…”, looking down you shrugged. That’s when a deep sigh erupted from him and he proceeded to lean forward. He glared at you, annoyance clear as glass, and you knew; You pushed that particular button one too many times “I...I’m sorry I just…”, you stammered out. He was tense as he raised one hand to spell.

‘E’ ‘n’ ‘o’ ‘u’ ‘g’ ‘h’

And that was it. He left you sitting alone on the grass outside as he stomped off, hands clenched into fists. And you knew you’d gone too far. The front door slammed hard enough for you to hear it, even though you were a few feet away and you flinched slightly.

“Shit…”, you mumbled to yourself and laid on your back again.

Looking up into the sky, you traced the clouds as they slowly drifted by, and your thoughts started to venture into your life back home. Sure, you have your family. But the contact with them has always been sporadic. Not because you didn’t care for them, but only because that's just… how it’s always been. A natural occasional communication, which both you and your parents are comfortable with. Friends? That’s another deal. You have a few, and you keep in contact with them, but you’re not close to any of them. Most of them just being the “ I know you through that person who I met at a party ”-kind of friendship. But you always felt that was better than not having anyone at all.

All that thinking about home awoke a sudden urge to talk to your parents, and you patted the pockets on your jean shorts, cursing at the fact that you hadn’t brought your phone out with you. Groaning, you reluctantly got up from your place to head back in. You didn’t get far, however, before the apparent bloodhound Charlie had transformed into grabbed your arm and pulled you around a corner.

He gripped your upper arms hard enough to leave bruises as his eyes undressed you.

“So, your guard dog left ya, didn’t he?”, you just glared at him and scrunched up your nose as the smell of alcohol wafted towards you. "Let me go, Charlie.", you tugged your arms to try and free yourself, but his grip hardened, making you hiss in pain. "It’s Hoyt to you, bitch. ", he growled. "What do you want, Hoyt?", you pronounced his make-believe name in a childish way, doing your best to get your face into neutrality. "Oh, hun'", he started as one of his hands came up to caress one of your cheeks, "I think we can arrange somethin’ real nice." You turned your head from him, you couldn’t look at him, you knew exactly what he meant by that, and the thought alone was enough to make you sick. But your reaction was not what he wanted, as he grabbed your chin in a hard grip to make you look at him before he continued; “If ya can open those pretty legs o’ yours to his ugly mug”, he started breathing deeper, a low moan escapes him as he continues, “then maybe you’ll do the same for me.”

You just stared at him, Doing your best to hide the obvious shock at what he had said. But if his grin was something to go after; he saw it. “Oh, I heard ya alright. You think you’re being quiet, but I heard him fucking ya.”

You frowned at the obvious breach in private life. You shook your head to get away from his grip. “You make me sick.”, the only words you could even imagine giving as a retort before you inhaled sharply, as you felt one of his hands drag itself over one of your breasts. He leaned in close to your ear and whispered;

"I'll make ya feel better than him." You whimpered at his words, doing your absolute best to ignore the prickling sensation of oncoming tears. "That boy doesn't know how to properly treat a pussy." "Please… Let me go.", you couldn’t help the pathetic plea. "Or…" "Or what, bitch ? You'll call your dumb guard dog to come rescue you?"

That disgusting grin off his returned before he made your blood run cold; " I can't wait to eat you. "

Meanwhile, down inside the basement. Tommy was leaning on his hands as he looked into a cracked mirror, Thoroughly inspecting his scars and deformities. He hated what he saw, always had. He didn’t have a nose and parts of his lips were missing. Your words rang in his mind as he let his head hang.

I want you, Tommy.

For some reason, he was annoyed. The fact that your leg is fully healed now means you could just get up and leave him whenever you wanted. But he wanted to believe, by God, how much he wanted to believe that you wouldn’t. That you’d choose to stay with him, become his and, maybe even… He shook his head. That was a dumb thought.

Looking back up, he was met with a darker shade of his usually light eyes. And he sighed as a storm began to rage inside him.

- I told you. - Stop. - No, you stop, Tommy. Open your eyes. - I have. - You haven't opened them for shit. She's leaving you. - You don't know that!

He punched the mirror, and glass rained down. Blood welled up from where the glass cut him.

- I do know that. And you do too. - No. She- - She what? Loves you? - … - Look at yourself, man. You're nothing to her. - We slept together. - She did that to get on your good side. She did it for survival. - No… - Look in the mirror…

Thomas glanced down at one of the biggest shards on the ground;

- And come up with one good reason she would stay for that.

He growled and crushed the shard under his heavy boot before buckling his mask back on and walking up to the main floor. With the feeling of hunger attacking his stomach he did his best to try and sneak into the kitchen, knowing mama is making supper. His plans got spoiled, however, as he was quickly shooed away from the kitchen by words such as "I don't need you eating everything before dinner!" or "Nuh-uh, Thomas Hewitt. Don't think about snacking before dinner!". A towel getting smacked at his arm had him chuckling and raising his hands in defeat. So he decided to trudge to his upstairs bedroom instead.

A satisfied hum left him as he ran his fingers through the dirty locks on his head, his mask hanging loosely around his neck, before finally letting himself collapse on the bed. He grimaced a bit as he began picking on the bloody scabs that were starting to form.

Shit, these went deep…

He shrugged and proceeded to stare up at the ceiling. Again disappearing inside his head.

- Why don’t you go find her? - Why should I? - To tell her the truth. - Pssh. - Haha. See, I told you. - Told me what? - The truth. - That if you’re ever dumb enough to confess, - she’ll leave. - … - I’m just sayin’, since she can walk again. - I’ve told you to shut up. - Because you’re a pussy and can’t handle hearing facts. - She doesn’t love you. - She used you. Fucked you to get on your soft side. - Do you really think she would love you? Are you that dense? - What do you mean? - You think you could live a happy life? - Get married? - Have kids? - I… uh... - Jesus christ, you actually are stupid, Thomas. - …

He was jolted out of his brain as he heard a knock on his door, to which he tapped the floor with his boot in response. "Supper’s ready, hun.", his mama lit up the gloomy room when he saw her head poking in. He nodded and got up, tucking his hand away from sight. If she saw the cuts, he would just get an earful from her, something he was not in the mood for. The smell of food wafted through the main floor, and his stomach made one of the loudest growling sounds he’s heard; chili was on the menu. Looking around, he noticed you were nowhere to be seen… neither was Charlie. A detail that did not sit right in his gut. He tapped the table, gaining mama’s attention, and motioned to your empty seats;

‘Where are they?’

Luda just seemed to look at the chairs, then at Monty who just shrugged. "I don't know, dear." Thomas didn't like this, he couldn't trust his uncle alone with you. He knew Charlie was a creep towards women, especially so attractive ones. He had, unfortunately, both seen and heard it. But The funny feeling in the pit of his stomach began simmering down just slightly as he saw you both walk into the dining room. Your expression, however, made a chill run down his spine. You didn’t look at anyone. All you did was sit down in silence at the dinner table.

All of you hung your head and listened as Charlie began reciting the dinner prayer. Thomas nodded along as it ended with “ Amen ”. Tommy saw how you mainly just pushed food around with your spoon, mostly just taking the smallest of bites. He knew you weren’t the biggest fan of eating human meat, but he did also know you actually loved his mama’s chili. Wanting your attention, he nudged your ankle with his boot carefully, hoping you would look up at him or at least give him a glance. But you didn’t react much.

- I told you - Fuck off.

It mostly looked like you tucked your feet behind the legs of the chair, if the way your thighs moved as he looked over you was anything to go by.

Dinner was silent, only a slight murmuring coming from mama and Charlie. Thomas finished eating first, but decided to stay seated and wait for you. He wanted to know what was up with you and why you looked so… out of it. Your expression relaxed, no smile. Your eyes looked empty, merely staring out into nothingness as you slowly forced yourself to eat. Something was up. But as you thanked mama for the meal and rose to stand up, with Thomas mimicking you; Charlie spoke up. “Thomas, sit down.”, The man stopped in a hunched over position, hands flat on the table, brows furrowed. He glanced over to you, who looked pale and your lips were pressed into a thin line as you left in a hurry. Clatter then came from the kitchen and it almost sounded like you basically threw your plate into the sink. He listened to your footsteps. And finally, a clue. The back door closed shut.

Back yard. Barn, probably.

“Thomas.”, Charlie’s voice rang out again, harder. He just looked over at his uncle with a cocked eyebrow, sitting across from him as he sat back down. “It’s time we talked, boy.”, slowly, Thomas’ breathing increased, brows knitting together as he signed.

‘About what?’

“About your friend, hun.”, his mama spoke out next to him and he snapped his head to look at her before mouthing the word “ no ” towards her. “Tommy, it’s time we talked about this. We agreed.”

‘I’m not killing her, mama.’

His hand movements were stiff, and his face twisted into a scowl. His mama sighed and proceeded to lean back and put her hands on her lap. “I know you like this girl, darlin’, but…”, he was breathing heavily, the thick leather of the mask making every breath sound like a huff. The look between his mama and Charlie made him sick. Banging the table with the palm of his hand he gestured for her to continue before inquiring;

‘But, WHAT?’

“She ain’t family, boy.”, with those words Thomas shot up from the chair, knocking it back on to the floor. He was furious. It was rare for him to get that angry at his own family, which made his motion all the more shocking to the rest of the people in the room. ‘ What do you mean she’s not family?’ In his mind, he knew it was a stupid question. The only one who knew you, was him. They didn’t. To them, you were nothing more than cattle. He stormed out, kicking one of the empty chairs out of his path and making it fly to the corner of the room. “THOMAS BROWN HEWITT!”, his mother called after him. But he ignored her. He couldn’t look at her. All those times she’d talked about grandbabies, and then she was talking about taking away the only person who… He just shook his head and headed off to the barn.

Thomas was off to hunt a specific kind of prey.

The barn was cool and damp, a stark contrast to the settling warmth of the evening sun. You’ve curled up behind an old rundown couch in one of the corners to try and hide from the world. Charlie’s voice echoed in your head. You just wanted to go home, to your apartment, most preferably with Tommy. The only person who could make this hell house bearable. A sudden gust of cool evening wind hit you, and a shiver ran down your spine. “I don’t want to die…”, you mumbled into your arms as you wrapped them around your knees and sobbed. Heavy tears accompanied by hulking whimpers. You were crying loudly, almost screaming out your pain in a desperate way to drown out what Charlie had told you before dinner.

“I hope you said your goodbyes, girlie” “What do you mean?” His smirk, his disgusting grin plastered on his face and that breath that reeked of stale tobacco and alcohol. “You’re invited to our Sunday barbeque,” a tongue slowly dragging over your neck, “but you’re not going to like the menu.”

Heavy, shuffling footsteps alerted you of his presence and made you glance in their general direction before peeking up from the back of the couch. And there you saw him, that beacon of light of yours, how he knew you went out here, you weren't sure. But there he was, and so were you. Taking a deep breath, you swallowed down any remaining tears and hulking sobs. "I'm here.", you weakly called out and threw a hand up from behind the sofa to notify where exactly " here " is. You didn’t have to look up to know he was leaning over the back of the couch, because your entire form was cast in shadow. All you did was curl back up into a ball. "What do you want?", you mumbled, probably too low for him to hear properly, but then the robotic voice you’ve come to associate Tommy with rings out in the barn.

Talk

"About what?", you swallowed again, Fear of what might be about to come bubbling in your stomach.

Charlie

You grimaced as you heard that disgusting name, but you put on a childish voice and imitated Charlie. " Actually, it's Hoyt .", why you did it you weren't sure. But you figured it was because of the sheer fact that you couldn’t stand being mad around Thomas. And you smiled as you heard that deep chuckle of his come from above you. Suddenly, you felt a large hand come lay on the top of your head. He smoothed your hair down, putting a stray strand behind the part of your ear he could reach. Looking up, you were met with those deep eyes of his. His hand pulled away slightly, but all you did was reach for it with your own and put it to your cheek, nuzzling into his rough and calloused but soft palm.

You closed your eyes while enjoying the feeling of his warm hand against your cheek. But then, the memories of what Charlie had told you crept back into your mind. You were invited to a barbeque, but not the way you'd like to be. Reaching up, you grip around Thomas' wrist desperately. Full of angst, fear, a grasp signaling he's the only thing holding you above water. But you couldn't look at him, if you opened your eyes at this moment, the floodgates would open. Because you were too scared of the fact that one day you’d never see his face again.

You didn’t want to look at the man you were going to leave in the worst way possible. Even if you did your best to swallow any and all sobs that wanted to escape, eventually you couldn’t anymore. And you cried. Fat tears running down your cheeks and over Thomas’ hand still resting on you, a big thumb coming to wipe one of them away. His hand disappeared from you before you heard shuffling and a low grunt. Shortly after, you found yourself surrounded by two big arms that lifted you up, only to be sat down on his lap.

His hold was warm, comforting, a castle of coziness and solace. You woke up one day, terrified for your life, looking up into the eyes of the man you’ve talked to online for months, maybe even close to a year, waiting to die by his hand. But now; those very hands were holding you tight to him, shielding you from the real monster, and all you could do was cry. You felt his chest start to vibrate before you heard a low and booming… hum. Thomas was humming a tune, a melody you hadn’t heard before, and soon after, you felt him ever so slowly start to sway from side to side. He was comforting you.

He sighs as he rests his chin on top of your head, calmly swinging while humming the lullaby his mama always sang for him when he had nightmares, or came home after getting rocks thrown at him. He couldn’t be angry at you anymore for nagging on him to start talking. You felt as small as you did during the nights you’d had nightmares and asked him to come sleep with you.

Right then, and right there, he could stay forever. That was better than the first time you’d had sex. When he felt that you’d started to relax a little bit and when he noticed your sobs had started to die down, he swallowed, wetting his dry throat before clearing it with a faint cough. “Mine.” He lifted his head as you looked up at him with huge eyes. An unsure smile danced on his lips before he gave a small, discreet nod. Hoping you would get his message, what he wanted to convey.

You were his. In his heart, you had been his for a long time and Tommy could never live with himself if he lost you without letting you know that you were. He knew the conversation wasn’t over yet, due to the fact that Hoyt would still be on his ass about killing you. And if Thomas wasn’t careful enough; he would do it himself. You weren’t safe here anymore, and he knew that. The deal was that you could stay alive until your leg healed. What would happen after that? Tommy was truly scared that he would lose you, one way or another, and he made the decision to confess his feelings for you then and there. The look you gave him sent the butterflies in his stomach into a frenzy. Carefully, he took your chin and turned your head slightly for him to easier whisper into your ear; “You’ve always been mine.”

He bit back a chuckle when you quickly turned your head to look him in his eyes. “What…”, all he did in response was smile at you and slide a hand under your jaw to caress your cheek with his thumb as he took your face in, making sure to remember it. His eyes travelled over your eyebrows, outlining the shape of your nose... Those beautiful eyes, and the shape of your cupid's bow, loving the fact that your lower lip was just slightly thicker than the upper one. He moved his thumb from your cheek to slowly let it drag on the edge of your lower lip. Your heart fluttered in your chest, butterflies wreaking havoc in your stomach as you felt his lips land on yours. It’d been two weeks since you’d slept together. Neither of you had initiated anything more than just leaning up against one another - or mostly you using Tommy as a pillow - while watching late-night TV when neither of you could sleep.

His lips were warm, his raspy breathing fanning over your cheek as you entangled your hand in his dark locks of brown to pull him closer to you as you accepted his kiss. A small delighted hum came from him as you did. He surprised you, however, as he made the decision to deepen your kiss, a sign of dominance he hadn’t shown you before. His heavy tongue asking for entrance by tenderly dragging over your lower lip. And you happily accepted his question, parting your lips to give his strong muscle room to take the control he seemed eager to express.

You only gave him a quick taste, however, then moved around on his lap to instead straddle his big thighs and wrap your legs around his waist. Thomas, ever the shy man he was, reacted as you’d expected him to. His face turned a lovely shade of red, and his hands started to awkwardly hover over your hips. Every ounce of bravery he just had in his body seemed to have just seeped out through his very pores. Hands balled into fists only to unclench again.

You giggled at how fast he relaxed as you took his hands and put them on your hips. “Tommy… Relax.”, you whispered close to his face. “You’ve touched me before. Remember?”, you breathed out a laugh as you saw his eyes shoot open, his face becoming redder as he nods quickly, and his eyes dart around the barn as if trying to avoid you. Your fingers carded through his hair to find the buckles of his mask. After silently asking for permission to remove it, a smile grew on your face as he nodded, closing his eyes as you slowly unbuckled it and put it down next to him.

His shyness always got to you. He was such a hulking giant, covered in muscles made for manual work, muscles made for crushing bones. His mere presence had the ability to invoke fear, yet there he was, seated on the floor behind a couch. A blushy mess, with you on his lap. It didn’t take long after straddling his thighs before he pressed his lips to yours. Again, he asked for permission to taste you. And again you gave it to him. His tongue met yours, and you moaned as he pressed his against it. Tongues, curious to taste and to feel one another. To commit each other's taste to memory. Last time, every kiss you had shared while he thrust himself into you was hurried, Hungry, and in the heat of the moment. But now? The kiss had a meaning, it was a silent communication between the two of you. It was between two people, two hearts connecting. Both of you knew what the kiss meant, you were made for each other.

You’d fallen in love with a perfect stranger, long before he had shown you his face. The way he had talked to you, about his hobbies. The love he had for his family, the passion for his work. He was your shelter and your knight. All it took for Thomas to fall for you? Your voice. He still remembered when you accidentally sent him a voice recording, how you laughed at your dumb little miss click, ending the recording with “oh well, hi” . And to him, you fit perfectly into his arms, the spaces between his fingers made for yours.

A devilish thought hit you, and so you ground once over his crotch and laughed when he broke the kiss with a loud grunt, almost pushing you straight off his lap. An action only hindered by your hands wrapped around his neck. He glared at you and shook his head. “Why not?”, you replied in a sultry teasing voice. He refused with his head and nodded to the open space behind you. “Oh, no one will notice us here.”, his face reddened up again. He kept vehemently indicating “ No. No sexy times in here. ” But you wouldn’t back down. Again, you ground on him, causing him to groan and move his hands to your hips. You attacked his lips, hungry to taste his moans as you moved over his growing erection. After another hard grind, Tommy grabbed your hips hard and took control, Slowly moving you over his crotch while you ate up every sound he made. It didn’t take long for you both to end up in a frenzied dry humping session. At some point his hand had found its way up under your top, lightly pinching a nipple between his fingers. The barn was filled with grunts and heavy moans from the both of you, but a sudden high noise startled you. Your movements stopped. You turned to look towards where the sound had come from, both of you silently listening for more noises while Tommy reached for his mask and buckled it back on over his head.

A bang. And a scream .

Thomas was fast up on his feet, basically throwing you off his lap and bolting towards the house.

The scream belonged to mama.

Inside, Tommy was met by the frightened stare from a woman he had never seen before, something that wasn’t uncommon and Thomas figured she was one of Hoyt’s hookers. The drunk idiot had probably slipped up: he either accidentally told the woman what really goes on in this house, or she snuck off after he had passed out and ended up finding the basement. And so, that woman was holding his mama hostage with what looked like one of Charlie’s guns. She was terrified. Thomas' chest was heaving as he glued his eyes on the gun.

“Drop the gun, hun. And nothin’ is gonna happen to ya.”, Luda’s voice was calm, but Thomas could hear the faint undertone of fear in her voice. She’s terrified but refuses to show anything. ”L-let me go! A-and I won’t call the cops!”. When the woman spoke his eyes snapped to her, so Thomas took one step forward, but she quickly pressed the gun into mama’s temple, making him stop with a muffled growl. "S-stop! Or I'll… I'll do it!", he remained still, opting to look at his mother as she explained the situation with only two words. “She knows, Tommy.”, Luda Mae flinched as the stranger behind her scoffed and pressed the gun even harder into her temple. But her face was locked in neutrality, and he couldn’t help but admire the strongest woman he’s ever known. “Yeah! I-I know! Fucking crazy, inbred psychos…”, she hissed

Thomas raised a hand, spelling out;

'H' 'o' 'y' 't'

His eyes flickered down to her finger doing an upwards motion to the floor upstairs.

Fucking asshole

Was all Tommy could think before the poor woman’s eyes suddenly shot open in shock. Blood bubbled up from her mouth and she sputtered, covering mama's right cheek in crimson. The hand holding the gun fell to her side, and as it did, Tommy made an act at lightning speed to pull mama behind him. He just stared as he saw… you. He saw you pulling the knife out of the hooker's throat. You'd stabbed her. Straight into the jugular, and as she went down he followed her before shifting his eyes to you as you wiped a bit of blood off your cheek. Your face was unreadable. He wasn’t sure what kind of emotions you were conveying at that moment. Fear? Disgust? Anger? Sadness? He didn’t know. But the hand holding the knife was shaking, almost to the point where it would vibrate out of your palm. He listened to your raggedy breaths coming out in sobs before you suddenly dropped the weapon, then leaned over the sink and threw up.

The sound of rushing water echoes on the upper floor where you’re furiously scrubbing your hands while hyperventilating, hands shaking badly as you do. Your thoughts are in a whirlwind, trying to wrap your head around the fact that you’d killed someone. And knowing what will happen to her body now, that she won’t have a peaceful burial in a beautiful grove or surrounded by her family, makes you nauseous. You had essentially just handed them dinner.

Suddenly, your airways tightened and you couldn’t breathe, the room was too small, too hot. And with a bang, you slammed the water off and ran through the house, ignoring the angry voices that yelled after you as you shut the back door. You don’t care. You need air, now . Outside, you pressed your back against the tree that you early on shared with Thomas, before sliding down it as you feel air returning to your lungs. All you did was breathe for a few minutes, focusing on returning to your senses while staring up into the night sky, counting the stars. As you did, your mind wandered back to your apartment far away from here. Patting your pocket, you smiled slightly as you felt you had your phone with you, and pulled it up. You replied to a few text messages, answered the occasional neglected work emails, and finally opened the gallery app.

Looking through it you realized just how much you actually missed it. It was your home after all. You even missed those neighbors who always had loud hangouts, that old lady who seemed to have more plants than her balcony could fit, and then there was that old divorced man and his cat. That… stupid cat who always forgot where it lived and had ended up in your apartment too many times to count. “Dumbass cat…”, you mumbled as you remembered the first few times it had startled you when you got out of the shower or got home from work and suddenly there was a cat laying on your couch.

Then it hit you.

I should call mom and dad.

Before scrolling through your contacts to find your mom's phone number, you looked at the setting sun and sighed, while figuring out what to tell her exactly, but hoping it would go to voicemail. You took a deep breath as you pressed the green phone symbol. Each dial tone sounded heavier and heavier before you were finally connected to what you had hoped for, voicemail.

"Hey, mom.", you started, straining your voice to sound happy. "It’s me. I just wanted to talk to you, but it seems you're busy."

As usual…

"Uhm… I'm sorry, mom. For everything I've ever said.", you pulled a bit at a loose strand on your shorts, going quiet for a minute. "I love you. And I miss you. Please forgive me."

Ending the call quickly as you felt the telltale sign of tears start to emerge, you pushed your phone back into your pocket and brought your knees up to your chest. Hugging your legs you just sat there, with nothing in particular in mind as you leaned your head on your left knee and closed your eyes.

You didn’t remember actually falling asleep, but what you did remember was being enveloped in strong arms that carried you from a cold night's breeze into warmth, along with faint but angry voices spitting nasty words, and finally ending up laying on something soft. The familiar scent of Thomas’ skin invaded your nose as you nuzzled your face into his pillow. A soft hum escaped you as he laid the cover over you. The floor creaked, and you couldn't hide the tired smile tugging at your lips as the sound of a familiar sigh echoed around the room. Reaching your hand for the giant trying to sneak out, you beckoned him. "Tommy…", he turned. Looking at you from the doorway, his eyes flickered between you on the bed and your outstretched hand. "Come." At first, he shook his head. And turned again to let you sleep alone but stopped when he heard you ask for him again. "Please. I’m cold.", a lie. That's when he caved and closed the door before turning towards you. He loomed over you, his massive form shielding you from everything that went on in this house of terror. Carefully, you reached up behind his head, fingers gliding through his soft hair to search for the fastenings to his mask. Even if he’d had his mask off just hours ago, he seemed just as nervous as earlier when it came to you removing it.

But you loved him, even if he didn’t have a nose.

Tommy sighed in relief as he felt the mask leave his face, and though he still hated being without it, it always felt nice taking it off. He pressed his forehead against yours just to feel close, but couldn’t help to smile as your lips came close to his. "It's okay…", you whispered to him., your low voice sending shivers down his spine, and he nodded.

Looking down at you, he realized how much smaller than him you truly were. He knew his muscles would mean death to you if he ever were to lose control during encounters with trespassers. The mere thought of him not being able to distinguish you from any potential dinner victim and going berserk before you was something that scared him. Scared him to the point of sending a wave of anxiety through him. But now, it wasn’t time to hunt. You were here, laying under him on his dingy bed. The only ray of sunshine in the eternal night that was his cursed life. His heart swelled when he saw your smile as he leaned in to capture your lips with his own and he sighed softly as your hands returned to his hair to pull him closer to you. When he felt your tongue meet his, he hummed in appreciation.

Slowly, Thomas tested the waters. One of his hands slid over the side of your stomach under your tank top, feeling the softness of the skin before letting his hand travel down towards your thigh. He was nervous since he’d never taken initiative with a thing like that before. But you didn't stop him, so he continued. His hand reached your plump thigh, one firm delicious squeeze making you let out a pleased hum into his mouth, a sound he happily swallowed down. He wasn't exactly sure why, but you moaning against his mouth sent chills through his body, which made his cock tingle.

You giggled a bit when he suddenly wrapped the leg, which thigh he was in the middle of groping, around his waist, making it easier for him to snugly fit his hips between your legs. His mouth left yours, traveling down your jawline, his small gentle kisses turned into bigger open-mouthed ones as he got to your neck. Your breathing increased as you felt his tongue slowly drag over that one sensitive spot you had. His whole demeanor changed when you moved to get a better hold of his hair and pulled. As you did, he took your wrists and pinned your arms above your head in an iron grip, not leaving the spot on your neck that he seemed hell-bent leaving a mark on. He nipped at you to test your reaction. You gave him what he wanted and let out a quiet moan, a sound that made him buck his hips into the space between your legs. When he finally lifted his head to look at you, arousal raced through your body because of what you saw.

Normally blue eyes taken over by something dark, hungry, and almost… animalistic. The look his eyes held made need surge through you in a way you hadn’t meant for this to end in. You’d given Thomas a taste of pleasure, and all he wanted now was more. You could see it in those eyes. He wanted more, and he was going to take it. “Oh…”, was all you could say as he rose up, squeezing your wrists once and giving you a look that said, “ Try me. ”. He smirked as you looked at him with those beautiful eyes of yours. Letting your wrists go, his hands moved towards your breasts. A shuddering breath left your lips as his big hands cupped your plush skin, groping your mounds deliciously, before pulling your t-shirt up over them. One thumb came to run slow circles around one nipple, while he kissed his way to the other one. A low moan crept up your throat as you finally felt his tongue drag over the hardening bud.

You answered his action by slowly moving your hips, making your sex rub against his clothed erection. A shiver ran down your spine as you heard him groan against your breast at the friction given to him, a puff of hot air hitting your collarbone. Lifting his head, his eyes met yours, and you could see he was as turned on as you, stare glazed over by lust. "I need you.", you whispered out shakily as you moved your hips again. He smiled, and your heart melted.

Thomas moved his kissing down your body until the bed seemed to run out of length.

Only then did his fingers find the button on your jean shorts, clumsily unbuttoning them as he sat up. As soon as he'd gotten them open, they were thrown away, discarded on the floor somewhere. He took the previously broken leg of yours and put it on his corresponding shoulder, a hand running over it and leaving trails of kisses down to your knee. His other hand, not occupied with anything, found its place on your pubic mound. His thumb landed on your clit, a mischievous grin dancing on his lips as he pressed down firmly once on your sensitive spot. "Ah!", you jerked and he chuckled at your reaction. You just pouted at him before your face relaxed into pleasure, his thumb slowly rubbing in circles while his lips kissed your leg gently.

His digit traveled south and found its way inside your needy hole, the intrusion making you buck your hips to the best of your abilities as you groan. His eyes fixated on your face, the way your brows furrowed, your mouth slightly opened as a symphony of moans and gasps came from your lungs. He loved the sight and sounds you made, they only made him braver. Knowing he made you feel good, only him. That despite him being inexperienced, all his attempts bore fruit.

No matter how much his cock throbbed inside his jeans, or how warm he was starting to feel, he wanted to make you cum before him just like the first time. "T-Tom-Haah! Tommy, I'm-!", sweet sounds left your throat right before he stopped, grinning again as you shot him an annoyed look. "That's mean…", he chuckled in response and shook his head. Thomas suddenly lifted you up with no effort, replacing your body with his own as strong hands firmly grasped either side of your hips. And before you knew it, he had maneuvered you above him. His head takes a dive between your thighs, fingers wrapping around generous amounts of your rear and eyes glinting from below you as he dragged his tongue along the inside of one of your plush thighs, making you gasp. The closer he moved towards your aching cunt, the heavier you started breathing. But right as he was about to rub against you, he stopped. Again, you groaned. "Please stop teasing me, you ass.", you whined. One of his hands came into view and he slowly spelled out two words.

'B' 'e' 'g' 'm' 'e'

You silently did as you were told by sliding closer to his face, but all he did was grab your waist and lifted you away from him, shaking his head. That was not what he wanted. He wanted to hear you beg for him to eat you out. Your voice was low as you shakily gave him what he wanted; "T-Thomas, please. Please, please, please… eat me. " He smirked before slowly dragging his tongue through your folds. Relishing in your taste coating him, he hummed when he felt your thighs tremble against his arms as he held you tight, the countless videos he’d watched on various porn sites of this specific position running on a loop in his head. "Oh my God.", you said as you let your head fall back, a loud "Ah!" coming from you as he found your clit and flicked his tongue firmly against it, your hands coming to rest in his hair. The urge to rotate your hips hit you, though when trying it, you were met with a bruising grip on your hips and glaring blue eyes staring up at you. Silently daring you to move on your own accord, his glare told you that you were not in control. You whimpered at the sight but reluctantly stilled your hips.

You gasped as you noticed his tongue prod and tease your entrance, feeling how he moved it slowly, digging the strong muscle deeper into you.

Below you, Thomas found himself in heaven between your soft thighs as he pulled those sounds he loved hearing from your throat. Sounds he knew only he could cause. When he couldn’t hear them anymore, he only pulled you close to his face. And right there, right then, Thomas enjoyed having no nose, the absence helping him reach far into you. "Ah… To-!", your words are interrupted suddenly, your body jerking before tensing as he finds your clit again, sucking gently on it. "Fff-... Shi-.", you couldn’t form words as he alternated between sucking gingerly and massaging your nub with the flat of his strong muscle and moving his tongue in and out of you.

The coil tightened quickly, almost too quickly. Looking down, you met his eyes, glossed over with hunger and animalistic lust. His firm grip on your thighs kept you seated on his face when you were thrown over the edge in a cry, as he gave one hard suck over your clit. He moaned against you as you clamped your thighs shut around his head, lapping up your orgasm like he was actually starving. He then returned to slowly fuck you with his tongue to let you come down from your high. You panted as you looked down at him, fingers lightly scratching his scalp with a postorgasmic smile plastered on your lips. Thomas grinned as he licked your thigh to catch a stray strand of your arousal.

Shortly after you’d collapsed next to him on the bed, Tommy got up to finally take his own clothes off, his tank top sticky with sweat and the fly of his jeans rubbing uncomfortably against his raging erection. He let out a sigh of relief as his dick was finally released, the front of his boxers moist with precum. The bed dipped under his weight as he returned to position himself between your thighs again, letting your legs rest over his meaty ones. His hands gingerly went up and down your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles as he waited for your signal. His stare revealed his hesitation, wanting nothing more than to push himself into ecstasy, but not having the heart to take something he thinks he wasn’t allowed to. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt you. His cock throbbed as it lay on top of your mound, and his chest swelled with pride as he saw the evidence of how good his tongue had made you feel as he waited for your approval to take you. You reached down to gingerly take hold of his cock with your soft hands, your fingers rubbing over his sensitive head and coating him with his own arousal. A thumb lightly pressed on his silver barbell, eliciting a throaty groan from him as you looked up to meet his eyes. "Wanna fuck me, baby?", you asked in a sultry voice as you dragged your hands over his length. You saw how a shiver ran through his body as he nodded, instinctively bucking into your hands.

"Take me."

You gasped as his length pressed into your waiting entrance, and you arched off the bed when you felt him bury himself to the hilt in a swift, desperate motion. "Ohh… oh.. God…", you scrambled to find his arms, needing something to hold on to. Tommy breathed out a laugh before hissing in slight pain as he felt your nails dig into his arms. Even with the wetness from both your orgasm and his mouth, it's a stretch. So both of you needed a minute to adjust.

His breathing was hot over your face. An experimental thrust from him had him gritting his teeth, and you digging your nails deeper into his arms. Craning your neck, you got close to his face with a smile on your lips. "I'm fine, Tommy. Take me. " Upon hearing those words, he pressed his lips against yours, the taste of you still on him, just as his hips started to move. He lifted your legs up only to wrap them around his waist, and soon enough the movement of his hips began pummeling your insides. His cock hitting all those right places in your cunt that made you squirm and moan under him. Your mind went blank, not even trying to comprehend how he was able to so easily transform you from a rational being to only a mess of moans and limbs made off putty after only having sex two times. But not a single nerve in your body was complaining about the fact that he could. Incoherent sounds meant to resemble his name tumble from your throat inbetween loud moans. Down there, inside the room within the basement he was so used to dwelling, Tommy didn’t give two shits if his family heard you or not, he just needed to listen to every sound you made.

You yelped as he suddenly switched everything up. your legs were wrapped around his waist, making it easier to pull you up and onto his lap while he positioned himself on his knees. His cock buried deep into you as you clawed at his back, afraid you might float away if you don’t. His hands came to grope your ass, effortlessly holding you up as his strong arms moved you up and down his cock. The wet smacking sound of your soaking thighs hitting his echoed around the room, only adding to your arousal. His movements were deep and hard, hot moans brushing against your neck as he found your sensitive spot and lightly bit down on it. A loud grunt surged from his throat when he felt your cunt clench hard around him as a result from his biting.

He shifted again, pulling his cock out of you to turn you around and prop you on all fours, a position that gave him a perfect view of your ass and the way his dick stretched your pussy out as he re-entered you. Another shiver ran through his spine as a new kind of deeper moan comes from your throat. His large hands gripped your hips to make it easier for him to pull you onto his dick in rhythm with his thrusting. Your moans were muffled by his pillow as tears of pleasure streamed down your face. Your ears managed to capture the occasional deep baritone of “shit”s and “fuck”s coming from above you, causing your eyes to roll back into your skull.

You let out a whine as you felt a hand snake itself south and a pair of big fingers find your clit. His movements were fast, clumsy and almost desperate as he rubbed your most sensitive spot. The added pleasure making it so the coil in your lower belly tightened much faster. As Tommy leaned over you, you were pressed deeper into the mattress when he propped himself up on the hand not occupied with rubbing tight circles around your nerve bundle. A heavy puff of air coming from him made your hair billow exposing the ear he was looking for. His voice was strained and raspy when grunts and moans tumbled from his throat as he felt your walls clench around him.

He swallowed thickly, desperate to wet his parched throat before uttering one single word into your ear, a demand.

“ Cum.”

The delicious combination of his cock pumping in and out of you and his fingers massaging your clit gave you only seconds to fulfill his demand. The orgasm that washed over you was strong enough to make you scream into the pillow as you clamp down on his cock, your hands desperately trying to grab onto the mattress. Above you, Thomas let out a heavy moan that vibrated against your back as he felt the increasing tightness around him, his own orgasm quickly closing in. Four more hard thrusts into your then battered pussy had him gasping, the hand supporting him pressing into the mattress hard enough for his knuckles to turn white before cumming deep inside you. A satisfied hum came from you as you felt his dick twitch and pump his thick seed inside you, delightfully filling you up.

Thomas hissed as he pulled himself out of your throbbing core, then collapsed next to you with huffs and heaves surging from his tired lungs. You slowly slid your legs down to lay flat on your stomach and turned your head to look at him beside you. He had his eyes closed while running a hand through his sweaty brow, trying to catch his breath. You smiled at him and brought your right hand close to his face to stroke his cheek with your index finger. “Hey…”, you whispered, getting close to kiss the scars on his cheek before pressing your forehead to his temple. He hummed in response, signaling that he was listening to you before you continue; “ I think I love you. ” His eyes shot open and he turned his head towards you, eyes filled to the brim with a combination of emotions as they seemed to search for something on your face. Doubt, maybe? Or ridicule? Lies? But all you do is nod and smile again.

One of his hands came up to the back of your head and entangled slightly in your hair as he pulled you in for a kiss. It was soft, full of emotions he either didn't want to say out loud or couldn't. But you knew what it meant.

"I love you too."

You snuggled up against him, taking his right arm between your own, giggling as you felt him stiffen slightly when you pushed it between your breasts. Your hand reached down to lace your fingers in his before letting sleep take you.

You were abruptly woken in the night by screaming voices and hard bangs on the floor above you. Thomas was equally startled awake, and sat up, breathing heavily as he carefully listened.

" Thomas!", you heard Hoyt's voice yelling for your beloved, who reacted quickly. But you grabbed his hand and tried to pull him back to you. "Tommy, don't… please .", you pleaded. He gave you a look you've never seen before. You felt small as if a beast was staring you down with a threatening look that said " Let. Me. Go. ". And it was at that moment you realized you weren’t talking to your Tommy anymore, which scared you. The Thomas you’d fallen asleep with just hours ago is gone. And the Butcher of Texas is all that was left. So you listened. You let go of his hand and watched him dress up, holding your breath to avoid starting a fire within him. And finally, your eyes followed him to the door.

Curling up under the covers again, the bitter realization hit you.

It was your chance to leave, to go back home. The family would be busy with trespassers for a few hours, Hoyt most likely harassing some poor woman, Thomas off to ki-... hunt.

Getting out of bed, you quickly threw your shorts on, internally thanking Tommy for never removing your t-shirt. Even if you knew this meant leaving him for good, the man you just hours ago confessed your love to, it also meant you would most likely live, and a normal life at that. Besides, you could always contact him through the phone, and that thought made it easier for you to sneak up the basement stairs. The sliding door was heavy and screeched as you pushed it open. You heard Thomas' chainsaw roaring from somewhere close by, along with Hoyt's encouraging howls and a blood-curdling scream. You felt nauseous and wanted to puke as you knew what was going on, but tried to cast those thoughts aside while you walked on your path to freedom.

You hurried across the old dining room, but probably due to the fear-fueled trembling of your legs, you curse as you trip over your own feet, attempting to swerve around a puddle of blood. Hissing, you rub the knee that took the brunt of the fall. And when your eyes start to look around for any threats, you see him.

Hoyt. The last person you wished bore witness to your endeavor.

Your fall had seemingly alerted him of your presence. As you stood, you kept your eyes locked on him before noticing the sharp pair of scissors laying on a small side table. And upon grabbing them, you taunt him, adrenaline coursing through your veins. "Come on, old man. You’ve wanted to kill me since I got here!" Before you knew it he was on you. The man knocked you to the floor and straddled your waist while pinning your arms above your head. "He ain't here no more to protect ya, bitch.", he licked his lips as you struggled to get him off you. Seeing him lean in close, you took the opportunity to bash his nose in with your own head, causing him to release your arms to grab it as it gushed out blood. You pushed him off you, straddling him instead. Breathing heavily, you grabbed the scissors in both hands and raised them above you, stretching your entire body to get as much power in your killing blow as possible.

Hoyt grinned as he looked up at you preparing yourself, his tongue reaching out to catch fat drops of crimson dripping from his nose.

Your blood ran cold as ice as a giant shadow fell over you. "To-", a huge hand gripped the main hand holding the scissors. His grasp was tight and you winced as a sickening crunch rings out of your joints before the sharp pain hits you. And you screamed, dropping the scissors. The pain was excruciating as Thomas forcefully lifted you up from his uncle and threw you into a nearby corner. You clutched your broken wrist close to your chest and cried as you watched the predator that has taken over your beloved Thomas slowly walk towards you. Both hands moved to grip his chainsaw. Your breathing started picking up, your heart rate going too many miles per hour and the rushing of blood deafening in your ears.

"Tom- Tommy, please. It’s me!", you pleaded as you saw him pull on the snare to start his weapon. "No… no no no!", behind Thomas you saw Hoyt standing up, hollering words of encouragement to him. "Fucking get her, Thomas!", you shook your head as you sobbed violently, berating yourself. Why did you think trying to kill Hoyt was a good idea? He was Thomas’ family, after all, something you weren’t. Something you would never be.

He pulled the string once, and the saw sputtered, then died. He pulled it again, the same result. He growled and pulled it a third time before realizing it had run out of gas, something you took as a chance to run away. But before you knew it, he'd grasped you by the throat, lifting you up against the wall. You cried out as his grip tightened, your good hand scrambling to grab his wrists in an effort to break free.

"Tommy… p- pleas- hck", he clamped your throat shut, interrupting your begging. Your vision started to blur as the air became sparse, and your nails dug into his arm in a desperate attempt to get Tommy back. Your lungs hurt, your brain was in a blur and your vision started to fade. You focused the last remaining strength you had to look at Tommy in the eyes, his usual sky blue irises now taken over by darkness. Hidden behind sweaty hair and the face of someone else. The last air in your lungs is spent on three words.

" I love you."

Crack.

Thomas watched as the dinner guest fell limp against the wall.

"Good job, boy.", Hoyt patted his shoulder blade. Thomas just grunted and threw the body over his shoulder to head back into the basement to finish his work. This was one of three bodies he had to cut up and he sighed as he knew he wouldn't get any sleep the remaining hours of the night. He grunted as he hung two of them up, saving the freshest one for last since that body hadn't been waiting for as long.

Heavy sighs came from him as he finished preparing to cut up the last body. All he wanted was to get back into bed with you and sleep the remaining hours. The last body was small, something he greatly appreciated because that meant sleep was imminent. Thomas removed his mask after he laid the dead cattle on his table as sweat started to pool and stream down his neck. Lumbering over to a bucket of water, he splashed water over his face to cool down.

When he turned back; his heart stopped, blood turning to ice and nausea rolling over him in big waves before he rushed over to the table. This wasn't a dinner guest or cattle. It… "No…" , he was shaking badly as he put a heavy palm on your cheek. A lump formed in his throat as he looked over your body, running his eyes up and down it, making sure there was no mistake, that he wasn’t hallucinating. You were just here moments ago. With him. Happy. Alive. He pressed two fingers at your neck, searching for a pulse. Tommy panicked when he saw the bruising on your flesh. He'd killed you. In the middle of hunting trespassers. The last thing he remembered from his killing spree was walking into the… the old dining room… and seeing someone sit on top of Hoyt threatening him with something sharp. And then there you were, an unmoving corpse resting before him, right on the same table he had sworn not to put you back on. He couldn’t remember anything else, couldn’t remember even seeing you up on the main floor.

How did all this happen?

But what he did know was that there was no going back. Nothing could bring you back now. He took one of your hands in his while mumbling desperate prayers that you weren’t gone. You were just asleep, and he wanted you to wake up. " Please, wake up..." , he sobbed. You were cold, so cold. Nothing like he remembered you just hours ago. When you'd hugged his arm before falling asleep, your fingers intertwined with his, your breathing even against his shoulder. You were warm then.

Not like the unmoving figure you had become. And he let himself cry, something he hadn’t done in so many years, his eyes burned, another punishment for ending your life. Stroking your cheek, he turned your head so you were facing him. His thumb traced your bottom lip as he thought back on the last kiss he gave you. Tommy has never cried for another person as he did now. You were the first one outside of his family that had shown him tenderness, that felt like home. The first one to show him, love. His rage took you away from him, something he had feared deeply since you set foot in his basement. You were supposed to be his forever. His wife. The mother of his children.

Pressing his forehead to yours, he whispered the words he never got to say earlier. " I love you too."

#Can I See You #CICU #thomas hewitt #thomas leatherface hewitt #thomas hewitt fanfiction #tcm: the beginning #tcm #tcm fanfiction #modern!thomas #ninno og #it's the actual ending #only the epilogue is left now #god i hope you'll like it and i'm so sorry

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goldemas1244 · 3 years

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Heyyyy I have a question :3

Do you have any headcanon/s for these character : Scraptrap, Scrap Baby, Lady Dimistrecu, the three daughter of Lady D, Heisenberg and/or Molten Freddy ? :3

You don't have to do all the proposition, you can choose what character you want to do :3

Have a good day/evening and stay safe ! :3

*Cracks knuckles* \(^v^)/

You already know I'm doing all of them! Thank you for the ask! Headcanons under the cut!

FNaF6

Scraptrap

He loves rice and would do anything to get his paws on it. Fortunately, the pizzeria is quite close to a Chinese restaurant so rice is easy to get.

He orders a rice-based menu at least three times a week, so the owners aren't at all that surprised to see a tuxedo-clad zombie-rabbit come in and ask for their signature fried rice with buttered lobster on the side.

Since he like to dine-in there, he usually asks Michael to give him a bath in exchange for pizzeria improvements. Michael usually shrugs and gives him a well-deserved bubble bath and his tuxedo.

He likes it when Michael gives him head pats and rubs. It makes him feel loved and appreciated.

He has a pet pigeon named Fernando Buschmann. It's German and likes to listen to the violin.

He likes ASMR and memes. ASMR makes him go feral with murderous intent while memes make him question the modern generation.

He has social media accounts, all named "Willton-Moldover". He usually posts cosplays and furry art on them and has 93 followers on his Reddit profile, 1.5 million followers on his Instagram, 550 followers on his Tumblr, 35 on his Snapchat, and 3.95 million on his TikTok.

He also has a YouTube channel with 10.784 million subscribers called "Willton-Gameover". He plays videogames one-handed and roasts popular YouTubers and famous people. He would never roast Keanu Reeves though, because Keanu Reeves is precious bean.

Due to his popularity he gets a lot of hate mail and private pics. He doesn't like them at all so he blackmails the people who post them. And if the media and police are involved? Well, he has a strong fanbase that's not going down as well as a good alibi so that works out well for him.

Yes, his fanbase also knows of the Fazbear Murders, and he admits to it but frankly, he's shown them the approving ghost kids (who've bonded and gamed with him) so that's no big deal. Only Cassidy hates him, but it's usually constipated anger.

He's bisexual and has an ENORMOUS crush on one of his favourite game characters, Karl Heisenberg. Something about that man reminds him of himself and Henry, although he's not sure what. Still, don't let that distract you from the fact that he owns a nude Karl Heisenberg body pillow, CAPCOM official.

Scrap Baby

Her favourite Monster High doll is Draculaura. She doesn't understand how pink goes well with black but oh boy, pink goes so well with black.

She knows how to skateboard like a pro. Despite her weight, her trusty skateboard still stands and, if she falls, she's always got her skates to spare. She likes to impress the boys at the skatepark with her ability to perform even the most difficult of moves with ease.

She's subscribed to fifteen different tabloid subscriptions. She likes to read them and criticize the stupidity of the human race, like her father. Hey, it's hereditary.

The lights in her boobies glow in the dark. They also glow whenever she gets tired.

She likes reading furniture and gardening catalogues. She's judgy of the prices though and usually becomes a full-on critic with Lefty listening.

She owns a crab named Mr. Tootie. No I will not elaborate on the name. I'll only tell you that it's taken a liking to kazoos and party favours.

She's listed as the No. 1 Best Fan of her father's social media accounts. Michael's in nineteenth place but don't worry, he's as emotionless as a mushroom.

She likes to make origami lotuses. She's such a pro at it that she's even got a mini-stall at the pizzeria: 1 lotus for 50 cents. It's a lucrative business, and it's still growing. Oh, and she switches to other origami works of art every week such as origami guns and origami nine-tailed foxes.

She's the Restaurant Rescue manager. Usually she saves kids from trouble. For this reason, yes, she's commonly seen in the pizzeria itself. Kids love her though the claw worries the more irksome parents.

She's a professional Karen dealer. Karen comes to see the manager? She's hypnotically talented in weaving her words through the toughest of craniums so don't be surprised if a Karen walks out with a new viewpoint of life.

She performs on stage on the occasion, which usually gets her a lot of fan love. She cherishes everything good they give but ignores the problematic everythings. Problematic stuff? Oh, she's good friends with the police chief.

Molten Freddy

He loves noodles. Give him a bowl of ramen and he'll shut up for the entire night. Enter him in a noodle-eating competition and his high metabolism rate means absolutely non-stop spaghetti.

He misses Bon-Bon very much. To the point where he's even tried to make a scrap version of him. Sadly, it doesn't work. He cried that day.

He dies inside whenever he finds out there's a spaghetti shortage in Utah. Poor Molten.

He's a bit wonky, but if he tries to play with you or get into your personal space, don't get mad at him! He's just lonely and wants someone to talk to and play with.

He likes to play Exploding Kittens. It's the only card game he's good at. It's also the only card game he owns.

He sees Helpy as a little brother and boops his nose on a daily basis. He also likes to reenact The Lion King with him (It's the ciiiiiircle of liiiiiife~). Hopefully Helpy doesn't mind.

He knows a lot of jokes in a lot of languages. So German-speaking Molten Freddy wouldn't be too far away from expectation. His favourite jokes are in French though; the wordplay is just immaculate.

He's good in French, English, German, Russian, and Malay. He's currently learning Japanese because he's a mega weeb.

His favourite cartoon is Charlie and Lola. He just likes to see the sibling shenanigans as it somehow reminds him of the good old days.

His favourite shows would be prankster shows. He especially loves the ones that give him new and creative ideas. He doesn't like the scary ones though. They make him feel unsafe and give him anxiety.

Surprisingly, he has a distinct taste for opera. He can modulate the remnants of his voice box to perfectly sing I Am The Very Model Of A Modern Major-General. This both pisses off and impresses Henry to an extent.

Resident Evil 8

Lady Dimitrescu

She might act like the opposite but she really loves Heisenberg as her little brother. His determination, strength, speed, dexterity, and workaholic nature impresses her, who can't even fit through a doorway. She sometimes wishes she's as short as him too.

She's an avid collector of glass, porcelain, and anything fragile. It's a good reason to always be careful where you tread in her lair. She'll make you swallow every last shard if you don't.

She's an avid romance fanatic and is very loving towards the romance novels she owns. All those books you see in the in-game library? They're her collection of lesbian romances that she's collected over the past decades.

She doesn't like hats and prefers to stick to the one she wears in-game. She DOES have a collection of hats though. Last anyone counted, there were over fifty, one or two for each decade she's lived through.

She files her nails on a constant basis and owns an ornately decorated nail-clipper. Hygeine is of the utmost importance. She doesn't want to be compared to that filthy Heisenberg.

Despite her size and carefulness she keeps losing her stuff. Over the course of a week she could misplace three wine glasses, two reading glasses, and fifteen bottles of wine.

She's an expert at dodgeball and golf and even owns a lifetime access to the most prolific Country Club in Romania. With permission from Mother Miranda she goes there every year for the yearly party. It's one of the times she gets to see modernity (and Ed Sheeran) at its finest.

She loves bands from the 1920s and 1940s. However, she gets bored of them occasionally and switches them to something more modern, like Ed Sheeran. Seriously though, what is up with mums and Ed?

She's into executions and torture methods. So it's no surprise that she's a HUGE fan of Horrible Histories; even if she can't watch the show, she'll binge-read the books over and over again. She's even had the chance to encounter (and receive an autograph from) Terry Deary. They have sworn a bond not to tell anybody about this.

She loves exotic animals like anacondas and jaguars. She may or may not have owned a 10ft long Saltwater Crocodile (which was also about 5ft wide).

She's an incredible physicist and mathematician. She's also created many original formulae but unsurprisingly, she doesn't tell anyone about them, for fear that either more people may know of her, or that she may be wrong.

Dimitrescu Babes

They can devour an entire human being in mere seconds as flies. It's sort of like the scarab beetles in The Mummy movies. However, unlike the beetles, they are able to strip the bones as well. They leave nothing behind.

They all know how to play the piano with varying levels of success. Daniela can already play professionally while Bela is still stuck on Grade 5.

They love to listen to their mother when she tells them stories. Gotta hand it to 'em, when you're a fly, you know how to enjoy life in its most simple of moments.

They all love being around the hunky Soldats of Uncle Karl. Fortunately, they don't know of the rebellious plan to conquer Miranda.

Bela is bisexual, Cassandra is asexual and pansexual, and Daniela is demisexual.

It gets hard when you're a fly during the summer. If it's not the lizards, spiders, and other predators, it's the heat. Because of this, despite the material waste, they have invented the world's first blood-powered air conditioner.

The three girls have never ever ever touched a stove or oven in their life. They HAVE touched the hot end of an iron though. A good reason to not touch a bloody oven. Alcina has though, but doesn't tell them that.

They love puppies! Uncle Karl brought them a baby labrador. For the rest of the week Alcina had lost quite a bit of favour from them. Not that they minded of course. IT'S A PUPPY.

They don't like snow one bit. Not just because it's cold, but because it's too white. Too bright. Too shiny. They just can't focus on their prey!

They like to go over to Auntie Donna to play with Angie. Well, you know what they say, crazies attract the crazies, and the crazy has attracted the crazies.

They also like to go to Uncle Moreau's because he's the only one in the village with a PS4. Usually they'd spend about three-quarters of a day playing his games and eating his cheese.

Karl Heisenberg

He owns a dark blue armchair named Junkyard. Despite the name, he loves it dearly because it was a gift from Alcina for his twenty-first birthday. It became part of his final transformation too. Right under the hat.

He's a little blind in the right eye, much to his annoyance. It was a minor accident with Sturm; another reason for him to hate the uncontrollable wretch. He'll never live that day down.

Somehow, he sees better in the dark, which is why he wears such tinted glasses. He also wears them to hide his expressions, since, more often than not, he tends to end up wearing his heart on his sleeve, and his emotions in his eyes.

He's under a lot of pressure so it's no surprise that he breaks down in his factory when he knows he's alone. And by break down I mean crumple into an exhausted heap on the floor. Not even his Soldat Jet squad can wake him up until he's had a reasonable eight hours of rest.

He bathes once a day, every evening, but only three times a week. Perfume, tobacco, and cologne keep care of the rest.

He's the only Lord with a daily contact with the outside world due to his electrical abilities. Don't tell Miranda, but he can electrically CONNECT TO GOOGLE AND THE ENTIRE INTERNET IN GENERAL. He likes to play funny YouTube cat videos in his head when Miranda's having a boring meeting. It's also how he finds out that Chris is a boulder-punching asshole.

He does stimming! He likes to tap his fingers on his desk and the metal rails in his factory. He also buys stim toys from the Duke and keeps them in a well-kept box. His favourite is a non-ripping squishable toy duck. He also sings to chill out.

He's absolutely in the Five Nights at Freddy's franchise, and may have once believed in the pizzeria's existence. Come on, he's a mutated Overlord with magical magnet powers. Children souls stuck inside animatronics isn't too far-fetched of an idea. His favourite characters are the Funtimes and the Scraps, mainly because of the blueprint complexity. He HAS tried to replicate the animatronics in his spare time, but he's usually too busy with his Soldats so the project gets scrapped. He loves The Living Tombstone's songs and remixes though.

He doesn't like William Afton at all (though he marvels at his survivability). William's nature and habits remind him of Mother Miranda. He DOES however enjoy Michael Afton and often thinks how it would be absolutely amazing to have that resilient being in his Soldat army.

He's scared of what lurks below the watery depths and fire. Ironic because his brother is a literal fish and he works in one of the most hazardous fire-conducting environments. He's also scared of heights, though he doesn't get airsick.

He once died due to a killing electric shock whilst working on Sturm. It's the only time he's felt that sort of pulsing agony and also the first time he's had the confirmation that yes, Hell is real and yes, he'll end up in quite a dark pit in it. Or it could've been an electric dream, who knows? Anyways his soul apparently ran towards the opposite direction of the flames and he woke up alive after the passing of FIVE ENTIRE WEEKS. Oh boy did Alcina get worried when she couldn't find him.

Thank you for the ask! I hope you enjoy!

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carnationcreation · 4 years

Note

Hi! Can I please get an imagine where the reader is Bombay’s daughter and he’s never been around because of his job and that he left the readers mum years ago. But he comes back to coach her team, not knowing she plays and they argue, he pleads to get to know her etc.☺️😄basically the absentee!father x reader who wishes for a father but doesn’t know how to forgive him

TITLE: Forgiveness [Can you imagine?] (Bombay x daughter!reader)

✌🏻Masterlist Taglist, Requests, and Works in progress!

Prompt/summary: Bombay tries to reconnect with the daughter he walked out on 8 years ago.

Word Count: 2,519

Authors note: You said argue? Alright here’s some angst. It feels so good to be writing for The Mighty Ducks again, this is one of my favorite movies so I’m so happy I got a request for it!

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

Every summer I used to get the same letter from my dad. It actually wasn’t even a letter. It was child support.

Every fall we used to stop by the diner in town to get milkshakes to celebrate the anniversary of him leaving us. It wasn’t that he was a terrible dad, she just knew she could do better for the both of us if he wasn’t around. After 8 years she still got the same order every time we went to the diner, and every year Mrs. Conway was still there taking our order.

Her son Charlie was always there too. Both of us played on the same hockey team and every winter we would drag our gear down to the pond to practice with our team.

That entire routine changed after one day.

“Goldburg you’re the goalie, the puck is supposed to hit you,” Charlie sighed as he skated towards us.

“Does that sound stupid to anyone else?” the goalie groaned.

I rolled my eyes at him before lining up another shot.

After a few more shots Charlie tapped my shoulder, he looked in wonder as a car drove out onto the ice. We all wandered over and a man in a finely pressed suit stepped out.

“Wait, that can’t be him-” I mumbled.

“We ain’t buying nothing man, I’m feeling generous today so I’ll let your sorry vanilla bootie outta here before we use your eyeballs as hockey pucks!” Jesse said.

“Thanks bro,” the man rolled his eyes before going to reach in to his jacket, “but I’m not going home ‘til I take care of business.”

The group slowly backed up. When the man pulled out a piece of paper and not a gun we all sighed in relief.

“District five pee-wee hockey team, I’m Gordon Bombay. Your new coach.”

The team laughed as I locked eyes with Charlie. He saw the absolute panic in my eyes.

“Got the roster right here. Averman, Dave. Bombay, (Y/n). Conway, Charlie. ”

His face scrunched up as he got to mine. Confusion or being uncomfortable. Either way I couldn’t tell. Luckily no one seemed to notice the fact that I had the same last name as the coach.

“Here’s the long and the short of it. I hate hockey and I don’t like kids. I’m sure this will be a real bonding experience. Maybe one day, one of you will even write a book about it in jail.”

Charlie nudged my shoulder, looking at me with a questioning look. I sighed, “He used to love hockey, but he really seems to hate kids. My mom said she heard that he got a DWI last week.”

Bombay ordered us to scrimmage. We all dove for the puck. Players tripped and fell over each other as we desperately tried to play. I finally got the puck and started to make a move towards the goal when Jesse (accidentally or not) hooked my ankle with his stick as he fell. Connie skated over quickly to help me up before taking off over to Bombay.

I rubbed my sore elbows as Charlie and I skated back over to the car that was still parked on the ice. Bombay brushed the team off by saying we need to scrimmage more and got back into the car.

“What a jerk,” Peter said.

Eventually the team came to the amazing conclusion we should hijack the car. On Peters mark, we all jumped on the car, shook it, and climbed inside.

“We want a ride! We want a ride!” Connie began to chant as we all joined in.

“Take em for a spin, anything!” Bombay said, we all cheered as they started driving.

The fun didn’t last for long. Charlie’s mom soon appeared on the ice and made us all get out.

She furiously shouted, “Are you out of your mind? What were you thinking putting that car on the ice? My son was in that car!”

“Lady lady relax,” Bombay said, “The ice is not gonna crack.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she said. Charlie and I slowly got out of the car and skated to the side to take off our skates.

Bombay sighed, “Gordon Bombay, the new hockey coach.”

Oh lord he was in for it now.

“Oh you’re the dead beat that married (Y/m/n). They send you down here to coach the team and you endanger their lives. You endangered your daughter's life!”

I hid my face with my hand as Bombay looked back at me. Oh god he knows now.

Charlie’s mom eventually pulled us away and drove us home. I knew I’d be hearing about this from my mom later.

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

By order of the state of Minnesota Bombay was at the game the next day. I’d made it my mission to avoid my “dad”. Charlie did a good job of keeping him away, asking him questions or distracting him. I knew I’d have to talk to him eventually but until then I was content with pretending I wasn’t his daughter.

The game was a joke. We didn’t score any goals. Didn’t get a chance to defend ourselves as the Hawks beat us into the ground. 9-0. I left the game with bruises on my face and arms. My helmet was barely covering my face and my hockey pads were my dad’s old ones from the 80’s. One of the few things I stole from his house when we left. Charlie was extremely frustrated at the missed shot he had towards the end of the second period.

As the team sat arguing I was putting my gear up.

“I thought we came here to play hockey. Do you guys think losing is funny?” Bombay yelled.

“It’s not like you coach us or anything. At least we tried,” Jesse said.

Bombay’s face went red with rage, “That was the sloppiest playing I’ve ever seen. Why the hell won’t you just listen to me?!”

I stood up, shouldering my bag, “Why the hell should we?”

The team followed me out of the box.

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

The next game was a disaster. Bombay encouraged us to lie, cheat, and foul our way through the game. Bombay was furious when Charlie wouldn’t do his little act when he was cornered. The bruises on my face still hadn’t healed properly.

The locker room was filled with groans as everyone agreed the game was pathetic.

“Charlie! When I tell you to do something, you do it! Got it?”

“You can’t make me cheat,” Charlie said walking out of the locker room.

Jessie and Terry’s dad stormed into the locker room, “LEt’s go boys. This is what I gave up my overtime pay for? To watch my kids take falls? You’re a pathetic excuse for a coach, and an even more pathetic father if you can let your daughter get beaten up like that.”

The team’s heads turned to me as he pointed in my direction. I let my head fall as I stormed out behind Jessie and Terry.

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

I really thought I could keep avoiding him. I didn’t think he would come and try to find me.

The next day at practice was a shock for everyone. We all got new uniforms, gear, and sticks. Everyone was pumped up during practice and we even got two new players.

“What changed?” I asked Charlie.

He shrugged, “I don’t know. He came and apologized last night.”

My blood boiled. He can apologize to another kid but not his own daughter who he practically abandoned. I warmed up to him as practice went on but in the back of my mind there was still that thought lingering.

“(Y/n), you’re riding home with me,” Bombay told me as I packed up my stuff.

I looked at him confused, “But-”

“Your mom said it was okay.”

I silently followed him out to the car, the driver had rolled up the middle window so we could have some privacy.

“So…” he said, I stayed quiet still looking out the window, “Your mom told me you never quit hockey. Even after I…”

“Left?”

He sighed, “Yeah I guess it was like that wasn’t it?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Look (Y/n), if I had known how much it had affected you I never would’ve stepped out that door. Your mom and I… we just weren’t good together.”

I scoffed, “No, your drinking side just didn’t line up with the fact mom wanted a decent husband.”

He went to speak again but quickly closed his mouth.

“I’ll just imagine me forgiving you. Maybe one day I can actually do it with meaning,” I sighed and went to pick my bag up as the driver pulled up to the curb.

“(Y/n),” he said grabbing my arm, “I already talked to Charlie about this. I’m so sorry for the way I acted. I never should have asked you guys to cheat. And I definitely shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you guys. I’d do anything to try and get you to forgive me.”

“I’m just confused as to why your star player got an apology before your daughter did. I’ve been waiting for that for 8 years. If you truly wanted that from me you should’ve tried a long time ago.”

I slammed the car door as I got out.

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

The next few days I spent at Charlie’s house when my mom wasn’t home, hoping Bombay wouldn’t come track me down again.

“(Y/n)?” Charlie said, “Someone left a package for you.”

I looked up from the comic books that were sprawled across Charlie’s bed in confusion as he sat the brown paper package down. My name was written across it in black sharpie.

Charlie shook his head, “Well, are you gonna open it?”

“I think I already know who it’s from.”

“(Y/n), he really wants to make it up to you. Just open it.”

I sighed and slowly ripped the paper, inside was a jersey. My favorite hockey team’s jersey.

“Woah,” I said.

Charlie scoffed, “Your dad sent you that? How’d he know your favorite team?”

“Cause it’s his favorite too. Charlie this is his vintage jersey.”

“Well,” he said, “Maybe you can start imagining that forgiveness part.”

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

“The Ducks? We’re the ducks? What brain dead jerk came up with that name,” Peter scoffed.

“As a matter of fact,” Bombay said pulling a jersey out of the box, “I did. But I didn’t have a choice, we’re being sponsored. You’d rather be district 5? Some stupid number?”

“They don’t even have teeth,” Peter said.

“Neither do hockey players,” he said, we all giggled, “Have you ever seen a flock of ducks flying in perfect formation? It’s beautiful. Pretty awesome how they all stick together. The other animals are afraid, cause they know if they mess with one duck then they’ll get the whole flock.”

Bombay walked around the locker room giving his little speech. He smiled when he got to me, his eyes flicking down to see I was wearing the old jersey he had left for me.

He whipped off his coat to reveal his Ducks jersey underneath as we all laughed, “I’m proud to be a duck, and I’d be proud to fly with any one of you.”

Charlie and I smiled at each other.

“So how about it? Who’s a duck?”

Silence followed as everyone looked around the room to see who would go first.

“I’ll be a duck,” our new player Fulton Reed said.

I smiled and placed my hockey stick on the bench, “I’ll join the flock.”

“Yeah,” Charlie said following suit, “me too.”

Soon enough the whole team joined in. Grabbing jerseys and cheering.

“We are the ducks!” Bombay shouted, “The Mighty Ducks!”

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

The next few games were amazing. Our winning streak started to pick up and soon enough we were getting ready to face off against Cardinals.

Charlie and I were named the dynamic duo. Our ability to make plays and take shots off of each other improved everyday. But that put a target on our back.

It was the third quarter, we had to make one shot to pull us out of a tie and win. The crowd was going crazy as Charlie and I sped up the ice. Our team following behind us for backup.

It was a stupid idea.

Charlie went to take a shot as I saw a goon defender moving in for the body check. So I threw myself in between Charlie and the goon. My head snapped back against the glass as I heard the buzzer go off signaling a goal.

The team cheered. Charlie frantically raced over to me.

“(Y/n)?”

I could barely hear him, the ringing in my ears was so loud, “Where’s my dad?”

Charlie looked confused before shouting over to Bombay.

“(Y/n)? Can you hear me?” he said.

“Dad?” I started to cry as the pain caught up to me.

“Get her helmet off Charlie,” he said, I felt Charlie gently take it off and the coolness of the ice against the back of my head, “(Y/n) the paramedics are gonna get you off the ice okay?”

I felt myself being picked up off the ice and lifted onto a stretcher, the crowd clapped as I was rolled off the ice.

The ride to the hospital was short, Charlie’s mom called my mom's work to tell her what happened and she rushed over as Casey rode to the hospital with me.

“Where’s my dad?”

“He had to finish up the game, he’s gonna meet us there afterwards.”

Everything happened really fast when we got there, I wasn’t allowed to sleep even though I was super tired.

“Look who’s here” Casey said. I turned to see Bombay and Charlie walking in.

“Woah,” I yelped as Charlie ran over to give me a hug.

“Are you crazy? You won’t be able to play at the next game!”

I laughed, “At least we get a next game. It was worth it.”

He rolled his eyes and ruffled my hair. Bombay sat down in the chair beside the hospital bed. Casey and Charlie walked outside.

“Do you remember what happened after you took that hit?”

I paused trying to think back to earlier, “Um… not really.”

“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it in front of the team. You called me dad.”

I turned my head to look down at the sheets, “Oh…”

“I don’t have a problem with it,” he laughed, “But the team is definitely going to have questions for you tomorrow.”

I smiled.

“Alright, grab your stuff. The doctor said you can go, you just can’t practice or play in a game for a week.”

My eyes widened, “A week?!”

“Yes,” he said, “And I better not hear any complaints. I’ll make you run extra. Your moms waiting on us.”

“Where?”

“At the diner, she said something about milkshakes.”

I smiled, “We always get milkshakes after games.”

“Well, it’s on me tonight.”

I jumped up and gave him a hug before running out to grab Charlie. I think I can imagine that forgiveness thing now.

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

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#the mighty ducks #the mighty ducks imagine #gordon bombay #emelio estevez #gordon bombay imagine #gordon bombay x daughter!reader #emelio estevez imagine

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

Text

Title: Kismet {8}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Plot, Tiny Slow Burn, Mild Cursing, Dialogue Heavy, POV Changes, Small Time Jumps

Words: 6.6k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘

As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

-Henry-

The minute he woke the next day and the alcohol had worn off; he instantly regretted his actions. His head was pounding and his nose stuffy, which was always what the morning after a drinking fest looked and felt like for him. the pain in his head made him painfully aware of everything he’d said to you. More than half of him wished he would have just held his peace and moved on, but the other side of him—the stubborn bull side felt nothing but satisfaction from what he’d done. It was time, especially seeing that you completely had the wrong idea about who he was and his character. He couldn’t help but wonder what you thought about your conversation, but instead of dwelling on it, he decided to push it to the side and do the logical thing. Move on.

It was now five days since that conversation, and though it felt strange the first couple of days to not send you a message when you ran across his mind, he did it and adapted. He now was throwing himself into work because there wasn’t a shortage of it. Most days, he was in pre-production for Witcher two, and that in itself was a lot of work. Production decided to kick fight choreography up a notch because last season wasn’t badass enough. The choreography this season was definitely taking it up several notches, and it meant more long hours of training and even more potential for him to be hurt.

By week two post convo, he was steadily counting down to his vacation time. Training was kicking his ass, and the more and more days that passed, the more he thought of you. That wasn’t all though, the more the way he thought of you changed. In the beginning, he thought he was infatuated or possibly obsessed. When he was around you, he always felt as if he wasn’t in control. He felt like there were forces that were controlling your interactions and pulling a starry blanket over his feelings. He expected this time away to act as a purge, but it hadn’t, not in the way he’d anticipated.

“Come on, her name is Becca, and she’s super cute,” Alisha said.

“Why is it that all my brother’s wives want to set me up?”

“Because we care. You’re too great of a guy to be alone,” Halley complimented.

They all nodded, and his eldest brother painfully squeezed his cheek.

“Plus, look at this face,” Nik teased, making all of them elate.

It had been like this since they were kids. Nothing had changed.

“I’m perfectly fine being alone,” he answered.

“Doesn’t mean you should be,” Amee piped out.

No matter what, he said it wouldn’t be good enough until he gave them what they wanted. He had no intention of doing it, though. He wasn’t sure if it was really his loathing of being set up or because he didn’t want to pretend to want anyone else. Whatever it was, it had him declining to their annoyance. He could stick it out for the next two weeks until he got out of London.

-Aliya-

“You fucked up, plain and simple,” Amaya blurted out as she flipped through a magazine.

You rolled your eyes and tried to continue writing notes to the song you’d just wrote. As sure as you were that it was pitch black outside, you knew she wasn’t done—not by a long shot. A minute passed in silence, but as projected, Amaya began again.

“Just explain to me why you don’t want to be happy.” Amaya tossed the magazine aside, giving you her full attention. Still, you ignored her and kept your eyes glued to the note pad.

“Liya, come on. At some point in your life, you’re going to have to be honest with yourself.”

She was right. For the last few weeks, you’d spent a lot of sleepless nights doing just that. Since Henry’s call, you’d been forced to look at your situation in a light you’d ignored. It wasn’t that you were doing it maliciously. It was just easier and neater to see the worst in every situation hence the worst in people. You’d been the girl who dug deep for the best in people and only focused on that and their potential for too long. It made more sense from a survivalist standpoint to be different.

You’d went back and forth and round and round your situation, and perhaps you were too quick to jump to conclusions. The bottom line was the things he said had affected you, more than you liked and more than you could ignore. A few days after his call, you saw his picture in The Sun. He wasn’t alone. It looked like he’d had a long night of partying. You deduced it was probably the same night he called you. Though he was obviously drunk, he still looked so damn good. In the last few weeks, you’d thought about him a lot. On several occasions, you’d taken up your phone for the sole purpose to stalk his Instagram or even scroll through your gallery to gawk at his pictures. Never though, did you attempt to call.

The main reason was that you hated being the one in the wrong. You hated feeling like the asshole and what was worse was that you also hated apologizing. So, you bit your tongue, pushed your thoughts and emotions aside, and just hoped time would make it all fade. It didn’t.

“Aliya!”

Closing your notepad, you stood. “We’re going to miss the flight.”

“Whatever! It’s a private jet. It’s your private jet.”

You were already out of the room, which meant thankfully, you didn’t have to see her face. The drive to the private airfield was about forty-five minutes. For the entire ride, you could feel Amaya’s annoyance with you. she didn’t say one word. Instead, she kept her nose buried in her phone scrolling her life away. It was okay with you; you had plenty of work to do. Plus, you knew this wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

Sure enough, twenty minutes into the flight to London, she was back at it. The difference between Amaya and Alicia was simple. Where Alicia liked to leave me be until she knew the perfect time to go in because she knew the perfect time would come when you would be more receptive to it, Amaya preferred to go in all the time. She was always on one hundred. You loved both your best friends dearly, and they both spoke to different sides of you, but sometimes you wished they were wrong a lot more often than they were right.

When you got pulled into a phone meeting, you were grateful and even more so when it lasted for almost two hours. By the time you ended the call, Amaya was napping. Though you thought the silence was what you wanted, it was a blessing in disguise. It meant you now had peace and quiet to think, and your thoughts more often than not went right to Henry.

When you landed in London and checked into the hotel, it was after midnight. Once you’d taken a shower and answered a few emails, you popped two sleep aids in hopes they would knock you out because you needed all your energy tomorrow.

-The Next Day-

Hectic was an understatement for how your morning and afternoon had been going. One of the great things about being you was that when you got bored with one career avenue, you had three more to distract yourself with. For the last several months, you’d been focusing on your acting career and had been able to complete two films and three guest appearances. In between acting gigs you were also able to do a few modeling events, including Fall and Spring fashion week.

What had fallen to the wayside was your singing career. It was almost time for you to fulfill your contractual obligations by releasing another album. You’d been focusing on writing new material for the last few weeks, and tonight you were putting on one of the last stops on a mini-tour your team had planned months ago. The travel alone was killing you. You were exhausted, even more than usual. With every show, you felt your body telling you it would soon be time to slow down or stop for a few months. You needed a break.

“I should have flown in days ago. I hate feeling like this isn’t perfect.”

“Aliya, it’s fine,” Alicia countered.

The perfectionist in you didn’t believe her.

“I promise. I wouldn’t lie to you. You have to go anyway. The show is supposed to start at six; it’s already three.”

She was right. Though you hated it, you would have to cross your fingers and hope things looked cohesive. After finishing up the last-minute wardrobe adjustments and a quick pep talk with your dancers, you made your way back to the hotel to get in a little bit of pampering before having to get back to the center for prep.

As you laid on the table and enjoyed your deep tissue massage, you allowed the worries to float away. There was nothing you could do about it now anyway. You were also sure it was perfectly fine, and just your obsessive nature taking over. Tuning everything out, you focused on your meditative breathing. Before you knew it, it was time to get back to the center to get into wardrobe and put on a show worthy of the hundreds that were spent on tickets. You were determined to perform your ass off.

-Henry-

He couldn’t have gotten out of tonight no matter what. He’d tried. When Charlie announced to everyone that Heather had made plans for their adults' date night, he rolled his eyes. Now that he thought of it, it was around the time that Amee tried to set him up with that woman. This was supposed to be a blind date, and since he’d declined, he was here alone while all his other brothers were snuggling up and whispering to their significant others.

Here he was an hour and ten minutes into your show, and he’d never had more fluctuating thoughts and feelings. At first, it was surprise; then annoyance, then it transitioned into awe until it moved to arousal and admiration. Now he was stewing deep in all of them, and it was not a good look. Your voice was incredible. He’d always known how talented you were. Your stamina to dance and sing blew his mind. Then when he watched those dance moves closer, it was impossible to keep his thoughts pure. It also didn’t help that the outfits you were wearing only fueled his imagination more.

“What’s wrong with you? You said you liked Aliya Taylor,” Amee shouted over the music.

Plastering a smile on his face, he nodded. “Yeah, she’s great. I’m tired.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

When you came out for the final song in a flowing low cut white gown and barefoot, he staggered backward when he envisioned you walking down a flower aisle.

“Fucking hell!”

All eyes snapped to him, and the curious looks on their faces only had him needing air even more.

“I—I’m gonna get a head start to the cars.”

Not waiting for a response, he turned and walked through the crowd, not daring to look back at you.

-Aliya-

Amaya and Alicia laughed together at something on Amaya’s timeline. No doubt it was some picture of one of her boy toys. You sipped from your flower decorated porcelain teacup while staring out over London to the Eye. Just behind it, Big Ben stood tall and proud as it chimes for four o’clock echoed through the city. This was a city you’d spent a lot of time in thanks to your grandparents on your father’s side. Not as much time as they’d like, but there was only so much free time you had. Big Ben and the Eye were two of your favorite things about London.

You should have been on cloud nine after another successful show and checking another thing off your extensive to-do list, but you weren’t. You felt almost as gloomy as the rolling clouds in the sky that threatened rain.

“You seem depressed.”

Alicia’s voice had you turning back to them you softly smiled. “I’m not.”

“You look it,” Amaya slid home.

Rolling your eyes, you finished your cup of tea and gently placed it on its matching saucer with a shrug. “I don’t know what to tell you then.”

Amaya then gasped with a smile in her eyes. “I know what it is. You’re finally missing your grade A prime beef of a man.”

Snorting, you shook your head. “Oh god. Try again.”

“You might be right, Mya,” Leece started placed her elbows on the table to peer at you closer. “This all started the night we had dinner with him. What’s his name again?” Both of them pretended to wrack their brains to remember his name, but they knew damn well what it was.

“Ah, Henry,” Amaya cooed, making you roll your eyes even harder.

“Both of you stop. You’re not funny.”

“We approve.”

“I second that,” Alicia added.

“What? Really?”

“Are you kidding? Yeah. Not only is he gorgeous, like drop dead gorgeous, but he is also super nice. Throughout dinner he was very courteous and sincere. You know I’m a good people reader,” Amaya attested.

“He’s funny, and he seemed to be genuine with his efforts to get to know Mya and me. He also was putting in effort into proving something to you.”

Sighing, you took a few sips of your water.

“Honestly, I couldn’t find anything wrong with him.”

“Really? Perfection?”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Yes, you’d suspected they liked him, but the perfect word was just uttered. It was never spoken of, not by them.

“Pretty much,” Amaya doubled down.

“Wow.”

“Tell me about it. Move on that before some other chick does. He will not be single for long,” Amaya added.

For some reason, this was the first time you’d thought about that, and you couldn’t believe it. She was right. He was gorgeous, among other things, and women already fawned over him. He wouldn’t be licking his wounds much longer. A knot formed in your gut, and a sour taste in your mouth followed. Glancing away from their penetrative gazes, you looked around the restaurant and nearly dropped the water glass when you saw Henry across the restaurant laughing. This was the first time you’d seen him in person since your breakfast in New York weeks and weeks ago, and he looked great.

Your eyes drank him up, taking their time soaking up every detail of his face, the slight stubble that decorated his chiseled jaw, his perfectly imperfect smile, his hair that fell slightly longer than you remembered. When he spoke again, you watched his mouth move and quickly got lost. You didn’t have to hear his words. You knew how he spoke them. You knew the effect his voice had. At the thought of that effect, you peeled your eyes away and tried to keep them on either Alicia, Amaya, or the table. Of course, it was impossible. Your eyes continuously found him, and it was on him they remained until you forced yourself to look away.

“What do you keep looking at?”

Amaya glanced around the restaurant. You knew she’d found him because when she turned to face you again, her smile was as wide as a thief's.

“Oh ho ho, looks like fate is on mine and Leece’s side.”

“Stop. Be cool, act natural. Don’t make a scene,” you pleaded.

“Look at that, same place, same time, just mere feet away.”

From the tone of her voice, you knew she was tempted to fuck with you.

“Stop, Amaya. Don’t.”

“Why?”

Trying to keep your voice down and the panic from your face, you pleaded again. “Just don’t.”

Amaya studied you for a few moments before she nodded in defeat. Relief flooded you. Though you tried, you couldn’t get your head back onto lunch and off of him no matter how you tried. The three of you left shortly after passing his table on the way out.

Thanks to a little free time, you, Amaya, and Alicia were able to soak up some shopping in London and before getting back to the hotel for a quick change, then dinner. Even though you tried to stop thinking about Henry’s face earlier, you weren��t the least bit successful, but you played it off like everything was cool. You didn’t know if you fooled either of them, but you really didn’t care. You were so ready to get the hell out of London.

-That Night-

Big Ben’s chime for one in the morning ringing out all around you. It was yet another night of sleeplessness. From your seat at the window, you could feel the nice breeze. It still smelled like rain, but for whatever reason, the rain was staying away. Finishing your glass of wine, you sighed out and nearly leaped out your skin when your phone rang in the quiet room.

“Hello?”

“What’s wrong?”

You smiled from the unexpected sound of your gramaw’s voice. It was like the concrete gate you had around your heart that was constricting it to the point where it was challenging to breathe loosened.

Sighing, you leaned back, reclining against the surface.

“I think I fell in love,” you whispered.

“In love?”

Hearing the words said back to you made you close your eyes and shake your head.

“Yeah, at least I think that’s what I’m feeling. I can’t sleep well, not that I could before. I feel a little depressed, and I can’t pinpoint why, but when I think about it, I feel this way when I think about him. Not to mention, I think about him all the time. Christ, I even dream about him.”

Pausing, you glanced at your phone to find his picture there. It was the last thing you’d been looking at before tossing your phone away.

“I truly feel like I did something wrong, like I was wrong,” you confessed.

“Have you talked to him?”

Hitting your head back, you groaned. “Not since he called me and told me I’m missing out on him and gave me all the reasons why I should realizing I’m missing out.”

You couldn't help but smile at his words as you remembered them.

“Do you feel like you’re missing out?”

Your Gramaw always knew the right questions to ask. She was one of the few that did, one of the few that you’d even listen to. Bowing your head, you sighed again.

“Maybe. Normally I’m sure about someone and sure that I don’t need or want them in my life, but with him—I have doubts with my snap judgment.”

“Oh no, snap judgments are never a good thing, Aliya.”

You groaned hearing the disappointment in her voice. “I know, jeez do I know.”

“What do you feel like doing?”

You scoffed, if you knew that you wouldn’t be going through this struggle.

“I’ll be to you in a few days. I’ll see you soon.”

“Your heart, Aliya, not your head,” she cautioned before you ended the call.

For the next thirty or so minutes, you paced the balcony of your room as you debated with yourself over what you were going to do. After psyching yourself up as much as you could, you bit the bullet dialing Henry’s number before you talked yourself out of it. After one ring, you almost hung up but forced yourself to stick through the terror running through you. Two rings passed, then three. At the fourth you began to lower your hand to end the call and then his voice echoed through the speaker.

“Hello?”

You froze drawing a blank and forgetting for a moment you had a voice.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” you whispered.

The rustling on his end was loud but brief.

“Aliya?”

Swallowing the lump, you took a deep breath. “Yeah. Hi.”

“It’s after one in the morning. Is everything all right? Are you hurt?”

Your heart lurched, and a soft smile spread across your lips. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m not hurt,” you assured.

He sighed, then yawned.

“I uh—I know it’s late or early. I know you, um, probably have something better to do than be up. I’m sorry if I woke you,” you half rushed and stuttered out.

“You’re rambling, Aliya.” You stopped your pacing then and slapped your forehead.

“Yes, I am. I do that when I’m nervous,” you blurted.

“Why are you nervous?”

Pausing, you gripped the rail on the balcony and used it to center yourself and get your nerves under control.

“Well, I’m about to ask the man I told I wouldn’t be with to meet me somewhere at nearly two in the morning. I’m—sending major mixed signals.”

Henry didn’t speak right away. Instead, he waited, making you chew your bottom lip as your anxiety increased.

“Why?”

“Wh—why? Why what?”

“Why should I?”

Stunned, your jaw dropped. “Oh, wow, out with the hard questions. Okay. Um—well—you should meet me because uh—it’s not often that I realize I was wrong or did something wrong and when I realize that, I like to say so.”

Again the silence over the phone stretched for long moments. After a full minute of it, your anxiety peaked.

“Still there?”

Henry sighed. “I’m here. I’m thinking.”

His voice sounded so deliciously deep. Either you had woken him, and this was his sleepy voice, or he was purposely giving you that sexy baritone.

“By all means. Think as long as you need to. Um—I’ll be at the eye until 2:30. I um—I hope you show. If you don’t, I understand, really I do and no hard feelings.”

Quickly you ended the call and panted as if you’d been running a marathon all in an effort to calm yourself down. It had been years since you’d put yourself through something like that, and you had a feeling it was only the beginning of you making amends.

Being Aliya Taylor afforded you some perks, and one was being able to have access to the eye well after closing. All it took was one call, well two to be exact, and voila, you were sitting in one of the cars anxiously waiting for Henry. You had no idea if he’d show, and the more and more time that passed with him not magically appearing, the more and more your brain worked overtime. The scenery helped a lot, but when you glanced at your watch and saw that it was almost 2:30, the scenery could do no more. Your nerves and anxiety had erupted like a volcano.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

Spinning, you saw Henry at the door still on the platform. You released a relieved sigh, realizing he hadn’t stood you up.

“Good thing I’m not—anymore.”

Henry stepped into the car and took a few steps to you but stopped when he was still a ways away.

“London after two is not safe,” Henry informed.

“I know.”

The doors closed, and the contraption began moving.

“How in the world did you get them to open this for you?”

Smiling, you shrugged. “I may know people in high places,” you replied, which made him smile.

“This is one of my favorite places in London,” you announced as you walked around the car, taking care not to get too close. You didn’t know if you could handle it right away, and you had to feel him out to see what his coming really meant.

“Why?”

“You can see all of greater London from here and out to the countryside if you really look once you’re up high.”

Henry also walked around the car, mirroring your intentions. Neither of you came close enough to touch one another.

“How often do you come to London?”

“A lot. I have some family here, plus I prefer the countryside.”

“So you have some British blood,” Henry inquired, half a question, half a statement.

“I had to. Only the Bris would dare think to send their daughters off to finishing school,” you quipped.

Henry’s laugh filled the car, making you smile widely. He walked to one of the many windows turning his back to you. Slowly you looked over his broad back, taking in every detail. Your fingers could still remember what the dance of his muscles felt like underneath them, and they itched to feel them dance again. Taking a deep breath, you fiddled your fingers.

“Uh--I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important by asking you here. Like I hope I didn’t impose on—anyone.”

You were fishing, it was obvious, and you felt no shame.

“Eh, who needs sleep anyway. I can sleep when I’m dead,” Henry replied with a shrug of those magnificent shoulders still keeping his back to you.

“Were um--were you uh—sleeping—alone?”

Your heart was pounding so loudly you could swear he could hear it. He didn’t speak or turn around. He just stood there torturing you. You wondered if he knew it was sheer torture what he was doing. Did he even care? The longer he remained quiet, the more you freaked out until you decided to backtrack all the way back.

“I’m sorry. Don’t answer that. It is absolutely none of my business. I don’t even know why I asked that,” you rushed out, rubbing your forehead from embarrassment before beginning to pace the car.

That was when Henry chose to turn around.

“I know a woman doesn’t say something she doesn’t mean, and usually when a woman asks a question, she wants to know the answer either to prove herself right or in hopes she’s wrong. What is it for you?”

His voice made you stop in the midst of pacing to watch his mouth as he spoke. There was something poetic about how he spoke, and it always distracted you. Nibbling your bottom lip, you thought about how to respond. You were already tired of the verbal Olympics and talking around each other.

Sighing, you rolled your eyes. “Henry--.”

“You know that’s the first time you’ve said my name without the word goodbye in front of it.”

That made you snap your mouth shut. Had it?

“That’s not true,” you protested.

“It actually is. I was beginning to think you like saying goodbye rather than hello.”

You took a step to him. “That’s not true. I like saying hello way more than goodbye,” you defended.

The neutral look on his face gave you no confidence to go on, so you rolled your eyes and continued to walk around the car. This would be harder than you expected, you thought.

“I was sleeping alone. I’ve slept alone for quite some time now,” he informed just as you were looking out of the window to the city.

“Look, Henry, I-,” you began again, but then henry cut you off.

“That day in New York those weeks ago, I should have plain and simply laid it out for you. I should have told you everything. I was with Francesca--.”

“Don’t, don’t, don’t. I honestly don’t want to know.”

“But you need to know. There is no way you can begin to trust me or begin to let yourself gravitate to me the way you’re entire being wants until you know,” Henry slid out. Pressing your palm to your abdomen, you tried to slow the butterflies that began flitting.

“I was with Francesca for about two years. The whole time I knew she wanted a family in life. She was always vocal about her wanting to get married young and have kids. I knew, but I never paid attention to it. I was away filming something for a while, and when I came home one weekend, I caught her with someone else.”

Your eyes widened, hearing his words.

“turns out she was beginning a relationship with someone else, someone who she thought would lead to marriage and kids,” Henry added. His voice held steady, but you could imagine the pain going through those memories again.

“I’m sorry.”

Henry shook his head, “It’s not necessary. After a few months of her trying to make amends, I thought we’d try again.” He scoffed then rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m a hopeless romantic. After months of trying, I knew it wouldn’t work, but I kept a relationship of sorts with her.”

You understood. They were bed buddies.

“I then met Abby, and what started as a fling developed into something more. Long story short, I got wind of a rumor she was using me for fame and money, so I distanced myself from her. after some time of her telling I had it all wrong, I decided it was easier keeping her around though my heart wasn’t in it. I wasn’t juggling them. I hadn’t slept with either of them in a long time. I just—I felt it was better to have someone who misses me and wants me than living the lonely actor life.”

His honesty had you frozen. When he began to explain, you hadn’t expected him to reveal so much. You expected a bare minimum explanation, but what you’d gotten revealed so much more about him. You felt bad.

“I guess allowing the attentions and affections to remain is just as bad as juggling them. I was playing with their hearts. I’m not proud of it.”

Henry dipped his head, showing he felt some shame for his actions.

“When I met you, I realized although I had these two women sort of vying for me, I was still lonely, but those moments we were together, I didn’t feel alone. I felt--,” he paused as if trying to find the right word. His hesitation made you look down.

You knew what you’d felt.

“When I met you, I felt someone I’d never felt before, something I don’t fully understand. I don’t know what that means, but I know I want to find out—with you.”

Finally, able to release the breath you held, you took another, then cleared your throat. “I’m not juggling two guys. I was dating two guys, but not sleeping with both. I was with Liam first, and we had an okay relationship. We were busy, never saw each other and when we did it wasn’t for long. He um—he got annoyed and broke up with me. He said I was impacting his work, and he needed to focus.”

You remembered how he’d said it too. He’d said it like you were the one to blame for the roles he’d gotten or hadn’t gotten.

“I was fine with it, and during those five months apart, I met Jesse. We worked together and had fun and began dating. It wasn't anything sexual. Then Liam comes back and wants to pick up where we left off. I told him about Jesse, and he was fine with it.”

The shock on Henry’s face almost made you laugh. Alicia and Amaya were also surprised they’d chosen that unconventional path. Amaya, of course, thought you should have kept it secret from both of them.

“One day, Jesse sees Liam and me out, and it pissed him off enough to end things. Three weeks later, I lay it out for both that I don’t want to choose, and I don’t want anything serious. They were both fine with it, and so it went on. Six months later, I decided I needed to be on my own to focus on work and me. They didn’t like the decision. They call and text me to try to—rekindle something.”

Henry scoffed, and you watched a soft smile tickle his lips.

“I haven’t physically seen either of them in weeks, now maybe months,” you finished.

Henry was quiet for a few seconds before he snorted.

“They were mad.”

“Angry?”

“No, mad, bonkers,” Henry clarified.

“Oh, crazy.”

“Yeah. To be okay to share you, be willing to do something like that. I couldn’t do that,” Henry informed, making you smile in the process.

“Well, men do crazy things.”

“I can attest to that, but I’d never do something that crazy. I can’t share what’s mine. I won’t.”

Your eyes locked, and your body swayed toward his. It was like he was metal and you a magnet. Everything in you wanted to be close to him. The more you tried to fight the pull, the harder it became to breathe. The harder it was to breathe, the dizzier you became.

“I—I—I—I,” you began before gulping the knot in your throat down that was making you speak in a raspy whisper. “I don’t—know what this is.”

Henry nodded.

“I am not used to not knowing and being out of control,” you continued.

“You feel less controlled too?”

You couldn't help but to nod. Once you did, Henry took a step to you. You took a step back.

“Hold on. I like control. I like control a lot. Anything that threatens that control is not for me.”

Henry’s eyes lowered but only for a moment before he was looking right back into yours.

“But—I really want to find out why you make me less controlled,” you finally admitted.

The uncertainty on his face spoke volumes. “What does that mean? Where does that leave this—us?”

You chewed your bottom lip; you realized how ill-prepared you’d been.

“Honestly, I didn’t think this meeting out that far. I only planned up to when you showed up. I’ve um—I’ve been winging it this whole time.”

His smile started small but spread wide in seconds; then, he laughed loudly.

“So you won’t mind me making a plan?”

Oh lord, you thought, feeling his alpha pop out. You bit your bottom lip again.

“What kind of plan?”

Henry closed the remaining space between you. Every step he took had you shaking even more.

“A plan that I’ve envisioned every night since brunch.”

Stopped in front of you and held you captivated by his gaze and the sheer dominating energy rolling off of him. The way he stood there taller than you made your mouth run dry.

“Jesus, you’re freakishly short,” Henry teased in his perfect Englishman voice.

Smiling, you shook your head. “I know, I debated wearing heels but didn’t—I wanted you to see me normal for someone reason I don’t under--.”

Henry’s sudden movement cut you off. He dipped down the entire foot he overshadowed you and lifted you into the air to hold you flush against his body. Then he lowered his lips to yours, taking and keeping control of an intensely passionate kiss. A kiss you hadn’t known you craved until it began, a kiss you were not prepared for. You moaned against his lips, and that moan triggered his. Wrapping your arm around his neck, you clung to him, and every sensation you were feeling and even new ones he was awakening within you.

Slowly, Henry pulled his lips from your, but he kept your body to his. You kept your eyes closed, relishing the lingering effects.

“You’re shaking,” Henry whispered.

“So are you.”

You opened your eyes and gazed into his as he slowly lowered you back to your feet.

“What else is part of your plan?”

Henry's smile spread across his face. “For me to carry out any other part of my plan would be completely rakish of me.”

His smile was adorable, but still intimidatingly sexy.

“I take it you’re not a rake.”

“Not in the least.”

“All right. So, alternate plan?”

He smiled again. “Still pretty rakish.”

With that, he brought his lips back to yours, but this time he didn’t pull back for several long minutes.

Though you knew people in high places, it didn’t mean you could keep the eye open all morning. After three trips around, the two of you got off then walked around London holding hands and eating ice cream. It was such a weird sensation allowing someone to hold your hand. It had been a long time since you’d ever wanted to. The entire time you laughed and talked about everything and nothing at the same time. One thing was clear; neither of you was in any rush for your time together to end.

But end, it had to. When Henry walked you back to your hotel, it was almost time for the sun to come up.

“Home safe and sound,” Henry joked.

“Yes, thanks to Superman.”

“No, no, I’m just the man. Henry Cavill.”

He held his hand out to you. Smiling, you rolled your eyes.

“Now is when we get to this?”

His goofy smile and shrug had your head skip a beat.

“Aliya Taylor,” you said, shaking his hand.

“Nice to meet you. Mind if I call you Aliya or Liya, that's all a mouthful,” Henry teased.

Your laugh was loud, and you had to clamp your hand over your mouth, remembering what time it was.

“Yes, you can call me either. Can I call you Henners or Hank?”

“No. My friends call me that.”

“So, I’m not your friend?”

“If I have anything to say about it, which I do, then no. I don’t want you as a friend.” Henry replied, making you smile like a little girl at Christmas.

“Then what do you want me as?”

Your eyes lingered for a few seconds before Henry was pulling you closer to brush the back of his hand against your cheek.

“For now, I’ll settle for my girlfriend.”

The man was an expert at charm. You bit into your bottom lip and tried to stop smiling. “Girlfriend, wow. That’s a loaded title. What does it entail?”

“Well, for one, it entails being your true self with me, accepting my true self, being there for me when I need you, letting me be there for you when you need me or when I need you, allowing me to be your strength when you’re weak, your hope when you’re hopeless. Allowing me to grow with you, learn with you. Giving me your time and attention, enough of it so what we have can grow. Trusting me and letting me spoil you rotten.”

If he weren’t holding you against him, you would have fallen back.

“Is that all?”

Henry leaned closer kisses your cheek. “To begin.”

“And if I refused to be this girlfriend you speak of?”

“Then I’d just have to convince you,” Henry cooed.

“How?”

Right on que, Henry dipped his lips to yours. The second they touched, you moaned and held him close. Why resist when you could enjoy it, you thought. His tongue swirled with yours before he nibbled then sucked your bottom lip. When he pulled back, your eyes remained closed.

“I’m convinced.”

Henry pecked your lips once, then twice. “Good. Girlfriend.”

Your eyes locked again, and you forgot all common sense for what felt like an eternity.

“Eh-em—I have to be on a set in the morning.”

“Which is now,” Henry filled in.

Still hazed in the brain, you stuttered and smiled like a fool.

“Mm, did I stay out all night?”

“You did. I hope it was worth it.”

Smiling, you kissed his jaw. “We’ll see,” you whispered as you backed away from him, making your way to the door.

“Good morning, Henry.”

He smiled again, watching you disappear inside the hotel. As you walked to the elevator bank, you couldn’t stop smiling or stop the butterflies that had been flying all night in your stomach. As you stepped onto the elevator and watched the doors closed, you recognized the feeling you felt as happiness. It had been absent for a long time.

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

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#kismet fic #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x black reader #black fanfiction #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic

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doyelikehaggis · 3 years

Note

could i be sending this on instagram? yes. am i sending it on here anyway for fun? also yes

currently on the season 5 finale and wow i forgot how much i hate the dumblebys. i’ve never wanted to murder a fictional character more. it’s bloody annoying that that shit goes on in real life too. fuck capitalism

tee implying candi-rose reminds her of carmen? iconic. those two deserved more screen time together… actually i really hope that the finale of this show, whenever it eventually ends, features every kid who ever lived in the dg since at least the start of tbr, plus mike, tracy, cam… everyone. if the finale is just 2 full hours of everyone swapping stories and reminiscing i will be happy

ok but actually i’m very upset about mission totally possible, i’d missed it in previous rewatches so my dumb ass watched that mindfuck of an episode for the first time ever at 2am and i think i lost braincells from it

honestly most of the latter half of s5 is very disorienting and oddly done. did anything between the wardrobe and where you belong even happen. i mean i know most of it did because charlie moved in but the tone is so odd and wrong. i’m very confused

i forget how much i love adult elektra, in both s5 and s8 she is i c o n i c. she really just said fuck the system huh. and got frank involved? beautiful.

the amount of scheming occurring this episode is absolutely astounding. i’m amazed liam isn’t involved

ryan being protective over all the younger kids is my new religion thank you and goodbye. you can just tell he would’ve been such a good brother to chloe if things had gone differently

floss may be a capitalist but apparently she’s also a feminist, honestly i can’t wait to see what she does when she leaves the dg (that’ll only be in a few years?? mad. she joined this show when she was six)

alex really thought he can steal roman relics from a museum alone, with about an hour of planning and wearing distinct clothes? fool. he could never get away with a heist as clean as the money one, im amazed anyone fell for dumbleby’s lie

wait hold on. why can’t they just move from house to house like they did from elm tree to ashdene?? that seems like b i g plot hole

oh god oh fuck i’m on season 6 oh no

I'm happy you're still sending your rambles on here because it means we get to force other people to see TDG content.

The dumbleby's really are some of the worst characters in TDG. Not badly written, but written well enough to make us despise them. And yeah, it really does suck that this is just real life, like, people fully will not care about disrupting these kids lives and giving them further trauma just to make some money.

I was so happy that Tee implied Candi-Rose reminds her of Carmen because they really are quite similar! You are galaxy-brained, that is exactly the finale we need. I don't even want a plot. I want raw emotion of all of these characters reminiscing and giving the actors a chance to show their love for each other and the show through their characters. I want to see characters that just missed each other finally interact. The older ones from the very start marvelling over how big the little ones who were there at their time now are, and how they've taken over their roles to the younger ones. I even want, if possible, a few cameos from TSOTB characters, specifically Crash, Jackie, Justine, and most unlikely, Ben. The finale better at least be more than a half hour, because I will never be satisfied with that.

I will give you that, mission totally impossible was... weird. I mean, it's one of my favourite episodes because it's mostly Jody centric, and has Jody/Tyler AND Ryan/Tyler content, so I really can't complain about that. But the actual plot was.... something else.

On that note, I really do not like most of season 5. Like you said, it's disorienting, all of the episodes feel like fillers but not in a good way - especially the wardrobe episode, I hate that one specifically with a passion because it's just so weird and feels completely wrong from the tone of the rest of the show. Season 5 was not one of their better seasons. Glad they've moved away from whatever they were trying to do there.

Adult Elektra! Iconic really is the only word to describe her. She's the same but more mature, with a better sense of what she wants and what she's doing, and a bit more responsibility, and I really love that look on her. And yes, her getting Frank involved was the cherry on top; she really can't stop roping him into her schemes, just like her first episode. I desperately wanted Liam to be involved in those episodes because he would have been a very useful and welcome addition to the scheme team, and he was still living with Frank, as far as I'm aware? We deserved adult Elektra/Frank/Liam team up. We need the scheme team back together!!

Ryan is my villain origin story and it's only strengthened when he interacts with the younger ones. That boy would have been the best big brother.

Floss being a feminist does make sense to me. And I love that for her! It's about the only thing I do love for her lmoafkajsksjhd but yeah, I actually kinda do wanna know what she plans to do when she leaves the dg, because we haven't heard much about that? She had an interest in dance and acting and some other things, and she's been quite determined recently to do whatever she can to make money, so I definitely see her being an entrepreneur of some sort. Either that or the scariest business woman alive.

Look, Alex is trying his best, okay? That boy has about two brain cells. And that's being generous. But I love his effort, at least. No thought and no plan, but A+ for effort.

Honestly, that is a big plot hole. The change in building from Elm Tree to Ashdene Ridge in general is a bit of a plot hole because they never actually discuss it within the show? Obviously at the wedding, Tracy says she knew the old one better, which at least kind of acknowledges that it's definitely not the same house, but it's so weird that they never even tried to explain within the show why they had to move and change the name. So, the fact that they made a big deal of possibly having to move building this time was definitely odd. Like... we KNOW they've already done it. They COULD do it again, potentially, if they had the money or whatever they need. I think the plot was just for the Drama and the Angst of nearly being separated, which I can appreciate, at least.

Oh no. Good luck to you, season 6 will destroy you again. It always kills me. That's why it's one of my favourites.

#ds-umbrella-manufacturing-co #ask away earthlings!#tdg #the dumping ground #candi-rose #carmen howle #tee taylor #elektra perkins #frank matthews #liam o'donovan #elektra x frank x liam #alex walker #ryan reeves

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lovelucybradford · 4 years

Text

I Pretend You’re Mine (5)

A/N: Back with the promised continuation chapter!

Not sure if you’re interested, but when I was writing, in my head I pictured:

Betty White as Grandma Rose

Richard Madden as Levi

Peter Gallagher as Jason Martin

Scott Eastwood as Drew

Masterlist

Tags: @empath-bunny

@ityagirljay

@wolfarrowepz

@supernatural-crazed-girl

Five: You Were Romeo (I Was a Scarlet Letter)

Day 1: Thursday, June 13th

7:00 pm- Welcome Cocktails in the Stardust Lounge, Deck 6

“Champagne, miss?” The formally dressed waiter offered a flute of sparkling wine, a raspberry garnish floating in the glass. Rosalie took it from his hands with no hesitation, sending the attendant a silent smile of thanks. She put the glass to her lips, then paused and looked up at Derek.

“Will people judge me if I chug this whole thing right now?” she voiced, loving the amused smile that lit up her partner’s face at the innocent question.

“I thought we didn’t care anymore what people thought of us,” Derek reminded her, though she knew that when he was referring to ‘we’, he really meant her. Derek never was one to care what people thought of him.

Rosalie weighed her options, then decided that her family judged her anyways so why not have a good time?

In order to get through this hellish night, she’d have to be tipsy. Best start now.

Without a word of affirmation, she forewent her instilled manners and chugged the glass down in one long sip. Rosalie wasn’t normally a fan of champagne, unless it was Dom Perignon, which she realized made her sound like a total snob. It was the one thing that she’d inherited from her father, her expensive taste in food and drink. It seemed by the familiar, rich, and delicious taste of the bubbly that the cruise ship staff had only provided the very best for their VIP guests.

Rosalie searched for a place to set her glass, finding a nearby unoccupied table and gently depositing it there. She, quite literally, couldn’t afford to even chip one of the crystal goblets. She stumbled back to Derek, who was waiting for her with an open arm.

“You ready for this?” he whispered in her ear, his breath hot on her neck. It caused unvoluntary goosebumps to crawl up her arms, which she prayed he didn’t notice.

Was she ready?

A part of her never would be. She’d purposely left this part of her life behind, knowing all too well how toxic it was for her mental health. But Rosalie knew if she backed out now, then the family would know that they finally got to her. They would think that she was still strung up and heartbroken about Drew, or jealous of her stepsister for getting the diamond that was meant for Rosalie.

And sure, she had been… once upon a time.

Moving back to Beacon Hills, reconnecting with normal people, people she loved more than her own blood relatives… it had put everything into perspective for her again.

Rosalie could once again be herself, be that strong woman that Talia Hale had raised to be when Rosalie’s own mother had fallen short. The strong, kind, generous, goofy, compassionate, empathetic woman with a mind of her own and a head on her shoulders. Not the ice queen, the submissive and serious woman that her father had tried to warp her into.

And for that, Rose was forever thankful.

She was different now, but exactly the same. And this version of her, with her closest confidantes by her side, wouldn’t cower in a corner.

Rosalie held her head high, meeting Derek’s gaze with a confident look in her blue eyes.

“Yes,” she declared, feeling her confidence rise.

“Good.”

“Lead the way, Prince Charming.”

Derek snorted and shook his head at the nickname, but complied and escorted Rosalie further into the room. She searched for a friendly face among the crowd. Normally, she’d be able to find Lydia by her head of bright red hair, but nearly half of the people in the room had some shade of red hair.

Thankfully, Rosalie didn’t have to look all that hard, as Charlotte came bounding up to her aunt, screaming, “Auntie Rosie! Uncle Derek!”

And suddenly, as the child wrapped her arms around one of Derek’s legs and one of Rosalie’s, all of the attention in the room shifted to the couple.

“Is that Rosalie?” her cousin Noah commented to the man next to him.

“Who the hell is that with her? Because dayum, I’d like to tap that ass,” Noah’s twin, Nick, said back.

“That has to be her friend,” Uncle Alex said to his wife, his lips around a glass of Scotch.

“Not with the way he’s holding her. Besides, did you hear her niece call him Uncle? How she managed that is beyond me,” Aunt Sarah replied, looking Rose’s companion up and down with hungry eyes.

Rosalie ignored all the talk, even though it seemed as if the crowd wasn’t even attempting to be discreet in their conversations.

She reached down to pat Charlotte’s blonde head. “Hey, honey! I missed you!”

Derek ruffled Charlotte’s curls playfully, to which the little girl pretended to be angry with him. But Rosalie could see the smile that she was hiding as Charlotte clutched the adults’ legs even harder.

“All right, all right, Charlie. Let’s let Auntie Rosalie and Uncle Derek breathe, yeah?” Rosalie’s brother, Levi, broke through the crowd, detaching his daughter from the couple and telling her to go on and play with her cousins.

As soon as the little girl was out of sight, Levi enveloping his sister in a hug. Derek held out his hand for a friendly shake, but Levi pulled him into an embrace as well, the two men patting each other fondly on the back.

“I’m digging the beard,” Derek approved, gesturing to Levi’s newly grown beard while rubbing his own.

“What can I say? I was inspired by yours. Although I have to say, mine looks a little better. Y’know, because it’s still all one color,” Levi joked, comparing his solid red scruff to Derek’s salt-and-pepper look.

Rosalie elbowed Derek in the side teasingly. “Yeah, you old man!”

Derek raised one brow and stepped away from Rosalie, crossing his arms. “Oh sure, call me old man one more time.”

Rosalie beamed up at him, wagging her own brows. “What would you rather me call you? Sugar daddy?”

With one fell swoop, Derek was pressed against her, fingers tickling the small expanse of visible skin on her waist. Rose squealed with laughter, trying in vain to pull away from him and begging for mercy.

Levi cleared his throat loudly, causing the couple to separate. Rosalie’s cheeks burned red at the embarrassing scene that she had been a part of. Surely her brother would tease her about it.

Instead, Levi looked a bit pissed.

“So, I guess my daughter didn’t dream up your engagement, then. This,” Levi gestured to Rosalie and Derek, “is really happening?”

Derek shifted his weight on both feet. Rosalie bit her lip and looked to the floor guiltily. She loved her brother. She really did. But she knew that Levi had loose lips, and he’d surely have one too many and (unintentionally) let slip the whole ruse. That, and Rose couldn’t take the disappointment from him.

“It’s about fucking time,” Levi added, sounding a lot more jovial. Rosalie’s and Derek’s heads shot up instantly, shocked at his comment.

Levi slapped Derek on the shoulder. “Bro, I am so glad you didn’t listen to me.”

“What’s he talking about?” Rosalie interrogated Derek.

Derek scratched the back of his neck and turned his head towards the large window next to them. Before he could explain, Jess, Levi’s wife, snaked her arms around her husband’s waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Lee was telling me all about how he’d threatened Derek with his guns if he even put his hands on you.”

Rosalie’s jaw dropped. Derek stayed unusually silent. “You gave Der the boyfriend talk?! When was this, big brother?”

Levi raised both hands in surrender. “In my defense, Derek was a horny college kid back then, and I was only trying to protect my little sister. You know the, um, milestones that come with prom night.”

The tapping of a mic interrupted their conversation, which Rosalie was thankful for since she was at a loss for words.

She’d remembered that night in question, fondly. It was the night that she’d realized that she’d had feelings for Derek. Rosalie’s then-boyfriend, Ryan, had dumped her a week before prom for another, more sexy, more experienced, girl. Rosalie was heartbroken, and had sworn off prom, until Derek had shown up on her doorstep in a suit with a pink corsage and a sparkling silver tiara.

She’d laughed, of course, at the reference to the childhood nickname. Then, she’d excitedly rushed upstairs to ready herself, leaving Derek at the mercy of one Levi Martin. Levi Martin, who had, apparently, threatened to cut off Derek’s balls and feed them to the family dog if he had even touched his baby sister in an inappropriate way.

(Levi was always… poetic when it came to his threats.)

Rosalie had hoped, prayed, that as Derek had driven her home in his black Camaro, that he would kiss her, to put a fairytale ending on a perfect night. Sure, he’d kissed her when he dropped her off at her front door… on the cheek, like a brother, or a best friend, might.

Rosalie had dreamt about that night for years afterwards, of what it would be like if he had actually kissed her.

_______________

“I’m sorry, Grandma Rose. I have to go rescue my fiancé from your dear grandson.”

Rosalie stood from the table, feeling a rush in her head for a few seconds. She was definitely tipsier than she thought.

Once Rose got her bearings, she strutted, barefoot, to Derek, who looked highly uncomfortable. With every inch that Nick advanced on Derek, the man backed a considerable distance away.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have an amazing ass?” Rosalie heard Nick flirt from paces away. The way that Nick was looking at Derek, the way that he was blatantly hitting on the man when Nick knew that Derek was taken, it unsettled something in Rosalie. Her vision turned red as she approached the two from behind, wrapping an arm around Derek’s waist.

“Hi Nick. Sorry, this amazing ass is mine.” Rosalie didn’t know what she was saying, didn’t really think through what she was doing. All she knew was that she was grabbing Derek’s right butt cheek with her hand, smiling smugly as Nick’s eyes widened.

Derek waited until Rose’s cousin scurried away before stiffly asking, “Rosalie, why are you grabbing my ass?”

Rosalie let go of Derek immediately, feeling as if she’d spontaneously combust in mortification. “I am, so, so sorry. I just kind of… he was ogling you and it made me mad. Like you’re gorgeous but you’re more than just a pretty face and an incredible ass.” Rosalie’s eyes widened at her word vomit, and now she definitely wanted to throw herself from the nearest balcony and test her drunken theory that she was secretly a mermaid.

“I… I need a drink.”

Derek turned to face her, a hint of a forming chuckle on his lips. “I think you’ve had enough of those, babe.”

Rosalie wished that she could slink away. She wished that someone would hit her in the head, and she’d wake up with amnesia. Maybe she could change her name and move to Antarctica? Yeah, that would be good.

Derek rolled his eyes, grabbing his best friend by the elbow and latching her hand back onto his arm. “I’m not mad at you, Rosalie. Feel free to grab my ass anytime if it makes you feel better.”

Rosalie tried to scowl, but the frown was turning upward with every second. “I hate you so much.”

Derek escorted the two back to Rosalie’s table, where Grandma Rose looked completely unimpressed with the whole shindig. Before they sat, he pulled Rose close and whispered, “I’ll let you grab my ass as long as I can grab yours.”

At that, he pulled out Rosalie’s chair and plopped her down, taking the one next to her. Rose was speechless. Did that actually come out of his mouth? Wait, did he actually want to grab her behind? Yep. Those were his words. Exactly.

Rose’s cheeks flushed a healthy shade of pink. Derek laughed at her slowly coloring face, to which she smacked him on the thigh under the table. Before she could remove her hand, Derek grabbed it and held it between the two of them.

“I always knew the two of you would end up together.” Grandma Rose said wistfully, looking at the couple with soft eyes.

You and everyone else, apparently. Everyone but Derek, Rosalie thought sadly, and tried to shove the painful pang in her heart.

“You know how I knew, Rosalie?” Grandma Rose shakily reached for her flute of champagne, taking a long sip. “I knew it when this one, this big, strong, handsome man,” the old woman reached for Derek’s free hand and patted it kindly, “punched my idiot son in the face at that party, after you got your master’s degree.”

Rosalie snickered at the memory. Jason and Derek had never gotten along. Jason thought Derek was ‘some jock who was too concerned with an unlikely career in basketball instead of his studies’. Derek thought Jason was a ‘pompous, cheating, scumbag, son of a bitch’. (Both quotes were their words exactly)

All of the building tension exploded when Jason had chosen to make a below-the-belt comparison between Rose and Ashleigh’s accomplishments. As if they weren’t celebrating Rosalie graduating from Columbia University, an ivy league, with a master’s degree, with the highest honors.

Derek had broken Jason’s nose. Jason had gotten a restraining order (his favorite defense tactic; it expired last year).

“I’m so sorry,” Derek told Rosalie’s grandmother, though he didn’t sound the least bit remorseful.

“Oh, sweetheart. It wasn’t like every sane person at that party wasn’t thinking the same thing. You were the only one brave enough to do it. Rose’s knight in shining armor.”

Derek’s face flushed red, a rare sight for a man with so much confidence.

“Rosalie, dear. I do have to warn you, Drew and Ashleigh are here.”

Rosalie sighed. She knew that they would be here. The pair had done a very good job at avoiding them; Rose wondered when they’d finally make it around her and Derek’s way. If Rose were lucky, maybe they’d just avoid her the whole trip. Only in her dreams…

“I know, Grandma. I—have you seen them yet?”

“Yes, I had the misfortune of running into both of them while yelling at your father for dragging his ninety-two-year-old mother on an extravagant trip. Do you know how long the plane flight was? Anyways, Drew called me ‘grandma’. You know what I told him, loves?”

Derek and Rosalie looked to each other, both knowing that it was probably something rude. Grandma Rose was Rosalie’s favorite relative, outside of her brother and Lydia. She was the most real of all of them. She spoke her mind and wasn’t afraid to let anyone know how she felt.

“I told him to go fuck himself.”

Derek choked on his glass of white wine. Rosalie smacked him on the back a few times, unable to hold in her shaking laughter.

“Yes, I told dear old Drew to go fuck himself. The only man that’s allowed to call me that is Derek. He doesn’t have his head up his ass. He sees how beautiful, wonderful, and deserving of love my real granddaughter is.”

All jokes aside, Grandma Rose’s words warmed Rosalie’s heart. At least one of the extended family members didn’t think she was a disgrace.

“Well, kids. Would you look at that? The pompous son of a bitch wants to go blab about himself. Someone should go tell him to shut up.”

Rosalie looked to the small stage at the front of the lounge. Sure enough, there was her father, Jason, dressed to the nines in a likely customized Hugo Boss suit, a pink Hibiscus sticking out of his breast pocket. Jason looked around at the crowd, clearing his throat to get the attention of his guests.

“Welcome, everyone! I’m so glad that you’re here and could join me on this fantastic excursion…”

Jason continued his schpeal and Rosalie tuned him out. He was likely talking about how great he was for paying for everyone’s accommodations, or how lucky they were to be spending time with him on this 1K-a-night cruise. Rosalie had heard it all before, multiple times, and she was sick of it, frankly.

What was it about rich people’s money that made them think that they were gods and should be treated as such?

Derek squeezed Rosalie’s hand hard, his nails digging into the back of her hand.

She looked to him in explanation, but he only nodded his head towards the stage.

Where Drew was shepherding Ashleigh up the steps, his hand resting on her backside.

“Yes, as I said, we have two exciting announcements that Evelyn and I could not wait to share with you tonight.”

Jason looked fondly towards Ashleigh and Drew, who were now hobbling towards him. There were resounding gasps and excited squeals, but Rosalie could only focus on Drew.

Drew was still as handsome as the day that she had first met him. His blue eyes sparkled with confidence and charm. He’d grown a beard since Rosalie had seen him last, wafts of brown hair covering his strong jaw. He stood behind Ashleigh, his hands moving to rest on her stomach, and that’s when time stood still.

Because, under Drew’s lithe fingers, was a protruding bump. Rosalie, despite herself, couldn’t help the gasp that formed around her lips, nor the shaking of her hands.

Drew, when he was with her, had told Rosalie that he didn’t want kids. He’d had daddy issues too and didn’t want his offspring to grow up with a messed-up dad. Even though Rosalie desperately wanted a family, she was so in love with Drew that she’d put those dreams aside, for him.

Now, Drew stood proudly cradling his pregnant fiancée’s stomach as he spoke sweet nothings into her ear, looking thrilled to become a dad.

Derek squeezed Rosalie’s hand tightly, then removed it to wrap around her shoulders instead, nestling her into him. Derek’s lips brushed the top of Rose’s head, then her forehead.

“Fuck, Rosie. I’m so sorry. I… he didn’t deserve you. You’re better off without him. Do you want to go?” Derek whispered huskily in Rosalie’s ear, breaths coming out shallowly.

Rosalie didn’t need to feel the tenseness of his arm around her to know that he was pissed. She could tell just by the tone of his voice that he wanted to kill Drew.

Rosalie turned her head so that now her lips would be close to his ear. “I… I should have known. I—No, we need to stay. If I leave now, then Ashleigh and Evelyn will know that they’ve won, and I can’t let that happen.”

Rosalie rested her head on Derek’s shoulder, finding comfort in his embrace.

Someone kicked her leg under the table. Rosalie raised her head to look at Derek questioningly. His expression matched her own.

“Rosalie? Dear, are you here?” Jason called from the stage, his snake-like grey eyes checking the crowd for his daughter.

“She’s here, you pompous prick!” Grandma Rose yelled to her son, shoving Rosalie gently with a hand to her back. From a distance, Rosalie heard Stiles guffaw. She imagined that Lydia smacked him in the head while trying to control her own laughter.

Jason scowled, but ignored his mother, watching with a forced smile as his daughter and her ‘fiancé’ ascended the stairs. Derek had a tight hold around Rosalie, who had forgone her shoes in the shock of the moment. She leaned on him, both physically and metaphorically, for strength.

“Some more good news for my daughters. Somehow, someone managed to put a ring on my dear little Rosalie. Yes, it shocked us, too. Good on you, Derek!” Jason looked to Rosalie’s bare feet. “And it seems he doesn’t mind her habit for walking around barefoot. Welcome to the family, Derek Hale!”

Most of the crowd laughed, Evelyn and Ashleigh’s shrill merriment sticking out the most. Derek held Rosalie tighter. She bit the inside of her lip in an attempt to stay strong.

From Jason’s other side, Drew asked, “Wait. Isn’t that the guy who broke your nose?”

Derek rested his forehead on the side of Rose’s head, huffing into her ear “Yes. That was me. And if you don’t shut up, I’ll break your nose, too, you douche”.

That made her chuckle, and with his arms securely around her, Rose knew that she’d be alright as long as Derek was by her side.

#teen wolf #derek hale #derek hale fic #derek hale fanfiction #derek hale x oc #tyler hoechlin #derek hale au #derek hale fluff

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considermewhelmed · 4 years

Text

See You Again by Wiz Khalifa (ft. Charlie Puth)- Dick Grayson and Jason Todd

a/n: strap in folks. This is going to hurt.

taglist: @river9noble

Master

part 2

“It's been a long day without you, my friend/And I'll tell you all about it when I see you again/We've come a long way from where we began/Oh, I'll tell you all about it when I see you again/When I see you again.”

“Damn, who knew?/All the planes we flew/Good things we've been through/That I'll be standing right here talking to you/'Bout another path/I know we loved to hit the road and laugh/But something told me that it wouldn't last/Had to switch up/Look at things different, see the bigger picture/Those were the days/Hard work forever pays/Now I see you in a better place.”

“The love will never get lost/And when brotherhood come first/Then the line will never be crossed/Established it on our own/When that line had to be drawn/And that line is what we reach/So remember me when I'm gone.”

October 18, 9:30pm.

“Jason? Jason, where are you? You need to pick up- Bruce called me, freaking out because you’ve been spotted in Europe? I know you wanted to find your mom but Jesus Christ Jay, where are you? Pick up your goddamn phone, at least let me know you’re safe, that you’re okay. I won’t even tell Bruce. Just tell me you’re alright, okay? Call me back as soon as possible.”

October 18, 11:48pm.

“Hey. Sorry. I don’t know what to say. When I heard… Bruce told me. I didn’t really want to believe it. I still don’t really want to believe it. I’m just… I’m so sorry.”

October 21, 5:36pm.

“You’re everywhere. God. You’d probably hate it. Everyone talks about the tragedy. They don’t really know what happened. They just know that you… that you’re gone. I wish you were gone. Completely. It would be easier to handle if you were. I’m sorry.”

October 31, 1:01am.

“I was supposed to pick you up, remember? We were going to go trick or treating in Bludhaven, because we never had that before. Because I was in the circus. And you… anyways, you said I should go as Green Lantern because you think if it could, a green ring would pick me anyways. No fear, huh? Well. I was always scared of something, Little Wing. God you hated it when I called you that I’m sor-”

November 13, 4:13pm.

“It’s been almost a month and your face still shows up sometimes on the news. I miss you.”

December 1, 2:52am.

“Bruce isn’t the same without you Little Wing. He’s reckless. Careless. I think he’s going to get himself killed. It’s kind of… terrifying. Clark’s worried. The League’s keeping an eye on him. I wish I could. But… god it just hurts to be in the Cave right now. I’m sorry.”

December 20, 9:38pm.

“I was helping Alfred put the decorations up. No ones really feeling festive but… we had to do something I guess. We got the stockings up, and… I’ve never seen Alfred cry over anything, but he just couldn’t stop when he saw your stocking. I… I put it up in my room. I wanted to feel like you were here for the holidays. Sometimes I feel like you’re going to burst through the door anymore like it was some sort of joke-”

December 25, 12:02am.

“Merry Christmas Little Wing.”

January 3, 3:26pm.

“I don’t know why I keep calling this number. You don’t pick up. I know you won’t pick up. But I miss you. This is the only way I hear you anymore. I wish you were calling me for tips and tricks again. I wish I had known you were in trouble. I wish I was fast enough to get you. I wish you’d never gotten into this in the first place, you were so young, you didn’t deserve to go out like this, god it’s just not right-”

January 26, 7:09pm.

“Today was a good day. We took in a stray dog, kept him safe and found his owner. He’d run away because he was spooked by a loud car. He was a German Shepard, I remember you saying you had one when you were really little, his name was Buddy, right? Anyways, I think that saving stray dogs and getting cats out of trees and helping lost kids find their parents are the best parts of this job.”

February 15, 1:29am.

“I’m so sorry Little Wing, I think I forgot that joke you told me. I was trying to tell Kori and I forgot the punchline and I wish you were here to tell me it again because it was really funny and I think she would really like it. I think you would like her Jay, she’s a spitfire, you’d get a kick out of how she keeps us all in line. You’d like this crew. You’d like it here. I’m sorry.”

March 29, 3:06am.

“I’m sitting here, in the Batcave. Looking at Bruce, passed out from a fight that took a sharp turn. It was stupid, he’s beaten Mr. Freeze so many times, he was making rookie mistakes and I just don’t know what to do anymore. He… he hit me Jay. He’s not the same. I asked Alfred, if this is what happened when his folks… when they… anyways, he said no. He said he fought to be better. So why is he trying to get himself kil-”

April 04, 6:45pm.

“I don’t even… fuck.”

April 04, 6:49pm.

“Okay so, this kid, he’s like, 12? 13? He comes up to me and he’s like ‘I know who you are’ and I’m sitting here thinking this kid has some affinity for the Flying Graysons or something ‘cause that has happened before. But no. No this kid, his name is Tim by the way, Tim is like ‘I know you’re Nightwing and Jason Todd was Robin and Bruce Wayne is Batman and’- fuck, Jay you should’ve heard this kid-”

April 04, 6:52pm.

“And he’s like ‘I know Jason died and now Batman’s being stupid because he doesn’t have a Robin to care about so you should come back and be Robin again because Batman needs Robin’. Jesus Christ Jason, this kid, I swear, he genuinely believes if I don’t go back to being Robin, Bruce is going to go completely off the deep end. And I think he’s sort of right, but I don’t think me going back to Robin will fix it-”

April 04, 6:54pm.

“I’m also a grown ass man with my own life, and my own identity, and I worked so hard to get out from Bruce Wayne and Batman’s shadow and I don’t even want to go back to Robin. I like Nightwing. Besides, with how things are going with me and Bruce, I don’t think he’d take me back to begin with. And now he knows things and fuck things got pretty fucked up after you… after you… fuck.”

April 26, 1:22am.

“I’ve never wanted to harm a child more in my life, Jay. This jerk started tracking me down on patrol, still trying to convince me to go back. I’m not going back. It’s not happening.”

May 11, 8:47pm.

“This isn’t a Tim update. I just. I was starting to forget what your voice sounded like. I still can’t remember that joke. I’m sorry Little Wing. Thanks for listening. I’m sorry. I miss you. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better big brother, I should’ve been better. I’m sorry.”

June 18, 5:14am.

“Tim had officially been taken under Batman’s wing. He saved Bruce today. No training. No strength. No guidance. Just a shit ton of will and heart. Kind of reminds me of you, when you were first starting out. The you behind all those walls you built to protect yourself. I wish you would’ve torn more of those down for us. He starts training today. I’m going to help. I don’t think Bruce should do this but, what do I know?”

July 04, 9:00pm.

“You always liked the fireworks in Gotham on the Fourth of July. You’d wanna sit by the water and watch the colours burst through the sky. It was like, the one night a year Bruce would let you take the night off when you were healthy so that Alfred and I could take you. He’d join us if it was a quiet night. You remember that? He’d come with us. For a minute it felt like we were just a normal family.”

August 16, 12:00am.

“I always liked to be the first one to say it. Happy Birthday Little Wing. I love you kiddo.”

September 1, 5:19pm.

“I keep forgetting your voice. For a scary minute today, I couldn’t picture your face. When was the last time I hugged you? I’m sorry. I should’ve done it more.”

October 18, 11:45pm.

“I…”

October 18, 11:49pm.

“I can’t…”

October 18, 11:55pm.

“It’s been a really long year, Jay. I hope wherever you are, you’re with my folks. They’d love you, I think. Say hi for me. Give them a hug for me. I love you. I miss you. I wish I could see you again, I’d give just about anything to give you one more hug. I remembered that joke. Kori didn’t quite understand it, but she says you sound like a good kid. … I love you Little Wing.”

#thebatfamplaylist #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #bruce wayne #batman #tim drake #robin #robin!tim #alfred pennyworth #songfic #fanfic #batfam #batfamily

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scullydubois · 4 years

Text

Only the Light Ch. 14

As the new year beckons Scully to put her life back together, she and Mulder share a Valentine's 'anti-date' on the Hoover Building rooftop.

TW for brief discussion of disordered eating.

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

The new year struck Scully with a particular melancholy. 1994 was, to put it plainly, one of the worst--if not the worst--year of her life. Even without her disappearance, it would earn that title. Her father’s untimely passing and the brief but brutal closure of the X-Files wrenched the few good things left from her fingers. Factor in the four weeks in late summer that she has no memory nor knowledge of, and you’ll understand why Scully has taken to calling it her year on the dark side of the moon.

Of course, the aftershocks of her abduction are still felt every day. Flipping the calendar does nothing to remedy that. At her last appointment, Dr. Zapolsky noticed that Scully’s weight had decreased rather sharply from previous visits and made the point that “rapid weight loss can stop ovulation,” which Scully interpreted as kicking her while she was down. That’s not exactly fair, after all. Technically, her period stopped well before she decided to restrict herself.

It’s odd how it happened. Her weight was fine before her abduction; slender but within the healthy range for her height. Even when she was returned, it had only dropped a couple pounds, as if they fed her...as if they cared. She found that hard to believe. In the months afterward, she sought a physical representation of her mental anguish, and since she and food were never on the best terms to begin with, the choice was simple.

The other day, she had to punch an extra hole in all her belts to hold them steady on her hips. She knows the consequences of this; she’ll live them and accept it.

There has been some beneficial progress. Dr. Zapolsky started Scully on low-dose birth control around Thanksgiving, hoping that it would balance her hormones and regulate her periods. It has, in fact, brought back her cycle, something that Scully did not expect. She gave Melissa her leftover tampons in October. Now Melissa buys enough for the two of them and insists that Scully doesn’t owe her a dime. Scully is too grateful for this to speak about it.

Her downward spiral reached a snag when she realized that smoking would make her birth control ineffective, shortly after her and Mulder’s Christmas Eve smoke break. She ditched the cigarettes, mad at herself for taking a month to read the disclaimer (she’s a doctor for god’s sake, she should know better!), yet glad to have an out. Smoking was a habit she exercised because she could. It won’t hurt her anytime soon, and millions of others do it, so where’s the harm? That was her thinking. As soon as she had a reason to stop, she did, and it felt a bit like jumping from a runaway train just before it skids off the tracks.

So she is better, and she is worse. Which really means she is the same as she was. That is the conclusion she carries into 1995’s frosts and thaws.

There is one thing she is certain of, something that she hadn’t given much thought to until the one year anniversary of her father’s death. She needs her faith back. She’s always practiced in a cyclical pattern, her devoutness orbiting in and out like the moon around the Earth. Sometimes closer and brighter, sometimes farther away, sometimes nowhere to be found.

She has to believe it will come back; it always does. She was made in God’s image, and her father’s. This is both a blessing and a curse.

But no one can be God, and she can’t be her father either. His faith never wavered. If hers was the moon--fickle and subject to doubt--his was the sun, steady and warming everything around it. This was a quality she was envious of, and then guilty in her blasphemy. She has never managed to feel completely content inside the bounds of piety like he could. She’s constantly shaking the devil off her back, then repenting for it, then wondering if it were all worth it. What if...what if...what if...she isn’t fully persuaded in her beliefs, and she knows that this is the worst sin of all. Like Mulder though, she wants to believe, and shouldn’t that count for something?

Imperfection is allowed. Understood, even. Doubt is not as permissible. “He who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind,” the Bible says. Sometimes Scully takes that to mean she should walk into the ocean. Then she realizes that would be blasphemous too.

Some people believe without trying. Her father was one of those. Mulder too, in a different way. She used to think that she was too. Now she’s not so sure. “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” How many times has she read that line? Has she ever lived up to it? She’s seen and still not believed. Certainly that means she’s going to Hell.

Or is she already there?...She wonders that sometimes. Maybe she didn’t make it back from the other side. Maybe the devil just wanted her to believe that she had, and so he’d constructed some kind of diorama of Scully’s life that would go wrong bit by bit, boiling her like a gradually heated bathtub. No resting in peace for the unbeliever.

She can’t imagine a worse punishment than all the potentially good things in her life getting dismantled beyond her control. She’d rather never experience them at all than know their joy then watch them fall apart. Missy would kill her if she heard this, but you can’t please everybody.

It is at this point that Scully embarks on her chosen method of religious self-flagellation: going through the Ten Commandments and determining whether she’s violated them. Count up your sins and God won’t have to; practically the tagline of the Catholic faith.

She thinks she does okay with the first few. She has no idols, she honors her mother and father, and Mulder knows not to call her on Sunday mornings. Of course, the part about not taking the Lord’s name in vain can be tricky, but she’s working on it.

Number five is where it gets dicey. Thou shalt not kill. She imagines that she wouldn’t, not on purpose, but the circumstances of her job worry her. God makes no exceptions for self-defense. And what if she were ever to be a true doctor? If she couldn’t save a patient, does that mean she killed them?

Her father was in the Navy. He never killed anyone.

Number six...well, she doesn’t mention that often. Few people know about Daniel. Missy is one. Scully harbors a genuine shame regarding that time in her life, not so much because of Daniel, but because she was complicit in hurting his wife and daughter. It was a young, foolish mistake that she never wants to make again.

She feels pretty good about number seven. The only thing she has ever stolen is one of Charlie’s matchbox cars when they were kids. She was uninterested in Missy’s hand-me-down Barbies and Raggedy Ann dolls. The boys’ toys were much cooler. She trusted the Lord enough to know that He wouldn’t hold something she did when she was seven against her. Besides, she gave it back when Charlie figured out it was missing. She just wishes he had let her play with him after that.

Number eight: thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor. She considers honesty one of her best qualities. She sure hopes God does too. She’s not the most open person, but that’s different from lying…

Nine is a lost cause, considering six had been broken. This was her least favorite part of her family’s religion: the power it had to cause her shame about her own body, her own desires. She had her first crisis of faith over this at age 14. Missy comforted her with something she has never forgotten: “The original sin was the serpent’s deception, not Eve’s desire. Even God pins it on the woman.” She knew her sister could only say that because she didn’t truly believe and wasn’t trying to, but it had stuck with Scully through many moments when she needed it.

And finally, thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s goods. She supposes she did this with the matchbox cars when she was seven, but in literal terms that’s about it. Metaphorically, she does this all the time and struggles with why she feels so inadequate. Her sister’s confidence, Mulder’s tenacity, her father’s faith...The ideal Dana Scully would have all of these. The real one is a work in progress.

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

So it goes that she finds herself prepping a case in the office on Valentine’s Day. Mulder’s scheduled to fly to Florida the next morning to investigate attacks in a community of circus performers. He’s convinced it’s the Fiji Mermaid, she’s convinced he needs to get his head checked; the usual. This is one comfort Scully can always rely on. No matter how utterly twisted her life gets, she will always think Mulder is crazy, and he will always go along with it.

The occasion of the day goes unmentioned until what Mulder lovingly refers to as “closing time,” which is not a specific time but rather the point that he finally gives up for the day, usually hastened by his partner’s prodding. Scully has learned the signs of his dwindling tenacity by now. She glances at the clock as he pulls his glasses off his head and tosses a sunflower seed in the wastebasket, pleasantly surprised that it reads only 5:15. He catches her checking, his eyes--amber today--meeting hers.

His lips curl in amusement. “You got a date or something?”

“No,” she blinks, feeling like a child caught taking a cookie from the jar. Her cheeks grow hot, threatening to make a scene. “I figured you did, since you’re finishing up so early.”

Mulder straightens his stack of papers, clinking them against the desk obnoxiously. “Think again, buckaroo.”

He’s taken to calling her that lately. Neither one of them is sure why, it just popped into his mind one day and stuck. It makes her feel like a heroine in some 70s Western shoot-out flick who wrangles all the bad guys and locks’em in the county jail. She’s thankful that someone can see her for what she could be rather than what she is. It helps her see that too.

He stuffs his papers in a manila folder, then rises from behind the desk and stoops toward the backpack he prefers to a briefcase. (She called him a kindergartener once because of it and he remarked that he’d ‘rather be a kindergartener than an adult.’ She couldn’t argue with that.) “Valentine’s Day isn’t really observed under the Fox Mulder calendar,” he says, unzipping the bag and putting the folder in. “Halloween and Thanksgiving, those are my holy days.”

“You worship at the shrine of the food pyramid,” Scully smirks.

“Yes indeed. Wait--” Scully’s gaze flicks to him, genuinely concerned. He dissolves her uncertainty with a boyish grin. “--does the food pyramid include candy?”

She rolls her eyes, but it’s not deeply felt. She misses these flat-lining comedic routines of his, usually at their best when they’re putzing through some tumble-weed town where the bathroom stalls at the gas station don’t lock. He loves being the funniest person in a ten-mile radius, and that’s not a satisfaction he can have in DC. She wonders if he tells these lame jokes to strangers now, or if they were just for her.

“Speaking of food,” he says, brushing a hand through his hair, “you wanna grab dinner?”

Scully’s forehead creases. “Like, in a restaurant?”

“I mean, I wasn’t gonna be that forward, but I guess we could take it to yours or mine...”

Scully laughs lightly, wrapping her arms around herself, fingers caressing her bony elbows. “We’ve already covered what day it is,” she demures. “Everyone having dinner is going to be on a date.”

“You’re right...the restaurant probably won’t let us in unless we make out in front of the hostess,” he deadpans.

“Not to mention that we don’t have any reservations…”

“Well, making out might remedy that, depending on the hostess.”

She gives him her ‘last straw’ look--crossed arms, arched eyebrow, stinging glare--and he raises his hands in surrender. “I’ll stick to slipping a twenty, then.”

Scully uncrosses her arms and slinks toward her purse rather languishly. “No restaurants, Mulder. It’s too much trouble on a holiday.”

“I sure hope you didn’t mistake my suggestion as an invitation to Mulder’s Downhome Country Kitchen, cause that place is not Michelin star rated.”

“I’m well aware. I’ve seen the menu.”

“Is Chateau de Scully open tonight?” he asks with an eyebrow raise that his partner couldn’t have missed if she tried--and she did.

“Well, the chef is celebrating Valentine’s Day with her girlfriend in Oregon, so you’d be waiting awhile for your meal.”

“There’s no back-up chef? I don’t know, someone who may need to feed herself while the chef is away?”

“Yes, but she doesn’t serve the public.”

“Ouch.”

He plucks their respective coats off the rack, folding his own over his arm and throwing his partner’s over her shoulders. She jumps just the tiniest bit--she probably thinks he didn’t notice, so he’ll pretend he didn’t--then slips her arms in the sleeves and pulls it on properly.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, avoiding eye contact.

After he’s put his own jacket on, he hoists up his backpack, fielding off his partner’s near swerve into laughter. She’s barely maintaining a straight face, and even if it’s at his expense, he loves it because unadulterated joy is something she deserves so much.

“You know what, I’ve got just the solution,” he says as he strolls out the doorway, flipping the light switch as he goes, leaving Scully scrambling in the dark.

“Hey!”

He hears her petulant voice, followed quickly by the laugh he was looking for. When she turns to him after locking the office door, her eyes are still shining from the momentary euphoria. He is so happy to know her.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this place is the Smithsonian of vending machines.”

“Mm-hm.”

“And I know a door to the rooftop that never gets locked.” He flashes her a sly look, his intentions pure despite himself.

“It’s 40 degrees outside,” she counters before he can even voice his proposal.

“Sure, but we can make some fresh coffee, and there’s gotta be blankets in that storage closet of ours.” Ours. Very few things are theirs. She wishes he would say it again.

As much as her instinct is to protest, she can’t quite muster the resolve to. I mean, it checks all the boxes. It’s not a restaurant, she’d only have to eat a snack from the vending machine, and she wouldn��t have to spend Valentine’s night alone, which is a sneaky sadness that had been pressing at the back of her mind.

“Fine,” she bluffs, as if it were a great inconvenience to her. She enjoys the cat-and-mouse game, what can she say? “You find the blankets, I’ll get the coffee.”

Mulder smiles, his lips edging over his teeth in an aesthetically pleasing way that makes Scully feel like he missed his calling as a male model. Of course, this smile isn’t posed. The constant in his life is his partner’s unpredictability. Everyone thinks she’s a stone-cold skeptic, but he knows she’s an uncertain believer, and there’s no one harder to pin down than that. Her yes to his Valentine plans may as well be an admission that Bigfoot exists.

“Let’s meet by the sixth floor stairwell, okay?” he prompts, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Flashes of Christmas Eve sabotage her thoughts--her mother’s kitchen, her untidy tipsiness, Mulder just trying to iron things out. He’d touched her, and she’d lashed out at him. Reaction formation, that was the term for the defense mechanism she’d used. He knew it, probably studied it extensively. Concealing an impulse by acting out its opposite.

Instead of mentioning this, she looks him in the eyes and says, “Okay, I’ll use the coffee machine on the sixth floor then,” as if his touch hadn’t brought forth both memory and desire.

“Great. See you there.” He pulls finger guns, and she thinks that maybe this is already her best Valentine’s Day yet.

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

Five stories of stairs is a long way to go with two hot mugs of coffee. Scully had hoped there would be some styrofoam cups--something she could put a lid on--but the Bureau is stingy, so she had to go all the way back to the basement, grab their coffee mugs, take the elevator back to the sixth floor, brew some dark roast (to Mulder’s probable discontent), then hope that by some miracle, they could make it to the roof.

Ever the idealist, Mulder takes the challenge in stride. Though his arms are already bundled with some comforters he found tucked away in storage (he shudders to think how old they must be), he takes the handle of his mug, squeezing the blankets snug against his chest.

“Are you sure about this?” his partner asks with her usual uneven tone. “What if we get all the way up there and the door is locked?”

“We knock and get the snipers to open the door for us,” he answers matter-of-factly.

Scully’s eyebrows shoot up. “Snipers?”

“Oh yeah, did I forget to mention? There’s a longstanding rumor about snipers on the roof that I’d like to get to the bottom of.”

His demeanor is just loose enough to make Scully question whether he is in fact kidding. A conversational casualness permeates all of his sensational soliloquies because to him, the phenomena he’s discussing should be regarded as a fact of the world. If he ever launched into an indifferent lecture on the subject, she’d know he was bluffing.

Having never heard the rumor herself, she decides this is simply a figment of his overactive imagination. She’ll play along. “Well, if it’s anything like the talk of you being spooky, then it doesn’t look good for us…” she teases, her own smirk eliciting an identical one from her partner.

Masking his impatience by embodying the role of the gentleman, Mulder uses his free hand to prop open the stairwell door, ushering his partner through. The landing of each story has one stray light bulb, there for show more than anything. Most of them are either flickering or burned out, the agents discover as they inch their way up, one slowly taken step at a time. Step, pause for the coffee to settle, hope it doesn’t breach its container, step: that’s the process they adopt for approximately 100 steps in the cold Hoover stairwell. There are many ways to show love; Mulder bets that you wouldn’t find this in any lame self-help book.

“Do you think Romeo would have done this for Juliet?” he muses.

“Depends on what he was expecting once they made it to the top,” Scully quips, the edges of her lips turning up slightly.

Mulder nods, perpetually amused by her (too) infrequent jaunts into suggestive territory. “My man really got ahead of himself with the whole ‘dying for her’ schtick.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Mulder eyes her. “Actually, I think it was you who was going to die for me.”

“Not for you, because of you.” Her statement is neither packed with malice nor free of blame. “There’s a difference.”

She may as well have shot him at point blank range; then at least she could see the bleeding. She didn’t mean to be so blunt, but he gave her the perfect setup. Mulder cauterizes his own wound, disguising his pain as a joke. “Damn, I was finally moving past that!”

“At least one of us was,” she says, her voice fluttering, and he knows she’s just teasing, but god, what if she’s cauterizing her own hidden wounds?

They reach the door labelled ‘roof,’ and Mulder can’t decipher what happens first, him putting his hand on the door handle or her placing a chilly hand on his cheek. Playing it back in his head later on he won’t even be able to figure it out-- it cut time loose from its axes in such a way.

“Are you okay, Scully?” He’s not sure why this is the first question out of his mouth, but it is.

“I need a hand warmer,” she murmurs. “The coffee’s already cooling off.”

All the while, Mulder is acutely aware that her hand’s still on his cheek and she’s got him propped against the door, and what does she want him to do with that information?

Her thumb grazes his mole, and it becomes clear to him that there are two ways this scenario could go, and if she doesn’t want the second one it’s imperative that she stop rubbing rhythmic circles into his skin.

He clears his throat. “Do you want to...do you want me to check for snipers?” Her touch continues, uninterrupted.

“Is the door unlocked?” Her voice sounds airy and far away. She probably didn’t even hear his question.

He pushes on the handle, confirming their freedom. “Yes ma’am,” he answers, fear of a sort edging him into total politeness. He is twelve tiptoeing through the too empty halls of his house, again.

“Let’s have a picnic,” she says, still light and airy, as if that weren’t the plan the entire time. Then, she breaks into sudden laughter, pulling her hand away from Mulder’s cheek in her fit. “We forgot the food!”

She is back to normal now, his steadfast Scully with a side of joy.

Half of him mourning for the otherworldly Scully and the moment that could have been, he laughs too. “There may have been some lapses in planning.”

“We can make do, can’t we?” There’s a glimmer in her eyes that suggests the moment is not as far gone as he believed.

“Cold coffee sounds like an enduring Valentine’s tradition,” he affirms.

They choose not to dwell on words like “enduring” and “tradition,” entering the chill of the Hoover Building rooftop on Valentine’s night.

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

They’re not that far above the city really--the Hoover’s no NYC skyscraper--but their heads are in the clouds, that’s for sure. It’s not the typical dinner date complete with melted candles and overpriced dessert and overly attentive waiters, but as it turns out, they would both hate that. After all, this is not a date, it’s a casual hangout between two coworkers who don’t have dates on Valentine’s Day. If anything, it’s an anti-date. That’s what they tell themselves.

February’s unrelenting chill swirls around them, catching Scully’s hair in playful tantrums and turning the two of them into life-size paperweights atop the blankets. More sensible people may call the night a bust, but not the Prince of Halloweentown and his esteemed guest. This unconventional adventure is exactly what they bargained for.

Scully looks to Mulder, who’s holding his coffee like it’s a beer. She smiles. That is so him.

She exhales, and her breath spells itself out on the air. She tilts her face to the sky, as if the sun might suddenly rise and bask her in its heat. Mulder notices and fixes his attention there too, happy to have an excuse to look skyward. It’s his outlet, like hers is the sea her father dedicated his life to. His preferred escape method is to fly away; hers is to drift off.

He forces himself back into the moment, here, with her, and the expanse of the sky. “I once spent fifty bucks on one of those ‘name a star’ certificates, and I can’t even see it because of the goddamn light pollution.”

“I think that’s really more about the gesture than anything else,” Scully replies, trying to soothe him as if this were actually a pressing problem. “Unless you bought it for yourself...?”

Mulder chuckles. “No, no. It was for an old girlfriend.”

Scully raises her eyebrows in amusement. “Did you name it after her?”

“No, we named it the Rhine star.”

A puzzled look passes between them. It gives him a twinge of joy that his partner is not the encyclopedia she seems to be.

“After Joseph Banks Rhine, the founder of parapsychology,” he clarifies. “We were both fascinated by the field.”

“Oh.” She turns her face back toward the sky with the feeling of a kid who missed the winning word of the spelling bee. There are times when she is grateful she does not know everything, and times when she is not. Somehow, this is both.

“I’ve thought about buying another one and naming it after Samantha,” Mulder continues, “but it feels too much like a grave marker.”

“I’d consider it a lovely tribute,” Scully counters, used to doing so. “But I’m thirty and I own my own gravestone, so take that with a grain of salt.”

It’s true--once Dana was returned, her mother couldn’t bear to look at the gravestone she’d had engraved in memory of her missing daughter, so she gave it to Mulder, who saw no logical place for it to go except the woman whose name it bore. Margaret hadn’t wanted her to know that it existed, that they’d gotten so far as considering her gone. While it brought Mulder no joy to present it to his partner, it served as a reminder of the miracle her survival was, and in such bleak times, they had both needed that.

“It doesn’t scare me--the thought of dying,” Scully says to the stars. Mulder wonders if she meant for him to hear it. He wishes he hadn’t, but he’s met with the realization that she is trying to start a conversation when her eyes look into his.

He doesn’t know where to go with this, so he toes the line between deep and sarcastic. “I thought Catholics were all about that heaven and hell stuff.”

“Yes, but…” where is the line between truth and blasphemy, she wonders? Settling herself, she starts over. “I’ve lived both on Earth, so what have I got to fear?” She turns her glance to the blanket, as if shrinking out of the Lord’s sight. “Besides, sometimes I think I’m already there.”

“Heaven?”

“No, Hell.”

He should have known. He grips the edge of his blanket, wondering why his parents had prioritized the sex talk but never explained what to do in a situation like this. He has a psychology degree, sure, but he’s as much a psychologist as she’s a physicist.

“There are periods of life, I think, where everyone feels like that,” he says in the most earnest voice he can conjure. “It’s just that nobody ever talks about it.”

“Did you feel like that with Samantha?”

Leave it to Scully to turn a personal conversation back on him.

He bites his lip. “Yeah, yeah, I did. Still do, if I think about it too long.”

“How did you...move past it?” The lights of nearby buildings reflect off her blue eyes, galaxies to his black holes. He’d give anything to sluice the pain right from her heart.

He’ll rely on his words instead, despite knowing there are depths they cannot touch. “I, uh, I didn’t really move past it, I just moved. Kept moving, I guess. I found a place where I could make progress out of my pain. Here--the X-Files.”

Scully swallows hard, knocking back tears. "That’s the issue. I feel stuck. Just completely unable to go forward. There’s a current in my brain that keeps pushing me backward.”

Mulder lets out a deep breath, trying to take both their pain with it. “Have you considered seeing a therapist?” he asks delicately. “It sounds like you may have PTSD.”

“Over what?” she practically snaps. “I don’t remember a thing.”

“That doesn’t mean you have no memories. Regression hypnosis could help recover repressed or unconscious memories, so you could understand exactly what’s bothering you.”

“You think I haven’t heard this spiel from Melissa?”

“I bet Melissa doesn’t have first-hand experience with it.”

“No, she doesn’t,” she murmurs in the tone of an apology. She knew that he had it, she had listened to the tapes. How could she let it slip her mind? It is uncouth of her to look down on his chosen method of healing.

Mulder isn’t bothered. He continues, “It helped me. Both in recalling the details of the experience, and in having a recorded recollection of it. It helped me feel less...insane.”

“Mmm.” If he were just a bit closer, she’d reach out and touch his hand.

“If anything, I wish I did it earlier.”

Scully’s understanding of him sharpens, like an ophthalmologist flipping the lens, making her vision clearer. Her gaze probes him, mutual souls recognizing mutual pain.

“Hey.” He uses his extended wingspan to touch her shoulder with the care an older sibling would show holding their baby brother for the first time. She turns her head, their faces mere inches away from each other. His eyes are a dopey brown, his breath scented with coffee.

“Yes?” she says with a coquettish flitting of her eyelashes.

“You should come back out on the road. I could use someone to shoot down all my wild whims.”

She can’t help but smile, though she keeps her mouth closed. “Tired of telling jokes to strangers who don’t laugh, are you?”

He smirks. “Well, yeah, that too.” He leans back a bit, putting enough distance between them to keep the sparks in check. “Of course, if you’re not ready, there’s no pressure. I just think you could use the change of scenery and--you know--companionship.”

She nods, looks out into the night. He’s got the pulse of her problems and the salve that could soothe them. “You’re right.” How often does he get to hear those beautiful words come out of her mouth? “I need to get out of my cocoon, and I think I’m okay enough to do that now.”

“Yeah?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, something like hope.

She laughs--catharsis manifest--and it’s like a sheen of light coming through a crack in her jagged surface. “Yeah, Mulder. I’ll make the arrangements with Skinner.”

He pumps his fists in the air. “Hallelujah!”

She hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her. Any stray thoughts she had of him being lonely she chalked up to her own delusions.

“Florida is probably a lost cause,” she notes, “but after that…”

He nods, pats her shoulder. “After that.”

To have her back meant something like freedom. The X-Files had never been anything without her. He had never been anything without her.

#oh to share a morbid conversation with your partner on a rooftop on valentines day #i struggled with this part but im quite happy with how it came out <3 #only the light fic #missy and scully fic #the x-files #txf #txf fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #mine #thank you as always for reading and supporting

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