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delphi-shield · 2 months ago

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kiss it better ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Jill Valentine x Reader Smut / MDLG mdni wc: ~5.6k i don't have to explain myself, so i won't. 🙂‍↕️ dividers by @/adornedwithlight.

summary: Jill's got reservations about this whole 'mommy' thing. She's not the maternal type - but for you, she can try.

content: mommy dom!Jill, little!reader, afab!reader, boot riding, dumbification, extensive depiction of cgl dynamics/lifestyle, humiliation, finger-sucking, spit, fingering, titsucking, aftercare, use of sippy cups/coloring book/the word 'stuffies', ruined orgasm, orgasm denial, implied age gap (di era jill, mid-late 20s+ reader).

In hindsight, the sippy cup should have been the first red flag.

Jill didn’t even bat an eye when you bought it. You'd tucked it to the back of the belt during a grocery trip, hiding it amidst the other canned goods, tried your damnedest to distract her while the cashier rang it up. She didn't know how to break it to you that she had seen you pick it out. She'd watched you deliberate between pink or green - strawberries or watermelon - before settling on pink.

You'd said you were going to look at candles - probably the truth, because you'd put one in the cart, too. Jill had doubled back to pick up laundry detergent and had caught you lingering in the kids aisle. She had always been able to pick you out of a crowd, had a sixth sense for where you were, hand practically magnetized to the small of your back. You looked so focused alone in that aisle that she had swallowed the call of your name and marched back to the cart.

So yes, she’d glossed over the (rather obvious) way you had tried to hide the purchase from her. That was as far as she was letting it go, though. Once you got home, you tried to bury it behind all the coffee mugs. Weird, she thought. You just bought the goddamn thing. You'd been talking about wanting a water bottle with a straw for a full month. It would be out of sight out of mind if you put it way back there, eaten up by the cabinet.

You shuffled away to put up the rest of the groceries and Jill plucked the cup from the back. She put the pink plastic front and center, right next to the rest of the glassware, as though it belonged there.

“That’ll cut down on our carpet cleaning,” she had even joked when she heard you traipsing back in.

A beat. She turns to look at you over her shoulder, brow raised. You look like a deer caught in floodlights, waiting to be gunned down. It took a moment for you to dig your voice up from the pit of your stomach.

“I know. All the regular ones didn't have the latching lid. Like, I need that anti-spill technology. I have to be baby-proofed.”

Yeah. It was a little out of place that you felt the need to justify the cup to her. Again - in hindsight, maybe it was a little odd. Surely there had been a water bottle that wasn’t pink and covered in cute little strawberries, but you were an adult. You made your own money. If you wanted the sippy cup with the strawberries on it, then you could have it. She wasn't about to police your tastes. After all, at a certain point of maturity you started to realize that the difference between kid stuff and adult stuff was just marketing. So many 'kid' versions of things were just the same as their adult counterparts. Covered in smiling bunnies and rainbows, maybe, but functionally the same item.

Suffice it to say, Jill didn't give two shits what stuff you bought for yourself. You were prone to spilling drinks, so the latching lid excuse made sense. Her singular complaint was the size. As your designated drink-getter, her trips had doubled. (She'd found some online in a bigger size, all muted, muddy colors, no cartoon strawberries. “Anti-spill technology,” she'd pointed out. You had shrugged, sipping at your little drink. It was the perfect size for one bottle of your favorite apple juice. That, she couldn't deny.)

She'd been unintentionally feeding into your preferred lifestyle the whole time, buying you the cutesy set of stickers for your scrapbook, picking up glittery markers when she saw them on sale.

The coloring books certainly weren't a bridge too far. You wanted to turn your brain off after a long week at work. That was all, really. Jill hadn’t asked for an explanation - she had asked which ones you liked, that she might pick one out for you. The first few she chosen had been branded 'adult coloring books' but again - what was the difference, other than subject matter and the complexity of some of them? You'd dutifully sat next to her during movie nights and colored regardless of difficulty. Your hand-eye coordination was developed, see? Made staying in the lines so much easier. And the colors you picked out - they don't (usually) clash. That all ties back to that developed eye for style.

‘Babydoll’ might not have been the best choice of pet names for you, but it had slipped out. It felt right, more sincere than ‘dear’ or ‘babe’. If she had known she was unintentionally enabling you, sending the little plastic gears in your head grinding to a halt, she might have picked something different.

The first time she'd said it, you'd given her a blank look. Jill had sworn not to say it again, already marking that off the list of options, but your response had been quick.

“No–” you reeled yourself in, a little too forceful there. Like a kid stomping their feet. “No, it's okay. I like it.”

How was she supposed to know that you had dubbed her ‘mommy’ in your internal monologue? That ‘babydoll’ did nothing but feed into your perception of her?

After it had all come out, after your first little slip-up that had sent both of you hurtling headlong into a series of changes in your lifestyle, you'd confessed that you had been thinking of her this way since you had moved in. Jill had been synonymous with ‘mommy’ since your possessions had spilled from the open mouth of the U-Haul and flooded her apartment. Her sparse, curated collection of decorations had been swallowed up in a wash of stuffed animals and plush blankets, and she had done nothing to stem the tide. Hell, she’d piled more on. Bought you stuffed animals from boutiques, airport giftshops, gas stations - anywhere, so long as it made her think of you.

Jill hadn’t thought twice about the stuffies. If most of her keepsakes hadn’t been obliterated via air strike, courtesy of the U.S.A. back in 1998, she’d probably have a collection of decor to contend with yours. Maybe less of the fuzzy variety, but she understood the appeal. She had never been one to get jealous of an inanimate object. If you wanted to lay your head on her lap, favorite stuffed animal coiled tight in your arms, then she had no objection. She’d willingly cocooned you in the fluffiest blanket within reach, her hand settling at the bend of your waist.

So, the stuffed animals? Totally normal. The sleepy, nonsensical babbles you’d catch from time to time during a night in, when it was just the two of you? She didn’t think twice. That had hardly been an adjustment.

Jill felt a little slow for not catching on before you let it slip. There had been so many signs. Piles of evidence all around her, some of which she had contributed to. She must be getting lax as the years wear on. Normally, she's sharp as can be. She'd know things about you before you did.

You’d been riding her boot the first time you said it. Jill had been busy - too busy to spend a couple hours folding you in half and fucking you to sleep, she told you. You'd dragged yourself into her office in your barely-there shorts, nipples pert and peaking the flimsy fabric of your tank top. Wait a minute - not your tank top. Hers. An old, faded Depeche Mode tank, white, damn near see-through.

She kept track of you in her peripheral as you dragged your bean bag chair (she'd offered to get you a real chair, something with back support, but you'd insisted; when you hit thirty, she’ll be able to gloat) right up next to hers, and dropped into it. Foosh. Makes your tits bounce when you plop down like that. That's probably why you did it.

She scooted forward in her chair, flipping the armrest up and kicking one leg out. Your eyes lit with glee. Horny little goblin. You moved to straddle her thigh, hands braced on her knee while you wobbled into position.

“Ah-ah.” Jill didn’t take her eyes from the screen. She kept hammering away at her report, the deadline looming. She stopped at a paragraph break to snap her fingers twice, pointing to the floor. “Down.”

You’d cratered to your knees without so much a second thought. See? Obedience wasn’t new to you. How was she supposed to know it was a different sort of devotion, different from the submission she was used to?

Something warm curls around her ankle - your hand, she realizes with a glance. Jill sighs. She hadn’t said not to touch. It’s difficult to be mad at the way your thumb circles her calf, especially for a command she hadn’t issued. Jill’s chair creaks backwards, her hands stilling on the keyboard. Your chin settles on her knee, eyes big and pleading for her touch.

Jill folds her arms under her chest. Your eyes track the way her chest moves. It's almost cartoonish - she half expects your tongue to loll out of your mouth.

“Get on.” Jill wiggles her boot back and forth. Your head tips to the side, confusion drawing your brows up. “On my boot, babydoll.”

She sees it - the brief flash where you’re drawn out of play time. The quickest twist of annoyance in your pout. How many times did you have to tell her to stop wearing her shoes inside? Especially her work boots, crusted with mud and shit and god knows what else. But if you’re worried about that then you’re too horny to protest. Her babydoll comes back in another blink, pressing your cunt down onto her steel toe.

There you go. Jill starts typing again and you get the hint. You're independent enough that you don't need her direction at every turn. Thank god - she'd never get anything done if you couldn't find a rhythm on your own, if you couldn't use whatever part of her body she dictated to get yourself off.

It doesn't take long for you to start whimpering. Your arms wind around her leg, chest pressed tight to her while you grind your drippy pussy against her. You use her body as leverage to drag yourself back and forth. Poor baby. Reduced to humping her leg like a damn dog.

Your pretty little whimpers come quicker, louder. Jill's fingers scrape against your scalp, urging your head upwards. She pools spit at the tip of her tongue, considers dripping it into you. Your mouth is popped open for her already, moans punctuating every push of your hips.

Any thought of tormenting you with the anticipation disappears when she sees you pinch your nipple, hips circling against the toe of her boot frantically. Your eyes flutter, thighs pulsing, so close–

“Stop.”

Jill rips her boot away for you. You plop against the floor, whining at the loss. Your hand flies to your pussy, rubbing your clit desperately through your shorts.

“I said stop,” Jill grinds out.

Her hand grips your jaw, fingers curling. You pull your hands away from yourself, fingers glistening when you lay them flat against the tops of your thighs. A whine squeaks out of you. Jill’s eyes narrow.

“Open,” she demands. Your mouth pops open obediently. When Jill gives you a directive, you follow it. Jump— how high? Cum— how hard?

Look at you - perfect little slut, tongue plopped out for her. She spits a fat glob of spit dead center and drops your jaw.

“Swallow.” It’s said carelessly. She looks away from you as if uninterested in you display. Her clit throbs in time with her heartbeat. Perfect girl, perfect, trained little–

You swallow. From the edges of her vision, she sees you stick your tongue back out as proof. “Thank you, mommy.”

The air in the room shifts, suddenly colder. Her skin feels as though it’s been pulled taut. Confusion swirls with her arousal. You said ma’am. Surely you said ma’am.

“What?” She blurts out, hands at a full rest on her keyboard.

You’ve still got that floaty, airy look about you. Jill wonders if it’s even possible to get a straight answer out of you right now.

“Thank you?” You repeat, unsure yourself. You blink quickly. She can pinpoint the moment you come back into your body, shoulders tensing, eyes widening, skirting away from her. “Uh– ma’am?”

Nice try. Not buying it.

“Did you call me mommy?”

Jill will probably regret the way she had spat that out until the day she died. It hadn’t been worth seeing the crushed look on your face, the shame flushed through you in a full-body shudder. In the moment, though, she can’t deny the pulse of disgust.

That night had ended on unsteady footing. She’d asked you not to call her that. You’d apologized again and again throughout the conversation, set her teeth on edge with how small you’d made yourself. It felt worse, seeing you slink out of her office, knowing you were going to curl up in bed - knowing you’d pretend to be asleep when she came in to check on you a few minutes later.

She had already been doing this for you, she realized. The new context was uncomfortable. She had sat in that feeling for a few days, tried to fall back into the patterns of your relationship without thinking of them these new, strained terms. Despite reassurances, she’d watched you shove away the things that had made you so comfortable.

No more coloring books - not in front of her at least. You’d left a stray marker lying out when you scrambled to hide the evidence of your coloring from her. Your sippy cup had been pushed to the back of the cabinet again, no matter how many times she’d moved it back to the front.

The final straw was when you’d started packing your stuffed animals away.

She could have been gentler about the whole thing, admittedly, but it had made her so goddamn angry to see you shove away things that made you happy. You had misunderstood her - or she hadn’t communicated clearly, or – or something.

“Quit,” she demands, pulling the stuffies from their cardboard prison. She set them firmly back on your side of the bed (never tossing - you’d told her before, tossing them was mean). “Stop doing this shit, babe. You don’t have to quit doing stuff you like.”

“But you don’t like it.”

“I never said that.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“No, I–” Jill pinches the bridge of her nose. This is going nowhere, round and round in circles. She takes a deep breath, lets it out slow.

“I don’t want it in the bedroom.”

“Then where do you want them?”

“Not the– the stuffed animals can stay. Okay? I just don’t like it when we’re having sex. The ‘mommy’ stuff. But you– I want you to be how you want to be with me. We were already doing the little stuff before. Right?” Jill’s hand cups your cheek, urges you to keep looking at her. There’s no hiding from this, not from her.

You still struggle to meet her eyes. She can tell you’ve picked a spot over her shoulder, staring past her. She ducks her head, puts herself into your vision.

“...Kinda. Yeah.”

“Then we can keep doing that.” Her answer is firm. She’s spent hours thinking about this, analyzing where her discomfort came from, why it hit her so goddamn hard – how to ensure you never felt so rejected by her again. The discomfort lingers, smaller than before. Dwarfed by how greatly she misses having you next to her and comfortable. There had been an openness that she had stolen from you. “...Just don’t call me mommy when you’re getting off on my boot anymore, okay? I’m not ready for that.”

In time, the discomfort faded. Having you next to her at the end of a hard week, eyes wide and vulnerable, trusting her completely to take care of her - it became a little intoxicating. Her boundaries expanded, pushed farther and farther from where they had started as she slipped back into routine.

It surprises her how well she takes to it. Jill hasn't got much in the way of maternal instincts. She's good with dogs, though, and kids and dogs both need discipline. It's the same thing, right?

No. Not at all. But you're not really a kid. Your real mom did all the hard work, and now Jill gets to sweep in and have all the fun. Sit. Roll over. Speak. You're good at those.

Stay, not so much. She knows she’s got you in the right headspace when you won't stop wiggling. Jill's grown accustomed to slinging an arm across your stomach when she buries her face in your pussy. The squirming never ends, and pressing your hips into the mattress had only ever made you curl upwards, arms bracketing her head, shoving her face into your cunt.

The real danger is letting you sit on her face while you're like this. You squirm and buck, squeal out your pleasure while she laps at you. She rocks her head from side to side, her nose bumping against your pudgy clit. The way you thrust down into her - christ, you’re going to send her to the hospital one day.

That was how it had been the first time Jill had opened up the floodgates, the first time she’d let these little games back into your bedroom.

Her hands palm the globes of your ass, spreading you open for her tongue. She keeps you nice and tight against her face, her neck craned at an angle that would hurt later. A problem for tomorrow. Today’s problem is that you keep biting your knuckle, tucking those pretty little sounds away from her.

Jill swats your ass, quick, sharp. She pulled away only far enough to reprimand you – “Don’t hide from mommy” – before she wrapped her lips around your clit and churned her tongue against you, again and again.

You let out a surprised squeak, garbled behind your fist. Your hips shot forward, pressing her face into the mattress, suffocating her with your cunt. Jill moaned, gripped you tighter, held you to her face and tongue-fucked you through an orgasm that made your spine twist, your thighs clamp tight around her head.

Jesus Christ - that’s what she’d been missing out on? All because she’d been too squeamish about a title?

That was all it took to convince herself that she was fine with it, really. Jill helped you roll off of her. She lowered you back to the mattress as if you were a priceless, fragile little thing. The urge to care for you, to pamper you, had never been stronger. You’d nearly had to force her to quit flitting around you. It took insisting that you needed to cuddle for her to stop, for her to let you settle against her.

“I think you broke my nose,” Jill teases.

“Stop.” You hide your face in the top sheet, but she hears you bite off a giggle. Her hands float to your sides, long digits brushing along the curve of your ribs, snaking up your stomach to cup your breasts. She rolls them in her palms - together, then apart, thumbs flicking over your nipples. Languid, no heat behind it. No need for another round, not yet, but she wants to appreciate the art before her.

“I'm serious.” Jill turns her head to the side. Her profile silhouettes in the lamplight.

She's the kind of woman they make statues of. Her nose cuts a proud shape from the light, the slope of her brow relaxed only here in your bedroom. It occurs to you to trail a finger along contour of her face and, uninhibited, you do. Jill holds still for you, let’s you marvel at the work before your eyes. Her nose has been broken before - not by your weight, but by fists. Her throat bobs as you trail a knuckle down her chin, against the delicate skin of her neck, childish in your wonder.

Jill still had her boundaries, the same as you had yours.

Your appreciation is every bit grown. You tuck yourself against her side, kiss along her jaw until you reach her lips. You mutter your ‘I love you’ against her there. She can be ‘mommy’, she realizes. Just for you, just within your home.

No disciplinarian stuff, not while you're acting all little. It makes her feel grimy. You don't get in trouble for little stuff, not for leaving your coloring book out or for flooding the living room with stuffies while she's away. You do get in trouble being an absolute brat and pawing at her leg while she's in the middle of a meeting.

That had been fun. You'd been all curled up in your beanbag chair, tucked out of frame while Jill listened in on the eastern European division’s quarterly report. Evidently, reduction in bioterrorism incidents weren't thrilling enough for you. She’d popped her leg out to the side, wiggled her boot at you - a command you knew well enough by then.

What kind of mommy makes her baby girl ride her boot? A strict one. It had always been a favorite punishment, denying you her touch and making you get yourself off however she dictated. But when you were all soft and malleable? Desperate for her attention, for her touch? Now it has her soaking herself. An added, unexpected side effect? You'd stopped nagging her to take her boots off as much.

On the other hand, you staunchly refused for this to be a 24/7 arrangement. You were an adult. You contributed to the house, had goals and ambitions just as much as she did. As happy as Jill was to pamper you, to be your mommy when you needed it, she wasn't ever to hold that over your head.

Once, she'd dared to tease you in the middle of a discussion about utilities - gas bill's so high 'cause my babydoll like the house too warm - and the look you'd given her had been enough to make her backtrack immediately. You hadn't even been willing to entertain the notion that she might treat you as less capable, less of an equal partner just because you enjoyed her care.

That had been a rocky discussion.

“I don't want to do this with you if you're just going to think less of me for it.”

Christ, she wants to pull her hair out, stuff her words back into her mouth and just pay the goddamn gas bill. It wasn't like you couldn't afford it.

“I don't think less of you.”

“Then don't say stuff like that.”

“Babe, you're kind of overreacting.”

Your eyes harden. Obviously, that hadn't been the right thing to say either.

She'd nearly lost you in that conversation. Not entirely, not your whole relationship - just this soft, needy part that craves a softer touch, a nurturing hand. Maybe a better, more experienced mommy would have stepped it back better, assured you that wasn't what she meant. But Jill's not built for this, not naturally.

It's your thing. She's just indulging you.

She gathers up your coloring books, piling them neatly on the coffee table. She takes a minute to thumb through them, to admire the work you'd done that evening. Spooky Cutie, Gummy Bear World, the more complicated dinosaur coloring book from the Smithsonian. You'd been rotating - proudly showing her your work from page to page, polling her on what color you should use from time to time. One moment it was a bear and a cat cooking stew together in a simplified, cutesy kitchen. The broth was dark brown because mommy had decided they were having beef stew, not chicken and dumplings.

The next, you were asking for her favorite dinosaur, then her second favorite, then her third, and flipping through your book to find any one of them. She'd never seen a more elaborate backdrop for a triceratops. You'd dutifully laid out every shade of green you had and set to work on the foliage. Halfway through the movie she realized she'd missed a plot point, too busy checking in on your coloring.

It's not her thing. She just ended up at a craft store one day for something completely different. It was a good deal on markers, honest. Yeah. The deal had been on the ones that were high-end, that had the shades of green you needed to really make that cretaceous-era flora pop.

Jill is so fucked.

Right. Definitely just your thing.

She's above this. Keeps her personal life and her professional life neatly separated, despite the Redfield's best efforts. Claire knows she has a serious girlfriend. She'd done the detective work on Jill's limited social media, pored over new friends and comments like it was her job.

(“I had in-flight wi-fi.” Never a sentence you want to hear Claire Redfield say.

“So you wasted your time stalking me online?”

Claire shrugs. “Your girlfriend posts a lot and she likes everything you post. It wasn't hard to figure it out. She seems nice. Not subtle, but, you know – nice.”)

If Claire knows, then Chris knows. For years he's maintained that he hates gossip, but he's always suspiciously well-informed.

So when Chris sets a big hand on her shoulder and asks how the detective work is going, the appropriate answer should be ‘fine’ or ‘I'm going to blow my brains out if I have to dig through another financial record’. It should not be:

“Mommy's tired.”

Silence. God, she can't have said that. That wasn't what came out of her mouth, surely. She just said ‘I'm tired’, right?

Jill looks up at Chris. His eyebrows are in the fucking stratosphere. Before she can tell him not to say a goddamn word, his face splits into a grin.

“Does mommy want a coffee?”

“I'm reporting you to HR.”

Chris laughs, full-bodied, the sound bursting from his chest. He looks years younger in that moment, and when she huffs a laugh she wonders if she does too. All of that gets wiped away when she remembers how utterly fucked she is. Her cover is blown, her personal life finally hemorrhaged into the office.

“I'm reporting you to HR,” he counters. He swings himself into the chair opposite her desk. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“Fuck you.”

“Not if I have to call you mommy.”

Jill’s more than a little pent up when she kicks the door closed that evening. You turn your head, hands plunged in the basin of the sink. Domestic, homey - not quite her babydoll, but her girlfriend.

As you can imagine, the rest of the day was a nightmare. Chris didn’t know how to let a joke die, but at least he had the sense to keep it between the two of them.

She can change that.

“How was work?” You greet.

“You got me in trouble today.”

Confusion clouds your eyes. You try to turn from the sink, but Jill's arms cage you in. She's not a tall woman, but it's never stopped her from being imposing. She wedges her knee between your legs and lifts, pressing against your cunt. The heat pouring through you short circuits your brain, leaves all your intelligible thoughts fizzling out of your mouth in a confused heap.

“Huh?” Is what you finally manage to muster.

Jill snorts. Very intelligent. Her hands grip your hips. She turns you to face her, presses you down against her thigh, rocks your hips back and forth for you until you get the picture. Your movements are slower, uncertain. She has to battle the urge to force your movements quicker. Patience. She can rip the pleasure from you later.

Her mouth latches onto your neck, open-mouthed kisses pressed against your skin again and again, your pulse quick and unsteady under her lips. Your hands hover inches over her sides, water dripping from your fingertips, iridescent suds drying against your skin. You're not going back to the dishes, not if she can help it; leave them to soak in the sink.

Jill shifts a hand under your waistband, fingers ghosting just above your panties. A shudder rattles down your spine, stomach rolling against her hand. She slips her other hand up your front, ghosting between your breasts. Her knuckles catch under your chin.

“Everyone knows, babydoll.”

It's cute, watching you try to put the pieces together. Your poor little brain is frying and she still turns up the temperature on you. She shifts her leg away to palm your cunt through your panties. Goddamn, you may as well be molten heat at this point. Won't be much longer before she has you dripping into her palm.

It takes all her restraint not to shove your panties to the side and plunge her fingers into your needy little pussy then and there. Patience will make it sweeter, wetter, make you cling to her shoulders, clamp around her so tightly she loses circulation.

Her hand moves from your chin the moment you start forming a question. She presses her middle and ring finger to the seam of your lips and you open before she can so much as muster the first syllable. She chuckles, derisive. Your tongue swirls around her, laving against the pads of her fingers. Dutiful, obedient, her perfect little babydoll lapping at her skin.

You suckle, sloppy wet noise spilling from your mouth. A rush of love hits Jill square in the chest. It drops, settles in her gut right next to the need to claim.

“Everyone knows you need mommy to take care of you,” she coos, mocking. You squirm, something between fear and arousal sparking in your eyes. You suck harder. Definitely arousal.

It’s easy to walk you over to the counter, hips pressed tight to yours. She lets you suck at her fingers as long as she can before she needs that hand to pick you up and drop you on the countertop. Jill shoves your shorts down, tugs your panties to the side. Her spit-slick fingers trail along your slit. You shuffle down, greedy for more of her touch. Her poor baby, alone all day - and already so wet for her.

You suck her fingers in greedily. Her hand presses at your hip, a silent urge for you to stay still, to let her prep you. You can get so ahead of yourself, she knows - but she’ll take care of you. Jill’s mouth latches onto your neck. She only detaches to shuck your t-shirt up and off.

Your legs latch over her hips, trapping her hand between your bodies. Greedy little girl, taking more than she wanted to give. Jill can’t be angry about it, not now. She pumps her fingers into you steadily. Her mouth trails down to your chest, lips latching onto your nipple.

“Take it, babydoll, there you go – take it for me.” Her breath fans against your breast. She buries her face between them, moans against your sternum. Your back arches, tits pressing into her. Your arms press your tits together around her head, smothering her, and her pussy clenches around nothing.

Jill's fingers drill into you, grind right up against that spot that makes you squirm. She could find it blindfolded. No more long, slow-strokes with her thick fingers. Hard, deep, just how you need, thumb rubbing your clit.

Fuck - you must need this as badly as she does. You snap after a few more strokes, moan strangled and high. Your chest arches, your hands flying into her hair, holding her tight to your tits.

“Good girl, perfect girl for mommy– gonna have you cumming all night.” Promises seared into your skin just before her mouth latches above your breast, sucks a bruise into your skin.

Your hand pushes at her wrist, babbling about too much. Jill nearly goddamn growls, as if you’re trying to take her favorite toy away. Her thumb slows against your clit, fingers drawing languidly out of you. One last pump for good measure, just to watch your legs twitch.

Her cheek rests against your chest, rising and falling with your breaths.. She watches you recover with half-lidded eyes.

“Do– do people really know?” You ask once you’ve managed to regain the ability for language processing.

Jill pouts. Clearly she hasn’t fucked you good enough if you’re still worried about that. She shifts to grip your hips, tugging you the the edge of the counter. She cants her hips up, trying to fit them flush with yours. Promises for later.

“Just Chris.” You groan. Honestly, it could be way worse. You’re overreacting. She knows better than to say that out loud now. “He’s not gonna tell anyone.”

“Not even his sister?”

Jill hesitates. She steps back from the counter, helps your newborn deer legs find their foot on the floor. She thumbs the button of her jeans open, stumbling out of them while she helps you over to the couch. You’re easy to position like this, malleable to her wants. Just how you both like it. Jill swats your ass - playful, not punishing.

“You worry too much. They’re not gonna care.”

“What if I care?”

Jill sinks to the floor in front of you, guiding your legs up to her shoulders. She kisses her way up your sweat-slick skin, savoring the taste on her tongue on her way to your core.

“Just let mommy kiss it all better.”

#jill valentine x reader #jill valentine smut #jill valentine x you #resident evil smut #resident evil fanfic #resident evil imagine

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reginamillls · 6 months ago

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kayla i cant stop thinking about bucktommy and this is partly your fault so i need you to take responsibility

OKAY SO DON'T THINK ABOUT BUCKTOMMY...

trying to coordinate their schedules because they work at different fire stations, but they both understand the job so, it's okay, they get it, only for them to finally find the time but are both so exhausted they just fall asleep and in the morning Buck makes crepes and they trade lazy morning kisses that taste like fresh whipped cream and berries

going to the farmer's market and Buck is charmed because Tommy knows so many vendors by names and these little old ladies are just as infatuated as Buck is because Tommy has helped them with their carts before and in return they adore Buck because they make Tommy smile

sharing clothes because they're roughly the same size and both of them being pleased with how the other looks in their clothes

learning about the small things - their coffee orders, if they prefer pancakes or waffles, what kind of detergent they use if they're a morning or a night person, etc

Tommy tracing all of Buck's tattoos late at night, memorizing how the ink looks on his sweaty skin as it cools

Buck asking Tommy about his scars and Tommy doesn't need to worry about freaking anyone out because they both understand the job Tommy asks about Buck's in return

Maddie and Chimney coming home to see two giant men sitting in tiny chairs and having a very serious tea party with Jee-Yun on one of the days when Uncle Buck babysits

Tommy getting hurt and how Buck worries so hard because he wasn't there and Tommy is in surgery and when he wakes up Buck is at his side and he talks about how worried he was that Tommy would leave and Tommy replying "why would I leave when I have someone to go home to?"

Buck inviting Tommy over to events with the 118 so he can share his family with Tommy

falling in love

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 abc #uservik

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adhdduckie · 7 months ago

Text

CATS AND WITCHES; sam winchester x fem!witch!reader

my masterlist

irl moots pls dni, i'll actually die if you mention this irl.

SOULMATESSSS

on the radio; at last by etta james

word count: 7.4k

synopsis; early seasons sam and dean were passing through a small town, where they see an ad about an unnatural disappearance of a girl, there were reports of large feline mammals around the victim's house before the disappearance, and the girl who disappeared mentioned having strange visions. sam and dean decide to check it out because of the large reward for any information. SOULMATESSSS

t.w; swearing, violence, supernatural stuff

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

sam has spent the last 3 days in the car, and he's bored out of his mind. the Winchester brothers had just finished a vampire hunt the week before, and were travelling around north of texas to find their father.

they were sitting in a small diner booth, going through some newspapers to see if there were any supernatural reports. sam was sipping a mug of some pretty bad coffee, but he had no other alternatives.

"here's one." dean says, turning around the newspaper he was looking at. sam sets down his coffee, picking it up and his eyes are caught by the red circle around the missing advert.

"the disappearance of a girl." sam reads aloud. he looks up from the paper, looking at dean with a raised eyebrow.

"keep reading." dean replies, nodding his head.

"reward of twelve thousand dollars if you can find her, and bring her home. come to * address, **** town, north texas for more information, regarding before her disappearance." he finishes.

dean whistles. "that's a lot of money. is she special or something? or is her family just rich?"

"how do we know it's a supernatural disappearance and not a kidnapping or something like that?" sam asks, setting the paper down as he speaks to dean.

"well, they wouldn't be offering such a large sum if it was a kidnapping. but it's probably worth checking out anyway, with that large of a sum. plus, i checked the map, it's only an hour's drive from here." dean replies, swallowing the rest of his breakfast.

"we could use the money anyway." dean says, as a way to convince sam.

"fine." is sam's response, and they both get up from their breakfast, throwing cash onto the table, before heading back to baby.

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

sam steps out of the car, looking up at the large mansion before him.

"damn." dean whistles, shutting baby's door.

"this better be worth our time." sam says as they stride towards the large mahogany door.

Sam noticed that the closer they got to your house, there was a pull at his stomach. Something seemed so familiar but so alienating at the same time. The closer he got, the stronger the pull in his stomach got as well. maybe it was something bad he had at the diner. he knew it looked way too suspicious for such a cheap meal.

Sam’s knocked out of his reverie, his hand clutching his abdomen as dean knocks quite aggressively, and a "coming!" is heard from the other side of the door.

seconds later, a small woman stands in front of the door, and dean and sam both have to crane their necks down to look at her properly. she's wearing a pair of old jeans and a large shirt, and she looks like your typical old auntie that you'd find at a market, bartering for cheaper prices.

"how can i help you?" she asks them.

dean holds up the newspaper advert, showing it to her. "we're here to hear more about the disappearance of a girl? we think we might be able to help." he responds.

the old auntie looks them up and down, sizing them up. she huffs, and opens the door further for both of them to come in. "My name is Miss jones. Would you like tea or coffee? Mrs. L/N will see you soon."

"coffee would be good, thanks." sam responds, and dean chimes the same. miss jones gestures towards one of the pristine white couches, as she goes to make the coffee, with a teeter in her step.

"mrs l/n! there's someone at the door who thinks they can help with Miss Y/n's disappearance." miss jones yells up the large swirling stairs, which are both dark and elegant.

"alright alright. I'll be down soon, make sure they're comfortable!" is the response from the top of the spiral staircase. The seemingly disembodied voice is regal and smooth, sounding as if it seems to curl around the brain.

the couch is plush and comfortable, the room is majestic and comforting, some soft classical music seems to slither into the room from a study, and there are loads of what they assume to be family pictures everywhere.

heels clack against marble staircases as a woman walks down the stairs, her eyes seeming to dim when they look at sam and dean.

"hello, my name is mrs l/n. I do hope that you're comfortable." she asks them, reaching out to sam and dean in a handshake. her hand is soft to the touch, but it's a very firm handshake.

mrs l/n sits in front of them both, her legs crossed over the other at the thigh. She's dressed in a smart suit and pants, as if she's ready for a photoshoot. ms jones comes in from the kitchen, placing down two hot mugs of the best smelling coffee in front of the boys, with a wide assortment of finger sandwiches.

sam and dean share a look, picking up a small sandwich each.

"we're sam and dean. we saw your advert in the paper, mrs. we thought we might be able to help. you see, we specialise in a sort of detective work." dean says, instantly switching on the charisma.

Mrs. L/N sighs. "at this point, i would accept anyone's help for this. the best P.Is we hired were unable to find anything." she pulls out a handkerchief from her suit front pocket, dabbing at her wet eyes, ever the picture of regality.

"i suppose you'd like to hear more about it, right?" She asks.

the boys both nod, picking up some more of the sandwiches. ms jones takes the already empty plate back to the kitchen, filling it up with more assortments for the boys.

"it started last month. my daughter, who i believe is about your age, maybe a couple years younger, she's twenty. a wonderful soul." she sobs, her regal and composed demeanour cracking before them.

the boys wait for her to compose herself before continuing.

"she came home from university, and she was so shaken up. it was easter break, so i was very excited to see her again. she only visits every school break, you know? she seemed so off. i asked her what was wrong, but she kept saying that she was fine, and she was just upset about not obtaining 100% on her end of term exam. i didn't believe her, of course, i could tell it was something more than that."

the boys lean forward, only subconsciously reaching for the delicious small finger sandwiches. mrs l/n cracks a small smile at that, and continues on.

"I persisted, and she finally told me that it was because she kept seeing things. she told me that one night when walking back to her apartment after a late class, she saw something out of the corner of her eye. She didn't think too much of it at first, before she realised it was a large feline. she said she didn't really react, as she was with a large group of her friends, and it was unlikely that it would attack. but every night that week, she said she saw it again.”

“on the final night before she came home, she saw it again while she was getting out of a cab after a night out with friends. she finally saw it properly. she described it as a dark hulking mass that seemed to be made entirely of shadows and horrors. she said she couldn't sleep that night."

at this, the brothers share an interesting look, like a demon or something. or perhaps a familiar of a witch that she had angered.

"She chalked it up to her inebriated state, but it kept eating at her. after she told me, she broke down in tears. i told her she was fine, and she didn't have to worry about it. she was safe in our house. you know, we've always believed in the paranormal, as her father was a very cautious man. we have salt and iron rock brigades in the walls of the house and the marble floors."

sam and dean look surprised at this, having a quick glance around the room. mrs l/n laughs. "i know. i found it silly at first, but my husband has had this house in his family for generations."

"that night when she finally came home, after telling me everything, she retired to her room. the next morning i had gone into her bedroom to look for her to tell her breakfast was ready, and she-" mrs l/n sobs.

"she?" sam supplies. dean's too busy stuffing his face with the plate of cakes that were just set in front of him.

"she wasn't there! there were scratch marks, so deep and etched as if there was something trying to ruin the walls." mrs l/n wails. flailing her arms about. "i'm so-" she hiccups. "i'm so sorry. i'm not usually like this. i miss my daughter, i'm so worried about her."

"we understand. we'll do everything we can to help you. is it possible for us to inspect the scratch marks, and also check out ms y/n's room?"

"of course." is mrs' l/n's response. "you both look so hungry, you must need a lot of food to help you. take up the cake plates with you. and if you want anything else, just yell for either miss jones or i. her room is the one on the third floor, with the flowers and vines on the door." she gives them a watery smile, picking up the plates from the table, holding it up to them.

"thank you mrs. l/n." sam and dean respond, taking the plates, standing up from the couch, as ms jones shows them the way.

'be careful. there's a dark energy in that room." Ms jones whispers to them, as they follow behind her teetering form as she hobbles up the stairs.

"oh don't worry, we're used to it." dean responds, as she points out the room to them, before hobbling back down the stairs to mrs. l/n.

"i hope the winchester brothers are careful." mrs l/n says to ms jones. "I wouldn't want john to get mad at me if they're horribly injured." she turns to the small woman beside her.

"they've grown quite big. especially sam. he's so much bigger now." mrs l/n states.

"why didn't you tell them you know them?" ms jones responds.

"they would probably ask me to tell them where john is, and i can't do that." mrs l/n sighs.

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

"mrs l/n is not as snobby as i expected her to be. she's quite nice." dean says to sam, as they stand outside of your room's door.

"i know. what do you think happened to her daughter?" sam asks as he pushes open your door.

dean takes in a deep breath at the sight before him.

"shit." he whispers out. "what happened here?"

your (normally) tidy room is in shambles. cupboards are on the floor, clothes spilling out of them. there's money strewn across the floor, making it look like a robbery scene. there's glass shards on the floor of your room, meaning your room has been broken into. which is strange, considering your room is on the third floor.

the only thing that makes it not look like a robbery and a kidnapping, is the deep scratches on the marble floor, in the solid walls, and in your bed bannisters.

"fuck, man." dean muffles out through a large bite of cake. "that's some really awesome cake." he says.

"seriously? shouldn't we focus on this instead?" sam says, rolling his eyes.

"i can eat cake at the same time."

sam sets down his plates, shrugging off his heavy bag full of iron salt and iron chains.

it seems as if your mother had left it the way she found it, to help with any investigations made into your disappearance.

sam walks closer to the large claw marks on your bed bannisters. the sheets are intact, and it seems like whatever took you woke you up from the glass shattering.

the sheets are a mess, and your pillow is on the floor. there's a bat beside your bed, which seems to be smeared with some blood on the handle.

"shit. what kind of princess has a bat beside her bed?" dean says, noticing Sam's gaze.

"her mom told us she was really freaked out. she probably put it there for her own protection." sam responds, rolling his eyes.

sam runs his fingers over the deep etches in the bedframe, pausing when he feels a pulse of energy.

"that's weird." he states absentmindedly to himself, not noticing dean standing behind him, still holding onto what must be his third plate of chocolate cake.

"what?" He mumbles around the cake.

sam turns his head, still crouching low as he runs his fingers to the next deep scratch. there's something pulling at him, so he follows it, but he stoops low to pick up his bag, beckoning dean behind him.

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

sam's followed it into a deep, dark forest. it's a couple of miles from your house, a large secluded forest.

dean complains about the temperature as he walks, but the deeper they go into the forest, the more they realise that something is wrong.

well, not wrong, but it feels, heavy. not temperature wise, but an aura that seems lonely and sad. it settles on the shoulders, causing the walk to get harder and slower.

dean's lugging the bags, complaining of the weight as he hobbles. He's still injured from their last hunt, and he's been slow and in pain recently.

a couple of branches snaps in the distance, and they both pause. It's not an animal. they're silent there on out, and walk towards the sound. The pull is getting stronger.

there's a figure hooded in the dark, and sam and dean share a look. what is it this time, a demon, a cold maiden or a wailing banshee?

the closer they get, they realise it's not any of the aforementioned. the figure is small, human-like. their hands are corporeal, foraging in the grass for herbs. the pull he feels is getting stronger. in sam's haste to get closer, to see what they're looking at, he steps on a branch, and it cracks loudly.

In the forest, you’ve been foraging, the entire day, you had been feeling a light tug on your stomach, and you just thought it was because your familiar had been away. You had been feeling a pull in your stomach, but just as the branch cracks, it gets stronger. your head shoots up, and you freeze.

what you first think you see is a moose, but the longer you look, it's a pair of two boys. the one who's startled you is taller than the other, and he's the one that you thought was a moose. but what scares you the most is the fact they're both carrying two large heavy bags, not knowing what they might hold inside. so you do the first thing that comes to your mind, you run.

sam recognizes you from the images, and just as he realises the look in your eyes is fear, it's too late. you're already running.

sam sprints after you, wanting to talk and understand why you've seemed to stage your own abduction, but when dean catches up to sam, he tells him to stop, and the more he chases, the more likely you're to run.

"why is she here? why is she okay?" sam asks dean. dean just shrugs, and thinks for a second.

"she was probably sick of her home life or something." dean finally responds, picking up the bags that sam had dropped. dean frowns before finishing. "but you said that you felt a pulse of dark energy, right?"

sam nods in response. curiosity gets the best of him, and he wants to know why you were running. and for the large bounty, they have to bring you back.

they follow the pull that sam feels, the force pulling him closer to you.

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

"what. the fuck." you're thinking as you sprint through the forest. you're wondering how they found you, and what were they going to do to you?

you make it back to the small cottage you found in the woods years ago, having made it more habitable as time had passed.

slamming the door behind you, you lean against it, sliding down until you're sitting.

"fuck. who were they?" you ask yourself, praying that they won't be coming after you.

you stand, setting down the basket you had used to collect the mushrooms on the sink, petting the maine coon that sits next to you, he purrs, rubbing his head against your hand, you’re glad that he’s back.

suddenly, you hear the front door creak open, and the moose boy and what seems to be his brother now that you have had a proper look, are standing there.

you freeze, standing up and immediately picking up the large knife on the counter. "what do you want?" you demand, brandishing it at them.

the moose boy, who's broad and tall, drops the bags they were carrying on the threshold of your house. his hands, which are large like the rest of him, are held up in a sign of surrender, a sign that they weren't going to hurt you.

"we don't wanna hurt you. we just wanna talk." he says to you. his voice is deep, and if he wasn't a total stranger who barged into your house, you'd describe it as soothing.

"the fuck you mean you wanna talk? who are you? how did you find me?" you grumble, whirring the knife around and around your hand.

dean laughs, scoffing a little. "she's not as princess as I thought. How is she mrs. l/n's daughter?" he says to sam.

you overhear him, pausing. "what do you mean? how do you know my mother?" you demand, holding the knife further up.

"she's the one who hired us to find you. she thinks you've been taken." sam states slowly, approaching you as if you're an easily startled deer.

you lower your knife, setting it down. you'll trust these boys for now. they don't seem so bad. your maine coon, ares, however, disagrees. he snarls, shifting into his larger form. he's the size of a tiger in that form. the whiteness of his fur melting into a dark, staticky one.

dean lets out a yell in surprise, and hits sam in the face. the whisps of darkness of ares's fur are tinted with a red, and they float towards you.

"no! ares. stop." you demand, and he turns his head to your side, baring his teeth. "it's fine for now." you state.

dean and sam know what you are now. a witch, with a rare familiar. "fuck." sam whispers. "yeah." dean agrees.

ares snarls again, before shifting back into his original form.

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

a few minutes later, your door is closed, and the three of you are settled around your small kitchen, steaming cups of herbal tea set up in all of their hands.

your mug is small in sam's hand, and it would be funny how out of place he looks in the small hut if you weren't so worried. he really does remind you of a moose.

"okay, moose. tell me everything." you state, pointing at sam.

"first of all, moose? what the hell is that?" he asks, bewildered. dean laughs, smacking him on the back.

"i dunno. you remind me of one." you shrug, but you point at him again.

"okay, your mom hired us to look for you since she's super worried. you just up and disappeared. " dean interjects.

"but the real question is, what the hell are you doing?" sam finishes.

you let out a deep sigh. In the last couple of days, you've felt so stressed about this. whatever these powers are, they're so annoying. what have you done to deserve this?

"the cat you saw, ares, he's supposed to be my familiar." you tell them everything, about how your powers manifested, how ares had found you to help you control your powers better, how you ran away because you were scared of hurting your friends and your loved ones.

"ares did the scratching for me, in the wood. he broke the glass for me, to make it look like a burglary. i did my best." you finish, and you're feeling tears well up in your eyes.

"hey." sam soothes you, resting a hand on your shoulder. his palm is warm and heavy, and you briefly wonder what it would be like to hold it.

"i'm learning to control my powers too, we should work together." he suggest and dean sends him a funny look.

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

your mom cries and hugs when she sees you, and gives the money that was promised to the two boys.

"why did you leave?" she begs you for answer, her arms still wrapped around you.

dean and sam, you now know their names, are sat on your couch again, eating some food.

"i was scared. I didn't want to hurt you." you tell her, mumbling into her hair.

"you could never. I should have warned you that it was coming." your mom tells you, patting your head softly. this gets everyone's attention.

"you knew?" sam, dean and you all say at the same time. you catch the eyes of sam, and he smiles at you supportively. Is it weird that it's supportive, even though you've only known him a couple hours?

"yeah. it's been passed down through generations, but it skipped me." she shrugs, telling everyone. "it's funny, because when we were younger, john-" she slaps a hand over her own mouth.

"fuck." she whispers out, but it's muffled.

"you knew our father?" sam asks your mum, standing up from his seat. she sighs, and shakes her head.

"i knew him, but i don't know where he is." she says sadly.

your mom tells you all of how she grew up with him, and that they were neighbours. Her father and john’s, were good friends. You even spent some time with sam and dean when you were younger, but just didn’t remember as you were too young.

Everyone nods in understanding, and you finally feel better.

“Mom?” you ask quietly, dragging her to the side. Unknown to you, sam’s watching you with a small smile, but dean notices.

“You whipped already, moose?” dean teases sam. “What-? No.” sam responds, but he feels his face heat up.

“I’m just wondering what led me to her before.” he says, trying to change the topic.

“Who knows. You could be soulmates.” dean jokes, thinking about their shared demon blood.

“Maybe.” he mumbles halfheartedly, not really listening.

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

“Mum?” you ask as you pull your mom to the side to talk to her.

“Yes, sweetheart?” she responds.

“Uhm, i want to go with them.” you say.

“What?” your mom panics. “Are you sure? It’s not going to be safe.” she says.

“I know. But i want to learn how to control the powers properly. There are some things I want to learn, some things i need to see that if i don’t leave, i’ll never see.” you tell her, trying your best to convince her.

“I see.” she responds. She’s got her poker face on, the one that won her 10 thousand dollars at a casino in las vegas when you were 11. You don’t know what she’s going to say, but you hope that she’ll let you go. “What’s something you want to learn?” she finally asks you.

You stare at her in bewilderment, your ears reddening before you speak. “Before sam and dean found me, i felt this pull in my stomach. I feel it now, and it only seems to be slacker when i’m with the two of them. I want to learn what that is.”

Your mom laughs so hard, she ends up wiping tears from her eyes. “I see.” she wheezes.

“What?” you ask her.

“Nothing, nothing. You’ll figure it out eventually.” she says, giggling to herself again.

You groan, “but can i go? I want your blessing.” you beg.

“Yes you can. But you must be safe, and remember to call me at least once a week, so that i know you’re still alive and safe. I’ll kill the both of them if they even let you get hurt.” she says, threatening loud enough that sam and dean stop whispering between themselves enough to look up at you both.

Sam’s got a sheepish grin on his face, and dean’s got a smirk, as if he’s saying that he knows something you don’t.

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

The next year is a mess.

You spend all of your time with the boys, getting close enough to both of them to consider them both your best friends.

Dean’s like a brother to you. And Sam, well sam-… he’s different.

Everytime you see him, you can’t help but smile. Every room he’s in with you seems brighter than it was before he went in, and you love every single second of your life that you spend with him.

The bond isn’t so strong when you’re together, but it’s only quiet when you’re touching him. If it’s hands pressed together, his arm resting on your shoulder, you tucked into his side, as long as you’re touching, it’s restful.

It’s hard sometimes, the life of a hunter. Your witch abilities help them on the hunt, and the added protection of ares is really good too.

You’re in a pickle, a couple of times. The work is dangerous, and not many make it to an older age.

This last hunting trip is going to kill you, you decide as soon as dean describes what’s going on.

A small rickety sports bar has been popping up all over the country, a popular couple’s bar named ‘hearts aligned.’ the story is that everytime a couple walks in, the chances are that the couples don’t come back out.

It seems to be this strangeness that is attracting all these couples to keep coming anyway. It’s ridiculous how people think that it’s cool because of that, and instead of staying away, they keep coming back.

So this is what leads you to now. Your smaller hand wrapped around sam’s larger one, as you entered the bar. you swear you can hear dean sniggering miles away back at the hotel rooms at the mere thought of your forced proximity with his baby brother.

Of course, dean found out that you liked sam, he became annoying to the point where he found numerous excuses for why he couldn’t do hunts, preferring to stay at the bunker than go out.

“Oh, my back hurts. Since you’re younger, you and moose can go do this one.” he’ll say, as he pushes you and sam out the door. He always sends you a wink.

Moose has now become a nickname for sam. It wasn’t on purpose, no matter how many times sam accuses you of finding the least suitable nickname for him.

Sam and you, wrapped up together as you wait in the lobby of the bar. The smell of sweat and love hangs heavy in the air, sticking to your skin like honey.

You don’t like it. You don’t like how natural it feels to be tucked into sam’s side, his hand resting on your waist. You don’t like how it feels so natural that he’s pressing light kisses to your hairline, like you’re something precious that he’s afraid to be away from for even a second.

You really hate how he’s playing the role of an affectionate boyfriend so well, and you know as soon as this is over, you’re never going to be able to get over it. You’re gonna get addicted if this keeps going on.

Not to mention, you hate how because of your short dress, you're cold, and somehow without you even saying anything, Sam's noticed. You didn’t even say anything, and he wrapped himself around you with the sole goal to warm you up.

And it works, he does. The body heat he emits is more than enough to warm you up, without being too warm. His hand, resting on your hip, is warm even through the fabric of your dress.

And most of all, you hate how the pull that you’ve felt in the pit of your stomach that’s been there since you’ve met the brothers, isn’t tight, for once. It feels as if that the closer you are to him, the more relaxed you feel.

“You okay?” sam whispers into your ear, playing the role of the beloved concerned boyfriend well. You shiver slightly, the warmth of his voice does that to you. It’s impressive how as soon as you feel the slightest bit off, that he notices. It’s as if he’s fine tuned himself into all the subtle shifts of your moods.

“Yeah.” you whisper in response. He does notice the shiver, but he chalks it up to the aircon vent blowing cold air at your back. He moves so that he’s in the way of the aircon’s cold blast, his warm front pressing into your back.

You let out a small huff of air, comfortable with his proximity and his warmth. “How long do you think this’ll take, moose? I’m getting tired.” You whisper to him, the music strangely quiet for a bar. To make sure he hears you better, you turn your face to him, bringing your lips closer to his ear.

He fights a difficult battle, trying everything in his willpower not to blush. That damn nickname, you… Everything, it’s killing him. “Dunno, shouldn’t be that much longer.” he responds in what he hopes is a confident, strong tone.

The longer you stay at the bar, the quieter it gets. Some couples leave giggling and laughing, dragging their partner’s hand with a mischievous smile.

You feel the bar getting colder, and a quick glance at the thermostat proves you right. “Anytime now.” he whispers again.

Suddenly, there’s a guttural screech, and the rest of the bar goers flee the premises, leaving you and sam alone in the bar. He steps away from you, pulling out the revolver supplied with rock salt, and bares it at the source of the screech.

As you unclasp the thigh guard, you pull out your own gun, similar to his. It was a gift from him on your birthday, engraved with your initials and a small cat.

You point it where sam is pointing his gun. You feel goosebumps raising on your arms, the hairs standing up as you hear a little scuttle. If you weren’t so fine tuned into sam, you wouldn’t have noticed how the hairs on the back on his neck stick up as well.

You want to smooth them down, but it really isn’t the time for that.

The scuttling gets louder, the sound of nails on a blackboard screeches through the bar as the music abruptly stops. The screeching gets louder, scuttling like a beetle as it gets closer, so loud that you think it’s right next to you, but you can’t see anything at all.

You pause, feeling your heart momentarily stop. Slowly craning your neck up to the ceiling, you almost scream. A year into the business, and you’re still not prepared.

▷ —-------------------- (crack)

The sound of the chair being knocked over as you scramble away from- from- whatever that thing is.

It’s got long dark hair, which is dangling. A feminine shape, with a covered face, but you can feel eyes staring at you with a glowering menace even without seeing it. Even no longer directly below it, you can feel it staring at you.

Sam gets in a protective stance, blocking its view of you by stepping in front of it.

‘Well…what have we click click here?” it rasps, voice disoriented and deep, clicking, sounding at the back of its dry throat, reminding you of the sounds the velociraptors in Jurassic world made.

You raise the gun, pointing it right between where the eyes would be on a normal person. Sam reaches out behind him, just checking to see if you’re behind him still, making sure you’re still safe.

“awww. such a cute hunter couple.” it snarls, dropping from the ceiling. its bones crack as it moves, body bending backwards as it stalks towards you.

suddenly it pauses. “you don't see that often, anymore.” it mumbles to itself, one grotesque finger drawing a line connecting the two of you, and the next thing you know, you're thrown together against the wall as it stalks closer.

“fuck.” sam groans as his back hits the wall, and you let out a hiss of pain, tied to his chest as you flail around, trying to move.

something invisible is pinning you in place. you're embarrassed to say that even in such a dangerous position, your heart is thumping aggressively in your chest, practically bursting out.

the thing is drawing close, and it's enough to get you to snap out of your reverie, and you remember that it's neither the time nor the place for this.

“Hmm. soulmates? So rare. You both can’t be human then.” it grumbles, its finger bending back with an unnatural crack.

‘What the fuck.’ you’re thinking as you both are struggling. Using your powers, you send a blast, making the thing fall back, scuttling its old bones as it regains its stance, prowling towards you.

In the time that it loses its balance, you and sam find yours. He pulls you up to his feet quickly, retrieving both of your guns as he points it at the thing, his other hand behind him, ensuring that you’re behind him.

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

In the end, you end up taking it out, sending it back to a demon dimension, and dragging your sorry asses back to your hotel rooms, where dean, is lying comfortably on the bed, with a beer in his hand.

You glare at him, beaten up and bloody, cuts all over your face from falling face first into a window. You’ve healed all the serious injuries, but don’t have enough energy to do the rest.

“I take it went well?” dean asks smugly, stretching out his limbs as if he’s done anything remotely productive. (spoiler alert. He hasn’t. He’s just gotten back from the bar)

“She was an elder-being. Thanks for the warning, dean.” sam growls, eyebrows furrowed as he hobbles over to lie on the bed.

“Hey! Don’t get the bedsheets bloody, we’ll be charged more.” you say, hitting him lightly, wincing when you hear him let out a hiss of pain.

“Shit.” sam whimpers, holding his arm, slightly above the slash in his arm. It’s not bleeding heavily anymore, but you bet it’s painful as hell, especially with those long ass nails raking at him.

“I’m sorry!! I didn’t mean to. Wait, I'll help patch you up. ” you tell him pushing him down so he sits on the edge of his bed in dean and his’ room.

Dean lets out a grunt as he jumps to his feet, already having enough of whatever flirting will happen soon.

“Right, i’m heading down to the bar, gonna check out the ladies.” he says, striding over to the door.

“Weren’t you just at the bar?” you ask him with a raised brow.

“Yeah, but they’re probably already missing me.” he responds, winking at ya. You can hear sam groaning slightly from the pain, turning your eyes away from dean to watch sam, you hear the door click closed behind you

You roll your eyes, pulling out the medical kit to pay attention to how injured sam might be.

“That was really stupid of you, moose. Jumping out a window?” you chastise him, a worried furrow in your brows as you pull out the necessary ointments.

Sam stares at you, his fingers itching at his side, wanting to smooth out the furrow in your brows. He thinks about what the demon thing said, and wants to talk about it, but he wants you to be comfortable first.

“Are you injured anywhere?” he asks, his hand reaching up and doing what he wants. His touch is gentle and soft, and even as he smooths the furrow out of your brow, his thumb lingers, before he pulls back. You miss his touch instantly, skin tingling where his thumb rested.

“Just a couple of scratches. Nothing as serious as your arm.” you respond, grimacing slightly as you really look at his cut.

“Yeah, but i’m still worried about you.” he responds, frowning.

“Don’t. Be more worried about yourself, since you’re the one in pain right now.” you chastise him, trying to pull the edges of his shirt away from the cut, letting out a sigh when he

“You gotta take off your overshirt, sam. I don’t wanna have the fabric sticking to the cut, or infecting it.” you tell him, stepping back while you wait for him to do as you ask.

He winces as he pulls it over his head, his white undershirt stained from the blood only on one side.

“You see? And you’re still telling me that you’re worried about me.” you say, pointing to the cut.

As you end up cleaning it up first, you’re in a comfortable silence. You keep thinking about the eldritch woman, and what she said about a soulmate bond. It would make a lot of sense, how for all this time, you’ve always been drawn to him.

Not just physically, but what seems to be mentally too, you notice all of his quirks, his hobbies, his preferences, and what he would deem his faults. They’re not faults to you, they’re just him, and you love him.

Unknown to you, he’s thinking the same. Maybe not to the same extent of what you're thinking, but to a similar extent. He’s curious about what happened, and he wants to know more, to know if you feel the same pull he does.

You end up stitching the rest of his cut up, and when you’re done, you collapse onto the bed in exhaustion. Letting out a deep, tired sigh, you throw your arm over your eyes, blocking out the light.

Sam’s still sitting on the edge of his bed, but he’s turned to stare at you. He watches the way your chest rises and falls with each breath you take, and even with the sound of music drifting into the room from the bar downstairs, he can hear the little puffs of air you let out.

He calls your name, and you shift your arm upwards, resting against your forehead as you stare down at him.

“Yeah?” you ask.

“..what do you think she meant about the soulmate bond?” sam asks. He’s probably the most nervous he’s ever been right now, but it’s a kind of nervousness that is elating, making his heart race in his chest.

You blink at him, just assuming that that was just going to be something else swept under the carpet of your friendship if you didn’t bring it up. Like lingering stares, touches that are wayyyy too long to just be friendly, and the way he’s just too fine tuned into you.

“Uh. Maybe what it quite literally means?” You finish, trying not to show just exactly how terrified you are right now, since this is a topic you thought you’d never talk about. Like how dean really really needs a love life, not just one night stands.

Sam can’t help but roll his eyes, and he feels slightly less stressed about bringing this topic up now, since you sound to him as if you’ve been thinking about it too.

You really want to talk about it, but you really don’t want to sound too desperate.

“You know that’s not what I mean, y/n.” he tells you, shifting so that his legs are no longer hanging off the edge of the bed, and he’s looking right at you. His arm is tender, and the little movement is enough to make him wince.

Sitting up to look at him properly, you sigh. You don’t know what to say, really.

“Do you feel it?” he asks, shyly. “The soulmate bond?” He thinks of all the times he’s even thought that you might have reciprocate his feelings, and he thinks he has a solid chance right now.

You don’t think you’re gonna get rejected, but it’s still slightly unnerving to bring something as serious as this up, because if it doesn’t work out, your entire dynamic will be destroyed, and you will not only lose the love of your life, but your best friend, and in the process, you could lose dean, too.

“Yeah. i just didn’t know what it was before.” you tell him, scratching the back of your neck nervously, wincing when you scratch at a injury you didn’t notice before.

Sam lightens up obviously, the physical embodiment of puppy eyes. He looks at you now, and he laughs.

“What?” you ask him, slightly nervous.

“I feel it too, you know?” he tells you. “I felt it that day in the woods, i felt it when you left my side for even a moment, I felt it when we were together. I just thought it was some kind of overattachment to you.”

This makes you laugh, and he pulls you closer by your arm.

“I felt it in the woods, that day when I thought you were a moose, I felt it when I sat in the passenger seat of baby, I felt it when you were injured in the hospital.” you respond, thinking of all the times where the bond vexed you, and made you happy.

Sam stares down at you, pulling you into his side properly. You’re tucked into under his arm as he presses a chaste kiss to the tips of your fingers, to the palm of your hand, your forearm, as he slowly makes his way up to your face.

In between each kiss, he whispers out to you; “I've felt you everywhere in my life since the first day I met you. In my head, my lungs, in my space. You are the air I breathe, and without you, I'm scared I’ll die.”

he pauses when he reaches your jaw, pausing, giving you time to push him away if you don’t want this.

“yeah? “ you respond smugly, gloating now that you’re aware of just how much you affect him. You’re breathless, waiting for the kiss that you feel you’ve been missing your entire life.

This is the only moment that matters, the part where you finally come together. With that, he kisses you. The kiss is sweet and soft, a promise of more to come.

He pulls back, forehead resting against yours and your breaths mingle together, but it isn’t enough. You need more for all the times you’ve been afraid he’s hurt or worse, dead.

You pull him closer by the collar of his undershirt, and kiss him. You kiss him like crazy, and he reciprocates, kissing you harder. This kiss is everything you’ve lost, come back to you.

When you finally pull apart, you’re giggling, and he chuckles, pressing another chaste kiss to your forehead, whispering how much he loves you.

You fall asleep entangled together, ankles crossed over his as he rests his arm over your waist, your head tucked between his neck and his shoulder.

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

Dean comes back from the bar, switching on the light of the room, and he quite literally does a double take when he sees the two of you entangled together, even in sleep.

He does everything in his power not to wake you up with screams of “i knew it” and “it’s about damn time”. He’s happy to see his brother so content, even in sleep, there’s a smile on sam’s face.

Dean pulls out his phone, sending a quick text to mrs l/n; who’s number he got to stay in touch with updates of his father.

‘You owe me ten bucks.’ he types out.

The screen lights up with a response from mrs l/n.

‘What!? Already? I thought it would be later.’ is the reply, and he laughs at that.

385 notes · View notes

rottenpumpkin13 · 6 months ago

Note

impulsive purchases Sephiroth has made?

Poor Financial Choices In Sephiroth's Apartment

• A gumball machine. He bought it purely because he didn't know these things could be bought. He followed Genesis to one of those whimsical upscale furniture stores when he was redecorating, spotted the gumball machine, and made his choice without asking how much is cost.

• Yoga gear, enough to open his own studio. In his defense, he does practice yoga, but there was a point in the beginning where he got wayy too into it and started buying everything he saw. It was a mistake, because all he uses is one (1) yoga mat. At least Angeal knows who to go to in case he ever needs 62 yoga balls.

• A mini trampoline. Again, he didn't know they existed before he saw one.

• A coffee table that doubles as a mini pool table when the glass top comes off. Again, he saw it at the store, went "ooh!" and then made Genesis and Angeal lug it back to his place. (he was too busy carrying the light up wall-sword-holder contraption he got for Masamune)

• A giant scented candle the size of a barrel. He likes scented candles, but hates how fast they run out, so to combat this he bought "that monstrosity" (Genesis' words, not his). It smells like eucalyptus. The smoke detector picked it up one time at 1AM and they had to evacuate the residence floor. Angeal confiscated it.

• A humidifier shaped like a cat that lights up and purrs. It's impractical, it doesn't work properly, and is an eye sore according to Genesis. Sephiroth only bought it because "that's not something you see every day."

• A plasma lamp, a lava lamp, a night sky projector, light-up LED lights, a lamp that's a skull with a lightbulb in its mouth. If it lights up in any different or interesting way shape or form, odds are Sephiroth has it.

• House slippers shaped like two chocobos that heat up. Zack talked him into buying them, but he never wears it on account of feeling ridiculous whenever he does. He wears them when he's alone but that's besides the point.

• A giant weighted stuffed chocobo he got from Genesis as a gag gift. Sephiroth doesn't see the gag. If he drapes the chocobo over himself it simulates human contact.

• Waffle iron, popcorn machine, hot chocolate maker, donut iron, things he buys and claims he'll use, but never does because he barely ever cooks. The only times he eats home cooked meals are when Angeal cooks for them, and it will be a cold day in hell before Hewley is caught making an omelet with a machine.

• Sephiroth once followed Angeal to the flea market in the slums, where he proceeded to thrift an entire collection of mugs shaped like realistic skulls. "Aren't these a novelty? I think I'll name each of them."

• A comically huge beanbag chair that makes him look (and feel) small when he's nestled into it.

• In conclusion, this is the result of growing up isolated in a lab without autonomy, and then gaining adult money and personal space.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #ffvii crisis core #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 crisis core #angeal hewley #headcanons

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shashi2310 · 10 months ago

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#US Coffee Market size #US Coffee Market growth #US Coffee Market trends #US Coffee Market opportunities

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marketinsight1234 · 9 months ago

Text

US Coffee Market Outlook for Forecast Period (2023 to 2030)

The US Coffee is Expected to Grow at a Significant Growth Rate, and the Forecast Period is 2023-2030, Considering the Base Year as 2022.

The coffee market refers to the economic and commercial environment where coffee beans and coffee-related products are bought and sold. It encompasses all aspects of the coffee industry, including the cultivation, processing, roasting, packaging, distribution, and consumption of coffee.

The United States coffee market is a thriving and influential industry that holds a prominent place in American culture. With a deep-rooted coffee tradition, the country boasts a diverse array of coffee consumption habits, from the bustling coffee shops in urban centers to the convenience of single-serve coffee options in homes and offices.

Major coffee shop chains, as well as small independent cafes and roasters, contribute to the coffee culture in the US, offering a wide range of coffee beverages, artisanal creations, and seasonal Flavors. Coffee has become an integral part of daily routines for many Americans, whether as a morning pick-me-up, a mid-day break, or a socializing activity with friends and colleagues.

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Leading players involved in the US Coffee Market include:

Nestlé SA (Switzerland), The J.M. Smucker Company (USA), The Kraft Heinz Company (USA), Starbucks Corporation (USA), JDE Peet's (Netherlands), Keurig Dr. Pepper (USA), Lavazza Group (Italy), Tchibo Coffee International Ltd. (Germany), Massimo Zanetti Beverage Group (Italy), illycaffè S.p.A. (Italy), D.E. Master Blenders 1753 (Netherlands), Jacobs Douwe Egberts (Netherlands), Strauss Group Ltd. (Israel), UCC Ueshima Coffee Co., Ltd. (Japan), Melitta Group (Germany), Eight O'Clock Coffee Company (USA), Luigi Lavazza S.p.A. (Italy), Farmer Bros. Co. (USA), Peet's Coffee & Tea, Inc. (USA), Community Coffee Company (USA) and Other Major Players

The latest research on the US Coffee market provides a comprehensive overview of the market for the years 2023 to 2030. It gives a comprehensive picture of the global US Coffee industry, considering all significant industry trends, market dynamics, competitive landscape, and market analysis tools such as Porter's five forces analysis, Industry Value chain analysis, and PESTEL analysis of the US Coffee market. Moreover, the report includes significant chapters such as Patent Analysis, Regulatory Framework, Technology Roadmap, BCG Matrix, Heat Map Analysis, Price Trend Analysis, and Investment Analysis which help to understand the market direction and movement in the current and upcoming years. The report is designed to help readers find information and make decisions that will help them grow their businesses. The study is written with a specific goal in mind: to give business insights and consultancy to help customers make smart business decisions and achieve long-term success in their particular market areas.

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Segmentation of US Coffee Market:

By Forms

Whole Coffee Beans

Ground Coffee

Instant Coffee

Coffee Pods & Capsules

Espresso

Others

By Source

Arabica

Robusta

By Speciality Coffee

Single-Origin Coffee

Micro-Lot Coffee

Organic Coffee

Direct Trade Coffee

Cold Brew & Nitro Cold Brew Coffee Others

By Process

Caffeinated

Decaffeinated

By Flavors

Vanilla

Caramel

Hazelnut

Mocha

Cinnamon

Others

By Distribution Channel

On-trade

Off-trade

By End-Users

Individual Coffee Drinkers

Coffee Shop Patrons

Office & Workplace Consumers

Catering & Hospitality Industry

Bakeries & Dessert Shops Others

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lettre-romantiques · 1 day ago

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4#-> 💌: a letter has arrived from satoru gojo.

dear y/n.

hiii babbyyy!!! it's the fourth letter soo i'm sure the gifts have been sent! i wonder if the pastries came as well.. well anyways! :3

first off, i got you a little plushy. it’s a panda, it's one of those that has little, embroidered eyes and a tiny, hand-stitched smile. you can use it whenever you’re annoyed with me (i know you do are sometimes) or when you wanna think of me. it’s this soft, round thing, about 6 inches tall, with little black ears and stitched-on eyes. the cutest part? it has a little red scarf around its neck ＞0＜!! to be honest it's soft, a little too soft.. it's the type that makes you want to squeeze it every time you look at it, much like me!

next, i found this tiny, hand painted teapot, and i’m not even gonna lie, it’s totally your vibe. it’s ceramic, no bigger than a coffee cup, and it’s got this cute design where the spout is a little cat’s tail, a little cat face is painted on it, ears and nose to! so cute!!

then, i found these hand carved wooden bookmarks. they’re really simple but beautiful dark wood with those grain pattern and these little tassels hanging from the top. one is shaped like a lotus flower. they’re just the right size to slip into any book, and i thought they’d be a perfect way to keep track of things you’re reading (or pretend to read). you know, for when you want to act like you’re doing something productive, or you’re just waiting for me to show up.

oh, i picked up a pair of socks while i was walking through the town market. they’re fluffy, white, and have bear faces right on the toes, with little ears that stick up from the top. when you wear them, the bear looks like it's staring at you, ready to fight—kinda like how you look when you’re mad about me doing something stupid.

last of all, i found this little silver bracelet. it’s thin, almost delicate, with a simple charm that looks like a crescent moon. the thing is, if you look closely, there’s this faint engraving on the inside of the crescent, like a tiny, almost hidden star. it’s subtle, but it’s there. i thought it was a good symbol, something that’s quiet, but always present, like how i am in your life. i guess you can interpret it as the moon is a little reminder that no matter how far apart we might be, we’re still connected, even if it's in a way that you can’t always see. i hope you’ll wear it when you need to remember there’s always light, even in the dark.

if you did get some of the yummy food i sent then i'll spoil it for you, one of them was these really tasty koala shaped cookies filled with creamy chocolate and strawberry filling. i also sent over some morinaga milk caramel, it's soo smooth and buttery.. uughh, the perfect chewy texture.. they’ll melt in your mouth for sure! ;). i got you some honey toasts since we both wanted to try that but never had the chance to.. the thick slices of buttery, toasted bread soaked in honey, topped with a huge scoop of vanilla ice cream, whipped cream, and dripped in chocolate, yeah that one! i also sent in a little sour kick, i threw in some sour grape puccho!! the chewy, fruity candy with sour powder and candy bits inside, super tangy but sweettt! that's some of the ones i remember.. i stuffed all the treats i got in this bag so there's a looott.. hope it's not a mess..

with love -handsome man

p.s. eat all of it in vain for me!! savor it all though! (=｀ェ´=)

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marketdevelopment · 7 months ago

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France Coffee Market Size, Share, Types, Products, Trends, Growth, Applications and Forecast 2023 to 2030

France Coffee Market is Expected to Grow at a Significant Growth Rate, and the Forecast Period is 2023-2030, Considering the Base Year as 2022.

The coffee industry in France is rich in culture and history, and coffee shops and cafés are beloved social hubs. French coffee drinkers have a wide variety of coffee alternatives, ranging from traditional espressos to innovative specialty brews.

In France, home brewing is becoming more popular due to the ease of access to internet shops and subscription services. The market for premium, hand-crafted coffee beans has expanded as a result of this change.

Customer decisions are heavily influenced by ethical and sustainable factors. As consumers' preferences for ethically sourced and ecologically friendly coffee products expand, coffee businesses are being forced to modify their product lines. The French coffee market is still thriving because it combines sustainability with changing consumer demands and history.

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Brief Introduction to the research report.

Table of Contents (Scope covered as a part of the study)

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Research framework (structure of the report)

Research methodology adopted by Worldwide Market Reports

Leading players involved in the France Coffee Market include:

"Starbucks (USA), McCafé (USA), Costa Coffee (United Kingdom), Columbus Café & Co (France), Malongo Café (France), Paul (France), Café Richard (France), Cafés Folliet (France), Segafredo Zanetti (Italy), L'Or Espresso (Netherlands), Nespresso (Switzerland), Lavazza (Italy), Illy (Italy), Carte Noire (France), Cafés Legal (France), Monbana (France), Cafés Méo (France), Caribou Coffee (USA), La Maison du Café (Maxwell House) (USA), Café Liégeois (Belgium) and Other Major Players"

Moreover, the report includes significant chapters such as Patent Analysis, Regulatory Framework, Technology Roadmap, BCG Matrix, Heat Map Analysis, Price Trend Analysis, and Investment Analysis which help to understand the market direction and movement in the current and upcoming years.

If You Have Any Query France Coffee Market Report, Visit:

Segmentation of France Coffee Market:

By Forms

Whole Coffee Beans

Ground Coffee

Instant Coffee

Coffee Pods & Capsules

Espresso

Others

By Source

Arabica

Robusta

By Speciality Coffee

Single-Origin Coffee

Micro-Lot Coffee

Organic Coffee

Direct Trade Coffee

Cold Brew & Nitro Cold Brew Coffee Others

By Process

Caffeinated

Decaffeinated

By Flavors

Vanilla

Caramel

Hazelnut

Mocha

Cinnamon

Others

By Distribution Channel

On-trade

Off-trade

By End-Users

Individual Coffee Drinkers

Coffee Shop Patrons

Office & Workplace Consumers

Catering & Hospitality Industry

Bakeries & Dessert Shops

Others

What to Expect in Our Report?

(1) A complete section of the France Coffee Market report is dedicated for market dynamics, which include influence factors, market drivers, challenges, opportunities, and trends.

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(3) Players can use the competitive analysis provided in the report to build new strategies or fine-tune their existing ones to rise above market challenges and increase their share of the France Coffee Market.

(4) The report also discusses competitive situation and trends and sheds light on company expansions and merger and acquisition taking place in the France Coffee Market. Moreover, it brings to light the market concentration rate and market shares of top three and five players.

(5) Readers are provided with findings and conclusion of the research study provided in the France Coffee Market report.

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simp-ly-writes · 7 months ago

Text

Friend of the Captain (pt.3)

Pairing: Edward "Eddie" Horniman x afab!Reader

Summary: Fate keeps pulling its strings, but your's and Eddies appear to be drifting further and further apart- only to see one another at weddings or funerals. But maybe one day, luck will be in your side and then something beautiful can flourish (with a side of cash, of course).

Warnings: 5000~ words, language and light teasing, angst (emotional, alcohol and drug usage, dark thoughts) to fluff, jealousy, and pining (of course).

A/N: Apologies for the wait everyone! A few timings changed but I need plot- okay.

Masterlist | Taglist Request | somewhat un-edited.

(pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3)

↳ "...you're the best friend I could have ever asked for," your words stung, shattering Eddie's heart beyond repair as his face twitched before hiding it in your palm. He made a promise as a child, to always have you in his life yet even as you got closer together, the more he realized how far apart your both were as that moment became a mere distant memory. Eddie was needy for more yet you had already packed up your bags, closed the estate for the summer and went off to find new inspiration worldwide.

↳ He ended up reading a few of the gossip articles his mother left on the coffee table one morning, hot pink, zoomed in features and question marks galore as you walked around in beach wear with another man on your arm. He gripped the magazine, throwing it back on the table before packing his bags and returning back to base.

↳ When Christmas came around once again, you were not at the estate- a newfound tradition it seemed yet your gifts were still left under the tree, perfectly wrapped with each Horniman getting a gift. Eddie looked at the professionally wrapped gift, chuckling to himself at the childish wrapping paper you always insisted on using. This Christmas it was a bunch of little green cars with elf's behind the wheel.

Tearing into the gift, Eddie pauses as he slowly turns the box open to find a custom engraved watch. Flipping it backwards, his finger traces over the engraving- "Always." His mother peers over his shoulder, smiling from ear to ear as she inspects the jewelry. "I'm jealous, Edward," she teases, as Charlotte mockingly coo's- loving as her brother's cheeks paint themselves a pinkish hue. Freddy is already drowning himself in the new bottle of liquor your most recent boyfriend was the owner of its production before Tammy demands her own fair share of the drink.

↳ More years had passed and it was September already. You had yet to go back to dating, stepping away from romance scene at the current news that rocked your world, sending you crashing towards the floor as you fell into your office chair. Gripping your hair, tears streamed endlessly from your eyes as one of your assistants rapidly books the private jet back home to England- both of your parents were just announced dead to the public before you had known privately.

They were on a charity meeting with local schools and had crashed in their helicopter- dying instantly. You felt sick, seeing their bodies broadcasted over live television, smoke exiting from the aircraft as you lunged towards the toilets and threw up your lunch. "The plane has been booked, ma'am," your assistant calls from behind the door as you dress in full black and head towards the airstrip.

↳ You were surprised to find a series of reporters already waiting for you on the runway. Putting on your newest mock-design of sunglasses- it was going to be your first break into another market. Lights flashed in your face, hands racing to pull you into their microphones and endless questions yet the airport staff were not trained for a mob of this size.

They bursted through, making you fall towards the ground as you curled up into a ball- doing your best to avoid being trampled further. You quickly worked your hands through your pockets, clicking the power button thrice in quick succession as your first emergency contact was called and before you knew it- Freddy and Tammy were bursting through the crowd, fists raised as reporters fled the scene.

They were dressed in head to toe in black, ready to take you back towards your family's estate and to the funeral. You stood at the front, head tipped low as your flowing black dress drifted in the crisp cold air. It clung to your bones, finding any skin you had yet to hide as you silently cried, head leaning towards Charlottes already waiting presence as she whispered her condolences to you before pulling away.

You blinked rapidly, doing your best to dry your cheeks as a warm body at your back had you raising an eyebrow, especially when their arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a strong hug as your skin became tickled by their stubble. "I came as soon as I could," Eddie spoke over the wind, watching as everyone started making their way towards their cars as light rainfall began to come down.

You turned yourself around in his arms, cries turning into laughter as you shook your head into his shoulder, hands gripping the fabric of his suit, threatening to tear it apart just as you forced yourselves apart. You shook your head, taking another step back as you continued to laugh, Eddie took a large stride forward, head lowering in worry- trying to catch your eyes as your hair began to fall over your face. Taking a sharp sniffle you spoke in even tones, "We only see each other at weddings or funerals, Edward."

"Darling I-" you hold up a hand, shaking your head once more as you take another step back, Eddie moves forward as you dance around one another, rain falling heavier as you walk yourself under a tree canopy. "I made a promise to my father years ago, he wanted me to stop talking with you- begged me on his deathbed that I was unknowing of recently. I made a compromise of being friends yet... If these are the times we find each... Edward I-"

"Please, don't call me Edward," Eddie cuts you off, heart racing as he processes the information you speak. I always knew that old man hated me from the start, business over pleasure any day of the week, Eddie thought to himself. Hands now grasping your shaking shoulders as you can't support yourself with the overwhelming grief- falling forward into his arms. "Eddie," you whisper out in a pleading tone yet unknowing of what you wanted.

Before you both could think further on the subject, your lawyers were demanding of your presence to sign the papers, as the only child of your parents. You were the Duchess of the estate now as the endless sea of documents and hearings suggested. And those small hugs and words sat still underneath that tree, rooted in place as Eddie got called back to work and in the trauma of it all, you were glad everyone left- wanted everyone to leave you alone.

The cameras everywhere started to become too much, the people constantly checking in- tip-toeing around you, as if you would break with their soft tones and bittersweet, pity-filled smiles that mocked the constant aching of your heart and mind. Articles floated around, showing old pictures, telling the world of how you were living the high life with dead money but you had money, you had fame, before this all and now, you wanted to escape it all.

↳ That man you were with was an old picture, that boat party was in early spring and that engagement ring was false news as you threw your phone across the room as it shattered against the tiles. In reality you were sat in your bathtub, barley breathing above the water. You have been feeling an overwhelming numbness in your present and soon enough, you were pulling at everything to just FEEL something these days.

Looking down at your hand, the family crest engraved ring upon your finger sat heavy as you came to realize what such titles costed. Someone was yelling your name from the other side of the door, pounding against the heavy wood as you sunk under, watching the bubbles of your breath break the surface of the water above.

You close your eyes, emptying your lungs before coming back up to the surface and clearing the hair from your eyes. You drain the tub, wet feet pattering against the marble floors and towards the vanity- your gear already waiting for you as you got strapped in and flung the door open.

↳ Determine to FEEL you tested drugs, tested alcohol but they both lost their kick. You tried sleeping around again yet could never get off, so you drove down country streets as fast as you could, jumped out of planes, flung yourself off cliffs and climbed up mountains.

↳ Your business was running in the background as you let it run itself. You sent all the staff home for the remainder of the year with their wages at the estate as you walked the line between fear and adrenaline.

↳ Sabrina had called you after receiving news of you being in the hospital. You had fractured your shoulder from a skiing incident, you smiled through the drugs, holding a thumbs up for the picture as she cried at the image. You looked so lifeless with those eyes, your skin appearing grey as a walking corpse yet you could care less. People still wanted to sleep with you, to "live that high life" and you allowed them to just as every paper told you to.

↳ What surprised you was seeing Freddy out of all people telling you off by your bedside. Tammy nowhere to be seen as he gripped your hand- pleading. You look at him blankly in the eyes, almost falling asleep to what you have heard a thousand times before. Yet there is one question that catches you off guard, your neck straining as you quickly look away to hide the tears beginning to stream down your face.

"W-What would Eddie think of you right now? He's off somewhere, probably getting shot at- thinkin' that his job was ensuringhis girl is safe at home. What a fuckin' joke (name), if you are gonna listen to anything I say, know that you are a joke- and thats coming from the definition of it."

You shake your head, now playing with the various cords in your hands, threatening to rip them out as you choke back a sob. "I'm sorry, Freddy, I'm so sorry for being such a fuckin' mess," you sputter between your lips, taking shallow breaths as your heart monitor rapidly beeps, nurses running into the room as Freddy stands up from his seat as positions himself at the foot of your bed.

"Yeah, well saying you are is a great step, now make something of it because I can't deal with all these crying people. Fathers health is gone- I think this is it..."

↳ Under a year later, Eddies father had passed. You remember never driving more of a wildly than then down the country roads, almost clipping a gate in the process as you opened the door with your own key. Staggering into the new dukes office and sitting by the fire once more as you held his head in your lap, he clenched onto your waist- crying before a knock at the door had him switching back off, hardened exterior as if nothing happened.

↳ You stood up quickly, brushing off your clothes and nodded to him with pained eyes and shaking hands. Your heart burned, wanting to help yet the hollowed look he sent you with the tip of his head was enough to have you swiftly out the door and here you were, dressed in black again as Eddie stood beside you, face hardened while carrying his father to the hole in the ground and while making no move to touch you. You stepped a bit closer to his side once seeing the woman from across the fence looking intently at you both, please make it not be another reporter.

↳ Eddie folded, wrapping an arm around your torso as he pulled you under his long coat- thinking you to be cold as you gripped his hip, turning your head away from their stares and whispered a prayer, setting your bundle of flowers against the grave as Eddie make his own remarks. You both going inside the home.

↳ Sabrina openly sobbed into your shoulder, this is the first time she had seen you since your most recent accident as she whispered in your ear, albeit a bit loudly- perhaps on purpose as Eddie's head snapped over to the both of you- pausing his conversation with Tammy. "I am so thankful that you are alive."

"Why wouldn't they be, mother?" Edward questions, looking between you both with the most remorse he has shown today. Your eyes snap down to his wrist as he plays with the watch you gifted him a few holidays ago. "I don't think this is my thing to speak about, Edward." And with that, she picks up her drink and strides over to the table as the lawyer stands, emptying various files from their brief case to the table.

Memories flash through your minds before Eddie holds your hand, you intertwine your fingers together, giving it a light swing while being unable to look at him in the eyes as you play with the ring on his finger. "I lost myself, Eddie. I-I'm still a bit lost really... I'm getting better- promise just, I fucked up."

"Hey, look at me, darling, look at me, (name)," Edward calls out to you, using his other hand to pick up your chin as you blink away tears. He presses a kiss to your forehead, using a soft tone, "and we will find you again, promise."

↳ Eddie was later pulled away from you as you made your silent escape and exited the room, Eddie becoming drowned in those all-too-familiar papers. You were un-noticing to Sabrinas thoughtful look as you exited the house just as fate would have it for the two of you, so close yet ever-so far.

Geoff was already standing by the front door, tipping his hat towards you as you playfully bowed back- engine roaring back to life as he knocked on your window. Rolling it down with a charming smile, "Everythin' alright Geoff?"

"Yes, my Lady. Just curious- you're not stayin'?"

"Oh... no... I think... never mind," you stutter, smile fluttering as he hums out in reply. "We hope to see you around more often your grace, mother misses you like her own," you nod politely, "I will do my best to then," you state before rolling back up your window and rolling out back down those country roads.

↳ That day Edward Horniman was established as the Duke of Halstead. The news once again meeting your phone screen rather than the word of those close to you.

↳ You wish you could say that you saw one another right after that, but after you made a spontaneous visit to the Halstead manor. The staff members look panicked as they speedily greeted you and tried to move you towards the seating room as you shook them off. Placing your bags by the door before walking further down the hall and towards the office. You looked through the french doors, heart dropping as that woman you had seen earlier flashed Eddie a charming grin.

Sabrina clapped her hands joyfully at whatever had been said as childish jealousy ran rampant in your chest. You glared at the woman, her face tilted away from yours, everyone unknowing of your presence before you walked calmly back down the hall. Picking up your bags with your head held high, the various staff members chased after you, "How about you stay for tea miss? Oh, I'm sure the Duke will be overjoyed to have you stay, Could I bring you bags upstairs for you?"

You sent everyone a small sad smile, their heads dropping down as they silently understood your decision. You dropped your bags back into the boot of your car, slamming the door close as you drove back down the gravel roads. Luna chasing after your car with a wagging tail.

Edwards meeting had finished as he dismissed everyone from the room, standing while taking a sip of his tea- his heart lunged forwards at the sight of your car driving away. He hastily placed his drink down, running down the stairs as his mother called out to him, warning him of the cold weather that morning yet as he opened the door, he could no longer see your car and that door shut just as quickly.

↳ You would try again to see Eddie, yet that woman was always seen right beside him. There was some dark part of you that hoped Eddie would never go back to dating, that you could be selfish yet it would be unfair as you had done your fair share of it. Unknowing to the pain Eddie kept to himself seeing you so happy with someone else. It seemed to him the only times he ever got to see you was when it rained and rained it did.

↳ You took a ride around the estate, really both of your estates since no formal fences were placed. You strode over the overside of the pond, eyes squinted at the sight of the woman once more falling in step with Eddie as Luna raced between their feet. You continued your ride, looking up to the grey gloomy skies with distaste and the next moment you looked back across, they all were gone - if just by your imagination.

↳ You were dressed to the nines, a flowing emerald gown drifting off each curve of your body, emphasizing your natural features as you swirled around the crowds of hungry business men and jealous wives as you picked up a champagne glass from a walking tray and returned to Mr. Johnston's side.

↳ A hand written and delivered invitation graced your doorstep, too tempting to refuse- it had been sometime since you last stepped into the spotlight and done yourself up, and so you went all out. You showcased your newest jewellery line- finally finding more inspiration the more times you reminisced around your inherited property.

↳ A rather bizarre relationship you held with Mr. Johnston as well, as he had tried to purchase your land yet smiled and waved away his deal like a fleeting thought. Mr. Johnston have given you many expensive gifts since them to keep your company with him- adoring your intelligence in everything accessory or business related as you reviewed materials for him as a side-gig and token of friendship

↳ You swayed lightly to the music as he introduced to you hundreds of faces, beyond impressed that me managed to remember the names and family connections of them all. You smiled politely, kissing cheeks and making small talk before being led to the next person, ignoring the stares as they watched you from behind- gown drifting away with you.

↳ Much to your surprise, you were being introduced to the Duke of Halstead himself yet for once you were not most interested in Eddie but the woman that stood ever-so elegantly by his side.

"Susie Glass, its an honour your grace," she said politely, red lipstick curving up into a small smile as you shook hands lightly, swiftly dropping your connection before Eddie picked up your hand, pressing a delicate kiss to the back of it. You both maintained eye-contact as he did so, never wavering before Johnston coughed, and you tipped your head down, a smile fighting against your lips as did Eddies.

With your gaze down, you ignored the rather pushing tones of both parties, focused on the small red liquid, is that blood?, starting to form at the edge of Eddie's shirt. You shifted your weight to stand closer to him, starting to open your mouth to question before Mr. Johnston was calling your name.

"You never told me, duchess that you and the duke had grown up together, what a wonderful sight to see two friends reconnecting. If you will Ms. Glass, I think we should allow them so time to reunite," Johnston comments, eyeing the closing distance between yours and Eddies forms as you blink a thanks to him as he leads Susie towards the bar.

"Is there something you wish to tell me, your grace?" you tease out, hands drifting up his chest to fix his jacket. You hold him there as his eyes quickly flash down to your lips and back up towards your eyes. Your head tilting, well that has changed....

"Can I not admire the dress? It has been some time since we have last seen each other like this. What was it, when we were 20-something?" You instantly remember that night, cheeks a hard red as you blindly follow Eddie down the hall and into an empty room, the door clicks locked as you become lost in the memory.

Eddie had pushed you up against a wall, the paintings swinging almost off their nails as your own scraped against his roots, ensuring that yours lips stayed on one another in a passionate kiss. The shoulder of your dress began to fall as did Eddie's lips, trailing down your chin, to your throat where he sucked a bruise as you softly moaned in his ear.

It was so wrong, you had a boyfriend waiting for you back at university, it was your childhood best friend- the one you promised your father never to be with and yet as he picked you up, hands feeling up your dress and pushed you onto a bed. It never felt so right.

Eddie climbed on top of you, smashing his lips onto your own once more as you whimpered and moaned as he chuckled, shushing you lighting before continuing his attack. You began to unbuttoned his shirt. Nails working down his abs as you smirked to the sound of his breath hitching as you created your own markings to his neck.

Nothing more ever came from your heated make-out sessions or hook-ups. Always resulting in being, "good friends" with one another who needed help...

"Everything alright there, darling?" Eddies baritone voice pulled you out of the memory as you his chest pressed flat against your bare back where your dress dripped. His hands on your hips, his head on your shoulder as you both swayed back and forth lightly.

You pick your hand up, placing it on top of his hands on your waist, circling around each bloody knuckle with concern. "What have you not been telling me, Eddie?" that you love me, your brain pleads to finish for him yet you hold your tongue, bitting your lip from saying anything more.

Eddie hums deeply into your ear as goosebumps coat over your skin, gods you feel like such a horny teenager. But to be fair, that would be the last time you were romantically involved. "I think I will need a few more drinks before I become an open book but, I have been busy in managing my fathers... businesses."

You step away from his touch, gathering distance, eyes firm, "I know what your family does, Edward. Longer than you apparently. I believe it to be the reason why my father never wanted me settling with someone like you-"

"Someone like me?" Eddie challenges. "Do you even have the faintest idea of what Mr. Johnston has done, what your previous boyfriends have done?-"

"Yes, I do. And that should make you understand why I still decide to come back to you, after everything," you finish with, taking a seat in one of the empty chairs by an unlit fireplace as Eddie stands in front of you, undoing his jacket with a hiss as you tut him off in a posh tone.

"Why, Edward-dear, it appears you are the one learning new ideas, would you like some help with that?" You tease out, watching as his shirt turns a deeper red. Edwards rolls his eyes playfully at you as you drink up the sight of this beautiful man, even when bleeding and threatening to stain the designer rug underneath you both.

You kneel lean forward, slowly unbuttoning his shirt as Eddie un-do's his bowtie, it hangs off his shoulders as you dress the wound with the supplies sat conveniently waiting on a nearby shelf. "Arms up now, captain," you playfully command as Eddie complies.

"Never knew you to be such a bossy one," Edward sarcastically comments, looking down at the top of your head fondly. You look up at him through your lashes, blinking twice before continuing your work. "And I never knew you to be bedding your associates-"

A knock at the door sounds as Eddies delicate look before a glare, enforcing that you both would speak about the topic later as you wipe your hands and lean back in the chair, smiling at the women as Eddie leans down, pressing a kiss to your cheek in thanks as he straightens his clothes out.

"Hello, Susan," the Duke greets the once mysterious lady as you look between the two of them, jealousy brewing in your stomach once more, your hands itching to hold on to some part of Eddie once more. "What have you done to him, duchess?" Susie asks you, hands presses and leaning forwards against the back of a chair opposite of yours.

You smile gracefully at the woman, beginning to stand yet as you approach her, Eddie softly grasps your wrist, holding you in place. "Well, by the looks of it. He has been shot- what have you been doing with him, Susie?" you fire back.

"Nothing-"

"Really then?" you cut her off with a scoff as you wiggle your hand from Eddies grasp, moving towards the door, you can hear multiple people moving in the hallway as you curse out, your dress spotted with blood. "Alright then, I think it's time for a sharing circle then..."

"You killed a man?" you ask calmly as Eddie slowly nods his head. "That was something I did- yes-"

"and by the sounds of it, it will not be your last... or hers..." you reply, head leaned into your hand as you found yourself seated once more. The party-goers were dying by the hour as you all soon made your speedy walks back towards your cars.

You joined Eddie that night, helping to redress the wound, dress him for the night, pouring you both another few drinks before pulling him into bed. What surprised you most was his tight grip on your waist as he pulled you down beside him. "Eddie I am not dressed for bed," you spoke softly, not wishing to awake anyone near.

"Sleep naked, wouldn't be the first time-"

You covered his mouth with your hand, shaking it away as he gave it a playful kiss. You heart lunged at the memory of a moment similar to this when you had just been cheated on. Yet you ultimately decide to make yourself comfortable, just as the last, kicking off your shoes but deciding to stare at the side of his face illuminated by the dying embers of the fireplace.

"You know, I think I have had enough drinks for tonight," Eddie comments as you hum out, eyes falling heavy as you press your head into your pillow for the night, taking a deep breath in- "I love you, (name). I've said it so many times to myself that it surprises me to sound so right saying it aloud," you are wide awake now, exhaling heavily as your legs twist together underneath the covers.

"I thought you were with Ms. Glass," you speak in a meek tone, not wanting your heart to explode twice, only one of you can be injured at a time. Edward chuckles, head shaking as he looks at you, brown eyes staring deeply into your own, "Well that same woman told me not to sleep with the help, I'm just taking her advice."

"Well she sounds like a very smart lady then, leaving all the more for me," you tease out, lips pressed together as you eye his own. Eddie leans forward, humming out as your lips connect, your hand finding the back of his head before a hiss escapes between his lips and you rapidly pull back.

"Oh shit, sorry," you apologize, looking under the covers to see your knee brushing into his bruised side. "You can always kiss it better," Eddie retorts as you roll your eyes and press a peck to his lips. "whats that supposed to solve?" And soon you both are up into the early morning hours.

When you awakened the next morning, having breakfast together in the study, you nearly spat our your tea with the words that escaped Eddies lips, "Would you help me steal a car if I asked politely?"

A smirk meets a smile as you tap your chin in mock-contemplation. "sure" you shrug, pulling the man into another kiss with a chuckle. And thus kicked off the rest of your lives together with a healthy side of cash.

Bonus:

↳ Lady Sabrina brought flowers and a bottle of wine to your mothers grave for a chit chat. She poured out to glasses, sitting one by the tombstone as she commented on the nutty taste of the substance.

"I was right in the end, you know. They are a rather marvellous couple and you really should have ended things with that husband of yours. My boy was only ever the most substantial choice, rather embarrassing to think otherwise."

Sabrina could imagine your mother glaring down at her, slipping her the bird while maintaining a pleasant smile. But in due time she would await that interaction as she sipped her wine, embracing victory as she squinted across the field watching as you and Eddie did shooting practice near the woods with a satisfied hum.

(pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3)

↳ Taglist: @daffodilstark @leavemeslowly @iamasimpingh0e @kneelarmhstrung

↳ A/N: I think thats a wrap for Friend of the Captain... but definitely not for my writing on the Gentlemen (2024)!

#eddie halstead x reader #x reader #eddie x reader #the gentlemen #the gentlemen x reader #netflix #the gentlemen netflix #fanfic #fanfiction #simp-ly #simp-ly-writes #eddie horniman #eddie horniman x reader #edward horniman #edward horniman x reader #the gentlemen 2024 #theo james #theo james x reader

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wonkawinka · 9 months ago

Text

we’ll meet again

“we’ll meet again… don’t know where, don’t know when…”

alastor x angel!daughter!reader

CHAPTER TWO: smile like you mean it!

— — CHAPTER THREE: weak ankles!

warnings/notes: EPISODE 6 SPOILERS! not proof read, no use of y/n, used she/her pronouns, reader is on the fem side, maybe vaggie x reader and maybe emily x reader if you squint but its all platonic

chère- french for dear

remercier dieu- french for thank god

court reporter- someone who transcribes everything said during a court meeting

wc: 2336

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

ROLLER skates. flashy lights. bursting colors. street jazz at every corner. twists and turns.

NEW ORLEANS had it all. all you could need in your heart. soft, live jazz rung through the tiny diner that everyone got their morning coffee from. skating through the diner, you tipped your hat from one couple to another. there was the occasional (and by occasional you mean somewhat often) jerk who flirts with you, a teenager, but you brush it off.

ever since the stock market crash of 1929, people have been living off the hook ‘round these parts. you were lucky enough to snag a job, let alone have a father that's able to put food on the table for you.

the bell of the door rings exactly at 9:01 am, you don’t even need to turn around to check who it is.

“good mornin’ ladies! fine morning today, isn’t it?” alastor’s voice rang through the diner, sound waves bouncing the walls and into your ears. his presence was certainly not something anyone would miss. your coworkers nodded in agreement, saying their tiny welcomes, the occasional giggle for one of them.

pouring out straight black coffee into a medium sized cup, you skated towards the counter and slipped your dad a napkin and his cup.

“mornin’ papa.” you said with a smile, taking his coins and filing it into the register.

“good morning, my dear!” he said with his chipper smile, one that made the men grumble and ladies swoon, but it just made you happy to see your father happy. “day treating you well, i hope.”

he took the coffee and took a sip. a sound of satisfaction left his lips “perfection! you know me so well, chère.”

“pa, you drink the blackest coffee on earth. it’s not hard to mess up, dontcha think?”

“ah, don’t sass me now, little miss. i’ll have you know this is the best coffee i’ve had since yesterday mornin’!”

“i made that coffee yesterday morning.”

“hmmm, did you now? seems i dont remember…” he grinned teasingly, pushing up his glasses in ‘thought’.

“yeah, course ya’ dont, ya old man.” teasing back, slipping him a slice of pie “i know you didnt eat, pops, cant have ya flopping dead during your morning show. who knows, maybe the cannibal will getcha. then i’ll have to take over the show.”

he smirked at her words, ha, if only she knew.

“well, aren’t you the sweetest little thing?” he said, taking the to-go box from her hands.

“well, you raised me, so you tell me.” you smiled brightly

his laughter rang through the diner, and soon yours as their vocals mixed together in a medley of sounds. they nearly mixed together perfectly. nearly.

some people looked at you weirdly, but you both never really minded. everyone in town knew you were his daughter and everyone in town knew he was your father. the talk of the town, especially when people found out your father of all people adopted you all those years ago.

he smiled at you wholeheartedly, something you only get to receive from him. “thats my girl.” his hand cupped your face, thumb brushing against the skin.

you placed your hand on top of his and smiled. “love ya’, pa.”

“love you more, my dear.”

you patted his hand, signing him to let go. “now shoo, before you’re actually late. you got an audience waiting for you all ‘round the area. can’t have them sitting for too long, hm?”

with a tip of his head, he bidded you and the ladies of the diner farewell, grabbing his coffee and pie, slipping out the door.

one of your coworkers called out your name “hunny, you better help a girl out! is your fatha’ up for grabs?” she giggled, winking at you.

“oh hush, lonnie! that's my dad..!”

——————— PRESENT.

“OH, don’t worry, it’s really not that hard! you just flip the book and let them in! see? simple.” st. peter directed you to the golden podium of the pearly white gates.

“are you sure i’m even allowed to do this? look.. i’m happy to help. i just don’t wantcha to get in trouble with the Seraphims.” you floated down onto the podium, scanning the big book of entries.

“it wouldn’t be for long! thank you so much, by the way. you really are heaven’s little helper, huh?” he elbowed you and gave that big smile he had. it was almost blinding. literally.

“haha, yeahhh… if you say so.” you turned and flipped through the pages for what seemed to endlessly go on.

“who names their kid breakfast?”

“now, now, we dont go and judge what those humans name their offspring!” he placed his two hands on your shoulders in reassurance. you cock an eyebrow at his word choice, but next thing you know hes already flying off to do who knows what. ‘saintly duties.’

“huh.” you continued to flip through the pages to examine the very odd name choices, nodding at some and… skipping through others.

minutes, maybe even hours went by until sudden echoes from down the golden pathway filled your ears. they shoot up in reaction to the newfound sound.

“uhhh, heelloooo? helloooo!” the blonde hair girl called out

“hiya!,” you call out , “how may i help ya’? well, getting into heaven i guess, huh?” you laughed at yourself, watching the girl’s nerves calm down a bit. behind her was a recognizable individual. you know, it nearly looked like vagg—

“OH— uh, uh, uh— hello! my name is charlie morningstar. heh.”

“alright, lets see…” you flipped through the alphabetized record only to find every name known to man BUT a charlie morningstar.

panic fills your core when you cant find it, scanning the page over and over and over again to no avail.

“uhhhh, you see, slight problem, hun...” you start, throwing in a name to ease her name. “i, uhm, can’t find your name… but you know! the trek all the way to the uh, other place, is a long way. maybe i can like… sneak ya’ in—”

“OH, no, no, THAT won’t be necessary. uh— see, my dad got me this meeting, so maybe try lucifer… morningstar..”

THAT CERTAINLY RANG A BELL.

“OH, uh.. uhuh.” you nod “i see.” you nod quicker. your eyes darted to the gray haired girl who looked at you with the same tense expression.

“i think there may have been a, um..” you put your hands together “mishap… but i am SURE it is a just BIG misunderstanding, haha!”

a mighty voice called out to you, one that could shake all of heaven’s foundation.

“remercier dieu…” you say, quite literally.

“don’t worry, we can take it from here.” sera’s voice reassured, the normal call smile present on her face. you bowed your head in respect which she kindly returns.

behind her was an excited emily which shot you an ecstatic wave. her smile was about to explode with happiness which only grew more as she approached charlie, the princess of hell.

st. peter pops out of nowhere and of course, starts singing his welcome song.

see, you didnt think it was bad, it was quite good, but hearing it over and over again for the past century really takes a toll on your ears.

after his musical number, em is basically ready to explode into a pile of rainbows and sparkles. “oh, oh! i gotta show you! the zoo, the petting zoo, the aquarium, the- the EVERYTHING!”

her and charlie jump for joy as they start running off.

“oh come on, do we need to ru— yEUP okay.” you’re dragged along the crossfire, em tugging on your wrist.

you catch a glimpse of adam and lute. they did not seem… very ecstatic.

hm.

“em. emily. emmy. e.” you bring her to the stop. her happiness was contagious, a sickness, her happiness basically flooding into your veins.

“i know you’re excited, sugar,” you start, “but maybe, i show them their room first. how's that sound?”

with some reluctance, emily allows you to guide the two girls to their temporary room.

“here, let me get that—” with an easy spell you learned, you pick up their bags weightlessly.

“follow me, i’ll show ya your room.”

— — — — — — — — — — — —

on the way there, you’re bombarded with questions from the princess. not that you were complaining of course, you found it quite endearing.

“wow, your sprinkles have RAINBOWS in them?!”

“yup, those are just rainbow sprinkles,” you chuckle lightly at her innocent excitement, “so.. about this hazbin hotel you were talkin’ about, mrs. morningstar…”

“oh, please, call me charlie!”

“charlie,” you smiled ,”i really do love the idea. quite innovative! you have my support. do you already have people staying?”

“oh, we only have.. two residents. but we do have lovelt staff! we have a maid.. nifty, she’s harmless, most of the time.. and a bar-tender, husker, he’s great, grumpy, but great! vaggie, my lovely girlfriend keeps the hotel safe,” she smiles brightly at her partner, “oh, and our host, alastor! he’s uh.. the radio demon, BUT HE MEANS WELL! i think.”

the name rung in your mind, bouncing off the walls and causing them to shoot jolts through your head. it was like a migraine, but worse. radio demon. it was strikingly familiar resemblance to your father (father?), but who knows! there are probably many alastors that loved radio.

“i see,” you nod, “well i wish you luck on the growth of your hotel.” you opened the entrance of there room and landed their bags perfectly in the corner.

“wow, okay, i LOVE heaven! everythings so clean and nice! AHH, and emilys going to bring me to a zoo where everythings fluffy and soft!” you zone out the rest of their conversation before charlie bids her goodbye.

“safe travels, charlie.” you bow your head in respect, earning a giggle from the princess.

“thank you sososososo much for your help! heh, alright SEE YOU LATER!”

silence filled the room.

“vaggie.” you started, not bothering to around and fully face her. “knew that was you, cant hide from me under all that hair. looks good, though.”

“uhhhhhhhhhhh—” she says your name in a frantic manner, causing you to cock your eyebrow “ah, fuck, i can’t think of an excuse.”

“look, vaggie, i dont know.” you sigh “you disappear for your ‘yearly outing’ to god knows where then you go missing for years, now you come back to be dating lucifer’s daughter.”

“i know, i’m so—“

“no no, don’t apologize. i get it. im happy for ya, vags, but damn, years. i dont know what you do on that one day, but adam and lute didnt seem very happy when they saw ya today.” pinching the bridge of your nose, you turned to her.

“look, adam tried recruiting me to god knows what when you went missing. said i got good aim or something. im just telling ya to be smart. i got no idea what he was trying to do with me, so im telling ya’ to not give in to that prick. i’ll be at todays meeting; i work as the court reporter.”

she pondered your statement for a bit, snapping out of her thoughts once you handed her the room key. you offered her a smile, which she hesitantly returned.

“ah, come on, smile like you mean it! though a smile may not mean everything, you’re never fully dressed without one.” that phrase rang in vaggie’s ears. that was oddly familiar.

a little too familiar.

it was your time to bid farewell, but before you did, she called out to you.

“thank you.”

“ah, don’t mention it. we’re friends, arent we?”

and with that you shut the door.

— — — — — — — — — — —

SCRIBBLING. writing. swirls of ink as you titled the paper in preparation. COURT ISSUE 36789127. it made you think, whos counting all these issues?

“WHAT’S UUUP, BA-BY!” the annoying ring of adam’s voice filled the court room. he was like a toddler, ironic as he is the oldest human soul known to mankind. he was mankind. a sick joke for it too.

every little thing he said you were required to write down, even if it was a dumb, immature response.

“we are gathered here today to determine whether or not a soul in Hell, can be redeemed into heavenly realm by the means of this Hazbin Hotel… Princess Morningstar?”

the blonde takes a stand and clears her throat,

“Webster’s Dictionary defined redemption as—”

you scribbled that down.

“..incredible progress..”

scribble.

“… the porn demon …!”

scribble.

“well, if you know so much, what do you think it takes to get into Heaven?”

that puts a halt in the discussion, causing you to lift your head and wait for an answer. she had a point. how did you get here in the first place?

a copy of adam’s terms were presented to your table: act selfless, don’t steal, stick it to the man.

well damn, if those were the terms, even your father (father?) would be in heaven, right now.

evidence was presented, words have been thrown, objections were made. the endless back and forth of right and wrong being thrown around the courtroom. not even the written word could convey the thick tension lathering the walls of the heavenly court.

all the evidence weights to charlie’s side, and yet, the judges say otherwise.

“wait, none of you know what gets someone into Heaven?”

this sparks a musical entrance from emily which you would say was surprising, but you would be lying to yourself.

good thing i took band and choir you thought. perfect pitch came in handy as you noted every chord and pitch in your work.

at this point, you were ready to combust. it was clear who won but the rulers of heaven seemed adamant to keep it from happening. it was suspicious, ironic even.

“..don’t you care, sera…”

scribble.

“..just because someone was dead..”

scribble.

“he blew the shot like the cocks in his…”

scribble.

“..come down and exterminate you..”

your quill snaps in half as you look up from your paper. extermination.

murder.

genocide.

from heaven itself.

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