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doubleleoenergy · 3 years

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V. Off to the Races, Lolita Series

My old man is a tough man, but he got a soul as sweet as blood-red jam. And he shows me, he knows me. Every inch of my tar-black soul.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: bestfriendsdad!Andy Barber x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of alcohol, mentions of relationship violence, rape, and murder, pet names, passionate sex,

Words: 4025 (I am SO sorry for this)

Summary: Andy takes y/n on a weekend getaway while Jacob and his friends are out of town.

Two weeks had dragged on since Andy had gotten a taste of y/n’s sweet nectar, and since then nothing. It wasn’t like they really had the chance to be alone, Jacob and the other boys weren’t going out late at night or on the weekends as they usually did. Andy had to settle for his hand every night, reminiscing on their oral escapades.

It didn’t help that Andy had been swamped with cases, court appearances, and tons of paperwork. He had spent every night of those two weeks at the office until his eyes physically couldn’t stare at the cases in front of him anymore. Andy even showed up on the weekend to fit in a little extra work, hoping it would help take care of some of the load but to no avail. He was completely and thoroughly exhausted, and he could tell that y/n was as well.

She had worked directly with him on a few late-night cases, the rest of the time being spent shadowing Neal fucking Loguidice. It was great for her internship to do so, getting new perspectives of different attorneys in the office, but it was not as good for his jealousy.

By Thursday evening the heavy load of cases and paperwork had seemed to disappear, and Andy was grateful for being able to leave the office at a decent hour. With y/n in tow, he ducked into his Audi, waiting for y/n to get comfortable in the passenger seat before roaring the vehicle to life.

“Is it just me, or have these past two weeks been exhausting?” He asked, glancing out of the corner of his eyes at y/n as he drove. Andy knew her answer before she even opened her mouth, a loud groan leaving her lips as she rested her head back against the seat.

“You’re telling me, if I have to hear Neal mention one more time about his new kickboxing class, I’m going to gouge my eyes out. He really fucking sucks.” Her words elicit a chuckle from Andy’s lips, a smile of pride seeping onto his face. It was good to know she didn’t have any interest in Neal.

“We should do something fun this weekend, just the two of us. Maybe you’ll let me finally take you on a date” He suggested, lulling his car to a stop at the next red light. Y/N raised an eyebrow in his direction, cocking her head to the side. “Andy, I already told you, I don’t do relationships.”

Andy rolled his eyes, shifting in his seat to look at her. “Yeah, you said that, but I’m in it for the long game, y/n. You have to admit there’s something between us.”

“Andy…” She sighs, watching the sun setting out the passenger window. Sure, there was definitely something between him. Was he different from all the other guys before that she had hooked up with? Yes, of course. First off, she had never been with a man his age, someone with a career, a house, and a car of his own. He even had a pension and a life insurance policy; she hadn’t hooked up with any men who had those.

The car is silent as they pull into the garage, Andy immediately shutting off the car and sitting back in his seat. Y/N looked down at her lap awkwardly, reaching for the door but Andy stopped her with a tug to her wrist, getting her to look up at him.

“You want to be an attorney, right?” The question has her furrowing her brows, looking at him as if he had said ‘You know the sky is blue, right?’

“Of course, you know that, but what does that have to do with-” Andy cuts her off by holding up his index finger, loosening his grip on her wrist. “Attorneys defend their cases in court to a judge or jury, who then ultimately decide the fate of their clients. Their job is to convince someone that their claim is right.” Andy rests one hand on the steering wheel, a smug smirk crossing his lips.

“Saturday morning we’ll leave for a weekend getaway, planned by yours truly. This will all be part of my case as to why we should be together, no more games, officially together. You as the judge will examine the weekend's evidence and conclude on whether we should be together. If you decide after the weekend that you don’t think so, I’ll leave it alone and we won’t have to discuss it ever again. But I’m hoping for it to change your mind.” Before she can protest, Andy holds his hand up. “And I’ll even get us a room with two beds, no funny business, promise. So...will you hear my case out?”

Y/N had to admit, she had never been chased by a guy so ferociously, but what was the harm in seeing the evidence and getting a free weekend vacation out of it? She stuck her hand out for him to shake, a professional gesture for their arrangement. “Alright, I will gladly hear your case out.”

Andy had arranged it all down to the last detail, including lying to Jacob and the boys about an important conference for work that they both had to attend that weekend. Of course, he didn’t suspect a thing, he went out of town for conferences all the time, and thus his plan was set.

When Saturday morning finally arrived, Andy was feeling great. He had gone for an early morning jog, took a long shower, and even trimmed his hair and beard. Andy dressed in a plain white t-shirt and dark denim jeans, packing his bag with his essentials for the evening before walking out into the kitchen. As usual, the boys were all still asleep, hungover from their late-night game of shot roulette, which left the house extremely quiet.

Andy couldn’t help the smile creeping onto his face as he walked into the kitchen and saw y/n waiting at the counter, a familiar plate of breakfast and coffee next to her. “It’s a Saturday, you know that right? Thought breakfast was for workdays.” He stated, moving to sit at his usual spot beside her.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” She responded, taking a swig from her coffee mug. Andy’s eyes wandered along her body; her outfit of the day effortlessly beautiful. She wore a tight white bodysuit tucked into a pair of figure-hugging mint shorts; a pair of matching wedges slipped onto her dainty feet to complete the look.

“You’re right, it is.” Andy’s silverware moved to cut into his meal, chewing thoughtfully as he thought about the day ahead. “You’d think that by making me breakfast you were trying to plead your own case.” He teased, engulfing another bite of his food.

Y/N rolled her eyes at him, moving to set her now empty coffee mug in the sink. “I’ve got nothing to plead, you on the other hand, do.” She waits with her back to the counter, playing on her phone until he finishes his meal, setting his plate in the sink behind her.

“Are you ready to go?” He questioned, grabbing his duffel bag off the floor. Y/N followed suit, grabbing her tiny black suitcase and following him out into the garage. Andy grabbed the suitcase from her, setting it with his own bag in the trunk before they both got into the car, backing slowly out of the driveway.

It was a beautiful day out, the sun was shining, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Y/N asks, crossing her legs.

“Would it matter? You’re not familiar with the state anyhow.” He retorted, pulling up the address on his GPS as they started on their journey.

“True, I just want to know what I’m getting into.” Her eyes locked on the GPS, noticing the destination was an hour away. “Rockport? What’s in Rockport?” She asked, raising a shapely brow in Andy’s direction.

“Well for starters, it’s along the ocean, which guarantees a good view. It also has great shopping, beaches, and restaurants. It’s a nice little getaway.” Andy turns on the radio as the car goes silent, y/n admiring the view as they drive.

The silence in the car was comfortable, both of them enjoying each other’s company, and before they knew it, they had arrived at their home for the weekend. They were staying at the Cove at Rockport, a beautiful inn right along the ocean. It was even more classy than the photos online, and Andy made quick working of getting them checked into their room.

Andy and y/n walked together down the long hallway to their room, room one on the first floor. Unlocking the door with the key provided, Andy pushed it open, allowing y/n to step in and take in their living arrangements.

The main room was huge, donning a cute little breakfast nook adjacent to the kitchen, a living room, two separate bedrooms, and a bathroom. The decor was all beach themed, of course, shades of blues and beiges filling their sights.

“This definitely deserves a point towards your case.” Y/N admitted, chewing on her bottom lip. It was honestly the nicest place she’d ever stayed at, more luxurious than what she had expected. Walking further into the space, y/n pushed open the sliding door, the sound of waves hitting the shore bursting through her ears as she took in the view. It truly was gorgeous, much different from shitty life in Ohio.

“So, I did alright with my first piece of evidence?” He chortled, leaning back against the cool wall. Y/N continues to take in the view outside, a light breeze picking up and blowing her hair off her shoulders.

“I’d say so.” She shuts the sliding doors and walks back to investigate the sleeping spaces, setting her bags in the room with a large picture of a beach umbrella over the bed, the smaller of the two. “Well, what else do you have planned for your case? Because if this is it, I can come to a decision right away.”

Andy moved his own bag into the opposite room before walking into y/n’s and sitting down on the plush comforter. “I wanted to start the trip with a walk downtown, explore some of the shops before we get ready for our dinner reservations at six.”

Ah, he even sprung for reservations, what a smart man. “Sounds good, let’s explore.” Y/N got up from the bed, grabbing her purse before Andy followed her out, walking out of their room towards the lobby.

Downtown was only about a five-minute walk from the inn, an enjoyable stroll filled with laughter from a group of teens on the sidewalk, birds chirping in the trees, and the smell of fresh muffins wafting from the window of a bakery on the street. “Well, where should we look first?” He asked, turning to look at y/n for guidance on where she’d like to go.

They had spent about two full hours downtown, walking in and out of all the little shops, picking up a blueberry donut to share from one of the bakeries, and taking photos of each other along the Rockport streets. Most of the photos Andy took of y/n were very Instagram appropriate photos, staring down the camera and moving from angle to angle. On a few photos though, Andy would say something to make her laugh, snapping away at her genuine reaction.

Before long they were walking back into the room to get ready for their dinner reservations. Andy was pulling out all the stops, dressing up in one of his nicest black suits, a matching black tie situated atop a crisp white button down. He spritzed on some of his favorite Versace Eros cologne, adjusting the laces of his dress shoes before walking out into the living room. Andy had ordered a dozen red roses to be delivered to the suite, arriving shortly after he had finished getting ready, sitting on the couch with the flowers and waiting for y/n to walk out. God, he hoped this wasn’t too cheesy.

After about five minutes of waiting anxiously, the door to y/n’s room opened, noticing her delicate silver peep toe heels first. His eyes roamed up her toned and tanned legs, settling on her baby blue dress, off the shoulder with slightly puffy sleeves, a tie in the front revealing just a bit of cleavage. The ruffles on the hem swayed as she moved, her eyes taking in the sight of him as well with the flowers.

Suddenly Andy stood up, holding out the flowers to her. “You look incredible, Lolita.” There went the pet name again, though it was always so fitting for her. “Shall we go?” Y/N silently thanked him for the flowers, taking a whiff of their sweet aroma before setting them down on the counter near the door. She followed Andy to his car, waving him off when he tried to open her door for her. Her expression stayed on Andy the entire drive, inhaling his intoxicating cologne, licking her lips. Y/N had to admit, he always looked great in a suit.

The restaurant was only a ten-minute drive from the inn, a little classy seafood restaurant along the ocean coast. It was packed with people, a quartet playing Sinatra’s finest hits off in the far-right corner of the room. Some people were dancing, some were sitting along the bar against the left wall, while most were diners enjoying their meals at their table.

Y/N and Andy were led to a table near the back wall facing the ocean view. Andy started off by ordering a bottle of chardonnay for the table, taking in the sight of y/n lit up by the candlelight provided.

“This is beautiful, Andy.” She exclaimed, her eyes scanning the room and all the happy couples around them. Andy smiled before opening his menu, mulling over what to order. “I told you, I’m great at pleading my case. And as you know, I almost always win.” Y/N rolled her eyes, opening her own menu. “Key word, almost.”

After deciding on what to eat, Andy getting the seafood gnocchi and y/n ordering the lobster bisque, Andy poured them each a glass of wine, holding his up towards hers. “Cheers to an unforgettable night.” He exclaimed, clinking their glasses together before they each took a sip of their respective glasses.

As they wait for their food, Andy and y/n sit and talk more about their likes and dislikes, what they want in the future, and the day they had downtown. Their food arrives during the conversation and they continue to talk while they indulge in their meals, all the food just as incredible as the atmosphere.

About thirty minutes later Andy and y/n take in their last bites of food, sitting back and enjoying the liveliness around them. As they waited for their check to arrive, the sound of Sinatra’s hit ‘It Had to Be You’ started drifting from the quartet. Andy smiles, holding out his hand towards y/n as he stares down at her. “Dance with me?” He asks, taking in her surprised expression before she scoots herself out of her seat, grabbing his hand as he led her over to where the other couples were dancing. Andy places his hands on the small of her back, y/n wrapping her own around his neck as they sway to the tune.

“This is definitely not as good as dancing together at the club.” She joked, making Andy laugh. “Well, technically I wouldn’t call that dancing. More like...gyrating, or maybe dry humping? Definitely not the same.” Her smile brightened; his eyes locked on her as they moved. It was as if they were the only people there, like the whole world stopped to see them dance.

“For nobody else gave me a thrill. With all your faults, I love you still. It had to be you...Wonderful you...It had to be you…” The quartet crooned, the song ending and a few of the couples clapping in response. Andy’s eyes bore into y/n’s, licking his lips before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to her lips, holding it for a moment before y/n pulled away, clearing her throat and letting go of his neck.

“M’sure the bill is on the table.” She stated, walking back towards their chairs. Andy let out a huff of disappointment, following her over to the table and paying for their meal before they walked in silence back to their car.

The car ride felt riddled with tension, the tension continuing to build as they got back to the room. “We need to talk, y/n.” He admitted as the door of their suite shut behind them, crossing his arms against his broad chest. Y/N leaned her weight against the wall between their bedrooms, tilting her head up to look at him.

“Andy…” She started, becoming silent again and chewing on her bottom lip. Andy’s stance becomes more tense, taking a step closer to her. “I want you, y/n. And not because of how mind-blowingly attractive you are. You are intelligent, thoughtful, and selfless. You’re not stuck up or fussy about material items. You make me feel like I’m in my twenties again, you make me feel like I’ve never felt with another woman.”

He takes another step closer to her, hovering above her due to his height. She puts her hands on his chest to stop him from moving, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“I’m terrified of this, Andy. How do I know you won’t turn out just like my piece of shit father, huh?” She leans her body weight against the wall, peering up at him.

“Look, I know how you feel, alright?” He moves away from her again, his back turned towards her as his hand ruffles through his hair. “I know firsthand, my father...he’s also in prison. He went to prison when I was young for raping and murdering a 19-year old woman. I vowed to myself to never ever treat a woman without kindness and respect. Though my marriage with Laurie wasn’t perfect, I’m sure she’d say that I was nothing like my father, and nothing like yours for that matter.”

He turns back to look at her, arms outstretched. “I promise I will never hurt you; you can trust me. I’m all in, y/n. And I meant everything I said.”

She processes his story of his father, realizing they had a lot more in common than she once thought. Her heart is beating so fast she thought it might splatter in her chest, closing the distance between the two quickly. Her hand came up to grip his jaw, leaning up and kissing him lovingly. They continue to kiss, y/n parting her lips to allow Andy’s tongue to slip inside, exploring her mouth and causing her to moan. After a moment they both pull away breathless, her hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Okay...I’m all in too, with you.” Her words are all Andy had been wanting to hear, gripping her waist and kissing her lustfully this time, pushing them backwards until they both hit the wall again with a groan. His lips trailed a line of kisses down her neck and along her collarbone, shrugging off his suit jacket and making quick work at the buttons on his shirt, practically ripping the buttons off completely.

Y/N is tilting her head back against the wall, helping to push off his now open shirt to expose his God-like torso. This was her first time seeing his chest, running her cool fingers against his abs as he kissed back up her neck and into her mouth.

He plays with the fabric on sleeves of her dress, pushing them down so that she can fully shimmy out of the pale blue fabric. Her breasts are on full display, no bra to pull down, and Andy growled at the sight of them. They were just as perky as they had been while peeking through her outfits.

He nudged her body in the direction of his bed, hands making quick work of his belt and pulling down his trousers, kicking them into a pile as he walked into the bedroom after her in only his Calvin Klein briefs. Andy moved forward to kiss her again, knocking them both over onto the bed, a breathy laugh escaping her throat.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful, my little Lolia.” He purred, his hands coming up between them to knead over her delectable breasts. Y/N cried out from the touch, grinding her hips up into Andy’s to evoke a similar noise from him. “Andy, need you…” She whined, her back arching off the bed, her panties rolling against his clearly clothed hard cock.

He slipped his hands lower, teasing his fingertips along her folds, already slick with her desire. “Need what, Lolita? Need you to tell me exactly what you want.” Her hands rub his cock through the thin fabric, a whine of impatience leaving her lips.

“Need you inside me, Andy. Please, fuck my pussy.” Her words ignite an animalistic groan from his lips, pulling off her and scooting her up further onto the bed until her head touched the pillows. He quickly tugged off his boxers, stepping out of them before shimmying her out of her panties, tossing them aside.

His eyes grew dark as he took in her naked form in front of him, stroking his cock. She really was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, and she was all his. Andy moved onto the bed, hovering over y/n with his cock dragging against her glistening folds. He was bigger than the guys she’d been with before, and the thought alone excited and terrified her. Her fingers land on the skin of his shoulder blades, pressing in lightly as she locks eyes with him.

“Andy, please.” She begs again. Andy keeps his eyes on hers as he pushes in slowly, giving her time to adjust as he moves inch by inch into her cunt. Her nails dig a bit deeper into his skin, mewling as he continues to press into her until he finally bottoms out, holding himself in place.

“God, my little Lolita, you’re so fucking tight...you’re milking my cock and I haven’t even moved yet. Do you want me to move?” He leant down and pressed a passionate kiss to her lips, waiting for her mumbled ‘mhm’ against him before he rolled his hips into hers.

The pace started slowly, building up speed with every little noise y/n’s mouth made, coming undone underneath him with each thrust. They continued to share soft kisses, moaning into each other’s mouths, y/n’s hands locking around his neck.

“Andy.” She breathed, her walls tightening and releasing around him. “Wanna cum for you.”

Andy quickened his pace, kissing along her pulse point on her neck. “Cum for me, Lolita. Want to feel you cum on my cock.” It doesn’t take her long after his sentence before she’s tightening her walls again, crying out as her orgasm rips through her. Her eyesight is full of stars, and it takes a second for her to regain her vision, focusing on Andy’s face once she does.

“M’gonna cum in this pretty cunt, fill you up to the brim.” He states, thrusting a few more times before coating her walls with his release. He stills inside of her for a moment before pulling out slowly and plopping down with his back on the bed next to her.

They both lie in silence, staring up at the ceiling, panting. The sex was incredible, better than they both could’ve imagined. Andy’s arm wraps loosely around y/n’s shoulder, tugging her into his chest and pressing a loving kiss to her forehead.

“You’re mine now, it’s official.” He looked down at her with a lazy smile, watching as her fingers began to trail up and down his chest. “Guess you could say I won yet another case.”

“Shut up, Andy.”

Tagging those who may be interested. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list: @my-divine-death @blackwiddows @sokovianheadtilt @fuckandfluff @rattlemyb0nes @rootcrop @turtoix @sylvielaufeydottirr @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @ccmarvelxx @rebelemilu @tenaciousperfectionunknown @agentofbarnes @serendipityrogers

#doubleleoenergyseries: lolita #DLE Series: Lolita #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #andy barber smut #andy barber x reader smut

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

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Misread Details: Robert

CW: Dehumanizing language, BBU blanket warning, serial killer/death talk, descriptions of death/abduction/murder, blood, whumper death, some real vague implied noncon references, creepy whumper, sadistic whumper

Part One: Nanda | Part Two: Brute | Part Three: Robert

The Dark Discovery in Robert Weber’s Basement: Box Boy Killer, Part 3

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee

3 days ago

After Part One, where we learned about the mysterious, but possibly entirely natural, death of Nathaniel “Nanda” Benson, and Part Two, where we saw Henry “Brute” Hanlon’s double life lead to his untimely gruesome murder, you see the single thread that connects these two men who otherwise never met, interacted, or even shared a single person in common… a nameless Box Boy, present at the death of Nanda even if he isn’t responsible for it, and the proven killer of Brute.

It’s my theory that this Box Boy may have accidentally killed his legal owner, Nanda, and then picked up a taste for the act and moved on to taking shelter with those he turns into his victims.

With Brute, he simply didn’t know the man had a wife and children and entire other life, and may have assumed no one would come looking for him or recognize his death. With our third individual, Robert Weber, it seems like our Box Boy Serial Killer got in over his head.

I give you… the Accidental Vigilante death of Robert Weber.

You decide if our unknown killer is simply the unluckiest guy in the world or a killer who even now may be somewhere living with - and earning the trust of - his next victim.

One bright and sunny day in the quaint, old-fashioned California town of Rancher’s Rest, Robert Weber was late for work.

Weber worked in a vehicle repair business owned by lifelong “RR” resident Randy Niles, who had known Weber since his childhood and had been his boss since Weber was eighteen years old and fresh out of high school.

Niles, who is now nearly seventy-five and still spends his days in the shop with an Australian Shepherd named Cody and a blind pit bull named Sue keeping him company everywhere he goes, stated that Weber had no living family he knew of beyond his sister in Vermont, and he was just about the closest thing Weber had to a relative just from having known him so long.

“He didn’t have too much to do with his sister,” Randy said in an interview with Unsolved Mysteries. (You can see the interview on the new Netflix reboot of the show! It’s a really good episode, definitely recommend. It’s how I got into this case in the first place.) “Or nobody, really. Just us at work, the guys at the bar, that kinda thing. He was quiet, kept to himself really. You’d never just strike up a chat around town or anything. But he got on just fine with the boys here in the shop. He was a bit of an egghead, too, always going on about this thing or that he’d seen on the news. Little… odd. Little bit off, you might say. But really, who isn’t? In any case, you know, I’d known him since he was a little boy, so he was just Bobby Weber to me.”

Then, of course, one day Robert Weber didn’t show up to work. Randy Niles immediately felt that something was very wrong.

“When nine, nine-thirty came and went and he wasn’t there,” Niles said, “I knew someone needed to go check on him. Bobby showed up for work right on time or ten minutes early, rain or shine, for twenty years. My first thought was maybe he’d had an accident at home, or some kind of, you know, health thing. Almost never called in sick, took one vacation a year, that kinda thing. So I drove right on over there. This would’ve been, oh, probably ten or ten-fifteen when I got to the house. Had my dogs with me, and they never did like Bobby much, but as soon as I opened my door and got out of my truck they just lost their damn minds. Barking, growling, Cody’s hackles were up like you wouldn’t believe. I know it sounds damn crazy, but I’m sure those dogs could smell that evil had been done in that house.”

On camera, Niles goes quiet, here, his gaze slipping away from the interviewer as he scratches at the side of his nose. When he looks back, the hint of good humor that seems to be an eternal part of his expression is gone.

“I didn’t know what Bobby had been up to all this time. None of us knew. I’ve known Bobby Weber his whole life, and I… I had no idea.”

Randy Niles was unable to convince his two dogs to exit the truck, and eventually rolled down the windows to give them some air and a way out if they chose (he is insistent on this point in the Unsolved Mysteries episode - “don’t you dare say I left my dogs locked up in a truck on a sunny day, I sure didn’t - Cody even knows how to pull a door handle if it’s the right kind”) and got out to knock on Robert Weber’s front door.

No one answered.

Niles knocked again. Still no response.

The front door was locked, but Niles was able to locate an unlocked back door into the garage, where he found Weber’s car neatly parked and nothing out of place. However, once he used an interior door in the garage to enter Weber’s home, what he found was so shocking he still struggles to describe it today.

“The, uh. The first thing I saw,” Niles says in the Unsolved Mysteries episode, wiping at his mouth with a handkerchief, “was a cage. Big old cage in the living room. Like a kennel for a big dog, Great Dane or something, except… except, you know, kennels’re usually mostly wire, not that heavy. You can fold ‘em up, put ‘em away. This was… geez. This was pure metal. Bunch of blankets all piled at the bottom, too. Here’s the-... you know, my mind just didn’t want to even make the thought, but I just, I looked at it and-”

In the episode, Niles has to take another moment, here. His eyes grow wet, and his voice is hoarse when he speaks again. “People cage. Bobby had a damn man-sized cage in his living room. That’s when my stomach just fell out. Even then, though, I couldn’t-... I just thought, oh, well, what people get up to in their own homes is their business. But still, I just. I just decided, find Bobby, figure the rest out later. So I kept walking around looking for him.”

Randy Niles continued to call out, hoping to hear Weber’s response, but received none… at first. The radio in the kitchen was playing a local public radio station (“Bobby always hated the country western and classic rock we played at work, he was a big news man, big into classical, jazz, you know.”)

Niles noticed, he says, that the cage next to the couch had a wooden top, as though it were meant to act as a side table, and on that table was a small woven basket. Inside the basket appeared to be several State IDs and Driver’s licenses. Niles took note of this but his first assumption was maybe that Robert Weber had stolen some IDs or something.

Which was technically true, just… not quite the way he thought.

The kitchen, hallway, and all three bedrooms were equally empty of life. Every room was clean, everything neatly in place. Empty bottles of Jameson whiskey, Weber’s favorite brand, were lined up like décor along the mantel, and one half-full bottle was next to two clean, empty glasses on the kitchen table.

Even the beds were perfectly made.

The only thing missing was any sign of Robert Weber himself.

The question of Weber’s whereabouts was answered when Randy Niles heard a sound coming from the open door to Weber’s unfinished dirt basement.

“Like a ghost,” Niles said in his interview. “Just this low moaning sound. Hardly even thought of it as human, you know. But I just-... I called out, ‘Bobby? That you?’ and the moaning got a little louder, like whoever it was was tryin’ to answer. I could still hear my girls in the truck just going nuts, probably worried about me knowing what they maybe could smell even out there. I figured… I figured I’d best call the cops and get them out here. Seemed like a plan. So I picked up my phone and dialed, and then I headed down those basement steps.”

What Randy Niles discovered in Robert Weber’s basement was a dying man, battered and stabbed eight times, lying in a half-dug grave.

Robert Weber had been beaten with the very shovel that had done the digging. The shovel lay off to the side, caked in dirt and blood. Police would find some of Robert Weber’s hair on it, too. Then, the individual who had beaten him had gone back upstairs - blood smears were found on the railing to the stairs - and taken a kitchen knife out of the knife block on the countertop. A bloody fingerprint was found on the side of the knife block. They had then returned to the basement where Weber was stabbed, almost entirely through the stomach and chest, twenty-six times, until the cheap knife simply broke from the force.

Randy Niles admitted in his interview that he became very ill at this time. “From the shock,” He elaborated. “I haven’t been able to smell much since I was in a car wreck when I was young, so I didn’t smell what-... what my girls prob’ly smelled from outside, and what the cops smelled. To me, it was just… just a little off, is all. It was the sight of it that got to me, not the smell. The sight of the-... the hand.”

Behind Robert Weber’s body, the hand of another person was sticking up out of the loose dirt, as though someone was trying to dig their way out.

“I remember… I remember her nail polish was pink. That’s when I got sick, actually, was when I saw that hand with the painted nails. That’s when it just hit me all at once what Bobby had done.”

Randy Niles went back up the stairs and waited for the cops to arrive. Rancher’s Rest is a small town where everybody knows just about everybody else, and Niles was on a first-name basis with every single police officer he spoke to that day and in the days after. He would learn alongside the investigation that Robert Weber was not simply the quiet, intellectual car mechanic he had always seemed.

Instead, Robert Weber was a serial killer whose potential final victim had managed a miraculous, deadly escape.

Robert Weber never answered a single question about his own murder - he never fully regained consciousness and died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. His injuries were simply too severe. His autopsy showed that the cause of death was a stab wound that went deep into his chest and that he was first stabbed only after the beating with the shovel had taken place. Like Brute, most of his stab wounds were applied post-mortem in a rage rather than as part of the killing itself.

Medical examiners also found scratches on Weber’s face and arms, indicating that he had attempted to defend himself - or someone else had attempted to defend themself from him.

So why was Robert Weber killed, and why was there already a body in his basement? Investigators would piece together the story over the following days and weeks from a crime scene that only seemed to become darker and more baffling as time went on.

Excavating the basement was originally thought to be something that would be brief, but after the first body was removed, another one was found beneath it. Then another off to the side of that. And another, although this was simply bones.

Every time the forensics team thought they’d found the last human bone, they dug a little deeper or in a new spot and found more.

Eventually, the remains of twenty-two individuals would be removed from the basement of Robert Weber’s home, not including Weber himself. The oldest located victim was identified as Melinda Traxson, an Iowa woman reported missing by her family after she ran away in March of 1996… more than two decades before Robert Weber didn’t come to work one day.

Investigators are still working to match up every body with a missing persons’ case. For nearly all of them, the cause of death could not be easily ascertained due to the deterioration of the remains, but some showed signs of skull fractures. Identified individuals so far include:

Melinda Traxson, 19, from Iowa, ran away from home in 1996.

Billie Mortimer, 21, disappeared from a day out with friends at Lake Tahoe one year later in the summer of 1997. Her friends went to get lunch from the car after a swim and when they returned, she was gone.

Matthew Ranger, 22, went missing during a road trip to Yellowstone National Park in 1997 (only five months after Billie). His car was found abandoned by the side of the road with a flat tire.

Karl Janssen, 24, a tourist from the Netherlands who was also visiting Yellowstone, disappeared a month after Matthew. Last seen by an employee of the park who witnessed him speaking with another young man and getting into the man’s car. The employee said that the two seemed to be friendly with one another and did not seem like strangers.

Hannah Pointer, 26. She was reported missing in 1999 by her mother after failing to return home from work in Reno, Nevada. This disappearance occurred more than a year after Karl Janssen’s. Investigators would later discover that during this time period, Robert Weber dated a young woman from his hometown and he may not have wanted to risk her finding out what he was doing.

Isaac Jackson, 26, a Rancher’s Rest resident who disappeared after going out to a local bar to see his friend’s band play in 2000. His car was found submerged in a small pond two years later. This is the first time Weber apparently killed anyone close to home. He was actually briefly suspected in Jackson’s death, as he was the last person noted to see Jackson alive, but was cleared of suspicion at the time.

Dustin Swill, 21, who was driving from Colorado to California to visit his sister who had moved to Berras to work for WRU in 2001. He was last seen in a gas station near Yellowstone, where employees noted he spoke to a man who was smoking outside, who gave him a cigarette. When Swill left, employees saw the man put out his cigarette and leave shortly after. They did not find this unusual or noteworthy at the time.

Maria Vargas, 25, a Rancher’s Rest resident who was reported missing in 2002. Her family is intensely private and have shared few details about her, but it is known that her boyfriend at the time suspected Weber, who had attempted to convince her to leave the boyfriend for him and had apparently threatened her. He remained a suspect but there was never enough evidence to charge him.

Jennifer Striker, 28, from who never arrived for an appointment with a realtor in 2011. The long pause between Maria Vargas’s murder and Jennifer’s appeared to be due to Weber keeping a man named Finn Schneider within his home for more than a year after abducting him, as well as Weber serving five years in prison for a violent assault on a man he believed had sold him a defective vehicle. (Schneider was no longer in the home before the assault and prison time.)

Riley Nievelt, 25, was staying at the Big Meadow Campground with six friends during a weeklong vacation in 2012. She vanished while on a trip to purchase supplies. Her cell phone was found on the ground in the parking lot of the Food Lion in Rancher’s Rest, a short and easy drive away. At this time, with multiple individuals vanishing after being seen in Rancher’s Rest or being residents of the town, police begin to suspect and start hunting for a possible serial killer.

Alexander Peterson, 29, was a long-haul driver who vanished while working. He was last seen at a rest stop in 2014 on the California/Nevada state line, and would likely have passed right through Rancher’s Rest on his journey. He was reported missing by his ex-wife in South Dakota when he did not return as scheduled for a custodial visit.

The most recent victim, and owner of the hand that Randy Niles saw sticking up out of the dirt, was Yolanda Pierce, 26. She was a Rancher’s Rest resident with a troubled relationship with her husband, who had stormed out after an argument and was never seen again. She is believed to have died the same day as Robert Weber.

More remains exist but have not yet been identified. If you or anyone you know has a friend or family member who went missing during this time period in or near Rancher’s Rest, Yellowstone National Park, or Death Valley, it may be worth looking into, as those appear to be Robert Weber’s “hunting grounds”.

Disappearances in Yellowstone and Death Valley almost always matched up with Robert taking one of his rare weeklong vacations from work.

When investigators located three large diaries hidden inside a locked box in Weber’s closet, the first two fully filled up and the third nearly two-thirds finished, they found an exhaustively detailed record of Robert Weber’s crimes.

In these records, they discovered Weber’s first three victims were killed within 24 hours of abduction, with the rest being kept alive for longer and longer time periods. It is believed all of them met their end in Robert Weber’s basement.

Diary entries included records of two victims who were not a part of the bodies buried in Weber’s basement, both of whom may still be alive:

Finn Schneider, 19, a German tourist who disappeared in 2003 during a visit to Death Valley. Until Weber’s journals were found, it was believed he had perished in the park and had simply never been found. Robert Weber also visited Death Valley during this time. No one linked the two together. Evidence found in Weber’s home after his death, including the aforementioned diary entries and photographs, shows that Schneider was alive in Weber’s home for nearly sixteen months. It is believed Weber purchased the “human cage” that Randy Niles noticed around this time. The last diary entry that mentions Schneider states that he was “traded” on June 16th, 2005, to an individual only referred to as “Mouse.” What Weber received in exchange is unclear, but he was seen driving a new, custom-painted truck around this time, which he said he bought “from a personal ad” when asked by Niles about it. Schneider has never been found. However, his mother did receive a phone call in 2013 from an individual she believes to be her son, telling her that “Finn” was okay and to stop looking for him.

Our Box Boy, 334235, purchased by Nathaniel Benson years prior, whose whereabouts had been unknown since he murdered Brute Hanlon. Weber believed the Box Boy to be in his early twenties, according to his diary entries, and mentioned that he had picked the Boxie up hitchhiking and had intended to kill him before seeing the barcode on the inside of his left wrist and changing his mind. His diary suggests the Box Boy remained in his possession for roughly a fourteen months prior to Weber’s murder. Police have not released the details of what the Boxie was subjected to during this time, stating only that it is not the public’s interest for this information to be known, and they would like to locate the missing Boxie and interview him about certain details.

Four murders occurred during the time the Boxie was kept by Robert Weber. Weber noted that “the dog helped” with either murder or burial, suggesting that he may have worked as Weber’s accomplice in his terrible crimes.

Is it possible that they bonded over a shared urge to kill? Did the Boxie start a captive and become a companion?

Weber’s diary contained other disturbing facts, as well:

Weber also noted three failed abduction attempts in detail, in 1998, 2004, and 2017. In each he described with incredible precision of memory the appearances and descriptions of each person he failed to capture. He also appeared to do intensive research using their license plates and other information to find out where they lived and who they were. The names of these individuals have been kept quiet for privacy reasons.

Other failed abductions were noted, about one per year, without much detail. Or at least not enough for police officers to know who they were. Nearly all these failures were in one of three locations: Yellowstone National Park, Stanislaus National Forest and nearby campgrounds, and in or near Death Valley.

The last entry in Robert Weber’s diary was penned the day of his death.

NOTE: Weber referred to the Boxie as “the dog” in nearly all his journal entries. His last entry went:

May 6th, 20XX: The dog is pissed about something again. He’s always pissed about something. I think the thing in the basement probably kept him up all night with her caterwauling. He never gets used to the noises they make. God knows I can’t sleep either, at least not well. I’ll handle her tonight, have a drink with the dog after, see if that shuts up his nonsense for a while. Note: missed NPR interview with Senator Carlotta Grant on new leg. about the bb prohibition act. Find that on website later.

Found in Weber’s home, in boxes under his bed, were a series of restraints made of leather, high-quality items that appear to be custom-ordered to specific measurements. These included “gloves” intended to keep someone from being able to claw or scratch in their own defense, five sets of cuffs, a body harness, a leather half-face-mask that police referred to as a “muzzle”, several gags, some of which were deemed to be “designed to cause injury to the inside of the mouth”, and “other assorted items for use in torture and torment”.

You can find some leaked police docs online that go into more detail, but suffice to say they pretty much match the kinds of “toys” found in Nathaniel Benson and Brute Hanlon’s homes, too. And apparently, if you really know where to look, you can find some blurry low-quality photos Weber took, too.

While the items are a bit salacious, they aren’t entirely uncommon in consensual relationships, too, so it’s really not clear if they’re evidence of the Boxie being held against his will or not.

The investigation of the crime scene suggests that at some point after writing his final diary entry, Robert Weber made himself a pizza, which he ate half of and put the rest away in the fridge. His shaving cream and razor were found out on his sink, and Weber’s body was clean-shaven, suggesting he shaved shortly before his death.

He then watched three episodes of Law & Order: SVU. We know this because he texted during this time with his only living relative, the sister in Vermont. Little is known about Weber’s family and childhood, beyond his sister’s recounting of a quiet, strained home life with an overbearing mother and her mention that Robert endured several head injuries as a child and adolescent, including one that hospitalized him for days.

After he finished watching TV, Weber entered the basement and murdered Yolanda Pierce. It is believed he took the Box Boy downstairs with him, either as accomplice or witness. At some point while he was disposing of Yolanda Pierce’s remains, the Boxie became enraged for one reason or another, beat him with a shovel, got the kitchen knife from upstairs and stabbed him to death, and then left the house.

A neighbor remembers hearing odd noises around 3:30 AM and looking out their window to see a shadowy figure walking quickly down the road, but they weren’t able to see well enough to say whether or not the individual matches the description and WRU-provided photos of the Boxie. It does seem reasonable, though, to assume that the neighbor witnessed the Boxie fleeing the scene of the crime.

The Box Boy has never been seen again.

Police are pretty mum about the active investigation into the Box Boy’s whereabouts. I was able to get ahold of one source closely related to a member of the investigative team who said that there’s just not a lot of urgency. “Weber killed nearly two dozen people, just that we know of,” The source said. “The cops are a little bit ‘good riddance to bad rubbish’ about the situation. Unless the Boxie comes back to RR, they’re just inclined to let sleeping dogs lie.”

The sense of “let it be someone else’s problem” would be understandable… if this Box Boy weren’t responsible for one other direct murder, possibly two.

Police believe the Boxie has not left California, and is likely to be continuing to survive by engaging in prostitution or perhaps panhandling or some other hidden way of making money. Unconfirmed sightings have been located in three cities in central California, but all of these are unverified and should be taken with a grain of salt.

It’s also possible he hooked up with a pet liberation movement group, in which case he may be hiding out in a safehouse, protected from the consequences of his actions by the pet lib movement’s understandable insistence on total secrecy and anonymity for the Boxies they take in.

If he’s an innocent victim of circumstance, that’s fair.

If he’s a burgeoning serial killer with three victims under his belt and a taste for inflicting terrible violence on those who take him in… well… anyone who gives him shelter may be next.

Is our Boxie a purposeful killer or just supremely, almost incomprehensibly unlucky? Will he kill again? Was he Robert Weber’s accomplice or his victim?

Will he strike again?

Should there be an audit of WRU’s psychological testing on potential sign-ups to see if, perhaps, a Box Boy-wannabe with an urge to kill slipped through the cracks?

What do you think?

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary

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diegos-butt · 3 years

Text

Electricity Chapter 1

Summary: For the first time in her life, Melody Williams is moving out of her hometown to Minnesota where she got a job as a crime journalist for the Minnesota Daily. But this city does not only have a new job for her to offer. What will happen when she crosses paths with detective Walter Marshall? Heads up, a little electricity is involved ✨

Walter Marshall x Melody Williams (curvy OFC)

Warnings: none

Wordcount: 2.5k

A/N: So, I wrote something for the first time 👀 Pls be kind haha. This is written with a plus size/curvy OFC in mind because all my curvy babes, like me, deserve some love 😘

“Thanks for calling me. I will call you back with my decision soon.” I hung up the phone and stared at it in my hand. A woman from the newspaper in the city a few towns over had just called, telling me they were offering me a job at their crime department. I sat at my desk at my current job, a local journalist for my hometown newspaper. I started working there during college and they offered a job after I finished. I happily accepted, because that meant I could move out of my lovely parents’ house and start my own life.

As I sat at my desk I realized I had never really left this town, and I had always fantasized what it would be like to live and work in a different town. I loved my hometown, don’t get me wrong, but it is small and everyone knows each other. Every day is basically the same here. Miss Johnson walks her dog at exact 3pm, the Millers go to the supermarket at 4pm to buy dinner and the whole town eats at Al’s diner every Sunday.

Also, the men in this town aren’t something to write home about. The decent men are taken by the perfect housewives and the ones who are left, are the type of guys who you don’t want to meet in a dark alley. And unfortunately, no nice men have decided to move here in the last couple of years. The only guy I dated (we were only together for a couple of months) decided I wasn’t good enough and eloped with a pretty, skinny blonde bitch.

While the town doesn’t seem to change, neither does my job. I have been covering the local news for a couple of years now, and it feels like I have been doing the same thing over and over again. Nothing really happens here, and honestly it makes me feel stuck at my job. I feel like my job and this place aren’t helping me to move further. I want to learn more and see something else than this town.

Still staring at the phone in my hand realization washed over me. This was my way out. This phone call could change everything. Not thinking twice, I called the woman (I had forgotten her name, Stacy apparently) back telling her I was accepting their offer. This was my chance of starting something new.

In the weeks after the call, I quit my job and started looking for a new place. Luckily, I found a cosy, affordable apartment. Not too big, not too small. Perfect for me and only me. Not wanting to wait, I moved in quickly with the help of my parents and made the place feel a little like home.

It was a cute apartment with one bedroom and a tiny kitchen. I had everything I needed. A comfy couch, my kettle, my books, a tv for my binge-watching nights and lots of cosy blankets and throw pillows.

After moving in and settling down, I finally had a chance to decorate the place with a lot of fairy lights and plants. I stood in the middle of the living area, wiping some sweat of my face after moving around some heavy plants. Yeah, this is starting to look like home. I thought as I looked around the living area, satisfied with the work I did.

I sat down on my couch and looked at the clock on the wall. It was 8pm. I was tired and hadn’t eaten yet. Tomorrow was my first day at the Minnesota Daily and I couldn’t wait. I was a little nervous, but because I was so tired, I didn’t have the energy to be too nervous or to make dinner.

I decided to make a grilled cheese sandwich and go to bed early. Tomorrow was the first day of a new start and I needed to look good. Might need a full 12 hours of sleep if I want to look a little decent, I thought to myself as I stared into the mirror and noticed my messy hair and the bags under my eyes.

After I ate my ‘dinner’ (I decided two grilled cheese sandwiches counted as dinner), I went to my bedroom and picked an outfit for tomorrow. A simple jeans and a baby blue blouse would do it. Afterwards I brushed my teeth and removed my make up. I put on my pyjamas and fell asleep as soon as my head hit my pillow.

After parking my car in the parking garage underneath the building the Minnesota Daily is located, I checked my make up one last time in the rear-view mirror. No uneven eyebrows and no smudges of mascara. Let’s go make a good first impression.

I stepped out of the car and grabbed my purse. I walked out of the parking garage and made my way to the front desk where I was greeted by a friendly older looking receptionist.

“Hi, I’m Melody! It is my first day here and I was told to ask for Stacy,” I said.

“Welcome dear! I’ll let Stacy know you’re here! She’ll be here in a sec,” she said with a smile. I nodded and looked around. People were walking in and out of the building, most of them talking on the phone. They all looked like they were in a rush.

Stacy appeared within a minute. She was taller than me, and I’m not exactly tiny, and her long brown hair was tied up in a bun. She walked towards me with her hand reached out and I quickly took it.

“Hi, you must be Melody! I’m Stacy, but everyone calls me Stace. Come, follow me, I’ll show you where we will be working!” she said while we walked to the elevator. While the elevator brought us to the 8th floor, she asked me how my new apartment was and if I liked the city. Before I knew it, the elevator reached the 8th floor.

“Everyone, pay attention! This is Melody and she will be joining our department as you all know,” Stacy practically yelled the second we left the elevator. I already saw some friendly faces looking at me. “Hi, I am Melody, but please call me Mel,” I said while Stacy walked over to a desk and started to introduce me to my new co-workers.

After I met everyone from the crime department, I made my way towards my new desk. Everyone seemed friendly and there was a relaxed atmosphere. Which was a little surprising to me considering this was the crime department. I looked around and thought: yeah, I made the right call to accept this offer.

Yet, I had no idea what this town had to offer me. Or better said, who.

In the first week I worked there I became friends with some of my co-workers. Carmen Garcia practically forced me to go to lunch with her and Gia Park on my first day. They had both been working at the Minnesota Daily for a couple of years now and they were one of the few women in the department. So, they were glad I was recruited to give them another ally in the office.

While we had lunch, they informed me about everything I needed to know. “You seriously need to stay away from creepy Greg, he works for the finance section. Make sure you never go down there alone. He always looks at women like he wants to drag them into an empty alley,” Gia said while pretending to throw up.

“Oh, he is the worst! But Megan, the receptionist, is the best ever. She is so sweet and kind. If you ever need anything, just ask her and she will help you,” Carmen added.

“Definitely! And if you ever need free tickets for a sports game, just let me know and we will visit the guys from the sport section,” Gia told me with a wink.

“I will keep all of this in mind,” I said while taking a sip from my cappuccino. “but tell me something about yourselves!”

Next thing I knew Carmen and Gia told me where they grew up, where they went to school and how they ended up working for the Minnesota Daily. I noticed how easy it was to talk to these girls and we had a good laugh while they told me about their most recent dating disasters. I nearly spilled my cappuccino not once or twice, but thrice while Carmen told me about how she escaped from one of her dates through the bathroom window.

During my first week I spend a lot of time with them. I helped them finish their articles and I got to know them pretty well. Carmen is tough, but sweet and straightforward, while Gia is soft and has a very short span of attention while working. She has visited my desk every half hour just to “catch up”. But I didn’t complain. It was nice to have them as my co-workers, although they began to feel more like friends.

It felt like my life fell into place again. I was making new friends, and I did a pretty good job so far. Still, sometimes I forgot to do basis tasks like getting groceries. So now I was parking my car in the parking lot of the grocery store.

As soon as I stepped out, I felt the cold chilly air around me, making me pull my leather jacket closer around my body. Hastily I stepped through the doors of the store just a few minutes before they would close. Quickly I grabbed a basket, knowing I should grab a cart, and started to walk through the aisles.

It was quiet inside, just a few people were doing some last-minute shopping like me. I waved hello to the woman at the cash register as I made my way to the first aisle.

So just the basics, some bread, apples, veggies, chocolate. Hmm maybe no chocolate. Okay yes, some chocolate. I deserve it today. What else, milk and cereal obviously. Girl gotta eat some breakfast. I thought as I threw some products in my already way too full basket and made my way to the cereal aisle. I walked passed the apples and picked some up, holding them in my hands.

Walking through the aisle I stopped in front of the many boxes of cereal. Above me I noticed a flickering lightbulb, reminding me I still needed to watch the last episode of Stranger Things. Maybe I should watch it tonight.

Staring at all the different kinds of cereal, I couldn’t decide which one I wanted. After a minute of just staring at the boxes lost in my own world, I grabbed one.

Except, I suddenly wasn’t the only one. Quickly I turned around and bumped into a warm, broad chest which made me drop the apples I was carrying. “Oh shit,” I whispered before I looked up into the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen and stared at the man. He had a beard and dark, brown curls. One of the curls dangled in front of his eyes and I had to fight the urge to not wipe it out of his face.

“It didn’t look like you were going to make a decision soon, so I just grabbed the one I wanted,” he said while crouching down to pick up the fallen apples.

“Oh no, no it’s fine,” I stammered, completely overwhelmed by him. “I guess I was zoned out there for a moment.”

While he was picking up the apples, I decided to take a quick look at him. He was a tall, big man wearing a dark blue sweater. Damn it, he is gorgeous. Don’t mind bumping into him more often.. no don’t go there, pull yourself together! I thought as I felt my cheeks burning all of a sudden. I couldn’t even remember the last time I talked to a man this handsome. Get it together Mel.

As he stood up and handed me the apples, I noticed how tired he looked. There were dark circles underneath his eyes, making me wonder when it was the last time he had a decent amount of sleep. Or if he ever had a decent night of sleep.

“Thank you for picking these up,” I said while holding up the apples, making them almost fall again. His reflexes were fast as he grabbed my elbow, helping me keep the apples balanced. The warmth of his hand made my legs suddenly feel a little weak.

“No problem,” he chuckled tiredly making me smile a little. “Maybe you should have gotten a cart instead of a basket, might be easier,” he said while still holding onto my elbow. He pointed with his other hand to my basket that was way too full.

“You are probably right, but my stubborn ass thought I could carry it all, so here we are,” I answered with a timed laugh, feeling a little embarrassed. He looked at me with those blue eyes and I noticed he had a “don’t mess with me” vibe, that somehow made me feel safe.

As I looked at his hand on my elbow, I suddenly became aware of how close he was. I could smell his musky cologne. He noticed I looked at his hand, and he abruptly let go of me while taking a step back. I immediately missed the warmth of his hand.

“I, uh, I need to go. Take care and don’t drop those again,” he told me with a small smile pointing at the apples in my hands. He grabbed his own basket and started to walk away. As he walked away, I took a good look of him. He was a very muscular man, and I took a mental picture of his ass because that was a sight I did not want to forget. I must tell Carmen and Gia about this.

“I can’t promise that, but I will try my hardest,” I laughed, knowing I would probably drop them again soon. “See you around?” I asked him. Surprised by my own boldness I nearly sank through the floor out of embarrassment.

He looked back at me with those beautiful blue eyes and I felt a spark of electricity going through my spine. “I hope so,” he said with a smirk before he shook his head and turned the corner leaving me speechless in the cereal aisle.

I stood there for another minute while coming back to my senses. My cheeks stopped burning and I realized I had not embarrassed myself that much. I smiled to myself and pictured the smirk he gave me in my head. Then the announcement that the store was about to close in a few minutes blared through the speakers, reminding me I still had to collect some groceries.

Quickly I grabbed the rest of the groceries and headed towards the cash register hoping to see him one more time. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be found.

I paid for the groceries and walked to my car. Loading the groceries in the trunk I nearly dropped the apples again. Told you, I thought while closing the trunk. It was getting dark and colder outside so I wasted no more time and drove home.

While driving home I realized the mistake I made.

Damn, I should’ve asked his name.

•••

> Chapter two

Taglist: @keanureevesisbae

If somehow you want to be on my taglist, just let me know!

#Walter Marshall #walter marshall x ofc #walter marshall x plus size ofc #walter marshall x oc #walter marshall x curvy ofc #henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x plus size ofc #henry cavill x curvy ofc #plus size ofc #curvy ofc #fanfiction #electricity #night hunter #nomis

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athenasbloodyspear · 3 years

Text

Don’t Make Me Beg Now Baby

CHAPTER ONE: EDGE OF DARKNESS

Hello fellow Greta Van Freaks. This is my very first Greta fic! I hope you enjoy.

MASTERLIST

Note: This fic contains mature themes, discussions of past non-con (no members of GVF involved) and drug use. Minors DNI. 18+ only and please take care of yourselves. (See Ao3 for full tag list)

You can also read this fic on Ao3 if you prefer!

Jake Kiszka x Original Female Character

Picture this: The boys are in Northern Michigan to write the new album and they meet a wild young woman who works at a local record store who has a rough history with rock bands.

She doesn’t want to fall into the same traps she fell into before. He doesn’t want to hurt her.

The rest of them just want them to figure their shit out.

Note: While this fic is based on the members of Greta Van Fleet, I obviously do not know them personally (lol) and nearly 99% of this is a fever dream I decided to write down. Some tid bits are based on things said in interviews/photos/songs but please do not come for my neck if you dislike my portrayals as this is a STORY that I have entirely made up.

This will be a slow burn, overly dramatic, cliché fest of me missing my Mitten State and wishing more than anything I could move back home. Their music makes me homesick and for that I’ll never forgive them. ;)

Chapter Under the Cut

CHAPTER ONE: EDGE OF DARKNESS

The tiny bell on the door to “The Edge” clanked as Jake pushed his way in, followed by Josh, Sam and Danny. The afternoon sun streamed through the slats in the windows at a harsh angle, illuminating the swirling dust. The boys all immediately took a deep breath. They all loved the smell of this place. A mix of dusty old vinyl's, incense and weed.

The Edge was the shop owned by an old friend, Levi, who had been a longtime family friend of the Kiszka’s. The boys had made the near three hour drive to the shop whenever they had a spare weekend in their younger years. They bought Levi out of his guitar strings and drumsticks and always looked through the boxes of vinyl's hoping to find treasures. Levi sold an eclectic mix of music equipment, records, books, home goods and comically horrific coffee.

The Edge is where they had each bought their very first instruments, had their first beers and even smoked their first joint. It was a special place for them.

The old wood floors creaked with every step, the wood walls were covered with old articles from Rolling Stone, photos Levi had taken and autographs from the artists who had cycled through the place over the years. There were stacks upon stacks of vinyl's. Shelves of old autobiographies and music theory books. There were speakers stacked from floor to ceiling, and the whole right side of the store was jam packed with basses and guitars. The back corner had a few keyboards and a drum set, but plenty of catalogues to pick even more instruments from. There were cases of drumsticks and guitar picks and strings. The middle of the store had tables full of incense, candles and interesting home goods. There were tables where local artists sold jewelry, art pieces and furniture. It was full to the brim, most shelves rising way up to the ceiling. Most needed a ladder to reach the top. The basement had a sound studio with even more equipment set up to be used to record, or to test out.

Levi had inherited the place from his father, who had built up quite a legendary roster of friends over his years. The shop was just off Front Street on the main drag of Traverse City. Levi’s father had made a name for himself as a great host to bands looking to escape to northern Michigan to hole up in cabins and write albums. Levi continued the tradition and took it a step further by buying the space next door and turning it into a club with live music on the weekends.

If you were lucky, you could catch some super huge bands playing for only about 100 people in the dark side room of The Edge.

“You bastards finally made it!” Levi called out as he came sauntering out of the back room. Levi looked the exact same as the last time the boys had seen him. Tanned skin from his days paddle boarding and hiking along the Lake Michigan shore, sandy blonde hair that was brighter in the summer, perpetual 5-o-clock shadow because he just couldn’t be bothered to shave, shell necklace around his neck, light wash jeans low on his hips with the same old cowboy boots he’d been wearing since the boys were 12.

“Is that grey hair I see Levi?” Josh leaned forward with an exaggerated squint. Levi laughed, snagging Josh’s head to give him a noogie.

“I may be older than you punks by a few years, but I’m not greying yet.” Levi released Josh from his headlock and gave him a shove.

“I’d say 37 is more than a few years older than us, grandpa.” Sam snarked.

“You’re makin me regret extending my hospitality, kid.”

Jake felt himself relax fully for the first time in a really long time. It was just like old times. Exactly what the boys needed.

“Welcome back dudes. I’m surprised I’m still cool enough for you Rockstar types.” Levi crossed his legs and leaned back against the front counter.

“We’ll never be too cool for The Edge. This place will always be way cooler than we could ever be.” Danny piped up, walking forward to wrap Levi in a hug.

“It’s been too long man.” Levi commented as he smacked Danny on the back.

“We know.” Sam said “Way too fuckin long.” He hugged Levi next. Josh and Jake followed up with hugs next. The room was heavy with a tinge of melancholy. Old friends who had missed each other finally reunited.

“Well, have you guys been to the house yet?” Levi stepped around the counter and started pouring four cups of the famous nasty coffee.

“Yeah we dropped our bags off before we headed into town.” Danny spoke up.

“Isn’t it sweet?” Levi asked enthusiastically.

“It’s wicked man. Thanks so much for getting that set up for us.” Josh grinned as he snagged a cup off the counter.

The house was a mid century modern cabin right on the east bay shore. It came equipped with a huge garage studio, front deck and a dock out into the bay. Levi had bought the house in foreclosure and along with help from a bunch of locals (in exchange for beer of course) they turned the house into a perfect getaway for any artists looking to come take a break up north. The place had five bedrooms and three bathrooms with a giant living room with overstuffed couches and velvet chairs. The walls were covered in art and the shelves were full to bursting with plants. It was a kaleidoscope of colors and textures, with mix matched rugs and lamps. It was Levi’s pride and joy.

“I’m so glad you guys like it.” Levi smiled even bigger as he passed coffees to the rest of the boys. “Once you’re a little more settled, feel free to send me a list of equipment you want me to set up downstairs and you can start coming in whenever to work. But also, I think you should probably take a week or two off first. You all look about two seconds away from collapsing.”

“Yeah we’re pretty fuckin beat dude. But we’ll send you a list ASAP.” Jake said, taking a burning sip of the coffee. It singed his nerve endings and he couldn’t have been happier about it.

Levi opened his mouth to speak again, when a voice filtered through the window to the loft above the store.

“Yo Levi!” the person shouted “Can you please get off your fuckin ass and pick music to play? I know Wednesdays are your day to pick but if you take forever I’m just gonna put on whatever I want and you can suck it.”

All four boys' heads snapped up to the window to the loft, but whoever was up there couldn’t be seen. All they could see was that the loft had clearly gotten a makeover. What used to be an upper level where Levi stored surplus supplies now looked like it had a plush velvet couch, lava lamps and plants in it.

“Alright alright! I’ll get on it.” Levi called back up, shaking his head and chuckling to himself as he walked toward the central sound system behind the counter to scroll through Spotify playlists.

“Who the fuck is that and what have you done to the loft?” Josh asked, hopping up to sit on the counter.

“That would be the very best thing that’s ever fallen into my lap. A.k.a my new store and venue manager Maven. She moved back to the area after living in Hollywood for a few years managing bands and she completely changed my life. We finally have consistent stock, a longstanding line up at the club and I have had the time to start photography again. Truly a godsend, if not occasionally a pain in my ass. She turned the loft into a breakroom of sorts. There’s a couch and table up there now. She practically lives up there sometimes.”

“Damn she must be some woman if she finally got you to get your shit together with that club.” Sammy piped up.

“She’s hellfire, I’ll tell yah that.” Levi chuckled, finally hitting play on a playlist. The first bars of Surfin USA by the Beach Boys came on the surround system and matching groans came out of Jake downstairs and Maven upstairs.

“Not this shit again!” Maven yells. Jake chuckled to himself. Hellfire indeed.

“It’s my day to pick so suck it!” Levi called back before faux stage whispering to the boys “I mostly just play this to piss her off.”

Levi clapped his hands together once “Well boys, It’s close enough to five o'clock and I owe you a beer. Let’s head over to Little Fleet for some grub and beers and we can catch up.”

Josh grimaced as he sucked down the last bit of his coffee before lobbing the empty cup into the trash at the end of the counter. “You still make shit coffee Levi.”

“It’s the one thing I wouldn’t let Maven fix.” Levi said with a grin as all five men exited out the back door.

~0~

The boys took a week to relax, as per Levi’s request. They spent the days hiking the shore, kayaking and drinking beer around the fire. It had been way too long since they’d done this. The release of The Battle at Garden’s Gate had been exhilarating and the fans' response had been everything they’d hoped for. People seemed to love the album and they were all so proud. But with press interviews and touring, they hadn’t gotten more than a day or two to relax at a time. And they certainly hadn’t gotten a chance to get back to their favorite old haunts in years.

They stopped by the store almost every morning for a cup of coffee strong enough to jumpstart their hearts. Sometimes Levi joined them on their escapades, and sometimes he stayed behind to help out at the store. The boys spent a few afternoons sifting through albums and strumming on some of Levi’s vintage guitars.

Mostly they caught up on each other's lives. The boys recounted their more personal lives that happened outside the coverage of the album and Levi talked about the past few years of his life in Traverse City. Levi told them all about Maven and how she was practically his little sister. They laughed. They drank. They had a blast.

The boys noticed Levi was a little on edge occasionally, typically when they heard someone shuffling upstairs or equipment moving around in the backroom of the shop. They assumed it was Maven but weren’t sure, since they had yet to see her in the flesh. A week from their arrival they were all sitting in lawn chairs in the alley behind the store, smoking cigs and drinking their coffee when Sam finally asked.

“So, why haven’t we met your precious Maven yet? Hiding her from us or something?”

Levi shifted a bit in his chair. “Um..” he coughed out a laugh. “I am actually. Yes. But it’s the other way around, I’m hiding you from her.”

“Afraid she’ll fan-girl or something?” Josh commented as he ashed his cigarette.

“In… a sense.” Levi coughed. “But in quite the opposite way you’re imagining.”

“She’s a fan then?” Sammy piped up.

“She loves your music. A lot.” Levi sniffed and coughed again. “It’s a real safe haven for her. When she’s having a bad day I catch her upstairs laying on the floor smoking a J with sound cancelling headphones blasting your albums as loud as she can.”

“Exactly how it’s meant to be enjoyed. With a joint in hand.” Jake chimes in.

“Yeah..” Levi toes the asphalt a bit with his boots, but doesn’t continue.

“Soooo” Sammy drawls “Why can’t we meet her? We’re no stranger to super fans. I’m sure she’s cool.”

“Um, well. It’s a bit complicated.” Levi heaves a sigh before flicking his cigarette butt into the coffee canister at the center of their little circle. “I suppose I can trust you guys. You’re friends. Do you remember the huge lawsuit that the band Undercover Heart went through last year? The one about the um” He coughs again, “Rape of one of their staff members by the lead singer Ryan?”

“Yes. That shit was horrific man.” Danny spoke up. “I read all the details I could. They kept the poor girl's identity private but goddamn I felt so bad for her. She was a badass for filing that suit though.”

“Yeah. She was.” Levi breathed. “So, this is strictly off record and if you repeat this to anyone I will skin you all alive, famous rock stars be damned.”

“Jesus Levi.” Jake said.

“It was her.” Levi choked out. “Maven. That’s why she ran back from Hollywood and ended up here. That dude messed her up and she just… she struggles with meeting famous bands now. You know how many people cycle through this joint writing stuff. She just… has a really fuckin hard time with it sometimes. Particularly bands she likes. I think it’s because once you meet someone, and in her case, discover how much of a monster they can be, their music isn’t… safe anymore.”

“Fuck.” Jake said, flicking his cigarette into the canister.

“Well I feel terrible for joking about her being a fangirl.” Josh mutters.

“She just genuinely loves you guys a lot. I never really told her I was an old friend because I didn’t want her to be worried about y’all stopping by. I just know that if she knows you’re here she’ll take off and avoid coming by the shop as much as she can and not only do I need her here, but I think she needs the safety of the shop too. I didn’t want to wreck it.” Levi sighs again. “I know she’ll find out you’re here eventually, it’s inevitable. I just was a coward and didn’t want to break the news to her.”

“She was a pretty well known band manager wasn’t she?” Danny asks. “She like… completely made Undercover Heart what it was. Before they hired her they were slated to be a one hit wonder but she hauled them into relevancy basically by her will alone.”

“Yeah. She basically built that man's career for him. She gave him everything, and he took everything from her. If I ever see the man I’m liable to get my ass thrown in prison.” Levi mutters.

“I’ll help.” Danny says immediately.

All five sit in silence for a few minutes, smoking the last of their cigarettes. When they’d all finished, they stood and stretched to head back inside the shop.

“So yeah. Anyway, If you see her that’s fine, just… well now you have context for… her.” Levi says as he yanks open the door.

A few steps into the back hallway, Levi suddenly halts, causing all four boys to nearly bash into each other. The front door to the shop had crashed open and there were footsteps stomping across the store toward the front desk.

“Listen Levi,” Maven’s tense voice carried down the back hall. “I know Wednesdays are usually your day for music but I’m having an absolute shit fucking day so I’m playing Greta all day and there’s absolutely nothing you can fucking do about it, kapeesh?”

The very opening chords of Edge of Darkness scratch through the speakers after she finishes her sentence and the boys all exchange a slightly amused look, grins spread on all of their faces.

“Kapeesh.” Levi calls out to her. He spins and silently nods to the boys to head toward the back door. The boys attempt to be as quiet as they can as they creep toward the door.

“Also, Levi?” Maven calls again. Everyone halts in their tracks. “You said there was a band coming in soon. Are they here yet? Do you need me to set up the backroom?”

“Uh, yeah they’re here.” Levi squeaks. All five men share nervous looks. “They’re uh… up at the house.” He cringes at his lie. “I’m getting an equipment list from them today and then you can get started.

“Cool cool.” Maven calls back. “Do you think I’ll like their stuff?”

“Uh. Yeah.” Levi grins then. “I think you will.”

“Wicked.” Maven calls back.

All five men repress giggles as they skedaddle out the back door and into the alley.

~0~

The next morning the boys wake up to a group text from Levi.

COME BY THE SHOP ASAP. COME IN BACK DOOR. HEAD DOWN THE STAIRS TO THE BOOTH. BE AS QUIET AS YOU CAN.

A weird request, but they did as they were told. They all piled into the SUV they had rented and headed to the shop. Danny peeled open the back door as quietly as he could, and Sammy opened the door to the stairs. They tiptoed down and through the door at the end of the stairs that opened into the booth of a sound studio. Levi sat in front of all the mixing boards with a cup of coffee to his lips. He glanced over at them and softly said “coffees on the table.”

“Why the weird text?” Jake asked.

“Because of that.” Levi responded softly, pointing through the dark glass into the soundstage.

The sound stage was littered with mismatched rugs, and a few milk crates that doubled as tables. There was a gorgeous seafoam green drum set toward the back wall and stands full of various guitars and basses. Along the left wall was a piano and a Mellotron set up exactly to the specifications Sam sent over. However, with all these beautiful instruments to look at that would normally catch their eye, it was the woman sitting on stool in the center, cradling a dark purple Fender guitar that made Jake stop in his tracks.

Maven, Jake had to guess that’s who it was, was wearing checkered distressed pants, with a ripped up old band t-shirt cropped at her ribs, revealing a sliver of the rounded part of her stomach. Over top she was wearing an orange leopard print cardigan that ran down to her thighs. Around her neck was a series of long necklaces, and her wrists were adorned with interlacing leather bands.

She was plucking out a melody with her eyes closed, rocking back and forth on the stool. Jake had seen countless numbers of people playing the guitar before. On the road, in the studio, studying old masters on YouTube. There was nothing overly special about the way she was sitting or playing, but he felt a little bit like he couldn’t breathe.

“She never fuckin plays anymore man.” Levi whispered. “It felt like magic hearing music coming out of the basement this morning. I just felt like you should see it.”

The melody she was playing was sad. Haunting is a better way to put it, and Jake couldn’t look away. Not even when Sammy placed a cup of burning hot coffee into his hands. She was moving her head along with her playing, the strands of her dark messy hair shaking back and forth. The group watched in silence as she played out the riff a few times, Levi cranked the volume of the mics in the space and they could hear her humming softly.

“She has a strong presence.” Josh murmured.

Maven suddenly stopped. Everyone froze as she heaved a sigh and stood from the stool to put the guitar back on it’s rack.

“You in there Levi?” Maven said then. The boys still didn’t move a muscle. Jake’s head was spinning, having finally seen the face that went with the voice he’d heard in the loft for a week. She was beautiful. He couldn’t even really put his finger on why, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Even seeing her through the thick dark glass of the studio.

Levi hit the button to the mic in the booth and responded “Yah.” He paused before adding. “Sounded good.”

Maven snorted in a self-deprecating way and said “Thanks.”

Levi hit the mic button again and said “You should play more.”

“Don’t push it Levi.” Maven snapped back. Levi released the button to his mic and let out a heavy sigh. “Can you check some levels on the lines for me? I think I have everything pretty good but I want to make sure before they get here today.”

“Sure.” Levi replied.

Maven pulled the amp cord out of the Fender she had been playing on and plugged it into another guitar, one more similar to the guitars that Jake regularly used while they wrote.

“Are we looking for a punk or a rock-y sound?” Maven asked.

“Um.” Levi hesitated. “Rock. Their sound is like…” He tossed a small smile over his shoulder at the boys. “Like Greta’s actually.”

“Dope. I hope they’re not just copying the boys. They’ve got a mellotron in here and everything.” The boys smiled. She pounded out a few chords on the guitar. “Good?”

Levi looked over at Jake for confirmation. Jake, who still had not taken his eyes off Maven, nodded.

“Yeah, that should be good for raw sound. They can play with stuff too. They’re a pretty well educated bunch.” Levi called back.

“Thank god.” Maven snorted. “Not like that indie punk bunch you booked last month who needed me to do fucking all their sound mixing for them.”

“Maven, I don’t think they kept asking you down here because they need help with their sound.”

Maven just rolled her eyes at that.

They repeated the process with each instrument, Levi silently asking for confirmation from the respective Greta member until they were sure the sound lines were all functioning properly.

“Great work kid.” Levi called into the studio.

“Ew don’t call me kid. I’m a 27 year old woman.” Maven called back.

Levi chuckled. “You’re a kid to me.”

“Whatever.” Maven muttered. “I’m gonna go take a walk along the beach. Smoke a little. Text me if they need me.”

“Will do.” Levi called back. The boys all tensed, looking for places to hide, or to run up the stairs and back into the alley. Luckily, Maven took the back door out of the studio and up another hallway instead.

“Well boys, it’s all you.” Levi said. “Text if you need anything.”

Sam piped up and said “Yeah actually, can you pick my brother’s jaw up off the floor?”

“Jake see pretty lady play guitar and Jake brain break.” Josh teased.

“You guys suck.” Jake grumbled.

Levi cackled. “I thought you’d like her.”

~0~

Maven walked along the coast of the bay and absentmindedly smoked a joint. It was an overcast and drizzly day which meant there was no one around, which she preferred anyway. She was feeling on edge. The drizzle was very slowly building a small sheen of water on her arms and hair, but she didn’t mind. The cool water and gentle breeze combination was perfect.��

Maven sat her butt down in the sand and stared out at the waves. She normally wore headphones on her walks, her world was a near constant stream of music, but she had opted for silence today.

Levi was being weird. He was edgy around her all week, sending her out every morning for tasks and disappearing without saying where he was going around 4:30 every day. She had come to the conclusion that whatever band was in town this week was a pretty big name. Or big enough that he was nervous about her being around them. She sighed. She hated when he tiptoed around her. Maven didn’t blame him. When she first started working at the shop she had had a couple pretty bad PTSD episodes that had scared the shit out of him. She owed him everything for staying with her, talking her down and making sure she was fed and had water when she got into one of her states.

Levi was her best friend, to put it mildly. He cared for her, kept her safe and in return she busted her ass at his store making sure they had the best products, the best shows and that their artist getaway was something that people would go back and tell their friends about. She loved Levi like an older brother, and he cared for her like his little sister. She would forever be grateful to whatever power in the universe made her stumble into The Edge two years ago.

She had been high out of her mind, as she had been most days after she came running back to Michigan with her tail between her legs, and Levi had been struggling with an amp in the shop. She had walked in, spotted his struggle and didn’t even say a word to him, just walked over and fixed the wiring so that it was functional again. Levi had looked up from where he sat on the floor and said “You don’t happen to need a job do you?”

The rest was essentially history. It only took two months of seeing him every single day, and him not letting her sour moods go by unnoticed, for her to spill her guts over some bourbon one night. About Ryan and Undercover Heart and how badly the whole situation fucked her up. How after she’d recorded her testimony she’d boarded the next flight to Grand Rapids and hightailed it up north. She came crash landing into Traverse City because she’d always loved it as a kid, and figured it would be a great place to start over. The small town she’d grown up in had too many people who knew her.

He was extra careful with bands for a while. Never letting her be alone in a room with too many male band members, and carefully vetting everyone who came through. Eventually she told him off about treating her like a porcelain doll and he backed down a bit, giving her free reign over lots of the equipment set ups and giving her plenty of hours in the shop by herself. She was happy to do so, so Levi could focus on fixing up the artist house and starting his photography again.

But he was still very gentle with her sometimes, and she’d always love him for it even when it pissed her the fuck off.

Once she’d smoked the joint down to the roach, she tucked the end into her pocket. It was sacrilegious to litter near the lake. It was too precious to be fucked with. She meandered back toward the shop. Her plan was to grab her bag and head back to let her Pitbull, Stacy, out for a walk and pee. The girl had been cooped up all morning and Maven felt bad.

She threw her whole body against the front door, as the latch often stuck, and the loud sound of the chimes clanged in the empty space. She rolled her eyes. Of course Levi left the shop unattended and unlocked. It was Traverse City, no one was gonna rob them, but what if someone wanted to buy something?

She was humming softly to herself as she made her way around the edge of the counter and plopped down on the stool by the register. She whipped out her phone to ask Levi where he was. She had the message halfway typed when the door behind her, the one that led to the staff restroom, popped open.

“You know, crime is especially low in this town but that doesn’t mean someone wouldn’t come in here and try to steal your precious coffee maker.” She tossed over her shoulder.

“Oh.” Was all that came back. It was decidedly not Levi’s voice. Maven spun back quickly.

“Sorry I…” But that’s as far as she got. She was suddenly face to face with Jake Kizska and all thoughts quickly left her brain.

They both stared at each other for a long moment. Maven couldn’t quite figure out why he looked just as shocked to see her as she was to see him. He also almost looked afraid for some reason that Maven couldn’t figure out.

He was dressed in an outfit she’d seen him wear plenty of times. A black button up, half unbuttoned, loose fitting light wash jeans and a pair of well worn boots. His wrists were full of bracelets and his hair was longer than the last time she’d seen footage of their concerts, well past his collarbones at this point.

“Hi.” Jake finally broke the silence. “I’m Jake.” He reached out his hand for a handshake.

“I know.” Maven replied, and then coughed. Why did you say that you freak?

Suddenly the front door bell chimed again, and Maven whipped her head to see Levi coming in the front door. She stood abruptly from her stool, skirted around Jake’s outstretched hand, and out from behind the counter. She scooped up her leather satchel on her way.

She headed straight at Levi. He glanced over his shoulder and saw an apologetic Jake looking forlorn and lowering his hand back to his side.

“Oh hey Maven-”

“Hey dumbass, don’t leave the store unattended again. I’m going home to check on Stacy. Probably won’t be back for the rest of the day.” Maven spit as she stormed past him toward the front door.

“Maven wait-”

But she was already outside, the hinges bringing the heavy wood crashing back into the frame. The chime of the bells rang through the space.

“Sorry.” Jake muttered.

“Not your fault. I knew she’d find out eventually. Right now she’s probably just pissed I didn’t tell her. Which she has every right to be.” Levi sighed.

After a few more beats of silence Jake spoke again. “Who’s Stacy?”

Levi huffed a laugh. “That would be her Pitbull.”

“Oh.” Jake said again. He felt crazy because his brain couldn’t come up with anything else to say. She was prettier up close. She smelled like the Lake and weed and sandalwood. He really wished she’d taken his hand. He shook his head trying to find his brain in it somewhere.

The other three boys came clambering up the stairs and into the store. They all looked between Levi, who was still standing in the middle of the shop, and Jake behind the counter.

“Are you two playing freeze tag or something?” Sam quipped.

“Jake met Maven.” Levi responded. The boys' heads whipped toward Jake.

“And… I’m guessing it… went well?” Danny questioned.

Levi finally walked back toward the counter. “She left for the day. This is on me. I should have told her y’all were here.” He snagged his keys from below the counter and walked toward the front door to lock up. “I’m closing early, boys. Let’s go get a beer.”

“Kowabunga baby.” Josh said with a grin.

~0~

Maven sat curled up on her velvet couch, Stacy was her little spoon. There was incense burning, a bottle of wine open on the side table and a lit joint in the ashtray. She had changed into a giant t-shirt and boxer shorts. The soft sounds of John Denver playing off her record player.

However, none of these things were easing her mind.

She was pissed, mostly. At herself. At Levi. She was pissed he didn’t tell her they were coming. She was pissed that he felt he couldn’t tell her. She was pissed that she had acted like a freak in front of Jake.

The anxiety was an endless pit in her stomach. She couldn’t go back there tomorrow. She couldn’t see any of those people. Not when she felt like this.

She whipped out her phone and quickly shot a message to Levi, before chugging her whole glass of red wine and snagging the joint out of the ashtray.

~0~

Levi’s phone dinged on the table where all of the guys sat drinking beers and chatting. Levi glanced at it and quickly picked it up when he saw her name.

“It’s Maven.” He said.

“What did she say?” Jake asked, sitting up a bit in his chair.

“Fuck.” Levi said, tossing his phone on the table, still unlocked.

All four boys leaned in to read the screen.

CASHING IN ALL MY VACATION DAYS. I’LL BE OUT FOR TWO WEEKS.

“Fuck indeed.” Josh said, pounding back the rest of his beer.

#jake gvf #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #greta fic #jake fic #gvf #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta fan fleet fic #peaceful army

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mammonshuman92 · 3 years

Text

- Joy Ride -

(Saeyoung x F!MC)

**TW: cussing, implied seggs, my shitty writing lol

“No, wait! Y/N this wasn’t part of the bet!” Saeyoung exclaimed, following close behind you.

You spun on your heel to face him, “The deal was, that if I got a perfect score on my final exam, I got to do one thing, anything I wanted. That’s what you said, right?”

“Um, w-well yeah, but I thought it’d be like, bedroom stuff or something. Not this.” He sounded so desperate. “Besides, I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

“Saeyoung!” You shouted, playfully slapping his arm and acting as if you were offended.

“Ow! What? I’ve seen your test scores. I thought this was an easy win for me.” He confessed.

“Rude.” You turned away from him and continued walking down the hallway, reaching the door of your destination. You stopped, and faced him again.

“What were you gonna ask for, had you won?” You asked, curiously.

He wiggled his eyebrows at you, “Bedroom stuffs.”

You rolled your eyes and giggled, “Geez, you horn dog!”

You opened the door, and flicked on the light.

“It’s not to late to change your mind, Y/N! I-I’ll get you a puppy! Or we can do those tik tok thirst traps you”re always trying to talk me into. Please, Y/N. Anything but this.”

His last-ditch efforts to persuade you weren’t working. You wouldn’t change your mind.

“No deal.” You said, nonchalantly grabbing a set of keys off their place on the holder on the wall, and jingling them at him.

“Get in. We’re going for a drive.”

“Y/N please, I’m begging you. Not my babies!” He was all but having a nervous breakdown in the passenger seat.

“Calm down, Sae. She will come back in the exact condition she’s in now.” You said, marveling at the jet black interior. The back light behind the dash and all the controls was the same color red as the exterior. You felt like a kid in a candy store.

Saeyoung groaned in the seat next you you. “Why did you have to pick the most expensive one though?”

The car you chose happened to be a limited edition Herrari, highly customized, and extremely pricey. It was definitely his favorite one.

“Because of why it’s the most expensive.” You said, practically bouncing in your seat. You turned the key, and she roared to life. Adrenaline rushed through you.

Your response slightly confused him. “Because you look cool?”

You scoffed, “That’s just a perk, I guess.” You buckled your seat belt, then turned to look at him. “I’m after that customized, super charged engine.” You confessed, quickly putting it in gear and zooming out of the garage.

You were weaving in and out of traffic with ease, heading for a more secluded area. Saeyoung kept making odd little noises beside you, and you were sure you even heard him silently praying.

You chuckled at him, “Relax, alright? I’m an excellent driver. Probably even better than you.”

Oh, now he’s salty.

“No one knows my babies better than I do.” He said, matter-of-factly, crossing his arms over his chest. You laughed at him.

“There’s things about me that even you don’t know, Mr. Hacker.” Your mysteriousness has intrigued him.

“Do tell.” He prompted you.

“My folks owned a mechanic shop.” You began, “I grew up in that garage, learning to work on all kinds of cars. From oil changes on family minivans, to fully customizing sports cars. Like this one.” You gently patted the steering wheel. “I’ve always been around cars.”

“A basic background check revealed that after you first came to the RFA.”

“Yes, but the most important part is secret. It can’t be found on any files, anywhere.”

Traffic had thinned out a lot, now that the sun was starting to set, leaving the highway wide open. You accelerated, knowing that you would soon reach your destination. He did seem to be relaxing a little.

To say that Saeyoung was curious, was an understatement. He loved unearthing secrets. It’s kinda what he does.

You exited the highway onto the all too familiar secluded stretch of road you knew so well.

Saeyoung looked out the window and turned to you, his eyes were big and curious. What were you planning?

“Go on.” He urged.

“Well, when I got old enough, my Dad let me in on the family business that happened after hours: street racing.”

“Street racing? But, why would that be secret?” He asked.

You pulled into what looked like an abandoned lot. The thick cover of trees kept it well hidden while you were on the road. It wasn’t until you pulled further in, that he noticed several sets of lights. He was so confused.

When you got closer, he noticed that the lights were actually headlights, belonging to dozens of drool worthy sports cars.

“Well, you see, it’s kinda... illegal.” You confessed with a sheepish grin.

He looked at you with wide eyes, mouth slightly hanging open.

“Y/N L/N! You? Illegal?” He put his hand over his heart as if he were shocked. Although, he really was.

“Oh, stop! Like you didn’t use to do all kinds of illegal things before you got out of the agency.”

“Well yeah, but this is you we’re talking about! Sweet, innocent Y/N. Well, you’re not very innocent when we-”

“Sae!” You yelled, causing him to laugh at you.

“For real though. I would’ve never pegged you as someone to be into something like this.” He said, gesturing to all the other cars in front of you.

“You should know better than anyone that you shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover, 707.” He smiled at you.

Although his time with the agency was agonizing, he didn’t mind the use of his old code name. Especially if it came from you.

You circled around, and parked the car at the very end of the line. You popped the hood and got out of the car. Saeyoung followed suit, and propped the hood open. His car wasn’t the most customized car there, but it was one of the rarest which quickly drew in a flock of enthusiasts.

“Shall we, 606?” Saeyoung was smiling as he extended his hand out to you. You took it, intertwining your fingers in his.

The two of you walked around, hand-in-hand, looking at all the other cars and talking specs with the owners. Saeyoung was in Heaven. His “precious babies” wish list was getting longer by the minute. You couldn’t help but giggle at him.

“So, what about all of this makes it illegal?” He asked.

You were now sitting on the little grassy hill behind all the cars, watching as one after the other raced each other.

The empty lot used to belong to a mall that was demolished long ago, leaving behind the giant lot and the long stretch of road attached to it. It became abandoned after the new highway was built. It was the perfect place for racing though.

“Some of these cars have parts in them that make them illegal.” you explained, “the parts themselves are in fact legal, like the engine and spoilers and stuff. But after they’re customized, they make the car much faster and it’s no longer ‘street legal.’ They’re not as worried about the car parts as much as they are about the racing, though.”

Saeyoung nodded in understanding, turning toward you slightly, “So, how exactly did your parents get into all of this?” He asked, gesturing around you.

You pulled your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around your legs, “My dad’s always been a gear head, so when he overheard a conversation about some underground racing ring, he had to go see it for himself. He ended up meeting my mom at one of those races, too. Our whole family is car crazy.” You said with a laugh.

“Does it bother you? I mean, the legality of it all?” He, more than anyone, knew the toll getting mixed up in illegal activity to take on a person. Granted, his was far worse than some illegal car parts, but still.

“Kinda, but we just wanna race fast cars. We don’t want to hurt anyone, which is why we come all the way out here. There’s far worse criminals than us.” That doesn’t justify it, but whatever.

As you were talking, you noticed some of the people around the two of you started to scramble. You jumped up from where you had been sitting.

Saeyoung, immediately reverting to fight or flight Agent 707 mode, was on his feet in an instant.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He asked, voice heavy with concern, scanning your face.

Just then, through the trees right before you turn into the lot, you saw flashing lights. Someone behind you shouted.

“Cops!”

You turned to Saeyoung, “C’mon, we gotta go! Now!”

You ran to the car, pulling Saeyoung by the hand behind you, and got in the driver’s seat. You wasted no time starting the engine, thinking over your escape plan.

Several cop cars were pouring into the lot. You buckled the seat belt and took a deep breath. Saeyoung seemed surprisingly calm, given the situation.

“You’re not nervous?” You asked.

“About the cops? Nah. The driving I’m sure you’re about to do in my most precious baby? Absolutely.”

“You haven’t even seen driving yet.” You said with a devilish grin, prompting him to buckle up.

People all around you jumped in their cars and sped off. You put it in drive and accelerated quickly, going the opposite way as the majority. A few others following suit, seeming to be aware of this most unused exit.

“Isn’t that the only way in here?” Saeyoung asked, referring to the entrance the cops kept flooding in from, you shook your head.

“When the mall was still here, there were several ways in and out. Some of those are impassable now due to the demo of the building, or because nature took over and it’s now overgrown. However, there are still a couple ways out.” You assured him, “And, aren’t you the one who said to always have an exit strategy?” He grinned slightly.

“You’ve learned well, 606.” You smiled at the use of your favorite nickname.

The exit you took was a little different than the highway you took to get here. It was considered a “back way” out. The secluded road was a little curvier, with some small hills thrown in.

During the daylight, the scenery was beautiful but at night it could be dangerous if you weren’t careful. To make sure you were always prepared, your father made you drive all over the area around the racing lot, until you knew every entrance and exit like the back of your hand.

The speedometer steadily climbed, the car hugging every twist and turn, like it was made specifically for this road. After a couple random turns, you were sure you had long lost any cops that may have followed you. You let up on the gas a little, letting your current speed slowly fall back into the “Saeyoung’s most precious baby” approved range.

“Whoa.” Saeyoung said quietly, he hadn’t said anything since you first got in the car.

“You okay?” You were worried that maybe he was on the verge of losing it. A lot of people can’t handle going such high speeds. They either get really scared, or puke. Or both.

“That was...amazing!!” He yelled, his sudden outburst startling you, before laughing at his reaction.

“Oh, yeah? Does that mean I can drive your cars more often?”

He turned to face you, giving you his sweetest smile.

“Absolutely not.”

“What?! Why?” You protested.

“Y/N, this is a limited edition Herarri.”

“Sae, c’mon. You’ve got to open up the engine every now and the-”

You stopped mid-sentence when you noticed a set of headlights pop up behind you. Saeyoung looked at you curiously, waiting for you to finish. He turned around in his seat to look out the back window when he noticed that you kept looking in the rear view. Then, flashing lights.

“Shit! I was sure I lost them.” You hissed, quickly stepping on the gas. “How did they find us?”

“Now what?” Saeyoung asked, turning back around in his seat.

“We lose them for real.”

The speedometer slowly kept climbing, reaching the triple digits. You flew down the straight stretch of highway, the flashing lights behind you barely keeping up with your speed.

“Sae?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for what I’m about to do.”

“Huh? What do you mean? Y/N?”

Getting off the road and laying low was your best option right now. Home wasn’t too far from your current location, and in order to make it there with enough time to hide the car in the garage and throw them off the trail, you couldn’t compromise your speed.

You pressed harder on the gas pedal, the arm on the speedometer rising rapidly.

“Y/N?” By his tone, you could tell Saeyoung was getting nervous, but you didn’t let up.

“Remember the turns up here? Y/N?”

The lights behind you were getting further and further away. You were losing them. You were going to make it.

You were quickly approaching the turns he had mentioned, the ones right before the house. Almost there.

“Hang on!” You instructed right before the first turn.

“Y/N! No, no, no, no!”

The car beautifully drifted around the turn, losing the cops that more much, and Saeyoung losing his mind.

You went around the second turn with ease as well, the back tires losing traction, spinning freely. It was all so smooth, even at these high speeds.

You straightened out after coming out of the last turn, cops unable to catch up. The house was only about a few blocks away, as fast as you were going, you’d be there in no time.

Using his phone once you got in range, Saeyoung had the garage door open, awaiting your arrival.

You checked the rear view one last time, making sure they still hadn’t caught up. You were in the clear.

You screeched to a stop in the garage, quickly parking and bailing from the car. Saeyoung quickly slapped the button on the wall to shut the garage door while you turned off the lights.

The two of you quickly went inside, going right to Saeyoung’s computer. He pulled up the live security feed all around the perimeter. You watched the cops drive past the front of the house on the monitor. After a few minutes of no activity, Saeyoung decided the coast was clear. You let out a heavy sigh.

“Y/N..” Saeyoung said, voice quiet. His back was to you, still facing the monitors.

“Y-yeah?” You replied sheepishly.

You were in trouble. Big trouble.

“What you did... that was..”

“I’m sorry! I swear I won’t ev-” You started to apologize profusely before he cut you off.

“Awesome!!” He yelled, turning to face you, eyes wide with excitement.

“I’m sorry, what?” Surely you hadn’t heard him right.

“It was like we were in an action movie! It was incredible!”

“You do realize that your last job was as a secret agent, right? But, you think my driving was like an action movie?” You were so confused.

“Oh yeah! I mean, I can drive too, don’t get me wrong. I just never expected something like that from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“It means that my amazing, talented, beautiful girlfriend kept a truly awesome secret from me! Not fair, by the way.” He dramatically pooched out his bottom lip.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you Sae, it’s just that my family could get in trouble..”

“It’s okay, I understand. But..” He trailed off.

“But?”

“Well, after taking my most cherished and most expensive baby out drifting, she’s going to need some pampering.” He sounded serious, but the face he was making didn’t match. He was up to something for sure.

“Okay..? No problem. I am a mechanic, after all.”

“Then it’s a deal.” He said with a smirk. He promptly scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder.

“Ah! Saeyoung, what the hell?” You screeched, making him laugh.

“What? I’m paying up front. And I must say, I’m looking forward to doing business with you.” He said with a smirk, carting you off to to the bedroom, both of you giggling the whole way.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger fluff #saeyoung fluff #saeyoung choi #saeyoung x reader #saeyoung x mc

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shcherbatskya · 3 years

Text

A case in suburbia, domestic dynamics, and a forever home. What could go wrong?

the moment i’ve been waiting for! chapter one is up now! read here or under the cut.

Cas and Dean were searching for a forever house. They had been pretty much since Cas got back from the empty. They were ready to distance themselves from hunting. Dean had always wanted a sort of suburban, white picket fence life, even if he didn’t admit it to anyone. And since he already admitted how he truly felt to Cas, why not throw his need for a domestic lifestyle into the mix. Cas was all for it. Ever since Jack had given up most of his powers to Amara, thus causing her to take his place as God and him almost human, Cas had been hoping for a place to raise him like a normal child. The bunker was great for hunting and a place for Cas, Dean, and Sam, but not so much for raising a 5-year-old kid.

House hunting had been a burden to bear, but they were making out alright. Up till this, they’d looked at about 3 other houses. They were all a no for different reasons. The first one Cas decided was in a school district that wouldn’t be good for Jack, the second didn’t have a big enough garage or backyard, and the third didn’t have enough bedrooms for all of their family to stay. With the whole credit card scam they’d been running for as long as they remember, budget wasn’t really a problem, but they didn’t want something extravagant.

There it was, 538 Chapel Street in Pine River Crossings. It wasn’t too far out of Lawrence, only a few hours' drive, and all the houses looked nice. Very cookie cutter, but that was sort of the appeal. They couldn’t guarantee that they would fit in with the traditional, upper middle-class people, but what the hell, if they could kill god they could take suburbia.

A few days passed, and they were set up to look at the home. They drove the hour and a half to the next medium-sized town with the belief in their minds that this was the one. It had all they needed, a two-car garage, a respectable school district, and two guest bedrooms. They were so caught up in this concept they made the mistake of not checking the news for the nearby areas. Once they arrived, a realtor who showed them around the dwelling greeted them. It was all they could ask for and more practically too good to be true, especially for people like them. The actual presentation of the house went over without too many problems. The person exhibiting the residence commented on how it had been on display for almost a month now, which was the first red flag. A house as nice as this, in a densely populated area, would usually not be on the market for that long in weeks unless there was some hidden con.

They signed on it not a day after seeing the house in person. It was all set up and they could officially start moving stuff in the next week. They officially shared the good news with everyone the day after they signed. Sam was beyond happy for them. Not only would he finally have a space to himself, he was proud of his brother for living the life he’d always wanted. Jack was thrilled that he would get to go to actual school and have friends that were his age and not cosmic entities. In the meantime, Cas did more research into the neighborhood. There was their hidden con. The newspaper Cas had pulled up on his phone said, “Local Couple Murdered in Own Home.”

“Dean, look at this.”

Okay, that was a setback. A murderer on the loose in the neighborhood they were moving into was not exactly what he had planned, but he had delt with worse. “Alright, that could be a problem.”

“I think it’s a little bigger than a problem,” Cas retorted.

“Is it our type of thing or just something local law enforcement could deal with?”

Cas read on in the article, “the couple was stabbed, there was no sign of forced entry, neighbors reported nothing amiss besides lights flickering before the murder. The weapon, as well as the perpetrator, was never found. No official suspects have been labeled, everyone has seemed to have an alibi.”

“It definitely sounds like our thing. Lights flickering, no breaking and entering, and all.”

They decided they could pose as residents, as it seemed perfectly normal for the newcomers to be concerned about the literal murderer on the loose. Since Cas was newly human, and Jack was, well, 5, Dean thought they might need outside help. Being out of practice to spend more time with your husband and child really had its fallbacks. Sam was off the table as backup. He was out of town and Dean didn't want to interrupt his first weekend without him in god knows how long. Plus, they needed someone who wouldn't draw too much attention to their family dynamic.

“Hey, Cas, what do you think about calling in Claire to help us with this one? You think she’d do it?”

“Calling her in for help is a good idea, whether or not shed actually do it is another question.”

“I’ll call and ask, and if she wants to help, and if not then I can think of something else.”

He kept his promise and called Claire not an hour later. He decided it might be best not to tell her it was undercover work, or that it was taking place in a white picket fence neighborhood, as that might turn her off from it almost immediately.

“Hey Claire, its been too long since we’ve talked,” he started.

“Hi Dean. what do you want, there’s no way you’re just calling to catch up if you’re starting with ‘its been too long.’”

“You got me there. I was just wondering if you wanted to come with me and Cas on a hunt. Its not too far from the bunker and we’d have you back home in a week.”

“Sure, that works. When do we start?” She hadnt seen Dean and Cas since they rescued Cas. That was over a month ago, she’d been meaning to visit, but she’d been so busy with hunting, and getting to know Kaia again now that she was finally back. This seemed like a perfect opportunity to reconnect and not miss out on anything too big back at home.

“If you could come down here by Wednesday, that’d be great.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.” She was tempted to sign off with an ‘I love you’ but she was never a lovey-dovey person in that way.

On tuesday she promised Jody she’d be extra careful and would be back in under a week. Kaia told her to make sure to call every day and update her on what was happening. Claire agreed, promising to keep in touch. She spent the rest of the day driving down to Kansas.

Back on Dean and Cas’s end, they were trying to get the house set up for 4 people when they had no furniture prior to this. Cas had always loved furniture shopping even before he had a use for it. When he worked at the Gas-and-Sip, he would browse the home improvement magazines in his spare time. Dean was pretty much the opposite. He had never had reason to care for it, so he didn't. Maybe his hatred for Swedish furniture was rooted in his deep-seated commitment issues. It didn't matter much why he hated it, he just left most of the choices up to Cas. there was then the issue of appliances and such you couldn't find in a furniture store. That was left up to him. Cas sent him out to Walmart to get things for the kitchen. That was something he could do. He picked out a mixer, some silverware, and a pioneer woman kitchenware set. It came with pots and pans, mixing bowls, and a few normal sized plates. That was enough for him to consider it an absolute steal. He brought his finds home to the bunker, setting them on the table designated for things that were to go in the new house. Jack was sitting on Cas’s lap, pointing at things on the computer.

“What’re you guys finding?” Dean asked, hovering behind Cas’s shoulder.

“Djungelskog!” Jack exclaimed, showing Dean a photo of a large stuffed brown bear.

“I thought you were looking for furniture?” Dean directed the question more at Cas, but he was still looking at Jack.

“We are. Jack just got us a bit sidetracked. We found the majority of what we need. Among other things not of as grave importance.”

Dean looked over the shopping cart and then gave the go ahead. Not before adding the stuffed bear to the cart, though.

The next day Claire arrived. Everyone was thrilled to see her. Jack ran up and threw himself around one of her legs and Cas gave her an awkward dad side hug. Dean wondered when he would tell her what the hunt would actually consist of, but he didn't want to interrupt the moment.

A few hours later, Dean fixed everyone a real dinner and had them sit down at the kitchen table. The realization dawned on him that this was going to be his last sit down meal officially living in the bunker. Everyone sort of just sat in silence for a beat. Perhaps reflecting on their own lasts of officially living there. “Claire, I sorta forgot to add this when I called you, but the case is a lot of undercover work. Also its in a suburban area.”

“And why didn't you tell me this sooner?”

“Well to speak freely, I wanted you on this case and I was worried it would make you not want to come.”

“It almost does, but i'm already here now, and i wouldn't want to waste a days driving on something i'm not actually going to do.” She guessed this would probably take longer than a week. “And i'm guessing this isn't just something you decided to do out of the goodness of your hearts?”

“We bought a house in the area, and we just wanted to make sure it was safe,” Cas explained.

“Hang on, you bought a house for real and you didnt even think to tell me? You didn't think that that was valuable information?”

“It didn't come up in our phone call,” Dean said.

“And? That’s no excuse to leave your daughter out of major life events!” The ‘daughter’ part just sort of came out without her noticing, but seconds after she said it she regretted it. God, how embarrassing.

“You’re right. We should’ve told you sooner. It was kind of a recent decision, though, so you haven’t been out of the loop for too long,” Cas said.

The next day was moving day. Dean loaded the appliances into the back of Claire’s car, since the back of the Impala was already full. Claire took her own car, while Dean, Cas, and Jack rode in Baby. Their real furniture was being delivered as they spoke. Cas offered to ride with Claire, but she assured him she’d be fine by herself. The drive wasn’t even that long, especially compared to the distance she drove yesterday.

Dean was silently nervous. He wouldn’t admit it out loud but it was written all over his face. His first real stable house, with the man he loved, and his two kids, he could only hope that he didn’t mess it up. Cas put a hand on his shoulder showing he saw how Dean was feeling.

They turned onto Chapel Street and pulled up into the driveway of the house. It somehow looked bigger and more daunting than it had during the walkthrough. Claire arrived almost ten minutes later. Everyone just sort of paused in front of the house for a minute, reveling in the stability most of them had never had.

#pspspsps you want to reblog my hard work sooo bad #supernatural #spn #castiel #dean winchester #supernatural fic #samael speaks #sammy sires

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kinglazrus · 3 years

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Not Your Danny – Ch 1. Moving Day

Phic Phight | Next | FFN | AO3

Submitted by @ecto-american: After Danny’s untimely death, his family and friends turn to Dani for comfort. She was so much like him in every single way. And she never felt more like a clone. A replacement for the “real” thing.

Summary: Maddie and Jack learn a lot of things about their son after his death: his powers, his secret life as the local hero, the truth behind his accident three years ago. And his clone who is so much like their boy. When Dani gets the offer to join their home, she thinks it's too good to be true. And she just might be right.

Word count: 2761

Two weeks after Danny dies, Danielle moves into his bedroom. It's a lacklustre affair. Dani has no belongings to bring with her, except the few trinkets stuffed in the pockets of her shorts. She only owns one pair of clothes, two of you want to be technically and count her ghost form. But that's tenuous at best when you consider the circumstances of her creation, and that her clothes were created withher, not given to her. She doesn't like to think about that too much, though.

Neither of Danny's parents are home for the occasion. Dani doesn't blame them. Her face time with Maddie and Jack Fenton over the past three years equals an hour at most—hour and a half if she really pushes it. And most of that time was with an ectogun between them. If she counts the times where she hasn't been staring down a glowing green barrel, then it's probably only five minutes, maybe less. And that only happened a few days ago.

Suffice to say, Dani and the Fentons don't have a good relationship, or a relationship of any kind. So she doesn't blame them for being out of the house when their dead son's clone, who they only recently found out about, takes over his bedroom. Although take over might be too strong of a phrase.

Dani floats next to Jazz, hovering in front of Danny's open bedroom door.

"Is it... okay?" Jazz asks.

Dani drifts inside, turning her head from side to side as she looks around. She likes the blue walls, and the open brick on the outer wall is kind of cool. The bed, covered in a purple bead spread, topped with a fluffy pillow, looks softer than anything she's ever slept on. The room is nice, if a bit messy with Danny's stuff still inside. Posters decorate the wall, some about space, others from some band called Dumpty Humpy. The shelves are stuffed full of books and model spaceships. His dirty clothes lie next to an open hamper in the corner of the room.

The sight surprises Dani more than anything.

"What are you gonna do with his stuff?" she asks. "Do people usually just," she gestures toward the room, "leave it like this?"

"What? No." Jazz shakes her head and quickly wipe her hand across her eyes. "When someone dies, their family or friends eventually pack their stuff away. Not always right away, though."

"Two weeks isn't long enough?"

Jazz's breath hitches. "Don't– don't say that. It's inconsiderate."

Dani's cheeks go hot at Jazz's admonishing tone. "Oh. Sorry." She floats further into the room, if only to escape the awkward air settling between them.

If Dani didn't know any better, she would guess that Danny had just stepped outside for a second and would be back any moment. Lowering herself to the floor, Dani settles on the carpet and walks toward the desk. A controller of some kind sits on the desk chair, its cord tangled with a headset. Dani picks the controller up and turns it over in her hand. She only vaguely recognizes the X logo in the middle of it; her travels over the past couple of years haven't exactly involved a lot of gaming. Or any.

There was a small handheld system she picked up at a garage sale once. She carried it for a few months but lost it somewhere along the way.

Dani tosses the controller onto the chair and turns back to Jazz. "So, now what?"

"Well, if you're not comfortable with Danny's things still being in here, we can get some boxes and start packing. I think we have some in the basement. If you want." Jazz tacks on the last three words with a soft voice.

"No, it's fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, course." It's just stuff, after all. Dani doesn't quite get it, which also means she doesn't care. If the Fentons don't want to move Danny's stuff yet, then it can stay. He was their son before he was Dani's cousin/DNA source.

"Okay. I guess I'll just... let you get settled, then. I have to work on some plans for the memorial, but Mom and Dad should be home in a couple hours. They said they wouldn't be gone long," Jazz says.

Dani nods. A few seconds of silence pass, and once it's obvious that neither of them is going to say anything more, Jazz turns and walks down the hall. Finally alone, Dani lets her ghost form fall away. The transformation rings prickle as their bright light ghosts over her skin, and when it fades, she's left in her typical shorts and hoodie. Dani rubs her arms until the prickling fades, then flops onto the bed.

Damn. It really is the softest thing she's ever lain on. And the blankets are warm. They smell like Danny, too. That's something Dani never thought she would think. She didn't even realize Danny had a smell, but it's hard to ignore now. It's not the most tangible smell. The best word Dani can find to describe it is crisp, like a cold day. She would bet her beanie that it was because of his ice powers, an ability they had never shared.

Dani shakes her head. Everything is weird enough right now. The last thing she needs to be contemplating is how Danny used to smell. It's also, like, a super creepy line of thought, yeah? Yeah.

As she stares up at the ceiling, a blur of movement catches her eye. Her gaze jumps toward it, in the corner of the bedroom closest to the door. A small brown lump clings to the ceiling. A bug, no doubt. Dani can't tell what kind, and she doesn’t care enough to find out. It's not too surprising, considering how messy Danny's room is. There's probably some old pizza hiding under his bed or something.

Dani rolls onto her side and closes her eyes. A little bug doesn't bother her, not after the places she's slept. And if the Fentons won't be home for a while, and Jazz is busy, she might as well take advantage of her new bed and the next few hours to get some shuteye. God knows she needs it.

—

Maddie feels sorry for Vlad's receptionist. She bears a striking resemblance to Maddie herself, with short auburn hair just a touch redder than Maddie's own, a curvy frame, and a sharp, pointed chin. She's even wearing blue, bless her heart. The girl is pretty, and young, and kind. Can't be too far out of high school, and hoping a job at the mayor's office will look good on her resume. Maddie hopes it pays off. The girl deserves it for putting up with Vlad daily. Working for him seems to be taking a toll on her, judging by the distressed look in her eyes when she looks up from Vlad's appointment book.

"I'm sorry, there's no appointment for you. I don't know if I can let you in," she says.

Maddie sighs. "Mr. Masters left me a message"—or several—"asking me to come in."

"I'm really sorry, but he didn't mention expecting you... oh no." The receptionist's eyes widen and she starts digging through papers on her desk. "Did I forget to write it down again? He got so upset last time."

Maddie reaches out and touches her shoulder, stopping the frantic search. "It's all right, dear. It's not your fault."

She suspected, when Vlad left numerous messages on her cellphone rather than calling the house, that something more was up. How Vlad even got her cellphone number she doesn't want to know. She will also be changing it very soon thanks to this incident.

"He's particular about his meetings," the receptionist says. "I really can't let you in."

"Just let him know I'm here, and I'll take care of the rest."

The receptionist nods. While she goes for the phone, Maddie steps away from the desk and turns back to the waiting area. It's empty besides her and the receptionist—not surprising this early on a Monday, and all the better for Maddie. She pulls her cellphone from her purse and checks the time; It's just after eight. Dani is due at Fenton Works soon, but Maddie and Jack won't be back until noon, at least. The reminder makes her wince.

Missing half of Dani's first day at home isn't ideal, but Maddie wants to get this meeting over with as fast as possible. They had other plans in the city, anyway, made before they invited Dani into their home. Better to get everything done at once.

Maddie eyes plush waiting room armchairs, wondering if there's any point in sitting down, when the receptionist calls out, "Mrs. Fenton?"

Maddie opens her mouth to answer, but her phone—still in her hand—buzzes at that moment. Jack's name stretches across the screen. "Excuse me." She steps toward the elevators on the far side of the room and turns her back to the receptionist, the closest semblance of privacy she can get, before answering her phone. "Hey, Jack. Is your meeting done already?"

"Not even close! How goes the shopping?"

"Fine so far. I forgot we didn't ask...." She tenses, feeling the receptionist's stare at her back. "We didn't ask what she might need, so I'm just grabbing the basics. Do you want me to pick something up for you? Are you waiting on the park board?"

"About that... I'm with them now, and—what day did we settle on for the memorial, again?"

Maddie shakes her head, but not out of annoyance. Jack forgetting the day hardly surprises her. He tends to forget the little details. If anything, it makes her feel grounded. The past two weeks have been a lot, to put it lightly. A lot of changes. A lot of revelations. But she can always rely on Jack to be his usual self.

"A month from today," she says.

"Thanks, baby! You're the best! See you later." The phone beeps as Jack hangs up. Maddie sighs while the corner of her lip twitches upwards. It's the closest she's come to smiling since Danny died. She holds like that for a moment, caught between the ache choking her heart and the desire for things to get better. They won't, not for a long time. She won't fool herself into thinking otherwise. But it's nice, for a moment, to pretend things might be okay.

"Leaving Jack alone with the DPR? I feel sorry for them." Vlad's slimy voice ruins the moment after the first syllable.

Maddie tenses, clutching her phone tighter, and turns to face him. "Vlad. It's bad business to ask for a meeting, then make your guest wait."

When Vlad smiles, his whitened teeth cut a bright slash across his cheeks. It's too wide, too sharp. Never reaches his eyes. Maddie remembers, long ago, when Vlad had a soft smile. He used it sparingly, doling it out to only the most deserved. She can't imagine him smiling like that now.

"Well, I don't mean to be presumptive, but when I phone a friend hoping for a visit, I expect them to stop by my house, not my work."

"Your mistake, then."

The receptionist's typing falters. Her have yet to stray from her screen, but Maddie already knows she's listening in. Vlad probably does, too.

"Natalie!" he snaps.

The receptionist jerks upright. "Yes, sir?"

Vlad rests a hand on Maddie's back and pushes her forward. She moves, if only to step out of his reach, and heads toward his office. Vlad reaches into his suit jacket as he walks. He pulls out his wallet and pinches a few random bills, tugging them out without looking. "Take a break. I'm sure you could use a coffee to perk you up."

He leans in front of Maddie to drop the bills on Natalie's desk. The contact makes Maddie grimace, and she hurries ahead into his office. When she turns, Vlad is already closing the door. The last thing Maddie sees of the waiting room is Natalie's frown as she glances at a paper cup sitting in plain view on her desk.

"Now, Maddie." Vlad turns. Rather than heading to his desk, he steps toward Maddie and touches her arm. "How are you doing?"

"You left me seven messages just so you could ask that?" Maddie brushes Vlad's hand off. In three long strides, she cuts across his office and takes one of the visitor's chairs. While the waiting room had plush armchairs, these are made of dark wood, armless, with firm leather cushions and straight backs. A deliberate choice, no doubt.

Vlad comes up beside her, his hand on the second chair. Before he can sit, Maddie swings her purse off her shoulder and drops it on the empty cushion. Vlad pauses, glances between her and the bag, but relents and takes his seat at the desk instead.

His chair sits considerably higher than Maddie's.

"I can imagine the pain you're going through right now," he says.

Maddie's fists clench. "Can you really?"

"Believe it or not, yes, I can." He pauses, giving her a chance to respond. But whatever question he wants her to ask, whatever game he wants to play, Maddie refuses to give in. She might have put up with him once, but after what he's done, he will be lucky if she willingly suffers his presence ever again after today.

She waits for Vlad to elaborate.

"I'm sure you've wondered, all this time, where Danny went whenever he disappeared for hours. Being our city's young hero explains a lot of it, yes, but to be honest, that wasn't everything." Vlad stops to take a deep breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment. It's quite the performance. "To tell you the truth, he was often with me."

Bullshit! Maddie wants to shout, but she bites it back. Her jaw aches from how hard she clenches her teeth.

"I discovered his secret a long time ago and gave him a safe place away from home. You know, when conversation at the dinner table got to be too much." Vlad pauses again, letting his words sink in.

Maddie hates that she knows exactly what he means. All those times she and Jack discussed their inventions, their plans for when they finally captured the ghost boy. Most of what Vlad is saying might be a lie, but the truth within it cuts her deeply. "Really?"

Vlad might think himself a great actor, but he's apparently ignorant to Maddie's own deception. He nods at her questioning tone, eyes low and mouth pressed into a grim line. "I understand this is hard to hear. I did my best to make him feel safe, and we actually became close. Over the years, I came to think of him as something of a son. And his death has affected me deeply."

He stands, trailing his hand along his desk as he walks around toward Maddie. His shoulders droop, as if Danny's absence weighs on him. It really is a good performance. Peering closer, Maddie sees that he even looks pallid, and purple bags rest under his eyes. A look easily accomplished with some pale foundation and smudged eyeshadow.

"It's like a piece of me is missing without him. I'm sure you feel the same. We need each other, Maddie. To make us whole again."

Vlad reaches toward her, but she ducks away from him, slipping out of her chair. His hand falls through the empty air and he stumbles, nearly falling into the chair.

Now he's being ridiculous, Maddie thinks. She could have fallen for the makeup and the sob story if she didn't know better, but the off balance act? The distressed look in his eye when she pulls away? She's insulted that he thinks she would fall for it.

"You're right Vlad. I'm in pain. Danny is gone and it feels like he took a piece of me with him when he died. But I have my family to help me through it." She grabs her purse off the other chair and heads for the door. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be."

"Madeline, please—"

"Vladimir!" Her shout tears at her throat. She turns on him, blinking to fight back the burn in her eyes. He stands frozen where she left him, crumpled pathetically against her empty chair, one hand still outstretched. Maddie swallows the lump in her throat. "Enough."

She leaves without another word.

#phic phight #phic phight 2021 #notyourdanny #nyd chapter one #phanfic #phicc #dp fanfiction #danny phantom #dani phantom #danielle phantom #hurt/comfort #family #danny phantom fanfiction #trans danny #trans danny fenton

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lovehugsandcandy · 3 years

Text

the stories we tell (and the stories we live) (Coltx MC, RoD)

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: ~2400 words

Rating/Warnings: N*FW (Not explicit but it’s there. And swearing.)

Summary: Colt’s story isn’t his own until it is.

When Colt thinks of stories, he thinks of the stories of his youth, hazy memories of sitting on his father’s lap and listening to tales of Kanekos past. He thinks of scenes from movies, car chases and explosions before the guaranteed victory, ending scenes and credits rolling with the hero beating the odds and riding off victorious into the sunset.

And then he gets older.

And learns that stories are myths, hiding lies and false promises, wrapped in the guise of happy endings that will never happen.

Not to him.

And when he thinks of stories, he tries not to think of his own.

And when he does, when he thinks of the story of Colt and crew and the Kaneko name, he can’t of the beginning.

It hurts too much to remember a time when he was a welcome fixture at the shop, when Pop greeted him with a smile, sometimes even a pat to his head. This was before, before those hands became angry and harsh, before the smiles turned to glares, before the words turned hateful and vicious, echoing the nightmares that creep into his sleep, shocking him awake in a cold sweat.

There are other stories,

He steals his first car when he’s 11. It’s the first time he’s ever driven as well, the tips of his toes only able to graze the pedals when he leans against the steering wheel. It’s a massive effort to peer over the dash, to not press his scrawny chest on the horn, but he manages, denting only the bumper against an unlucky mailbox. But when he pulls into the garage, his father is more shocked than awed and his mother furious.

So he first leaves California when he’s 12, hustled onto his first airplane, deposited in an unfamiliar city with scabs lining his knuckles and a bruise blooming on his jawline, the first transition of many marking the flow between scenery and characters.

He’s first suspended when he’s 13. Everyone at this new school is despicable, but he’ll be damned if some upperclassman is going to throw slurs at him amidst a crowded hallway. He’s sent home, his opponent sent for stitches, and his mother spends five of her limited vacation days making his confinement as miserable as possible.

He first has sex in the dingy bathroom of a dive bar that obviously doesn’t care about liquor laws.

It’s a story he never tells.

Stories are prideful things, lies portraying overcome odds and vanquished enemies until a triumphant, crescendoed victory. Curtains close on dreams attained.

His story has never gone like that and this memory is no different.

He’s 14, sipping something amber and toxic from a rocks glass because it makes him look cool, sitting alone as his knees knock against the stool because he hates everyone. His feet don’t even touch the ground yet, but it doesn’t seem to matter to the bartender, who keeps sliding booze across the slick bar top as long as the cash keeps coming from Colt’s pocket.

And apparently it doesn’t matter to the girl across the bar, all blond hair and glossy lips, pendant necklace dangling heavy above a low-cut shirt. She bats a heavy mascara gaze over her wineglass and it takes an embarrassingly long time before he recognizes the fire behind gaze.

His heart is racing when she perches on the stool next to him, and it’s with fumbling hands and drunken kisses that they weave a messy path to the bathroom.

Once they’re done, she buttons her jeans and smirks at him, waltzing out of the bathroom without a second glance.

It feels like a fitting end to his childhood, thrown from LA to end up staggering into the Bronx streets; his jeans are still unzipped but no one’s around to care as he turns the key in the empty apartment and sinks into freshly washed sheets.

If the saga of his childhood has ended (beginning as a worthy heir before being cast aside, thousands of miles away, lost boy and discarded son), then the story of his adulthood is beginning. Stories have beginnings and middles and ends, protagonists and supporting characters, events when second matter, where every step taken leads towards a goal, an achievement of some sort.

He hasn’t achieved anything.

Not yet.

His mom gets off work at 3am, footsteps light as she makes her way to the adjoining bedroom. Once the light snores start, he creeps out of bed to spew stomach acid into the toilet, lights off, stifling the shameful hacking and choking.

He slips back into bed, mouthwash still tingling on his tongue, but sleep doesn’t come that night.

It doesn’t feel like a fortuitous beginning.

~~~~~

And then it doesn’t get better.

The fights continue.

He comes home weekly with bruised knuckles and wounded pride, counting the days until he can free himself from the cast of characters around him.

Every teacher treats him like an adversary, every stupid social clique shuns him, and it’s fucking bullshit but he doesn’t need anyone, none of these assholes at this fucking school. It’s him against the world, at least until he can get back to LA, back to the home and the legacy that belongs to him.

His mother wants everything from him. They’re alone, the two of them, and he falls into the role of trusted confidant and then wayward son and finally complete stranger; none of the roles he tries satisfy anyone in this fracturing family of two.

The girls want one thing from him and it’s so simple, so easy, and the best part is that he doesn’t have to think, just for a moment.

His dad wants nothing from him, and his teeth dig into his bottom lip so his sobs don’t echo through the thin apartment walls.

~~~~~

Stories come in chapters and his next one takes him to LA. It’s inevitable that he ends up here, speeding aimlessly through the crowded streets, ending up on the outskirts of a crowd that should part for him like the seas.

The first time he sees her, she looks like a baby hawk. Not that he’s ever seen a baby hawk, mind you, but her eyes peer sharply around the lot even though her steps are stuttering and small.

He would never have guessed that she would be more than a supporting character in his fateful return, but soon, she becomes everything. His mind is consumed with their future, ruling LA as a team, owning the next stage of the Kaneko legacy. Her insightful mind and sharp wit are both challenging and refreshing; it feels like he’s met his match.

His story is finally beginning.

But the pyre in front of him is actually the conclusion. Flames lick at his eyebrows as he drives by, staring into the wreckage for something, anything; her arms around his waist are the only thing keeping him upright.

And if his father’s explosion is the end, then the blaze at the garage is the epilogue, the wreckage a fitting end to the Kaneko legacy.

~~~~~

It takes years, four to be exact, before he’s comfortable taking a brief vacation. Building up the fledgling crew has been challenging and painstaking, but, brick by brittle brick, he has finally created a crew worthy of the Kaneko name.

So he heads to New York.

Colt cares about two people in the world and the irony of them being in the same city at the same time feels a little like choreographed coincidence and a little like fate.

He starts with his mother. She’s moved to Manhattan, and he needs to Google the route, feet almost taking him into the gritty streets he knows intimately well. He recalibrates off the train, unfamiliar buildings flying by as he crosses the East River and straight into her new setting and her new life. They walk through the tree-lined streets; she lives in Soho now and every step is strange. She leads him through farmers’ markets and points out breakfast joints, each one a reminder of how far away he is. As they amble, she speaks of her job before turning the conversation to Pop; his every reply is halting, pain and truth veiled through clipped words and terse responses, his hands buried in his pockets and shoulders hunched to his ears.

For two people who share a bloodline and a language, they’re incomprehensible to each other. Colt realizes, with sickening clarity, how much better his mom’s life is now, now that he’s gone and vanished across the country.

She holds him close outside her new apartment building (this one doesn’t have bars on the first-floor windows) and her eyes well with a sadness she can’t name (or won’t, Colt thinks bitterly, shifting on his heels in her embrace). Her hands linger on his shoulders, and she presses a lipstick kiss into his cheek; he furiously wipes it off as he strides to the subway.

His palms flash pomegranate pink as he swipes his pass.

Langston is eighteen stops uptown. It takes thirty minutes on the A train, and he’s wasting away every second, an eternity spent watching subway tiles and grim faces blur past.

He blends in with the crowd, rowdy college kids streaming into her dorm, and he sneaks up the stairs and raps lightly on the door. They barely talk but he’s immediately understood, her hands gentle under his jaw, up his shoulder blades, then insistent up his sides, gripping his forearms, tugging his hair.

She curls against him, the slide of her skin both foreign and reminiscent, and shakes her head. “I can’t believe you just showed up here. You’re lucky seniors get singles.”

“I can’t believe you let me in.”

“You thought I wouldn’t?”

“I guess I was cautiously optimistic.” He craned his neck to drop a kiss on the top of her head. “Guess I was right.”

She grabs his hand, tracing up and down each finger as if she were relearning every knuckle, every tiny scar. When her inspection is complete, she stills. “I waited for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“For years I thought…” She trails off, and he wonders if they thought the same, that the other would reach out, bridge the miles and the trauma; he’s lost in the past until she curls over him and then there’s no time for thinking anymore.

They emerge the next morning, blinking away the sun, and she pulls him through her haunts, dragging him to the coffee shop where they know her order, her favorite path through the park.

She drags him with glee through the tourist traps and side haunts; they have beers at tiny dive bars, eat pretzels from rickety carts, and walk city blocks until his feet and cheeks hurt, hand in hand.

She glows here, radiantly beautiful, and he realizes that maybe she as well has been bolstered by his absence.

Even though it’s not Colt’s borough of choice, it’s hard not to feel comfortable as she pulls him down the packed streets, weaving through crowds with the same agility with which she wove through highway car chases.

She’s at home here as she is behind the wheel, and something in his chest tightens.

She belongs here, vibrant as the surrounding city, crafting her own story.

~~~~~

He needs to get back.

Empires don’t build themselves.

He doesn’t tell her but, apparently, he doesn’t have to. It’s achingly slow as he slides into her, savoring every moment to remember when he’s back home, alone. She rolls her hips against his and it’s almost painful, blinding light flashing patterns behind his eyelids as she takes her pleasure from him, quivering above him until he can’t stand it, flipping her over in one fierce motion to bury himself, again and again, world dissolving with her squeal of pleasure in his ears and his teeth in her shoulder.

“I can’t ask you to come with me.”

She starts, head jerking off his shoulder, and he can’t bring himself to look into her eyes. Instead, he focuses on the assignments scrawled on her whiteboard, each one a reminder of a goal to attain, and the graduation cap askew on her desk, a reminder of the path she had chosen, her story told in the golden tassels dangling to the floor.

“You don’t need to ask.”

This time, it’s him jerking up, head spinning to face her. “What do you…?”

“I was coming anyway.” She settles back against him, and he counts the puffs of breath against his skin as reassurance that this is real. “I told you… I waited for you. I had a go bag packed for two years,” he feels her lips tug into a rueful smile against him as she continues, “a backpack stuffed in my closet with clothes and stuff, just in case you asked, just in case you called.”

“I called. Once.”

“Wha… when?”

“February of your sophomore year.” His hand slides up her back to tangle in her hair. “From a payphone in Torrance. It rang once, and I hung up. I couldn’t… I thought better of it. I couldn’t mess it up for you.”

“You don’t mess anything up for me. You help me be great. We’re gonna be great together.”

He springs two thousand bucks for an additional plane ticket and upgrades to first class. She points out the NY landmarks as they climb into the air and then curls against him as she dozes. They land at LAX, falling into bed in the loft at the shop, and, the next day, she climbs aboard the back of his bike, arms warm around him as they pull over to the cliff.

This isn’t a story.

Stories have heroes and villains and everything is tied up nearly at the end, when the evil is vanquished and the hero gets the girl and the sun rises on a brand new day when everyone lives happily ever after.

This isn’t a story.

It’s real life and real life has real people, all their virtues and flaws, hopes and dreams, and there are no storybook saviors riding in to save the day --- at least not in Colt’s life.

There’s only him and this girl and the sun setting brilliantly beneath the ocean below, lighting the cresting waves in purples and blues, and this isn’t the end, not at all.

Tags:

Perma

@leelee10898, @client-327, @brightpinkpeppercorn, @choicesarehard, @burnsoslow, @zaffrenotes, @kat-tia801, @desiree-pow-35-1986, @ritachacha

ROD

@omgjasminesimone, @mskaneko, @alyssalauren

Colt x MC

@flowerpowell, @shondideaira-blog @isometimesplaychoices @romewritingshop

#colt kaneko #playchoices fanfiction #colt x mc #rodaw #amy writes #n*fw

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raysofcrosby · 4 years

Text

CHANCES – M. TKACHUK

requested: yes | no

warning(s): none that i can think of.

word count: 5,066

listened to: chances by the backstreet boys

inspiration: mixed luggage au [ i can’t find the og au-prompt masterlist, but if this is your au idea, lemme know and i’ll link you for credit (: ]

authors note: listen– i don’t know what it is, but i’ve literally been on a tkachuk thing lately. like, i used to despise this little curly-headed gremlin, but now??? it’s all hearteyes motherfucker. this is purely a writing to help me get back into the writing groove again after these last six months of nothing– so i might be a lil rusty. anyway, i hope you enjoy <3333

I’m sorry Y/N, but if you’re not here in the next 5 minutes I need to keep going.

That text haunted you– it was all you could think about the moment you got off of your flight. The uber your sister had ordered for you was close to canceling– all because there were too many planes taxiing on the airstrip and your stupid flight ended up circling in the air for thirty minutes. If this were any other airport, no doubt you’d be screwed. Luckily though, you knew good ole St. Louis Lambert International like the back of your hand. So getting from point A to point luggage claim would be no problem at all. The only delay would be the luggage getting put out onto the carousel.

Which of course, did prove to be the problem at hand.

You were the first one from your flight at the carousel and hoped to be gone before any disgruntled passengers you managed to bump into, could show up. Unfortunately for you, just as the bags were being loaded onto the carousel, your fellow passengers were arriving too– more than a few giving you a look that would normally result in you rolling your eyes in response. Yet, your focus wasn’t on them, it was glued to the small carousel door, keeping an eye out for your suitcase.

Teal bag with a grey handle. Teal bag with a grey handle. Teal bag with a grey handle. Teal bag with a grey hand–

“Ah-ha!” You smiled, catching eye of your suitcase and rushing to meet it instead of letting it eventually make its way to you. You grabbed the suitcase and extended the handle to drag it away, already walking towards the exit.

One minute.

You had one minute to catch your uber before they left you and you hoped and prayed that luck was on your side and the black Toyota Corolla just happened to be parked near the door you chose to exit from. The warm summer air of the Missouri summer weather practically smacked you in the face and it fit wasn’t for the awning covering the pick-up zone, you would have no doubt been blinded by the sun too.

“Oh, thank God,” you sighed, catching sight of a black Toyota Corolla that your sister said to find, parked just six cars down to your left. You sped walked to the uber, coming to a stop at the window and waving at the driver, catching her attention. “I’m so, so sorry I’m late.”

The woman, probably in her early 60’s gave you a friendly smile instead of the scowl you were expecting. “Are you Y/N?”

“Yes ma’am,” you replied, nodding.

“Go ahead and put your suitcase in the trunk, it’s opened for you.”

You walked to the trunk and lifted it open, placing your suitcase inside before closing it and walking to the back passenger door, getting into the backseat. “Again, I’m so sorry for making you wait. We had to circle in the air for 30 minutes because of the traffic on the airstrip and,” you exhaled, relaxing back into your seat. “I’m so sorry.”

She laughed, pulling away from the airport. “It’s no problem sweetheart. I saw your reply. I was going to give you a little extra time. I know how hectic airports could be. Especially this time of the year. Everyone’s traveling for vacation.”

“Yeah, I think I might have accidentally elbowed one too many people trying to get to luggage claim.”

“Are you visiting or coming home?”

“Coming home…kind of,” you laughed, staring out the window at your hometown. “I actually just graduated from college a few weeks ago, so my roommates and I rented a house on the Jersey Shore to celebrate. But, my sister is getting married tomorrow, so that’s why I’m back.” You looked back towards her, laughing softly to yourself. “But then come September, I’ll actually be moving to Calgary for a new job and to get my Masters.”

“So a lot of traveling, I see.”

You took a deep breath and sighed, nodding. “Yeah, but I’m glad to be able to spend all of this time with my friends and family before I start working. Especially since I’ll be moving so far away.”

“It sounds like a great time,” she smiled, looking at me through the rearview mirror. “I’m a sucker for weddings, why don’t you tell me about it?”

Normally, you weren’t one to talk a lot whenever you and your friends would take Ubers downtown on the weekends– but this driver was sweet and you found yourself talking nonstop as she drove you towards your final destination. After all, she didn’t abandon you at the airport like you thought she would.

The car ride to your parents' place went by a lot faster than you thought it would and it was all thanks to Mrs. Sheila, your lovely uber driver. Whom, you learned, started driving after she lost her husband late last year. Her kids lived out of state and once they went back home after those first few weeks, she wanted to find something to do to keep herself busy and get herself out of the house– so, she became an uber driver.

Walking into your parents' house, you were greeted with empty echos of your footsteps. Your parents were still at work and wouldn’t be home until just a little before the rehearsal dinner tonight. Your brother, well, as far as you knew, he had absolutely nothing going on, so you didn’t know why he wasn’t around. If anyone was guaranteed to be home, it was your sister. She was the one who ordered your uber and had them take you here, so she was more than well aware of what time you’d be arriving home.

“Hello?” You called out, leaving your suitcase by the door and making your way to the living room. “Char, are you here?”

“Is that my favorite sister?” You heard her voice call out from upstairs. Looking up, you could see her rounding the hallway corner, carrying a closed laundry basket full of, no doubt, stuff for tonight’s bridal party sleepover.

“I’m your only sister,” you laughed as she made her way down the staircase.

“Unless you count all of the times we got bored and turned Nick into Nikki,” she giggled, reaching the end of the staircase and putting the basket down before stepping forward and hugging you. “How was the flight?”

“It was great up until our 30 minutes of circling in the air,” you laughed, pulling away from the hug. “Where’s my dear brother?”

“Working out with some friends. We probably won’t see him until tonight.”

“Nothing says welcome home like being greeted to an empty house.”

“Excuse you, I was here to greet you.” She laughed, picking the basket back up. “But if you really want to be upset, you should see all of the packed boxes in your room.”

“I leave in three months! Why are they packing me up now?” You gasped, acting dramatically.

“Nick and dad are planning on transforming it into some kind of training room or something.”

“But they–“

“Already took over the garage? Yeah, I know and mom is pissed.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the handle of your suitcase again. “He literally told the Blues that he was going back to Michigan in the fall to try and win a championship. Why the hell are they even treating him like he’s already a hall of famer?”

“Perks of being the youngest, not to mention dad’s only son,” she laughed, looking at the door. “Ready to head to the Airbnb?”

“Can we get food first?” You asked, dragging your suitcase along. “I’m starving.”

She laughed as you held the door open for her. “Good, because we’re most definitely getting food before we go and take a nap.”

You laughed, walking out of the house with her and then closing and locking the door behind you. “I knew we were related.”

Lunch and a nap turned out to be exactly what you needed. The two of you had stopped at a subway to get some food before driving over to the Airbnb that you, your sister and the rest of the bridesmaids would be staying for the night.

It was a beautiful three-bedroom, modernized cottage that looked like it was stripped directly from the pages of a fairytale book. It was tucked away, just off to the side in the backyard of a beautiful colonial house, whose farm would tomorrow be transformed into a whimsical fairytale wedding location. The men would be getting ready in the house, while the women would be getting ready in the cute cottage. Sort of like a secret getaway paradise before the wedding.

When you got back with your food, your sister took you on a tour of the property while the wedding planners and staff were setting up all of the bigger decorations for tomorrow. You were off at school during the entire planning process, only ever seeing every one of her ideas in pictures. The only things you were able to take part in, were the dress shopping and her bachelorette party since they were both held at a time you were on a fall break from school. Besides being there for those two things, the only other thing you helped with– was the proposal.

Colton has been in your life for as long as you could remember. He and Charlotte have been best friends since Pre-K. It was the cliché friends to lovers kind of story that was told time after time– but in theirs, there were no other people in it. It was just them. There were no other boyfriends or girlfriends, no other crushes– from the very beginning, they were it for each other. They were each other's first everything– kiss, date, girlfriend/boyfriend, time– in their love story, they had found their one great love…all before they turned five.

Wherever Charlotte was, there was Colton– they were stuck like glue and your parents loved it. It was their friendship that brought both of your families together to the relationship that you all had now. Your families were best friends, all because of their relationship. You often took vacations together, spent holidays together, hell, you and Colton’s middle brother, Mason, even had joint birthday parties– as did your two younger siblings, Nick and Addie. Your families even try to go as far as to dropping hints that all three kids should date.

Colton and Charlotte. You and Mason. Nick and Addie– all the same age and practically family already.

It was perfect.

Until you and Mason tried to date in the tenth-grade and realized that kissing the person you’ve shared every birthday party with, used to take baths with and shared every key moment growing up– wasn’t all that great. In fact, it was weird. So the two of you remained as the almost black sheep of the families, especially since Nick and Addie were headed down the same path as Charlotte and Colton. They started dating in eighth-grade– like Colton and Charlotte– and have maintained a healthy and strong relationship to now, even long-distance, when they’ll both be sophomores in college in the fall, Addie at the University of Missouri and Nick playing hockey at the University of Michigan.

You and Mason were there, always making jokes about how it runs in the family but skipped a generation. Never letting your siblings live it down that the two of you will be the ones to break the cycle. Funny how you two were also the ones who played the biggest roles in Charlotte’s engagement.

Both of your dads are huge St. Louis Blues fans. So naturally, they tried to rub that off onto their children. And it worked, all except for you. You tolerated the blues, but never really adopted hockey as your favorite sport. You understood it, watched it whenever you never had a choice– but like your mom, you gravitated more towards football and adopted her hometown team as your own– the Pittsburgh Steelers.

Colton and Charlotte, however, were both diehard Blues fans from day one. There were even pictures to prove it. They even went to a game on both their first ‘supervised’ date and ‘unsupervised’ date. So, when the Blues were making a run for the Stanley Cup– it was imminent for your families to attend at least one game. You and Mason did everything in your power to get the Blues attention. You emailed anyone and everyone who worked in their front office, you spammed their social media accounts– anything and everything to get their attention so you could share their story and Colton’s plan.

And at game four it all came to life. Charlotte was ‘randomly’ selected to participate in an intermission event after the first period where she’d be blindfolded and needed to walk along the ice to find Louie after collecting ‘Blues momentos’ along the way. The Blues had played the short slideshow of Colton and Charlotte that you and Mason had sent them, as they introduced her to the crowd. Unbeknownst to her, both of our families were on the ice with her, standing behind her while she was blindfolded. You and the other three siblings were scattered in front of her, each holding a single rose.

The Blues staff member helped her walk along the ice and the moment that she took a flower from someone, they needed to go back to where she started, which was where Colton was standing with the ring in his pocket. The four of you each had a sign, that when held up together read ‘Will you marry me?’ Once Charlotte neared Louie, he cut the distance to just by center ice where all of you were waiting. And when she found Louie, the entire crowd had erupted into cheers as she took off her blindfold, all smiles until she turned around to see the signs and Colton on one knee.

She said yes. The Blues won. The proposal went viral and your families were given a box to game seven where the Blues won the Stanley Cup.

All in a day's work between the two middle siblings, and one that led you all to this moment– the wedding tomorrow. Where Colton, who was already like a big brother yo you, would officially, pretty much become your big brother.

“Y/N,” your sister said, shaking your arm. “Y/N, get up. We’ve got like 45 minutes to get ready for dinner before we have to leave and no offense, but you need to shower.”

“Your lucky that you’re getting married tomorrow or I’d kill you,” you mumbled into the pillow, taking a deep breath and exhaling before pushing yourself up. “Can you charge my phone for me? I won’t take too long, just need to rinse off and I’ll be back.”

“In your backpack?” She asked as you walked out of the room.

“Mhhm, small front pocket. The charger is with it.”

You walked out of the room and into the connected bathroom, closing the door behind you before walking towards the shower and turning on the water. Your nap was more than enough to help you make it through dinner. You hadn’t thought that you were even that tired, but the moment you laid down to relax after eating your sandwich– you were absolutely knocked out.

To be fair though, you had spent the last two weeks partying it up on the beach with your college roommates, trying to relive every moment from your last four years of partying, downing booze, and making out with any attractive guy who caught your eye. You know what they say, no rest for the wicked– and boy, oh boy, were the wicked actions of shotgunning beers with strangers in the hot summer jersey sun, coming back to haunt you.

At least you got one hell of a tan and more memories to last you a lifetime, out of it all.

You turned off the shower before you stepped out and wrapped a towel around your body, then wrapping your hair up in a second towel. You walked out of the bathroom and back to the bedroom, only to find it empty. "Hey, Char?"

"In the living room...er, kitchen, I guess!"

You walked out of the bedroom and into the living room to see Charlotte sitting at the kitchen counter, a make-up mirror propped up in front of her and hot curling iron in her hand. "Why are you doing your hair in the kitchen?"

"You were in the bathroom and the lighting is lacking in the bedroom." She let a curl, fall from the iron and turned to you. "What's up?"

"Well, for one, the bathroom is free," you laughed, looking around. "And two, I was wondering where you put my suitcase? It was in the room and now it's not."

"No," she dragged out her reply, focusing on wrapping another piece of hair around the iron before averting her eyes towards the door. "You left it by the front door. Never brought it in."

You turned towards the front door and sure enough, right there not even three feet away from the door...was your suitcase. "Awesome, thanks!" You said, walking over and tugging on the handle, extending it out before walking back to the room. "And my phone?"

"Charging in the kitchen. It was dead by the way."

"Great," you huffed, walking into the bedroom and over to the bed. You lifted up the suitcase, letting it plop down onto the bed and exhaled a deep breath. It was a lot heavier than you thought it was. But maybe your body was just tired from traveling and last night's final night out.

You caught a glimpse of the alarm clock that was set up on the bedside table and saw that your getting ready time was vastly starting to dwindle. So, not thinking anything more of the heavy suitcase, you unzipped the zipper and threw the cover back, ready to grab the romper you had placed directly on top, just so it wouldn't get wrinkled. You stared down at the contents of the suitcase, quickly grabbing the cover and shutting it again.

Okay, maybe you were imagining things.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling, and then opening your eyes and opening the suitcase again.

No, you definitely weren't imagining things.

The same spike ball netting was still staring you right in the face. Surrounding it, were three spike balls and a crumbled up bag that was supposed to house the set. Beneath it, a bunch of crumpled up clothes and other things.

"No," you shut the suitcase again, repeating the same steps: close your eyes, take a breath, hope you're dreaming, open your eyes and then the suitcase, only to be disappointed. "No, no– oh my God, this can't be happening. Charlotte!!"

You heard her footsteps echo off of the wooden floor as she made her way to the bedroom, half of her hair curled and set. "What?"

"This isn't my suitcase."

"Of course it is," she scoffed. "Colton and I got you that big traveling set for graduation, and that," she pointed at the suitcase, "is it."

"No, it's not," You opened the suitcase and reached in, grabbing the first thing you felt and holding it up to show her. "See? Not mine!"

"Y/N," her eyes widened before she started to laugh. "You might want to put those down."

"It's just the spike ball bag, it's not big–" you turned to see what you were holding and sure enough, it was not the spike ball bag you thought you had picked up. It was a pair of Ant-Man boxers, and it was unknown whether or not they were clean or not. "Ah, ew!" You tossed them back into the suitcase, wiping your hand on your towel. "Ew, ew, ew, I just touched a stranger's dirty underwear."

"You don't know if they were dirty."

"You don't know if they were clean!" You argued back, looking around the handle for an identification tag. "This definitely isn't mine. My travel tag isn't on the handle."

"Who uses a travel tag?" She laughed, shaking her head.

"Me," you turned towards the suitcase, slamming it shut and zipping it. "I use a travel tag, so if my luggage gets lost or switched, they can contact me. It's common travel knowledge."

She sighed, walking over towards the suitcase and unzipping the two pockets on top, looking in and shaking her head. "Nothing hidden in those pockets. Did you think to go through the rest of the suitcase? Maybe they have a tag in there."

"And risk touching another pair of possibly dirty boxers and God knows what else? No thanks," you zipped up the suitcase and picked it up, placing it back onto the ground. "I'm doomed. That suitcase had all of the clothes that I took to Jersey, in it. It had my outfit and makeup for tonight."

"I have something you can borrow," she walked over to the closet, opening it to reveal it was empty besides two dresses hanging up. "And I've got make-up and whatever your little heart desires for your hair."

"Your wedding present was in there too," you sighed, walking over to the closet. "Which one?"

"This." She held out the rose-colored dress, handing the hanger to you. "You can get away with no bra and I can give you a pair of underwear from the new pack I bought this morning–"

"Why would you buy new underwear?" You asked, taking the dress.

"In case of emergencies," she closed the closet and turned back to you, nodding. "Which, this is. Unopened pack in that laundry basket I was carrying, feel free to take a pair and keep them. As for shoes...you're kind of on your own on that one."

You sighed, defeated as she walked out of the bedroom, leaving you to get dressed. You unwrapped the towel around your hair, letting it drop onto the floor as the towel wrapped around your body went with it. You took the dress off of the hanger and untied the straps, lifting the dress over your head and tugging it down. Your mind was going over every detail of just how you picked up the wrong suitcase. Fair, it was a dead-ringer for the suitcase you took with you to Jersey, but even you should have known to realize that there was no bright red luggage tag hanging on the side handle. And it was all you could do but hope that whoever picked up your suitcase thinking it was theirs, would at least call or text.

"Oh shit," you said, holding onto the straps that hung down on the side, trying to tie them in the back. "Charlotte! My phone!"

You ran out into the living room to see her now finishing up her make-up at the counter, turning to you with wide eyes. "Okay one, sit down and let me brush your hair," she stood up and grabbed your wrist, bringing you over to counter and sitting you down. "And two, your phone is right there."

"If they figured out our luggage was switched, they'd call! My luggage tag!" You reached across the counter, grabbing your phone and turning it over to see that the screen was still black. "Oh come on, my phone wasn't that dead!"

Charlotte tugged you back and started to brush your hair, not bothering to go slow. "I plugged it in the moment you went to take a shower, just give it a few seconds."

If looks could kill, your phone would be nowhere ready to turn on. You were glaring at the screen as if pure intimidation would turn it on. This could go one of two ways:

1) This person left your suitcase in the dark abyss that is lost luggage at the airport.

2) Like you, they didn't realize that they had grabbed the wrong luggage until they went to open it and they'll find your luggage tag and call you.

"Ah!" You yelled, jumping out of the chair as your phone lit up. You leaned over the counter, your heart racing as Charlotte tried to keep brushing your hair. "Come on, come on, come on..."

"Right there," Charlotte said, pointing at your screen as a text message notification popped up on the screen from an unknown number. "That has to be them!"

"Oh thank God," you sighed, thumb ready to swipe the message open. "Oh...yikes."

"Uh," Charlotte laughed as the two of you continued to watch your messages pour in, at least 5 coming in from the unknown number, along with three phone calls. "Yikes indeed, I guess they're panicking just as much as you are."

You swiped on the notifications, unlocking your phone, and going to the message.

unknown: hi y/n i think you grabbed the wrong suitcase...

unknown: yeah, uh, you most definitely grabbed the wrong suitcase.

unknown: is there any way we can switch in the next 30 minutes before i reach my house?

unknown: ok, so i'm sorry for the spam texts and calls...but this is kind of urgent.

unknown: like life or death.

"Life or death?" Charlotte asked, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "What the hell was in that suitcase?"

"Spike ball and dirty clothes," you replied, shrugging. Your eyes went wide before you turned back to her. "What if they're a drug smuggler and there are drugs in there?"

She opened her mouth to speak before looking down at your phone, nodding. "Now's your chance to find out. Look who's calling."

You looked back down at your phone to see the unknown number flash on your screen. You looked back at her, shaking your head. "You answer it."

"Your luggage, you answer it," she laughed, pulling back segments of your hair to tie back. "But put it on speaker, I'm curious what the drug dealer sounds like."

You shoved your elbow back, avoiding her as you nervously slid your thumb across the screen, answering the call and pressing the speaker button. "Hello?"

"Oh thank God," the unknown called sighed, clearing his throat. "Sorry for the spam calls, I've just been panicking."

"Yeah, I’m sorry...my phone died," you replied, looking at Charlotte as your voice dwindled off.

"The suitcase," she mouthed, nodding her head back towards the room.

"Oh, the suitcase!" You said, almost a little too excited. You cleared your throat, calming yourself down. "I most definitely have your suitcase...maybe."

"Well I have yours," you could hear rustling in the background. "Y/N L/N, right?"

"Yep, that's me," you looked at Charlotte again, shaking your head. "Sorry to kind of do this...but how do I know I have your suitcase? I mean, what if I grabbed someone else's and you grabbed mine and there's three of us in this and–"

Charlotte smacked your back lightly with the back of the brushed, shaking her head as the voice on the other side of the phone laughed. "Um, shit," he coughed, smacking his lips. "Uh well, there should be a spike ball set in there. If not, then I left it at Johnny's. Otherwise, it's just clothes."

"Congratulations," you laughed, leaning back into the chair. "I've got your suitcase."

"Oh thank God, I was really worried there for a second," they replied. "Is there any chance we can exchange them soon?"

"Okay, so about that," you sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. "I kind of have a wedding rehearsal and dinner to go to in 20 minutes...and I don't think that will be over with till about...two hours from now. Is that okay?"

There was silence on the other side and you couldn't help but feel horrible at the fact that you were keeping this stranger away from his luggage and that he had to keep yours until then. "My family and I are going to dinner in two hours, reservation and all."

"Where at?" You spoke before your brain could even catch up with what your mouth was doing. "I'm sorry that was creepy."

He laughed and you felt a little flutter feeling in your stomach. "No, it's fine. I think we're going to Maggiano's in–"

"In the Westfield town center?" Your eyes widened as Charlotte placed the brush down on the counter behind you, looking at you with a smile. "We're going to Pieology in the Westfield town center!"

"Pieology for a wedding rehearsal dinner? Sounds like my kind of party," he laughed. "So, do you just want to exchange then? When I get there and you're leaving?"

"Sounds perfect!"

"Great! So I'll just, text you when I get there and I promise I won't forget the suitcase."

"Okay, I'll see you then."

"All right, bye, Y/N!"

"Bye!" You hung up the call and Charlotte leaned against the counter a smile on her face. "What?"

"He sounded cute." She stuck placed the extra bobby pins she didn't need, onto the counter. "Maybe he can be your date for my wedding."

"Not this again," you groaned, getting out of the chair. "For the last time, I don't need a date. Besides, this guy is a total stranger– I don't even know his name!"

"You can learn it later," she laughed, wiggling her eyebrows. "Either way, do your makeup quickly because we need to leave in ten."

She walked off towards the bedroom the two of you had claimed and you sighed, sitting back down into your seat, grabbing her mascara, blush, and golden liquid shimmer eyeshadow. It was the best you could do for now, until you got all of your stuff back from this stranger. As you applied the eyeshadow, you couldn't get Charlotte's comment out of your head. She was right, he did sound cute. But who's to say that he's not a total creep? Or that he's even your age? He could be in his 40's or even barely cruising 18. And then stood the real issue, you didn't even know his name.

Your phone screen lit up once again and you looked away from the mirror, seeing that you had another text from the unknown number. You furrowed your eyebrows and unlocked your phone, opening his text.

unknown: my name is matt, by the way 😊

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk oneshot #nhl imagine #nhl one shot #hockey imagine #hockey oneshot #hockey writing #nhl writing #calgary flames oneshot #calgary flames imagine #calgary flames writing #matthew tkachuk writing #calgary flames #my writing

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corvus--rex · 3 years

Text

Semi-abandoned for now. I have a vague idea of the endgame, but absolutely no middle or coherent plot. It was originally meant to be another Omegaverse (which it still may be, idk rn), so it's a little weird not in that context. This one is modern magic and Lance and Keith are about 400 year old witches.

~*~*~*~

Crash. The sound of metal on metal. Muffled cursing. This was not what Keith was expecting to hear when he let himself into his apartment after closing the shop alone because Lance said he needed to work on a project. But that’s what he heard. And it was coming from the kitchen. He couldn’t help the soft snicker that escaped him as he kicked his shoes off and dropped his keys on the table. He silently padded across the living room to the kitchen, leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed. His boyfriend Lance had dropped onto the kitchen island. Supporting his weight on his elbows, he stared intently at his tablet while surrounded by disaster.

“Need some help with your project?” Keith asked, lips twisted in an amused smirk.

Lance shot up. His expression passed from panic to relief in a split second. “I have no idea how I managed to fuck this up. So, yes. Yes, I do.”

With a twist of his fingers, Keith cleaned up the mess Lance had made. Dishware was instantly cleaned and returned to shelves and cabinets, ingredients slotted back into place, utensils placed back into drawers. He sauntered into the kitchen and directly up to Lance, wrapping his arms around his long-time boyfriend and gently kissing him.

“Now,” he said, “How about I take care of dinner for us?”

Lance dropped his head on Keith’s shoulder. “Please. You’d think I would have figured this out after three hundred years.”

Keith just laughed. “Kitchen magic has never been your strong suit, love.”

“Well aware. But this was something Hunk sent me, so I figured that I’d at least be able to figure that one out.” He couldn’t hide the pout in his voice.

“Well, maybe all three of us can work on that. Do you not remember how much I used to suck in the kitchen?”

Lance snorted. “If by suck you mean how many hearths did you blow up, then yes.”

“Asshole. Anyway,” Keith said pointedly, “I’ll get started here if you could set the table.”

“Absolutely,” Lance answered. He kissed the tip of Keith’s nose before twirling away with a light laugh. He snapped his fingers, directing tableware across the kitchen to the table. He jumped, plates and silverware faltering in the air before returning to their path, when Keith smacked his ass on the way by. Lance let out a high-pitched scoff in mock offense. “Don’t make me drop everything!”

Keith just laughed again, violet eyes skimming over the tablet’s screen.

Elsewhere in the city of Altea, a lone figure sat at a workbench, hunched over the worn, pitted surface. Their hands passed over the herbs and crystals laid over a complex sigil, fingers twisting in precise, intricate motions. The lines of the sigil flared to life, silvery blue twining with pale lavender. The herbs smoldered to ash around the crystals, which absorbed the herbs’ essence and the light from the sigil, refracting the light around the room in a twisted, sickly rainbow. The crystals cracked, the lines breaking the rainbows into fractured pieces scattered across the walls. The cracks spread, splintering the crystals until they crumbled to a coarse sand and fell back to the bench’s surface. The figure chuckled softly, a wide grin spread across their face. The crystal sand rose and floated into a waiting glass bowl, raining down on a pair of miniature portraits.

Both portraits dated from the eighteenth century. One held the image of a pale young man in soft pink, raven hair pulled into a low ponytail tied with a black ribbon, the other of another young man with deep golden skin dressed in powder blue, soft, deep brown curls tied back with a navy ribbon.

The figure ran fingertips along the glass. “Soon it will all be over,” they whispered, voice hoarse with disuse.

“Oh, fuck me. Lance, we’re late,” Keith yelled as he sat up in bed the next morning.

Lance rolled out of bed, startled awake. He checked his alarms that should have woken him already. All three of them were turned off. He also noticed that they only had ten minutes before they needed to leave to get to the shop in time to open. “I’ll call Pidge. She’s closer and knows what to do. Um, my alarms were all turned off. Are yours ok?”

Keith grabbed his phone while pulling a shirt on. He checked, and his alarms were also turned off. “No. They’re all off. What the fuck?”

“I don’t know,” Lance answered, pulling pants on with his phone tucked into his shoulder, “Oh Pidge, there you are. Hey, our alarms didn’t go off. We’re on our way, but can you open up for us?”

“What? Um, sure. I’ll be right there,” Pidge answered sleepily, “You owe me coffee for this.”

“Totally. Thanks, Pidgey.” He hung up, tossing his phone on the bed. “She says we owe her coffee, but she’ll do it.”

“Oh, thank fuck. We’ll swing by Allura’s on the way. Not like we have time for breakfast anyway,” Keith said, coming back into the bedroom with his shoes.

The pair finished dressing, ensuring they had everything they needed for the day. Keith reached for the table by the door for his keys, finding the table’s surface empty. The floor around and under the table was also devoid of keys. He searched his old leather bag, still coming up empty.

“You haven’t seen my keys, have you?” he asked.

“No, but I have mine. They’ll turn up. They’re probably just behind something. We’ll find them, don’t worry about it,” Lance said soothingly while rubbing his knuckles in circles on Keith’s back.

“Yeah,” Keith sighed, “Well, we’d better get going.”

Keith settled into the passenger seat as Lance pulled out of the garage, still upset about the alarms and his keys. He knewhe’d dropped the keys on the table the night before and was at a complete loss as to where they could be. And the thing with their alarms being turned off. That was even stranger. Soon he was lost in thought, his brain attempting to pick apart the how and why. Lance knew better than to interrupt the train of thought, especially at this hour. He let it go until they pulled up in front of Café Oriande.

“Hey, we’re here,” he said, nudging Keith’s leg.

Keith snapped his attention from the window and his thoughts. “Hm? Oh. Yeah.”

“Ok. I admit that the alarm thing is weird, but the keys will turn up. It’s not the first time shit like that’s happened, and it’s definitely not the last time. Please, stop worrying about it.”

“I’ll try, but no promises.”

Lance laughed. “That’s about as much as I expected. Come on, let’s go get breakfast and fuel for the beast.”

Keith snorted. “Just don’t let her hear you call her that.”

“No thanks. I value my life.”

Walking into Oriande, they immediately spotted Allura behind one of the two espresso machines. She had her thick silver hair wrapped in a braided bun that day, her dark skin standing in stark contrast to the blue and pink of her uniform t-shirt and white apron that never showed the slightest sign of wear. Beside her at the other machine was the perky blonde barista Romelle. Coran backed out of the kitchen carrying a fresh tray of pastries, followed by Romelle’s brother Bandor toting a full ice bucket. Coran wove his way through two new faces Lance and Keith had never seen before.

Allura looked up as they came in. “Lance! Keith! I didn’t expect to see you until later!” she shouted from her position.

Romelle looked up from the drink she was making and waved excitedly with her usual bright smile. Bandor turned around, greeting the pair with a wave of the now empty ice bucket. Coran finished refilling the display case leaving the tray on the counter.

“And how are you two today?” he asked cheerily.

“Yeah, we’re running a little late today. Pidge is opening for us,” Lance said to Allura before answering Coran, “We’re good, other than that.”

“Speaking of Pidge, our resident gremlin demanded a caffeinated tribute,” Keith added.

“Oh!” Allura said, coming to the counter by the registers, “You have to meet our new recruits. This delightful girl is Merla,” she gently held the shoulders of the magenta-haired girl at the register before tapping the man behind her, “And this is my cousin Tavo.”

Tavo turned around from the drip coffee machines behind the register. He was taller and darker than Allura, his ink-dark dreads pulled up into a high ponytail. He nodded in greeting. “Always good to meet Allura’s friends,” he said before returning to the coffee machines.

“So, I heard something about a caffeine tribute?” Allura asked.

“Yeah, Pidge is opening the shop for us,” Keith answered.

“And your usual teas, or do you need something stronger?”

“Nah, tea’s fine,” Lance said, “But we will need rocket fuel for the gremlin.”

“And Coran’s magical pain au chocolat,” Keith added.

Allura snorted at the double meaning and went about filling their order.

Breakfast in hand, Allura waved them out of the café. Keith held his very large cup in both hands, adjusting the tea’s temperature to something immediately drinkable. It was half gone by the time they reached their metaphysical shop Marmora. It had been named in honor of the first coven Keith had been a part of. One that was long gone, lost to the mists of the past.

Pidge, who was a part of their current coven, made sleepy grabby hands at the coffee cup in Lance’s hand as he and Keith walked in to the shop. She tripped over herself clambering down from the tall chair behind the counter, nearly faceplanting into the old wood floor. Lance held the cup just out of her reach.

“Gimme my coffee, asshole,” she grumbled.

“I’ll do you one better,” he answered, handing her the cup and one of the boxes containing Coran’s pain au chocolat.

Pidge grabbed both, cradling them to her chest as she darted back to the chair, climbing the rungs, and settling herself cross-legged in the seat, her coffee between her legs as she tore into the pastry.

“Remind me not to feed her after midnight,” Keith said.

“I can hear you,” Pidge said through pastry and chocolate. She took a long sip of her coffee before becoming slightly more human. “So, what happened with the alarms?” she questioned.

“No idea. But all our alarms were turned off and my keys disappeared. I’ll do a summoning spell when we get home.”

“Yeah,” she answered through more pastry, “But that alarm thing is fuckin’ weird.”

“No argument there,” Lance said.

Pidge dropped the empty box in the trash beside her and made grabby hands at Lance and Keith again. “Gimme your phones, I’ll check them over.”

They both put their phones down on the wood counter. Pidge may not have been as old as they were, but she was a highly accomplished witch. She also had an almost preternatural gift for mundane technology. If there was any meddling with their phones, magical or otherwise, she’d find it.

She laced her fingers together and stretched her arms, cracking her knuckles. Fluttering fingers stilled, passing over the darkened screens. Both came to life, Pidge’s magic searching through their inner workings. A dark iridescence like an oil slick spread across both screens, filling them.

“Oh, fuck. Who’d you two piss off? This is pretty strong shit,” she said, staring at the devices in horror.

“No one that we know of,” Keith replied, “Not lately anyway.”

Pidge gave him an unimpressed look. “Define ‘lately’.”

“Fifty years or so?” he guessed.

“Ooh. Yeah, but that got taken care of. That bitch colossally fucked up and managed to drain her own magic. Do you have any idea how hard that is?” Lance added, remembering the incident.

“Very.”

“How very?” Pidge asked.

“Nearly impossible. So that would make it more like a hundred years ago, maybe a little more. I think it was about the turn of the twentieth century, right?” Keith turned to Lance for confirmation.

“Yeah, about then. But that wasn’t to do with us directly. We just got caught up in it.” Lance dismissed the idea with a flutter of his fingers. “Doesn’t matter anyway. No one’s heard from them since then. Like, at all. They vanished completely.”

Pidge was downing her coffee at an alarming rate, but put her cup down at that. “I need you to tell me everything that happened.”

“Tonight,” Keith said, “This might take a while, and I don’t want to get interrupted. Can you break that in the meanwhile?” He indicated his and Lance’s phones.

“I can try, but no promises,” she answered, taking them and her coffee to the back room.

Keith moved around to the other side of the counter, duplicating the chair for Lance. They both settled in, Keith leaning back with his tea. Lance licked the molten chocolate off his finger and turned back to Keith.

“I really hope this doesn’t have anything to do with them. If it does, we may be totally fucked.”

Keith nodded in agreement, then sat up. “But wait, didn’t the others abandon him immediately after that? He’d gone so far over they wanted nothing to do with him anymore. They went into hiding to protect themselves from him, like we did for a while. If anything, it’ll be him on his own.”

“That might be even worse. No one to hold him back after over a hundred years? We need to warn everyone involved.”

Keith put his cup down and got up, wrapping himself around Lance. “Not yet. We need to be sure it’s him first. This could have nothing to do with him. I don’t know who else would want to get at us, but we can’t just go off because of something like this. We’ll figure it out.”

Lance returned the embrace, burying his face in Keith’s shoulder. “Yeah, you’re right. We’ll let Pidge work and see what she comes up with.”

Ten minutes later, when Keith and Lance were finishing their tea, the door to the back room flew open, bouncing off the wall with a crack of electricity.

“OW! Shit! Sorry!” Pidge yelled, and pulled the door closed from her seat.

~*~*~*~

Links to the rest of the series:

1 | 2 | 3* | 4 | 5* | 6* | 7 | 8 | 9* | 10 | 11 | 12* | 13 | 14 | 15* | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19*

#my writing #abandoned wips #Klance #Keith x Lance #keith kogane #lance mcclain #abo #omegaverse #vld #voltron #voltron legendary defender

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kazoo5480 · 3 years

Link

Ruby quietly moved Emma’s bug into the garage behind Grannys, out of sight. M’s held Emma while she sobbed into her friend’s lap, and M’s stroked her hair, comforting her.

Ruby texted August quickly, letting him know they had it handled but not to tell Killian where Emma was laying low until they helped her figure it out.

August texted back, “Did he cheat on her?

Ruby: No, a shitty misunderstanding but M’s and I witnessed the entire thing

August: Is she ok?

Ruby: Would you be if you thought your boyfriend cheated on you in a bar full of people when you catch a flight home to surprise him?

August: He better fix this with her, don’t let her run. Understood?

Ruby: Yeah, TTYL

Killian called August and was sent straight to voicemail. “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!” He screamed sinking to his knees. His phone vibrated.

August: She is safe, but I told you man, let her go if you don’t want her. Don’t make me come there, Jones.

Killian: Did she call? I swear it wasn’t what it looked like

August. I know. She is safe, that’s all I can say.

Killian: Wait who called you? Ruby?

He got no response. He just tore his clothes off and showered, climbing into their bed holding her pillow as he thought over how the fuck he was going to fix this, Emma would probably never forgive him. The thought of that was so painful, it was almost unbearable.

He scrubbed his hands over his eyes, wiping the leaking tears, fucking Milah. Always fucking up everything, leaving people shattered in her wake like the bloody plague.

Anger bubbled up in his chest, and he put on clean clothes, going to sit in the shop and smoke, he stayed there all night, until the dawn shown through the garage glass, and his pack lay empty on the desk.

Killian hung the closed sign on the door of the shop and went upstairs to clean himself up. If he was going to find her, he needed to not look like absolute rubbish.

Emma woke up sandwiched between Ruby and M’s in her old bed at Granny’s, her eyes feeling swollen, her throat raw. Emma crept out of bed, and into the bathroom, and brushed her teeth, washing her face.

She was grateful for her friends, she had never had that kind of an experience without August, but she knew Ruby was right. Killian didn’t cheat on her, and she did get some satisfaction that the woman she punched was Milah. But it didn’t mean she was ready to face Killian yet, or anytime today.

She left her phone off, and booted her laptop up, emailing her boss that she caught a bug on the plane, needing a day off.

Ruby sat up, “Em, you ok honey?” she asked.

Emma shook her head, and Ruby beckoned her back to the bed. Emma laid back down and both women held her while she fell back asleep.

Ruby tip-toed out of the room locking it, and M’s said she wouldn’t open today, that she would stay with Emma and help her figure out the plan. But Ruby couldn’t go missing, she had to buy Emma a little time.

She made her way downstairs freshened up and found Killian sitting at the counter. Ruby didn’t acknowledge him, just slid him a cup of coffee and leaned back against the counter.

“You look like shit dickhead” she said.

Killian looked up at her, and Ruby almost broke then and there. He looked awful, up all night she would guess, crying too.

“Where is she?” he asked in a clipped tone.

“I don’t know Jones” Ruby lied.

“Ruby, where the fuck is she!” he banged his fist on the counter, the coffee sloshing out of the cup.

“Damnit Jones, stop. I don’t know” she said.

“You called August?” He asked her.

Ruby nodded, “a text.”

“You saw everything, you know I didn’t, couldn’t cheat, I wouldn’t ever cheat on her,” he said sounding defeated.

Ruby leaned forward, “I saw, and yeah I know. But she didn’t, I told her, but give her some time Jones” and patted his hand.

“If I find out you are hiding her Red, so help me god” he growled out.

Ruby leaned in, “I will beat your ass in heels any day of the week Jonesy. Don’t push me on this,” she said lethally.

Killian sat up, pounded the coffee, and stood.

“Where are you going?” Ruby asked him.

“To fucking find her,” he said.

Ruby waited until the door shut, and let out a breath of relief. Emma tip-toed down the back steps, and M’s whistled for Red.

“Clear” Ruby called out.

Emma came in, and Ruby was wiping the coffee off the counter.

“Em he is going to find you, if you are leaving, you’ve got to do it now while he is out looking for you. Or I can go grab your stuff, just tell me what to do here” M’s said.

Emma shook her head, “I don’t know. I just need some clothes, I can sneak in but I need you to keep a lookout for me” she said, and M’s nodded.

“Go through the alley, he won’t be looking in the alley. Climb up the fire escape outside your bedroom” Ruby said, and Emma eyed her.

“Why do you know all this?” Emma asked.

“I slept with Liam a few times, Jones doesn’t know,” Ruby said sadly.

Emma’s eyes widened. “Go!” Ruby said.

Emma and M’s slipped out the back door and sure enough, she was able to get in, their bedroom window unlocked. M’s stood hidden watching. Emma slipped in, her pillow balled up, the loft reeking of smoke, and her heart broke.

She grabbed a small duffle and threw only necessities in, she could buy new stuff. She had her laptop and charger, and anything else she would need for a few days, but grabbed her shampoo and conditioner, her running gear, and scribbled a note leaving it on her pillow.

“I’m not ready to talk. - E”

She slipped out the window and down to M’s hiding spot as they made their way through the alleyways back to her room.

M’s headed to the boutique and Killian was perched against the front door. She gulped and eyed him.

“Killian please move,” she asked.

“Funny, you didn’t listen to me begging you last night to get out of the way, to go after her,” he said.

“Where is she M’s? Just tell me, is she ok?” he pleaded.

M’s lied, for like the third time in her life. “We caught her last night, we told her the truth, and she said she needed time. She came out of your loft, and drove off” she said quietly.

Killian leaned over the glass of the counter, “M’s where is she?” he gripped her arms gently and asked again.

“Killian seriously, leave her be. She will come back when she is ready, but a thank you for telling her the truth would be appreciated” she snapped and pulled her arms from his grip.

Killian eyed her. “You two know where she is. Don’t you?” he asked.

“Killian, I do not know where Emma is right now,” she said, not lying but not telling the truth. Emma could be anywhere right now, she thought.

Killian nodded at her. “Just tell her I love her, to come home, that it wasn’t what she thought. But just tell her I love her, I need her M’s” he said and M’s nearly cried but steeled herself nodding.

“I will,” she said and he walked out the door.

Killian walked to the garage and headed up to grab his car keys off the dresser. He saw the note and smelled Emma’s perfume.

“Swan!” He yelled out, but he was alone, again.

He dialed August and went straight to voicemail. He called Scott, and he heard his voice come through in a low tone.

“Scott, please” Killian begged.

“She isn’t here, I am not supposed to be talking to you, Killian. But all I know is that Red told Auggie last night she was safe. If she shows up, I will tell you, but she isn’t here” Scott said grimly.

“Did August tell you not to talk to me? Why isn’t he?” Killian asked.

“I don’t know man, he just said we had to let Em have a say,” he said.

“Have a say? In what? Leaving me? Killian asked desperately.

“I don’t know Killian, honestly. I know you didn’t invite what happened, I know that. So does August, but he will choose her, and if Emma needs time, he said he would never push her, she has been hurt too many times, and he wouldn’t risk her pushing him away” Scott said.

“You’ll text me if she comes there?” He asked.

“I will, but I will not admit that I helped you to Auggie if Emma doesn’t want to see you, man. I have to protect her and you too, that’s what family does. We cant break trust” he said.

Killian nodded, “Thanks Scott” and hung up.

He looked at her note. He heard the door buzz, and he ran down to the front door.

“Milah, what the fuck are you doing here?” he said glaring at her.

“Who was the blonde Jonesy? Hmm? Your new piece of tail? I want her fucking name” Milah shouted.

Killian dialed Graham. “Get here to the lot now, I have a trespasser,” he said hanging up.

Milah’s eyes went wide, “You have to be fucking kidding me. I fucking lived here” she shouted and slapped him.

“You never lived here, you left a fucking toothbrush, and you are a fucking cesspool of rubbish, tearing people’s lives apart” he spits out.

Graham flew through the gates in the cruiser and got out. Eyes wide, he looked between the two of them.

“He hit me!” Milah yelled pointing at Killian who rolled his eyes.

Graham looked at Killian, and Killian shook his head.

“That never happened, and the person who did hit you has already left town, no trace of her” Graham said to Milah, and Killian’s eyes widened at that.

“You can leave, or I can arrest you and process you for trespassing. Your choice Milah” Graham said.

“Fuck you both!” Milah said storming off the lot, letting the gate clatter shut.

"Have you seen Emma?" Killian asked him desperately.

Graham shook his head, his mouth in a grim line. "No, I just want that pile of trash out of town. I don't even want her knowing Emma's name" Graham said and pulled Killian in for a hug.

"She'll come back Jonesy. She is just as crazy about you, as you are her," he whispered, and Killian nodded.

Graham took off, saying he was following Milah, making sure she left town. Killian nodded in thanks, and he saw a flash of blonde hair and took off running.

He saw the woman enter the diner and ran as fast as he could calling her name. Everyone including the woman turned to look at him as he barged in yelling her name, and it was a woman much older than Emma, and Ruby rolled her eyes.

“Granny watch the counter” and she walked out, grabbing Killian by his arm and dragging him back home. She pulled the gate shut between them. “You’re on house arrest until you get your shit together jones,” Ruby said and walked away.

Ruby went in the back way and knocked on the door in the code they agreed to, Emma opening it quickly. Ruby crept in and locked it behind her.

“He is losing his fucking mind Em, you gotta talk to him tomorrow. Scared our neighbor Ingrid, chasing her into the diner calling your name. The guy is hallucinating, literally losing his mind” Ruby said.

Emma looked down, “I know, I know. I will go tomorrow, ok? I need one more night, I need space, to clear my head,” she said.

Ruby nodded. “Milah showed up at the shop today,” she said, and Emma looked up at her in surprise.

“Killian called Graham, Graham gave her the choice of being arrested for trespassing or to leave town. She also cracked Killian hard enough to leave a handprint on his face�� she said.

Emma sat down, her hands over her eyes. Why was she torturing him, he didn’t do anything wrong, Emma knew this. She trusted him, even after this. But what if she was wrong, she had been wrong before. Ruby locked the door behind her after she dropped that bomb. She needed August.

“Hey, sunshine,” he said.

“Hi,” she said numbly.

“Facetime call?” he asked her.

“No. I just need to know what to do here Aug” she said.

“Do you believe him?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said.

“Then why aren’t you home in your bed, having him prove to you how devoted he is to only you?” He asked her.

“I needed space, I mean I have been wrong before…” she said quietly.

“And you are wrong now. Tell you what, pop a zzzquil, get some actual fucking sleep, shower, shave, and go home. Let him apologize, be an adult, and let that man worship you the way he always does” he said.

“You haven’t spoken to him?” she asked surprised.

“Nope. Scott did, but briefly. He is mainly worried you left town, and he won’t know how to track you except through me. Red isn’t giving you up, surprisingly Mary Margaret didn’t crack, and you are a ghost. He has no idea where you are, imagine if you were in his shoes Em” he said.

“I’m going to bed,” she said.

“Night. Love you” he said hanging up.

Emma snuggled into the blankets, as the rain began pelting the windows. She naturally reached out for him, but he wasn’t there. When the first crack of lightning hit she texted him. She wanted to go home.

Killian was going crazy, he tried her phone again, and it rang, and went to voicemail. He opened the google maps app, and her location sharing had been turned off to him. He went upstairs to the loft and pulled out a bottle of rum, sitting on the couch. He turned on the princess Bride and proceeded to drink half of the bottle.

He woke up sometime in the middle of the night, thunder clapping outside, and waking him. Emma hated storms, hated thunderstorms when she was alone, he blinked a few times trying to focus his eyes and grabbed his phone.

“We can talk tomorrow. I love you. E.” It was an hour ago.

Killian sat up, he was still half drunk. She loved him. She was coming back, fuck. She had to be close by. He got himself in the shower and cleaned himself up, chugging a mug of coffee down. He brushed his teeth and cleaned the whole apartment. The lightning ripped through the sky.

Emma laid awake, every clap of thunder and flash of lightning set her teeth on edge. She wanted to be safe, to go home. She looked outside, she was going to make a run for it.

She threw on a pair of leggings, and her tennis shoes, she didn’t have a coat but peeked outside, the next flash bright enough to light the whole street up. She had to run fast. When the thunder subsided to a rumble, she ran out into the pouring rain, running hard towards home, toward him.

Killian watched the sky. It was nearly purple, and the lightning flashes, set the whole loft alight, it was the worst storm they had roll through in ages. He hoped wherever Emma was, that she was ok. He knew she had to be fucking terrified on a night like this.

Killian heard the gate whip open out front, clattering against the fence with enough force to snap it. He ran to the window. She was there, she was trying to get home, he flew down the steps and threw the shop door open. The lightning clapped, thunder rumbling, and he ran toward her stopping a few feet from her.

“Emma” he called out, and the sky lit up again, thunder booming.

She stared at him for a moment, eyes rimmed red, and ran into his arms. He picked her up, her legs locking around his waist, and he ran inside, slamming the door shut with his foot, bringing her upstairs.

She was trembling against him, he buried his face in her neck, her long wet curls drenched, and dripping puddles on the floor. He walked them to their room, sitting on the edge of the bed, and began to cry.

Emma was crying too, every clap of thunder causing her to tremble harder. Killian just sat there holding her, wrapped in each other as they cried.

She came home. He leaned back, cupping her face, and rested his forehead against hers, “I'm so sorry Emma” he said, tears still running down his cheeks, their hair dripping down their faces, each of them soaked to the bone.

He smoothed her hair back, her arms and skin felt like ice. “We have to get you warmed up, he said setting her down and rushing to turn the shower on. He took his clothes off, and he helped peel her out of hers, dropping them wetly to the floor, her lithe body trembling.

He picked her up and carried her into the shower, and stood with her under the hot spray, warming her up, his arms wrapped around her as she shivered.

“What do you think you were doing?” he whispered, keeping his face buried in her neck. “You could have been hurt,” he said, tilting her chin up.

“I was going to wa-wait. And the storm started. I texted you b-but you didn't respond, and the storm got really bad, I wanted you, I wanted to be home” she said her teeth chattering, and he gripped her tighter, rubbing her back, letting the warm water heat her through.

“You could have been hurt, gods. You can't do that Swan, you can't go out in bloody mayhem, you could have called me, I would have come wherever you were to get you, just never do that to me again. You could have died” he said and her thin arms wrapped around his waist hugging him tightly.

“I'm sorry, I know. I know what happened, I knew you would never, I just didn't know what to do. I got scared, I wasn't trying to punish you, I just needed time. I was going to come back earlier when I heard you chased the new lady in town, and August said you were going out of your mind, and I wasn't trying to make you that way. I swear, I just needed a breath, to make sure I wasn't wrong. I am sorry” she said.

Killian shook his head, “She means nothing, she came at me, and then you were there. I thought she had stolen another piece of my life. Ruby and M’s wouldn't let me near you, August hasn't spoken to me, Scott said you were ok, but I didn't know where you were. You disappeared on me, and I didn’t know what to do, I was going insane” he said, sounding desperate and broken.

Emma surged forward, her lips chasing his and he sighed pulling her closer, gripping on to her tightly. Killian ran his hands over every expanse of skin he could reach, kissing up the column of her throat as she moaned his name.

He picked her up, and her skin smacked against the tile wall. Killian angled his hips, Emma steadying herself on his shoulders. He let her slide back down the tile, and he guided himself inside of her. Emma whimpered at his entrance, gasping as he seated himself fully within her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her nails digging into his skin. Killian hissed as her nails dug in, and bruised her lips in a punishing kiss, the thrusts wild, and hard. It felt like he was trying to place himself so deep inside of her that they would never separate.

Emma let her tears fall, whimpering as he thrust into her repeatedly, her ankles locked around his waist, the tile backsplash her only support as he punished her with all the love he had inside of him.

Emma sobbed through it, through the pain of feeling unwanted, of feeling like the one thing she had come to trust wasn't true at all, the pain she caused both of them from her fears and insecurities, for it all. As he pounded into her relentlessly, it felt like all of the hurt, and pain she had been warring with the last few days slipped away.

Killian was at war with himself, he was being rough with her, he could feel her trembling around him, her nails scoring his skin, the sobs wracking her chest as he tried to fuck away her pain, his pain, their pain.

He moved swiftly, sitting on the bench of their shower, and with her balanced on his thighs, he leaned back cupping her jaw, attacking her mouth, leaving marks all over her porcelain skin. He was never letting go of her now that she was home.

He gripped her hip in one hand, leaving his mouth fused to hers, swallowing her cries, tasting her tears, and his, and he rocked her back and forth. He was pushing them both closer to release with each thrust until he felt her clench around him.

He felt her nails digging deeper into his shoulders, and when he heard her cry his name, he let go, letting her drag him over the edge with her into a blinding abyss.

They sat there in their embrace until the water ran cold, and the steam was long gone. Their tears subsided and he couldn't stop kissing her. He kissed her as the lightning raged outside, and the power went out blanketing them in darkness. He kissed her as she trembled in fear of the storm, and gripped him tighter against her.

Emma shivered in his arms, and he lifted her off him slowly, missing the heat of her already. He grabbed a washcloth and wiped them both off, and wrapped her in a towel, helping her out into the dark bathroom.

Emma toweled off quickly and squinted in the dark, navigating their room to crawl in their bed. Killian crawled in beside her, his front to her back, and gripped her possessively. Emma felt him still hard, rutting against her, and she didn't know if she could take any more.

“Killian I can't'' Emma protested softly, and he kissed her neck with so much gentleness she couldn't deny that she craved the closeness of him too.

“I know. I just want to be inside you Emma” he murmured, and Emma understood because she felt the same way. She arched, giving him access, and he gently pushed through her swollen folds. She moaned softly at the intrusion.

Killian groaned, and wrapped her tightly against his chest, cupping her breast and his hand possessively holding her stomach against him, just wanting to feel the warmth of her surrounding him after feeling so lost. He smoothed her curls out until he felt her breaths even out, and he fell asleep.

When daylight peeked in through the curtains, she realized they had shifted at some point, no longer connected. The alarm clock on their dresser blinked, power was back on. She rolled over, taking in Killian’s unshaven face, his long black lashes fanned over his cheeks, sound asleep.

She quietly went to the bathroom, turning the shower on, letting the water heat up, and went to stand beneath the spray, scrubbing herself clean, and unknotting her curls. She heard the door open and she watched Killian enter the shower.

His blue eyes had circles beneath them, and she kissed him as he stepped into her, wrapping his arms around her. Emma reached up, grabbing the showerhead from its cradle, and held it over him, warming him up.

“I love you,” he said against her neck, and she nodded.

“I know, I am sorry. I love you too” she whispered, her throat feeling hoarse, and pressed her lips to his quickly.

He leaned back and his eyes locked on hers, “You did nothing wrong, and though I didn't either, I never want to experience this kind of pain again Emma, I can't. I don't think I can handle losing you” he said, gauging her reaction.

Emma stepped back sitting on the bench giving him the space to shower, but not wanting to leave. Killian cleaned himself up, trimming his beard and brushing his teeth.

Emma just watched quietly, not knowing what else to say. She got out, and grabbed clean towels, laying one on the sink for him as she wrapped herself in her robe and brushed her hair.

She headed to the window at the front of the loft and looked down. She could see a few fallen trees, and Killian came up behind her, dressed in sweats and a soft tee. “We should talk,” she said, not turning to face him and he sighed, nodding against her shoulder.

He went to grab them a cup of coffee, and brought it to her, sitting beneath the soft throw blanket with her. He was anxious and exhausted, but he wasn't going to lose her, he wouldn't allow it.

“I went to the bar as I told you I was. Ruby, Graham, M’s, and Dave were there, everything was fine, and I went to the bathroom. When I came out, she was there waiting for me. I asked her what she could possibly want from me, and she said a roll in the sack” he laughed almost in disbelief.

“I said some not so kind words, but ultimately no. I didn't even need to mention you, because whether you were here in my life or not, I still would have said no. She caught me off guard with the kiss, and I heard you drop your bag, when I looked over and saw you, the pain all over your face, my heart broke. I wanted to hurt Milah for hurting you, for putting me in a position to even shake your trust slightly in me. But you beat me to it when you socked her, and your henchmen blocked my exit after you ran out” he finished.

Emma swallowed the coffee and nodded. “Ruby told me most all of that, M’s too. But it still hurt, god it hurt so bad. I trust you, please don't doubt that. What I did not trust was myself, and if I was willing to risk hurting myself by allowing you that much power over me, my happiness, my heart. That is why I left. I knew you didn't do anything wrong, or encourage her” she said quietly.

“So the self-imposed exile, driving me insane with worry, was because you were protecting yourself from me?” he said, sounding hurt.

Emma nodded. “I have never let my happiness be so wrapped up in one person, I never had that. I have had boyfriends, and lovers, but never have I let someone actually own my heart, to have that kind of power to destroy me entirely” she whispered avoiding his gaze that was burning on the side of her face.

Killian swallowed, absorbing her words. “But you are choosing us?” he asked bluntly.

Emma looked at him, her green eyes dim, and nodded.

A wave of relief swept through him, and he set their mugs down on the coffee table. “I choose you Emma, every day, every single thing I do, since the moment I laid eyes on you. I have chosen you, only you. You are everything to me, my love, my best friend, my whole heart. I choose you” he said and waited.

Emma’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at him, “I know. I just never had anyone choose me before, and I had to deal with that Killian, I had to deal with someone wanting me, choosing me, loving me entirely. It is fucking terrifying. I wanted to tell you something before this happened, I made a decision in New York, and I flew back to tell you before all of this happened” she said.

Killian rested his arm over the back of the couch, and looked at her, fighting to curl into herself and instead choosing to face him.

“I don’t want to do my job anymore, I don’t want to be apart anymore,” she said.

Killian’s eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t want to work?” he asked confused.

Emma sighed, “I don't want a job where I can get hurt, or have to travel at a moment's notice whether it be a day or for a week unexpectedly, I don't want it anymore. Every time I leave, the look on your face kills me, it breaks me to leave you every time I walk out the door not knowing if it was for a few hours, or a few days. I know it hurt you, and I don't want it anymore” she said, looking down at the blanket she was twisting in her hands.

Killian ran his hand over her hair, twirling an errant curl. “Emma, that is ok love. You don't have to do that anymore, I don't care. Don't work at all, or work with me, or do something on your own from here, consulting, or what August does. I know you can do whatever you want. But we don't need the bloody money, I just need you to be happy” he said.

Emma nodded, and curled into his lap, her head resting on his legs. “Where did you go?” he asked her softly.

Emma bit her lip, “Granny’s” she said.

“Bloody Ruby, I would have torn the building apart brick by brick if I had known,” he said harshly.

“Don't be mad at her, she was trying to do what was right for me, to protect me, to slow me down, and buy you time while I figured it out” she protested.

Killian grumbled, “and she got M’s to lie too? The woman hasn't held a secret in her whole life, and I show up and lean on her, trying to force it out of her and she doesn't crack at all,” he said, sounding surprised.

Emma laughed, “M’s was my lookout when I broke into the loft to get some stuff and left the note,” Emma said biting her lip.

“Oh, so now she is a liar, and encouraging breaking and entering?” he said, sounding amused.

Emma nodded and rolled to her back looking up at him. “They were trying to help me, protect me, protect you. I’m sorry” she said.

“Are we going to be able to move past this?” he asked her. Emma nodded and gave him a small smile.

“Does this mean you are going to take Graham up on his offer?” he asked and Emma shook her head. “I don’t think so, I don’t know. Maybe until I figure out what I want to do, and I don't know right now. But I have money, and I know you do, and that I have time to figure it all out, don't I?” she asked, almost nervous at what his response would be.

“Emma I told you, don't work, work from home, be a deputy, I don't bloody care, as long as I go to sleep with you, and wake up next to you. Having you within my sight at all times is just a possessive bonus, but I won't ever give you up, I am never giving you back” he said and tucked her hair back.

Tears leaked out of her eyes, and she turned in his lap, crumpling, as the words cracked her apart. Killian slid out from underneath her, and laid behind her, spooning her, and dragged the blanket over them. He held her while she cried, and he soothed her until she fell asleep in his arms.

Killian laid there, holding her, he should just ask her. Make her know this was permanent, but with a fucking ring he couldn't do that. How was he going to make her feel secure enough that he would never leave her? He wracked his brain, and nothing came. He finally conceded to the idea, he would just have to show her every bloody day and never stop.

When Emma woke up she was too warm. Her robe tucked around her, and Killian’s body heat radiating against her back. He was snoring lightly and she hated to wake him but she felt like her skin was on fire. She slipped out the end of the couch, and he didn’t seem to wake up. She quickly dressed and drank a glass of water.

Deciding to sit in her chair and read until he woke up. She didn’t read for long before he stirred on the couch, his eyes blinking open alarmed that she wasn’t still in his arms. He sat up and saw her, and she heard his sigh of relief.

“Hi,” she said.

He nodded at her, wiping at his eyes waking up.

“Want to walk over to Grannys and get my stuff?” she asked him, and he smirked at her.

“Absolutely.”

@sailtoafarawayland @omgmarvelous

@holdingoutforapiratehero @hookedmom @xsajx @kymbersmith-90 @kmomof4 @katie-dub @ohmightydevviepuu @lassluna @pirateherokillian @teamhook @stahlop @elizabeethan @whimsicallyenchantedrose @resident-of-storybrooke @therooksshiningknight @jennjenn615 @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @killianswannn @stories-enchanted @eleveneitherway @girl-in-a-tiny-box @withheartfulloflove @kday426 @lyssapup27 @swanlovato @kaoslikesstuff @djlbg @kristi555 @laschatzi @xarandomdreamx @lkles08 @wyntereyez @bubblegum1425 @xhookswenchx @yasbio2015 @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @wefoundloveunderthelight @hollyethecurious @let-it-raines @jonesfandomfanatic @searchingwardrobes @dreamingdreamsalways @oncechicagolove @andiirivera @vvbooklady1256 @gingerchangeling @everything-person @klynn-stormz @qualitycoffeethings @vampcoffeegyrl23 @enchanted-swans @cassy1511 @ohmakemeahercules @donteattheappleshook @bluewildcatfanatic @the-darkdragonfly @demisexualemmaswan @lavenderbudd @grimmswan @spartanguard @flslp87 @ultraluckycatnd @sarahpaq08 @thisonesatellite @captainswan21 @zaharadessert @mariakov81 @snowbellewells @xouatxcs @kiwistreetswan @batana54 @nadine200179 @probalicious17 @courtorderedcake @julesep3026 @jackieorioncat @whatthehell102082 @xemmaloveskillianx @jarienn972 @sthonour @linda8084 @carpedzem @pirateprincesslena @daxx04 @winterbythesea @artistic-writer @scientificapricot @cocohook38 @wisfan3000 @chrisilybrooke @pcrcabcth @captainswan4life85 @molly958 @kingofmyheart14 @badwolfreturns @itsfridaysomewhere @mcakers @chamomileandmint @fallingforthecaptain @lovethelifeyoulive1106 @onceratheart18 @strangestarlighttree @omgmarvelous @justanother-unluckysoul @anothersworld @purplehawkcaptain @jennjenn615 @sailtoafarawayland @superchocovian @hookedonkillianforlife87

#emma swan #killian jones #ouat #ouat au #once upon a time #ruby lucas #august booth #mary margaret blanchard #graham humbert

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renaerys · 3 years

Text

PPG One-Shot: Mall Santa (Boomer/Mike and Brick/Blossom)

Summary: To earn a little extra cash over the holidays, Brick, Mike, and Boomer agree to help out their buddy Todd at a Mall Santa gig. Shenanigans ensue.

This one is for @snailbutters, @genovah, and @hanaokm. Merry Christmas and happy holidays! Enjoy some Boomike, Blossick, and Capri Sus on me.

[Cross-posted to AO3]

xxx

There were a lot of things Todd needed: a haircut, for one. His black hair was getting too long for gel and it was really pushing the boundary between greaser sexy and sad trash hobo. Money, for another. But like any other 21-year-old townie with a high school education and two restaurant jobs, he always needed money.

A new best friend, for yet another.

“I’m not your best friend,” Brick snapped as he tied a black tie around his neck. He needed to leave in ten minutes if he was going to be early for his dinner meeting with Oliver Morbucks.

Todd put a hand over his heart like it might fall out of the wound Brick’s words had stabbed there. “Dude, of course you are. I’m totally sorry if I ever gave you the wrong idea.”

Brick grimaced so hard he was sure he’d end up constipated. “No, you idiot. I know you think I’m your best friend. You’ve never shut up about it, even after we graduated high school. I’m pretty sure the whole fucking Peninsula knows it the way you go around shouting it when you’re blasted.”

Todd looked like he’d just received news that his favorite nana wasn’t dying of cancer after all. “Oh, cool. For a second there I thought I really hurt your feelings. You know you’re kinda sensitive, right?”

Oh god.

“What do you want, Todd? I have a really important meeting and I’m not missing it for your bullshit.”

Brick checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror in his one-bedroom apartment in downtown Townsville. It was a shitty hole-in-the-wall kind of place, but Brick was used to squalor. His break was coming, he could feel it. If tonight’s meeting went over well, he’d have a more steady revenue stream and, more importantly, the connections and clout the Morbucks name brought to open doors. All the long days at Red’s Auto Shop saving and scraping by would finally pay off, and just in time for Blossom to graduate from college. It was perfectly planned, meticulously manipulated, all down to this last pivotal dinner.

“Cool, no big deal! I just need to know if you’re free this weekend.”

“Free to do what?” Brick indulged him, because Todd was one of the few people on this planet who wasn’t 100% intimidated by his very presence.

“To help me with this Mall Santa gig I got. Harry Pitt was supposed to be my number two elf, but he ate some bad prawns and they had to, like, airlift him to Citiesville General.”

Brick stopped everything he was doing and glared at his second-to-best friend, which was a key fact because second was not the same as first. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“I know, right?” Todd knew his way around Brick’s embarrassingly small bathroom, opened up the hair wax, and fixed Brick’s styling job. “Dude always had a weak stomach, you remember. But you don’t fuck with bad prawns. I mean, obviously.”

Brick swatted Todd’s hands away and checked his reflection. It was definitely an improvement. “Not that; the Mall Santa thing, obviously!”

“Oh, yeah. So you’ll help me out?”

“Fuck no.”

“Aw, Briiiiiiick,” Todd whined.

Brick grabbed his dinner jacket from the closet barely big enough to fit a small, starving child. Todd, who had latched onto Brick in the seventh grade like a goddamned barnacle and never let go no matter how hard Brick tried to push him away, followed. “Not if you paid me.”

“You’ll get paid! It’s $20 an hour!”

Brick hesitated over the threshold. “That’s higher than minimum wage.” It was higher than his hourly rate at the garage too.

“Seasonal gigs, man. That’s how you win.”

“It’s seriously fucking not.”

Todd, one of three people in the universe who actually cared about Brick on a personal level even though he wasn’t obligated by blood, made his blue eyes big and wide in a way that reminded Brick of Puss-n-Boots from Shrek, Todd’s favorite movie. “C’mon, bruh. Do your bestie a solid? Just this once? I really need the money and they won’t let me keep the gig without two elves to fill in. So please? Pleeeeeeease?”

And Brick, former scourge of Townsville, a Super with the power to literally raze the planet if it so much as tickled his fancy, and the dictionary definition of the boy every father dreads his perfect, pretty little girl falling for against her better judgment, cracked like an egg.

“For fuck’s sake,” he groused. “Just text me the time and place and get out of my face already.”

Todd punched the air with both fists. “Yes!! Oh, hell yes! I love you so much, dude.”

“Blow me.” Brick checked his watch. Shit, now he was merely on time.

“I’d consider it an honor,” Todd said, probably literally serious.

xxx

Boomer rolled glitter on his cheeks and around the edges of his dark blue eyes with the help of a compact as he huddled behind the North Pole set on the first floor of the Townsville Mall. When he was satisfied that he sparkled like the tinsel-festooned Christmas trees in Santa’s twelve-by-fifteen-foot “forest” themselves, he discreetly re-emerged just as the latest child slid off Santa’s lap.

“Merry Christmas, Dan!” bellowed a red and white-clad Todd behind an enormous, curly beard. “Remember to brush your teeth!”

The little boy ran back to his parents, who were having a word with the photographer about purchasing a picture of their son on Santa’s lap. Before Boomer could follow them, Brick was quick to cut him off.

“Where the hell were you?” he demanded. Sour as an un-sugared plum in his festive, candy-striped elf costume, Brick may have absolutely intimidated the seven-year-olds waiting in line with their parents for a turn on Santa’s lap, but Boomer only allowed him a bemused smile.

“Why, I was making toys for the good little boys and girls who came to visit us here at the North Pole,” Boomer said in a raised voice. He looped his arm through his brother’s and let his power surge with enough force to turn Brick around and face the crowd that was definitely within hearing range. “Isn’t that right, Elf Mursten?”

Brick pushed back with inhuman force, but Boomer held his ground with a smile as bright as the glitter on his cheeks as a little girl in overalls trotted forward.

She giggled. “I like your hat.”

“Thank you!” Boomer gushed, and he tipped his pom-pom-topped cap. “And what’s your name?”

The little girl giggled again. “My name’s Alynn.”

“Well, Alynn, why don’t you step right up and take a seat on Santa’s lap? I’m sure he has a great present for a cool girl like you. Right, Elf Mursten?”

Brick glared medieval torture at him, and he managed a smile that showed too many teeth to be anything other than life-threatening. “Of course, Elf Buller.”

Boomer’s smile tightened.

“Ho ho ho! Come on over, Santa doesn’t bite,” Todd said.

“What a psychotic reassurance,” Brick said soft enough for only the Super brothers to hear.

“Hey, Brick?” Boomer said, just as softly. “Cheer the fuck up.” He gave his brother a bone-crushing squeeze around the arm and broke from him. Brick could be a sourpuss when he wanted to be (all the time), but he wouldn’t mess up Todd’s Mall Santa gig when he’d bothered to show up and actually put in the effort at all. Complain as he might about Todd’s exuberance, Brick had always come through for his best friend since the seventh grade.

Boomer, on the other hand, had been very happy to accept Todd’s offer to work the two weeks leading up to Christmas. The hours were reasonable, the pay was good, and Boomer loved children. It was easy money in between local shows he and his garage band had booked over the holidays.

Plus, the photographer had a nice rack.

“Okay, Santa, Alynn. Look over here and say ‘jingle bells’!” A flash went off, and Mike Believe stood to his full height behind the tripod he’d set up for the day’s pictures. Even in reindeer antlers and a bright, red-painted nose, Mike filled out every fold of his brown Rudolph outfit almost to the point of popping a button. His broad chest puffed out when he put his strong hands on his hips and grinned brightly like he wouldn’t pick anywhere else to be right now.

Their eyes met, and Boomer flushed and smiled like a fool.

When Mike winked back at him coyly, his heart leaped into his throat. Mike had gotten home from college just two days ago, but the three weeks he had off for Winter Break would surely fly by like they did every year, and Boomer was determined to spend every moment together.

A tug on Boomer’s green tunic drew his attention. “Can I take a picture with you? Please?” the little girl asked.

Boomer beamed and scooped her up onto his hip. “Of course you can. Hey, Mike? Can you take one of us, please?”

“You bet! Get in close, now.” Mike readied his camera.

“Oh, wait a sec. Why don’t you take this too?” Boomer removed his festive hat and put it on Alynn’s head. It was big on her, but she laughed happily.

They posed for the picture, and Boomer hugged her cheek to cheek.

“Thanks!” The little girl tried to give him his hat back, but he pressed it to her chest.

“You keep it. Merry Christmas. Remember to be good, okay?”

Alynn’s father was waiting with a hand for her to take when she ran back to him, yammering about how she’d met Santa and his super cool elf friend, and Boomer watched them go.

“You know you’ll have to pay for that hat,” Brick said.

Boomer sighed and ran a hand through his cornflower hair. “You know I look better without it.”

Brick frowned deeply. “Uh-huh.”

“If you keep frowning, your face will stick like that.”

“Moron.”

He always had to have the last word. Brick went to stack the empty boxes wrapped in bright, shiny paper, which was probably more productive than blowing up the entire display. Boomer left him to it. It was time for their mid-morning break, anyway.

Todd got up to stretch. “Man, who knew sitting could be so tiring, huh? Whack.” His phone buzzed, and he grinned when he saw the caller ID.

Boomer, however, had eyes only for Mike as the latter turned off his camera and put a sheet over the tripod to protect it. “Working hard, I see.”

When Mike smiled, his dark eyes crinkled in the corners. He had a face made for smiling. “Oh, you know. Just helping out some friends.”

Like Brick, Todd had asked Mike to help out behind the camera for this gig. Mike didn’t exactly need the extra cash given his lacrosse scholarship that covered his college expenses, but the three of them had been as thick as thieves all through high school no matter what Brick said when he was annoyed. No way was Mike going to bail on the chance to help out a bro.

“This is cute,” Mike said, running a thumb over Boomer’s sparkly cheek.

“If only I could convince Brick to wear some,” Boomer said, lacing his fingers in Mike’s as they shuffled to the side of the exhibit behind a blinking Christmas tree for a bit of privacy.

Mike chuckled. “That’ll take a Christmas miracle. But anyway, I don’t want to talk about Brick right now.”

Their kiss was soft and mostly chaste, considering the venue, but Boomer didn’t mind at all. He rose up on his toes to lean into his boyfriend’s superior height and smiled into their kiss. Even in the middle of the Townsville Mall with shoppers mere yards away, for a few seconds Boomer got lost in the fantasy of the forest and the snow drifts, bright lights and magic that came around only once a year and had always touched his heart in a way nothing else quite could.

“Babe! You got here quick!” Todd’s excitement and a small commotion around Santa’s throne drew the lovers’ attention, and Boomer reluctantly broke the kiss. His Super hearing quickly picked up on what was going on.

“What is it?” Mike asked.

Boomer smiled wryly. “That Christmas miracle you wished for. Come on.” He took Mike’s larger hand in his and pulled him back toward the front of the display, where Todd had scooped up a very small, very fashionable Asian woman in his arms.

“Oh my god, don’t do shits in front of the innocent children, Toddy.” Hana patted her high bun and smoothed out her oversized black jacket once Todd released her.

“Hey, I just missed you is all,” Todd said with a genuine smile like he had really, truly missed his girlfriend since this morning when they had last seen each other.

“You guys are too cute,” said Bubbles with a giggle. As usual, she was adorable in blonde twin tails and a holiday-appropriate sweater dress. Shopping bags hung from both her arms, also as usual.

“Right?” Hana said, her deadpan façade melting completely as she beamed at her closest friend.

“No contest.” Bubbles set down her small nation of shopping bags. “Oh! Hi, Boomer!” She dashed to hug him in a flash of blue, and he caught her easily. “Oh my gosh, I love your glitter. You look like a supermodel!”

Boomer laughed and hugged her back. “Thanks for letting me borrow it. I really owe you.”

“Don’t worry about it. Oh, but you definitely need some touching up. Here, let me just…”

Mike had wandered over to Todd and Hana. “Hey, Hana. Are you staying for the holiday?”

Hana shrugged. “Yeah, my art show isn’t until after New Year’s. You know, I’m always looking for more models.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Mike laughed. “I’m honored, but I’m really nothing special, honestly. You might try Butch.”

Todd guffawed. “Oh man, Butch is, like, one of her top models! She painted him for what, six weeks last summer, babe?”

“Seven,” Hana said, dead serious.

Mike smiled nervously. “That’s a lot of inspiration.”

“He is very inspiring,” Hana said, deader and more serious.

“That dude is goals,” Todd said, totally unironically.

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Mike said.

“Aaaaand done.” Bubbles stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Honestly? You’re the most beautiful elf the North Pole ever employed.”

Boomer snickered. “Don’t tell Brick that.”

“Don’t tell me what, now?” Brick emerged from his useless empty box stacking task, glitter-less and severely lacking in Christmas cheer.

Bubbles gasped, right on cue. “Brick! Where is your glitter? Get over here.”

Brick made a weird face. “What are you talk—hey!”

Bubbles all but accosted him with the glitter pen. Hana cheered and applauded, and Todd joined in because he liked to cheer and applaud in general.

“What are you—get off!” Brick shoved Bubbles hard, but a flash of pink caught her before she could crash into anything.

Blossom peered around her totally unfazed sister, a tray of lattes in one hand and her perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised. “Brick,” she said.

Brick swallowed. “Blossom.”

She looked nice in leggings and a sweater dress that matched Bubbles’ style, except where Bubbles’ was white, Blossom’s was a scarlet that rivaled the shade of Brick’s eyes.

“I brought you guys coffee,” Blossom said, her eyes trained on Brick even as she held out the tray.

Mike took the tray before it could become collateral damage in whatever was going on between the two of them.

“Here you go.” Mike offered one to Boomer, who gratefully accepted it.

“Thanks!”

“I thought you weren’t getting home until tomorrow,” Brick said, as if he and Blossom were the only two people there.

“Change of plans,” Blossom said. “Problem?”

Brick seemed to remember what he was wearing and snatched his elf hat from his head. He bunched it up between his hands like that would hide his imagined shame. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine, clearly. But it wasn’t Boomer’s place to intrude. He would have been extremely happy for it to end there, but sadly Blossom, like his brother, had a flair for the dramatic and an affinity for the center of attention.

She sauntered up to him and smeared the bit of glitter Bubbles had managed to draw on his cheek before he’d shoved her off. “Good,” she said, half an invitation and half a challenge.

Brick didn’t bend easily. Boomer knew his brother as well as he knew himself, and he knew Brick didn’t relent, never gave in unless he was well and truly beaten, which was rare. But he slackened now, lips parting and eyes falling. Even though his arms stayed stubbornly at his sides and he didn’t do something as scandalous as hold his girlfriend’s hand in public, he melted under her touch and attention.

“All right! Bloss, you’re back early! This is massive, like, supernova massive,” Todd said. “Hey, I know! Let’s throw a party at mine tonight! Brick said you weren’t coming back for another couple of days, so this is like a cool early Christmas present to all of us.”

Bubbles gasped. “Oh my gosh, yes! Let’s all go to Todd’s tonight, just like we used to. I’m calling Robin right now.”

“We can make it a real Christmas party,” Blossom said. Somehow, she’d gotten ahold of Bubbles’ glitter pen and now smeared a generous amount on Brick’s cheeks until he gleamed without suffering a nuclear meltdown. A Christmas miracle, indeed.

“You’ll wear the Santa suit,” Hana said. Demanded.

“Ho ho ho! You got it, babe.”

“That thing’s a rental,” Brick said. “And it’s, like, 75 degrees outside.”

“If he gets too hot, I’ll hose him down,” Hana said.

Brick smartly decided not to press her on that one.

“I like your elf costume, Brick,” Blossom teased. Maybe.

“I’m burning it as soon as I get paid,” Brick said.

“I thought it was a rental like Todd’s?”

He hesitated, trapped by his own logic, and she laughed softly and kissed the side of his mouth. Brick froze and played it off like it didn’t affect him, but his eyes were drawn to Blossom’s lips for the next six whole minutes. Boomer really didn’t get why he had to make everything so damn complicated.

“Hey, hombres, our break is up and I see a super cute kid waiting to sit on the softest lap in Townsville,” Todd said, sinking back onto his candy cane throne and patting his lap.

Brick visibly cringed.

“It could be worse,” Mike whispered to Brick. “At least this time we get to keep our shirts on.”

Boomer smiled at the memory of Todd’s last seasonal gig he’d roped Brick and Mike into over the summer. The shirtless carwash had admittedly been one of his more rewarding part-time jobs, and Boomer had the photo evidence to cherish the memory extremely fondly.

Blossom and Hana retreated behind Mike while Bubbles finished up her phone call with Robin and Brick admitted the next child on set.

“Welcome to the North Pole,” he said with all the cheer of an old tire. Nonetheless, his cheeks dazzled. “What’s your name, kid?”

She looked up at him but didn’t say anything. Boomer noticed her shyness and decided he better intervene.

“Hey there,” he said, taking a knee so he could be on her eye-level. “Merry Christmas.”

That alarmed her even more, and she hugged Brick’s leg.

“What the—” Brick put his hands up like he didn’t know what to do with them. “Great.”

The girl’s parents were busy talking to Mike about the picture packages and didn’t seem to notice what was going on.

“Uh,” Boomer said, ready to flag them down before the little girl got scared or started to cry. They’d been lucky this morning with only one child throwing a temper tantrum out of the tens they’d seen.

“All right, kid. I hope you have a good grip.” Brick floated off the ground with the little girl clinging to his leg and flew over to Todd’s throne.

Boomer was so flabbergasted by his brother’s gross disregard for this child’s safety in front of her parents that he was momentarily stunned where he kneeled. It was over in about two and a half seconds, with her parents none the wiser and the little girl still in one piece, miraculously. Brick peeled her off him and dropped her on Todd’s lap.

“Name,” Brick demanded. And then, reluctantly: “…To check you off the Nice List.”

The little girl looked up at him with wide-eyed wonderment, or maybe fear. “Morana.”

“Morana. Super. Tell Todd—I mean, Santa—what you want. And smile for the camera.”

Todd didn’t miss a beat and wrapped his arms loosely around her to hold her safely in place. “Morana, that’s a pretty name. Wanna tell me what you want for Christmas?”

Morana pointed at Brick. “That one.”

Brick turned as red as his messy man bun. Todd wheezed.

“Oh, yeah? Well, that one’s taken, but I bet I can get you a picture together. How ‘bout it?” Todd asked.

Boomer was up and moving in a blue flash. “That can be arranged.” He shoved his brother with a healthy burst of Super strength, and Brick all but fell on his knee next to Todd’s throne. Boomer waved back at Mike for the picture.

“Big smile now!” Mike said cheerfully, and snapped the picture.

“What the hell is up with these kids?” Brick asked when Morana skipped back to her parents and started chattering at them in a language Boomer didn’t recognize but assumed must be all good things from the way she grinned from ear to ear. “They get bolder every year.”

“Or you’re just getting softer,” Boomer teased.

“Yeah, right.”

Blossom laughed at something Hana said on a nearby bench, drawing both their eyes.

“Whatever you say, man,” Boomer said.

xxx

Todd’s party was a nostalgic and long-overdue affair later that evening. Unlike Boomer, who had to make do in a small studio apartment on the outskirts of Citiesville where the rent was more manageable and his commute didn’t matter when flying anywhere took only minutes, Todd lived in a big house he took care of for his often absent, globe-trotting parents. Blossom, Bubbles, and Robin had taken the initiative and strung up Christmas lights, while Boomer created and managed the playlist for the night. They had a good crowd with old friends from high school and new ones from work and college gathered for no excuse other than to have a good time.

Butch, Buttercup, Mike, and Todd had set up beer pong in the basement, where most of the festivities were taking place. As usual, the shit talking and macho bravado had soared to ludicrous heights.

“Come on, BC,” Todd goaded. “Money shot, right here.” He fluffed his Santa beard, the ends of which were damp with beer. Buttercup had one cup left to hit.

“I’m about to straight-up tea bag you with this ping pong ball, Todd, I swear to god.” Buttercup tried to focus on her aim after too many beers and the distraction of Todd’s stupid Santa beard.

“Do it, fucking do it,” Butch said, bobbing on the balls of his feet and slightly manic with the competition and holiday cheer, probably.

“I’m gonna fucking do it!”

“I don’t think you can fucking do it,” Mike said.

“Ohhhhh!” Butch hollered when Buttercup lost her temper and threw the ball too hard. It bounced off Todd’s beard and fell on the floor, leaving the last cup untouched.

“Mike, you cheater!” Buttercup shouted.

Mike burst out laughing.

“All riiiiight, the Toddster’s final shot. You filming, babe?” Todd asked.

Hana, across the table from Boomer, had her phone out and poised. “Kick their asses, Toddy.”

“Yeah, bring it on, Toddy,” Butch jeered.

“Oh, it’s about to be brought.”

“Oh god, please, you peaked in high school,” Buttercup said.

“Hey, he plateaued,” Mike said. “There’s a difference.”

“Just take the damn shot!”

Todd shot, hit the rim of the solo cup, and missed. Buttercup and Butch threw up their hands and whooped. They were still in the game, and the stakes were even higher now.

Boomer squeezed Mike’s arm in a silent excuse and went to change the music…only to find Brick and Blossom making out in the hallway like it was their last night on Earth.

The music was fine, he decided. No need to interrupt Brick and Blossom trying to fuse with the wall and face his brother’s cock blocked wrath. Discreetly, Boomer snapped a picture on his phone and texted it to Bubbles.

[Boomer: Shooketh]

Bubbles’ reply was lightning fast.

[Bubbles: More like shattered!!]

[Bubbles: Better get out of there before they catch you lol 💀]

After another hour (and Brick and Blossom’s reemergence from the wall in one piece with not a hair out of place because god forbid), Boomer and Mike decided to head out early. They went back to Boomer’s apartment, where a very excited Pomeranian welcomed them home.

“Hi, Pumpkin!” Mike brightened like the sun and scooped up his favorite girl, left in Boomer’s care while he was away at college. “Who’s ready for a walk?”

They walked Pumpkin and let her tire herself out running around the suburban neighborhood where it was too late at night for any cars to be out. A half hour later, they were curled up on the loveseat with Pumpkin snoozing in her fuzzy bed at their feet and an old black-and-white Christmas movie playing on low volume on the television.

“Hey,” Boomer said, lifting his head from Mike’s chest to look at him properly.

Mike set aside the hot chocolate he’d been drinking and pulled Boomer up by his waist. “Hey, you. What is it?”

Boomer smiled. It was silly, really. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh?” Mike returned his smile and leaned closer. He smelled like soap, a hint of chocolate, and something else that made Boomer want to bury his face in his neck.

“Just happy,” Boomer said.

“Really? I can’t tell.”

Boomer sat up a little higher. The neck of Mike’s old lacrosse jersey he wore dipped down his shoulder, too big on him and softer than a cloud. He pressed a chaste kiss to the underside of Mike’s jaw. “How about now?”

“Hm, nope, I don’t think I quite got that.”

Boomer threaded his fingers though Mike’s short, dark hair at the nape of his neck. Feeling coquettish, he gave his ear a nip. “How about now?”

Mike shifted on the couch and pulled Boomer’s bent legs onto his lap. His voice was as warm as the hot chocolate he’d been drinking. “I think I’m starting to get a vague understanding.”

Boomer laughed and painted a trail of kisses along Mike’s jaw, up his chin. He pressed a strong hand to his chest and put a little power behind it. Centimeters apart, he could taste the lingering heat of the hot chocolate on Mike’s breath. “And now?”

Mike’s eyes drooped and darkened. His hands slipped around Boomer’s waist, under the jersey, a silent entreaty. “I think you can do a little better than that, Angel.”

The secret nickname broke Boomer’s resolve, and he kissed his boyfriend full on the mouth with all the confidence and shamelessness he couldn’t give him that morning at the mall surrounded by children and their parents. Mike’s shirt soon found its way to the floor along with Boomer’s borrowed jersey. The loveseat was too short to accommodate Mike’s height comfortably, and after a few moments Boomer held him close and flew them to the bed in a flash.

“I’ll never get over how hot that is,” Mike said, breathless.

Boomer blushed, unable to help it. He was careful with his strength around Mike, but sometimes the X bonded to his bones pushed him to the raw, carnal boundaries of humanity. Mike’s hand on his cheek drew him out of those spiraling thoughts.

“I mean it,” Mike said. “I love that part of you. And I trust you completely.”

Words did not come easily, nor did they seem appropriate in that moment. Boomer bent to kiss Mike again and pull him as close as he could get. Wrapped up in the warm sheets and each other, Boomer’s silly little thought that he had never been happier grew and swelled to heights he never could have imagined before Mike. They lay there together, lazy and sleepy, as the credits of their forgotten holiday movie played on the television.

“One more semester,” Mike said, “and then I graduate.”

“I can’t believe you’re almost a college graduate,” Boomer said. “It feels like you left ages ago.”

“Four years is a long time, but it’s not forever. And you should get ready.”

Boomer looked up at him. “Ready for what?”

“To move, of course.”

“Move?”

“Hey, I love how cozy your apartment is, but I’m pretty sure Pumpkin would appreciate her own room once we’re living together full time.”

Boomer sat up properly. “You… You want to move in together? With me?”

“Of course! The only question is, where do you want to go?”

Boomer covered his mouth. Of course he had thought about getting a place with Mike, but that always seemed like the distant future. What if they didn’t stay together? What if the long distance was too hard? What if Mike met someone else at college? Brick didn’t talk about it much, but after a few too many drinks one night the year Blossom and Mike both left for college, he’d confessed how afraid he was that he would lose her forever. How can the old be exciting and fun compared to the amazing, new adventures she would be having?

But from the way Boomer had caught them all but absorbing each other at Todd’s tonight, Blossom seemed perfectly happy to keep him. And Mike…

“You’re serious,” Boomer said.

“I’ve never been more serious.” Mike took his hand and kissed his knuckles carefully. “I can’t wait to start our lives together.”

Boomer could have cried. He almost did. Life was hard, even for a Super like him. With endless bills to pay and the occasional monster to dispose of, sometimes he felt like he was being pulled in too many directions without anyone there to help pick up the slack. But this… This was his.

“Me too,” Boomer said. “And I don’t care where we go, as long as it’s together.”

“Well, cool. In that case, if you’re not opposed to it, was thinking farther north, like Metroville. There are some great photography jobs there that I want to apply for, and the music scene is bigger than it is here—”

“Yes! A hundred percent yes, let’s do it. When do we leave?”

Mike laughed. “June 1st, as soon as they hand me my diploma.”

Six months. It had a date now. Unthinking, Boomer threw his arms around Mike’s broad shoulders and hugged him tight. “I’ll mark my calendar.”

“It’s a date.”

Incidentally, they did not get much sleep the rest of that night.

xxx

I told myself I wasn’t going to do a ton of fluff, but damnit all, Boomike is SUPER CUTE and I couldn’t help myself. Let them have the happy ending they deserve. Thanks for reading!

#PowerPuff Girls #powerpuff girls fanfiction #powerpuff girls fanfic #Blossick #PPG Reds #Boomike #Capri Sus #Todd x Hana #Brick #Boomer #Blossom #Todd #Mike Believe #february fic prompts

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 3 years

Text

BTS DRABBLE

It’s never difficult to be around Hoseok or Jimin. Hobi is the actual human form of sunshine 98% of the time, and Jimin is so lovely and sweet and perfect that you wonder on a daily basis if he’s not actually an angel. You’re lucky-you always realize that-but on days like today, when you’re tired and stressed and more than a little crampy-it hits you all over again-just how lucky you actually are. Because with these two men, nothing goes unnoticed, and you never go unloved.

Or rather, Jess writes a fluffy, purely self indulgent, domestic relationship AU featuring JiHope in honor of Hobi’s birthday week. Happy Hobiuary! 💜

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, Jung Hoseok, J-Hope, Hobi, Hoseok, Park Jimin, Jimin, BTS x you, BTS x reader, Poly!BTS, Hoseok x you, Hoseok x reader, Jimin x you, Jimin x reader, Hoseok x Jimin, JiHope, Fluff

Genre: Tooth Rotting Fluff

Title: Champagne Bubbles

It had been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

As soon as you had gotten into work that morning, the vet on duty had instantly started yelling-overwhelmed and swamped by cases already-and scared of angering her any further, you hadn’t stopped running since 6 AM.

Cut to the last hour of your shift, and you had somehow managed to get every animal substance known to man on your scrubs-you were fairly certain that last rowdy patient had peed on you more than once-and you looked, and smelled, like someone who was at the end of their metaphorical rope.

However, you still had to take an exam at the nearby university before heading home, and so, throwing your coat on over your soiled clothes, you headed for the library, the world-dark when you left the apartment that morning-dark once more as the moon crested over the nearby buildings.

You failed the exam.

It was hard to drive home-what with the darkened streets and the exhausted tears starting to brim and overflow-but you managed to make it, and pulling into your spot, you allowed yourself to just sit for a moment, forehead resting forlornly on the cold steering wheel.

This day could not get worse.

Famous last words.

Cut to now, as you’re walking up the last flight of stairs to your apartment, and you start to feel the telltale cramping low in your abdomen, the kind that makes you wanna crawl in bed, throw a blanket over your head, and curl up-fetal position-around a hot bean bag.

“Dammit, why.” You groan out, reaching the landing, as you blindly dig your hand into your purse to search for your keys, a simple task, that feels like an impossible trial in your tired state.

Good thing you had been prepared and put in a tampon that morning when you had woken with the impending signs of doom and a headache.

Finally locating your keys, you unlock the door to the darkened apartment and let out a sigh of tired relief as you let your bag slide to the floor right in front of the entrance, kicking off your worn and smelly sneakers without a thought.

Well, without a thought other than getting into a hot shower and falling into your bed with a heating pad and a blanket over your head.

It’s quiet in the apartment, and you wonder briefly, if Jimin and Hobi are already asleep as you creep quietly toward the hallway. You are home a lot later than normal.

You all rise early together every day and split ways in the parking garage-you headed for the emergency vet clinic, Jimin waving cheerfully as he leaves in his old beater for his job as manager at the local coffee shop, and Hobi driving off far too fast on his scooter toward the local arts college, where he teaches dance classes.

You all usually go to bed early too, at the same time, together, but tonight, you’re far later than usual and the apartment is lacking the sunshine of Hobi’s bright smile and Jimin’s soft welcome home embrace.

Your footsteps falter at the kitchen, and suddenly, you let out an audible groan, as your eyes are drawn to the kitchen sink sitting dark in one corner.

Dammit. You still needed to do the breakfast dishes.

Shuffling across the tile of the kitchen, you turn on the hot water and let it wash over your cold, chapped hands for a moment, before your reach into the sink blindly, searching for the first dirty dish.

You glance down in surprise when-after moments of fruitless searching-you find nothing in the sink, and note, suddenly, that it is empty and spotless, the dishes already done and put away in the cabinets.

Interesting.

You don’t allow yourself to dwell on this for long however, before your tired, aching feet are leading you down the dim hallway once more, toward the safety and warmth of the bathroom and the delicious idea of hot, steaming shower for your tired and dirty body.

Pushing open the door, careful to be quiet, in case your boyfriends are truly sleeping like you think, your eyes widen once more in surprise for the second time in as many minutes.

The bathroom is softly aglow with the light of candles, the atmosphere warm and scented like roses and champagne, and in the flickering light, you note that the small bathtub in the corner has been filled to the brim with steaming, lapping water, perfumed with the oily slick of some sort of bath salt.

“What the hell-” You breathe out beneath your breath, and suddenly, you don’t feel so tired anymore, and the corners of your mouth are tilting upward in the start of a fond smile, as you observe the carefully presented scene before you.

First the dishes, and now a bath?

The boys are definitely up to something.

Shucking your heavy coat off onto the bathroom floor, you trek back the way you have just come, and without knocking, push open the door to the bedroom.

The room is dimly lit by the string of clear lights that adorn the wall above the bed-giving it a cozy and soft glow-and by the flickering of a movie playing quietly on the TV.

You lean against the door frame and take in the scene for a moment, the smile on your lips growing unwittingly bigger as you observe your boyfriends, curled up in the middle of the queen bed, piled under several blankets, looking soft and ethereal and altogether incredibly comfortable.

Jimin looks up first, large dark eyes reflecting the light from the tv screen, blonde hair ruffled in an adorable way, as if he has just taken a shower, and smiles when he sees you, eyes creasing into half moons. “Baby girl! you’re back!”

Hobi glances over at Jimin’s words, chin resting on the shorter man’s head where it lays on his chest, and offers you one his breathtaking smiles, and the room becomes a million times lighter, as if the sun has just peeked through the curtains. “Hey beautiful! Long day?”

“Incredibly.” You nod, glancing over to the movie they’re watching. Some action flick you’ve never seen. “What’d you guys do, by the way?” You ask nonchalantly, slightly teasing, as you draw your attention back to them once more.

“What do you mean?” Jimin asks, sitting up now, full lips drawn into an incredibly cute pout that you struggle to resist.

“You know.” You motion vaguely over your shoulder. “First the dishes, now a bath?” You grin teasingly, shrugging, suddenly all too aware that you’re still in your stinky scrubs. “You guys must have done something really bad to suck up like this.”

“You’d think, right?” Hobi jokes back, laughing loudly, as he slides away from Jimin and stands, and you note, as he comes toward you, that he’s wearing the plaid pajama bottoms you had tried so hard to throw away last year.

He pauses in front of you, quirking his head in an endearing way, and reaches out to tuck back a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Actually though,” He offers you the hint of a soft, heart shaped smile. “We just wanted to spoil you after a long day. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Give us some credit, baby.” Jimin has joined you both at the doorway now, and he yawns, reaching up to ruffle his already disheveled hair, before he shoots you a mischievous smile that makes his eyes light up. “We’re not completely dense.”

“I know.” You laugh now, and the tiredness is showing through again, straining your mirth. “Thank you.” You give them both a fond, affectionate half smile, the best you can do for now.

You have to admit, the bath is calling your name.

“Your bath is gonna get cold.” Jimin states, as if he has read your thoughts, and he leans forward, whether to push you toward the bathroom, or hug you, you don’t know, but you avoid his hold by stepping backward.

“Ew. Don’t touch me, Chim.” You wrinkle your nose as you glance down at your soiled work clothes. “I seriously think I was peed on like fifteen times today.”

Jimin’s brow crinkles, and he shoots you a teasing look of disgust. “Okay. You don’t have to twist my arm. I’ll wait till you’re clean.”

Hobi laughs, and the sound gives you the motivation you need to give them each a little grin and wave, before heading toward the bathroom and the much awaited bath.

******

The bath rejuvenates you, and by the time you return to the bedroom, wrapped in a towel and skin red and raw from soaking, you feel like a completely new person.

Though you can still feel the exhaustion creeping up your bones.

The boys are back in the bed, cuddled up like before, but there is another movie going on the TV now-a chick flick-and the bedside lamp is on.

“You started another movie without me?” You ask playfully, digging through the dresser to find your pajama shorts and tank top, one hand holding the towel securely at your chest.

“You took too long.” Hobi complains around a mouthful of popcorn, his free arm looped loosely around Jimin’s shoulders. “We thought you drowned.”

“And you didn’t check to see?” You jab back, glancing over your shoulder, as you finally locate your clothes, and shoot Hobi a playful glare, eyebrow raised in the man’s direction.

He shrugs. “Didn’t want to miss the movie.”

You roll your eyes, and start to slip your now clean legs into the pajama shorts, beginning to shiver now in the cool air of the room.

“You know, baby girl.” Jimin speaks up now, and his normally lilting tones are darker, sultry, suggestively playful. You glance at him, and he raises a brow at you, teeth sunken slightly into his plush, bottom lip, as his eyes scan the naked expanse of your legs. “You could cut down on time. Just not wear anything. Merely a suggestion.”

You roll your eyes once more, and stick your tongue out at him, before pointedly holding his gaze as you finish putting on the rest of your pajama outfit.

Sliding hurriedly into the warmth of the bed next to Jimin, you are caught off guard to feel the heat of an already hot heating pad beneath the covers, and you glance over questioningly at the two men beside you.

Jimin grins in a way that makes your stomach warm with love and fondness. “Don’t tell me you didn’t think we knew.” He cocks his head at you, blonde hair falling into his eyes. “Come on, baby. You’re as easy to read as a book. And you know we keep track.”

You consider making a teasing remark in return-about them keeping a calendar or something in their phones about the dates of your period-but instead, you decide to simply utter a soft “thank you” as you situate the heating pad, and snuggle down beneath the blankets next to Jimin.

He slides his arm beneath your body and pulls you against him, and his body heat is instantly making your eyes droop slightly and a heavy feeling of comfort wash over your tired muscles as you allow your head to rest heavily on his chest, heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

You glance at the TV and recognize the movie scene that is being played.

You groan. “You guys know I hate this movie.”

“Which is why we’re watching it.” Hobi teases, letting the hand that is resting on Jimin’s shoulder flick so that his long fingers tickle your hair and the top of your head. “It’s time for you to realize what good media is, beautiful.”

“Whatever.” You grumble out, burying your face into Jimin’s side, your eyes already closing, as you breathe in the smell of him-sandalwood and vanilla and something soft that feels like home. “I’m not gonna watch it anyway.”

You feel Jimin press a kiss to the top of your head, and Hobi rest his hand on the crown of your hair, and the affectionate gestures-just to let you know they’re there, that they’ll always be there-make you feel as if you’re home.

You are home.

Because you’re so lucky. Lucky to have them both in your life. Lucky to have two people who make you feel as if home is not a place, but a feeling.

You are the luckiest.

And you realize that every single day.

But days like today-that are terrible and horrible and no good-yet still end here, curled up next to your two favorite people in the whole world, make you realize that the most.

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tangledstarlight · 4 years

Text

hi im back again with another jatp 5+1 thing because i have no self control and work has been real slow lately. this time it started because i was thinking about the plants in the studio garage and who watered them yknow?? and well. now we have this. i’m very sorry.

sidenote: this is apparently turning into a lil series so if anyones got any ideas of reggie or alex hmu cos im drawing a blank

ANYWAY it’s a 5+1 julie centric with a happy ending because Julie Molina can and will save those boys with the power of love.

also on ao3

trigger warnings! death mentions (because they’re ghosts (also her mother is yknow. dead)), mild swearing.

one.

When she was six Julie had made a very detailed presentation - including glitter and coloured print outs, courtesy of Carrie’s printer - on why she should be allowed to get a pet fish. There had been charts and graphs - because she’d seen someone on tv using charts and graphs and getting what they wanted so obviously it was the way to go - and little hands outs in the form of flyers and posters she’d found in the school library.

She’d stood in front of her parents in the living room, Carrie holding up the bar graph, Flynn supporting the pie chart, and she had made her case. She had promised to feed them, to help clean out the tank and filter. She’d pointed out how having a fish didn’t need walking and that they were quiet and there was never really any mess to clean up. A fish would be the perfect pet.

A week later on a sunny Saturday morning, the three Molina’s walked into a pet store. Julie had done a lot of thinking in the last week about what kind of fish she wanted. Carrie, Flynn and herself had spent a painstaking afternoon looking through photos on google until they found the perfect fish.

So she almost didn’t notice the tank in the back corner of the store that looked a little dark and dingy, with two fish swimming aimlessly around the decoration-less tank. There wasn’t anything particularly special or different about these fish, they looked like every other goldfish she’d ever seen. Yellow-gold scales, large eyes, fins that always reminded her of wings, one of them seemed to be turning almost white while the other had little spots of black mixing with the gold.

Julie tilted her head as she peered into the tank, blowing a stray curl out of her face as she furrowed her brow. She couldn’t say why, but these fish just seemed so very sad to her.

“They’re sad,” she said out loud, looking over at her parents where they were standing talking to a shop assistant about different types of tanks. “Why are they by themselves?”

“Those two are returns. Kid didn’t want them anymore so they bought them back,” the man said, already sounding bored of the conversation. But the frown on Julie's face deepened as she looked back at the fish. No wonder they were sad. Pulling her lower lip between her teeth, Julie looked around at all the other fish tanks around her, at all the bright happy fish swimming around and made up her mind.

“Can we get these two please?” She pointed at the tank in front of her, careful not to touch the glass because she didn’t want to scare them. That would be a terrible first introduction.

“I thought you wanted one of the ones with orange and black splotches?” Her mom said coming to stand next to her, because that’s all she’d been talking about on the drive over. About the fish that she’d wanted. Julie nodded her head quickly and then shook it once, hair flying in front of her face again that her mom gently moved away.

“I did! But these two are sad and no one wants them which isn’t fair. They didn’t do anything wrong. But I want them. And I’ll look after them and love them and they can be happy! Please momma, these ones?” Julie watched as her parents exchanged a look, eyebrows raising and lips twitching. She didn’t know what any of it meant, but her dad said something about needing a tank big enough for two and forty-five minutes later they were leaving the shop with a tank and two sad looking fish.

Julie had been so engrossed in looking at her new fish, naming them and telling them all about their new home and how they were going to be able to see the TV so clearly from their spot in the living room that she didn’t hear the shop assistants comment about how they probably only had a few months left to live.

Two years later as Juile went about her usual Saturday morning routine of breakfast and cartoons and pretending to help her mom with the crossword she paused to say hello to her fish. Empty bowl in her hand and halfway to the kitchen when she looked into the tank and felt her heart drop.

“Mom! Dad!”

Her parents both came rushing in from the kitchen at her distressed call, finding her staring into the glass tank she had taken hours to decorate with silent tears dripping down her face as the two fish floated listless at the top.

“Oh sweetie,” her mom said, a hand resting on her chest and as she wrapped her other arm around her daughter's shoulders, pulling her close to her side.

“They’re dead,” Julie said quietly, because she had done all her research two years ago about fish and how to look after them and what they liked. And how to tell if they were dead.

“Yeah they are,” her mom gave her a gentle squeeze, turning her away from the tank and leading her to the sofa so they could sit down. “But you gave them the best two years with the way you looked after them. Decorating their home and making sure they got only the best food and keeping them company. They weren’t so sad anymore.”

And Julie just nods her head, wiping tears away on her sleeves and swallowing when she feels more tears welling in her eyes.

“Can we bury them?”

“Of course we can mija. There's that old shoe box in the closet upstairs, why don’t you go get it and we can decorate it for them, huh? Put their names on it, make it look nice,” her dad, perched on the arm of the sofa said, running one hand over her hair as he smiled down at her.

“Okay.”

They bury the two fish in a cardboard shoe box decorated with glitter and stickers in the back garden, next to a little flower bed near the studio garage and Julie cries again but it’s not so sad. Because she had given her fish the two best years she could and her mom is holding her hand while her dad has her hugged to his side. And maybe death isn’t so sad if they’ve lived a happy long life.

two.

The plant sat on her desk staring at her.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t staring at her, because it was a plant and, as far as Julie knew, plants couldn’t stare. But if they could this one would be.

Actually it would probably be glaring at her. Using it’s last dregs of life to make sure it’s murderer knew what they had done and felt guilty about it.

Julie hadn’t meant to kill the little plant. She’d just… forgotten it was sitting on her windowsill in her bedroom, in direct sight of the sun everyday for the last three months. Without getting watered once.

She was eleven years old and a plant killer.

Julie dropped her head into her hands and let out a groan, throwing herself backwards onto her bed so only her feet were dangling off the end. That’s how her mom finds her twenty minutes later.

“Everything okay in here?” She asked, a laugh in her tone that just makes Julie groan again.

“No!” She whines, not sitting up but at least moving her hands from in front of her face as her mom comes further into her room and sits on the edge of her bed.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“I killed the plant,” Julie mutters, a pout on her lips as her eyebrows are drawn together and she glares at the ceiling. Just how she’d imagined the plant glaring at her.

“Ah,” is all she gets in response which just makes Julie glare harder at her ceiling, even as she feels tears pooling in her eyes.

“I’m a plant killer mom. Does that make me a bad person?”

She can almost feel the shock coming from her mom as she looks down at her, eyes a little wide as the older woman shakes her head. And then her eyes soften and she’s pulling Julie up so they’re sitting side by side on the bed, looking at the plant she has murdered by default.

“Oh Julie. Did you mean to kill the plant?” She asks and Julie immediately shakes her head, hair flying everywhere and eyes widening in horror at the thought.

“No! Of course I didn’t! I swear!”

“Well there you go then. You just made a mistake my love, everyone makes mistakes. Sometimes they can lead things like a plant dying,” her mom gestures in front of them with one hand while the other brushes tears off her cheeks. “Sometimes they can lead to bad things happening to someone else. But it’s what you do in response to your mistake that really matters. You’re not a bad person Julie, I don’t even think you’d know how to be a bad person.”

Julie sniffed, eyes locked on the plant as she thought over her mom's words and what they meant and what she could do with them.

“Can we get a new plant? And maybe– maybe keep it in the studio so I’ll remember to water it when I go practice?” She turned her eyes up to her mom and was greeted with a wide smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“That sounds like a great plan!”

three.

Sometimes you make friends when you’re a little kid and just assume they’re always going to be in your life. Because when you’re a little kid and when you say someone is your best friend, you mean it, whole heartedly and without a single doubt in your mind.

For as long as Julie can remember it had always been the two of them.

Julie and Carrie.

Carrie and Julie.

Best friends forever.

She knew they had met because their parents knew each other, that they’d always gone to the same schools, the same parks. She knew that when Carrie’s mom had left her dad spent three weeks drinking and shouting and playing music too loud, that Carrie had spent the majority of those three weeks at her house. She knew that whenever she learnt a new song that Carrie would have a dance routine worked out within hours.

Julie knew that no matter what went right or wrong in her life, Carrie would be there to have her back.

Because they were best friends.

Nothing had ever really changed in their friendship, not even when they’d met Flynn on the first day of first grade and immediately decided their duo was now a trio. Because they were kids, and when kids declared they were best friends, they meant it.

At least Julie had meant it.

Now, curled up under the covers on her bed, tear tracks on her face and a headache forming behind her eyes, she starts to wonder if Carrie had ever meant it. She starts to reevaluate their entire friendship, her entire childhood. There’s very few memories of the last fourteen years of her life that don’t involve Carrie in some way.

That thought just makes a fresh wave of tears fill her eyes and dampen her pillow.

The words are still echoing in her head. The tone she had used, the hand on her hip, the tossing of her hair, the look of disgust on her face. Julie had seen it all before, she’d just never seen if directed at her or Flynn.

“Don’t you get it? We are not friends anymore. I don’t hang out with pathetic losers like you.”

Around and around in her head the words bounced. Julie doesn’t know what changed from Friday afternoon to Monday morning, doesn’t know what she did or didn’t do, doesn’t know how she’s meant to react other than crying.

Which is apparently one of the many, many, things that make her a pathetic loser.

Along with being childish and unfashionable and boring and not the right type of person for Dirty Candi – a group that Julie had helped her form, encouraged her to start, helped brainstorm a name for and decide on who would wear which colour. A band, that no Julie thought about it, she had never been asked to join. Not once during the whole process did it ever come up.

Julie had never even seen the distance growing between them. Hadn’t noticed when Carrie decided on who she wanted to be, and who that person was didn’t need someone like Julie around.

Twenty minutes later, with Julie still hiding under her duvet and some playlist of sad songs playing on youtube, Flynn comes through the door. Dropping her bag next to the bed and joining her under the covers. Julie turns to face her, closing out of the app so they’re left in silence. Flynn’s been crying too, she notes, because Carrie had ended her friendship with both of them. Said mean and hurtful things about both of them.

“Carrie’s a bitch,” Flynn mutters her eyes on the ceiling but there’s no real heat in her words. They’re both too in shock and sadness right now, Julie realises. Do you have to go through the five stages of grief even if the person you lost hasn’t died? She’s never thought about that before.

“Yeah, she is,” Julie agrees. Because it’s true. Carrie has always been a little bit of a bitch, she’s just never directed it at them. In fact she’d never actually been so outright mean to anyone and in the back of her mind, Julie wonders what happened in the forty eight hours that they didn’t see her.

They’ll probably never find out the answer to that question. It’s just a fact of life that Julie is going to have to come to terms with, she supposes. Her and Carrie had been best friends once. They weren’t anymore.

Her mom finds them twenty minutes later still tucked under the duvet and concocting plans on how they can possibly egg Carries house without being caught. She leans against the doorframe, her cheek pressing to the wood as she crosses her arms over her chest and smiles at them both.

“How about I make us some hot chocolate and we come up with a plan that doesn’t involve you two doing anything illegal, huh?” And who are they to say no to hot chocolate when they’re sad?

four.

Music had never been about being the best or winning or even competitions to Julie. It had always been about the emotions, the lyrics, the actual music. That’s not to say she didn’t like it when she won though. Because she did. She very much liked it when a group of strangers gathered together and decided she was the best of the bunch.

So it also hurt when she didn’t win. Even if the loss was deserved. She’d messed up the intro to the song, had forgotten some of the lyrics half way through, had even been a little out of tune at the beginning she knew.

So she knew she wasn’t going to win. But it still sucked. It especially sucked when Carrie strolled past, tossing her hair over her shoulder and glancing in her direction before saying something that made her friends laugh long and loud. Julie felt her face flushing, tucked a stray curl behind her ear before pulling it back free and trying to hide her face behind it.

It wasn’t that losing in a silly school music competition was really a big deal. It was just one really bad performance that just happened to be a little more important than any of her previous ones. It didn’t count for a grade, it wouldn’t go on her report card or in her file. It was something she’d signed up for for fun. For a laugh.

She just happened to be the one people were laughing at. Which just, it really sucked. There was no other way to describe it.

She said as much later when she sat on the sofa and Carlos wandered into the room, a box of cereal tucked under one arm with a handful of the stuff in the other, and asked what was wrong. He stands in silence for a few seconds, stuff the cereal into his mouth before coming to some kind of conclusion and sitting next to her on the sofa, offering her some of his cereal. It’s enough to jerk a surprised laugh out of Julie as she accepts the offer.

“You’re way better than all those people at your school. I should know, I have to listen to you sing all the time,” he says it so matter of factly. And even though he’s nine year old and hasn’t heard anyone else from her school perform (other than Carrie and Flynn, but he dislikes Carrie on principle and knows that Flynn didn’t perform) Julie finds herself believing him for a moment.

She leans back on the sofa, pulling Carlos down with her with one arm around his shoulders until they’re sprawled together, box of cereal between them.

“You’re a good brother,” she mutters, tries to make it sound like a rare admittance to the fact, even if Julie often thinks it.

“In that case will you watch Ben10 with me? There’s new episodes out.” He grins at her, big and toothy because he knows that she doesn’t like the animation of the new Ben10 but that she’s never quite been able to say no to him when he asks.

So Julie huffs out a sigh, disentangles her arms from around his shoulders to reach for the remote and flips through the channels until she finds the right one then settles back down next to him.

They share the box of cereal, sheepish smiles on their faces when their mom comes through half an hour later and finds them covered in crumbs and giggling at the screen. She just shakes her head at them, but there’s a fond sort of smile on her lips that Julie knows means she’s more amused then annoyed.

As they all sit around the dinner table later that evening, Julie arguing with Carlos about how much better the original Ben10 was and her dad nodding along as if he knows what they’re talking about and her mom humming some new song she’s been working on under her breath, she forgets all about losing some silly little music competition.

five.

Julie had never really thought about it before – mostly because she’d never had to spend much time in one – but hospitals were strange places.

They were a bit like airports she decided. Places where time lost all sense of reality. It must have something to do with the lights, she thinks, how they’re never turned off. You could walk into one at two in the afternoon (lights bright) and leave at three in the morning (the lights still bright) without even realising it had been more than an hour.

The difference was, she supposed, that if you were in an airport you were probably going somewhere nice and fun. You might even get a fun meal and a new book. There’d be people crowded at the windows to wave at planes as they left. An airport was a strange place but it had an underlying feeling of fun and excitement about it.

Hospitals just screamed dread and worry. And, if she could go her whole life without ever stepping foot in another hospital Julie would.

She finds herself thinking the same thing about the studio garage as she stands outside it. One door is open and she can see half the piano, papers sitting on the top and the plants she had helped pick out waiting to be watered.

That’s why she’s stood there, she needs to go in and water the plants. But she just can’t make herself take the next step, the one that will have her crossing the door and being inside. Julie doesn’t think she’s ever been inside the studio without her mom. Or without knowing that her mom would be joining her inside in a few minutes.

Julie doesn’t know how long she stands there for, one hand gripping the door handle tightly while the other shakes at her hand, fingers trying to find purchase in the soft material of her black skirt.

She needs to water the plants, it’s the only thing in her mind.

She needs to water the plants because she had promised her mom she’d water them when they’d gone to the store to pick them out even though they’d split it between them.

She needs to water the plants because it’s been a week and they’ll start to die soon and Julie doesn’t want to be a plant murder again.

She needs to water the plants because her mom is dead and it's her job now.

Flynn finds her still standing there, staring at the piano and the plants and the quite empty room. Dimly, Julie notices the black dress her friend is wearing, the muted accessories and the concern in her eyes.

“Hey,” she says. And it’s quiet, careful in a way that Flynn is rarely quiet and careful when she speaks.

“I need to water the plants.” Is all Julie can say, unable to draw her eyes away from where they are in the garage.

Because she needs to water the plants but she can’t make herself step foot in the garage because her mom is dead and it’s the funeral in an hour but she needs to water the plants because there’s no one else who knows where the watering can is or which ones need spraying instead but she can’t move because her mom is dead and the studio is quite and the plants are dying and her mom is dead.

“Okay. Okay, how about you tell me what to do and I’ll water them, yeah?” Flynn is holding her hand, the one she’d had gripped painfully tight to the door handle. Julie doesn’t even know when she took it. She’s not sure if she nods or makes some kind of sound, all she knows is that Flynn is squeezing her hand quickly and then she’s in the studio garage and following the instructions Julie forces past her lips.

When she’s done Flynn helps her close the door, lock it up and leads her back into the house. There’s family and friends already milling about. Offering condolences and deepest regrets and offering empty help. Julie can see her dad and Tia Victoria talking to a large group of people. Can see them keeping it together.

She can see Carlos sitting at the dining room table with an untouched mug of something in front of him and watches as Carrie sits down next to him. Watches as she says something that makes him smile just a little, because Carrie had always been able to make Carlos smile, even when he was mad or upset at them all. They used to joke it was her super power.

Julie didn’t even know Carrie was coming today. Doesn’t know how she’s meant to feel about it either.

As if sensing them looking Carrie looks up, makes eye contact and gives her a small smile, a tilt of her head. There’s something in her eyes that Julie can’t decipher. Doesn’t have the energy to try to. Flynn squeezes her hand once even as Julie nods back at Carrie. They haven’t been friends in a long time, but they used to be best friends and Carrie had once been like family.

She supposes it makes sense that Carrie is here. That she is sitting next to Carlos and talking to him quietly. That she can see Mr Wilson talking to her dad. It’s been a long time since either of them were in this house and Julie wishes that they weren’t here because of this.

Julie supposes she should be good at losing things and people by now. She’s learnt to deal with it via a fish and plants and friends. She’d just never thought the thing she’d be losing would be her mom. That she would have to find a way through all this hurt without her mom by her side. Because she had always been by her side through every other loss.

She cries quietly, stood in the kitchen with Flynn holding her hand tightly and people passing by them with sad looks on their faces and concern in their eyes.

She cries quietly as she thinks about how cruel and awful the world is for taking away one of the people she loves most.

She cries quietly as she wonders how the hell she is supposed to get through it all.

+one.

They’re not sure when it happens or what's changed or what they did. One day they just wake up and things are different.

Or, not different per say, but more how they used to be BHD – before the hot dogs. Which is what the boys insist on calling their stint as ghosts no matter how many times Julie vetoes it. And she’s vetoed it a lot.

Really, the first sign that something had happened should have been the fact Julie walked in on them piled on top of each other on the sofa in the living room, passed out asleep. They were ghosts. Ghosts weren’t meant to sleep. But she brushes it aside, thinks maybe it's more of a reflex thing.

It isn’t until three hours later as she hugs Reggie in celebration of a particularly good shot with the basketball outside that Julie notices the thing that’s different.

She can feel his heart beating in his chest. A steady thumping where there hadn’t been before.

“Reggie…” she starts, eye wide as she looks from his chest to his face, trying to see if he’s noticed. If he knows that his heart is beating blood around his body. But he just looks at her confused, his eyebrows drawing together and his lips quirking to the side like they do when he thinks he’s in trouble.

“I swear I didn’t cheat. I’m just that good!” He holds his hands up in defense, but Julie reaches out to grab his left wrist and cradles it in one hand while she presses two fingers along the inside, trying to find his pulse point like she’s seen doctors do (she blinks back the memories of the last time she saw a doctor press their fingers to someones wrist, searching for something that wasn’t there and the small shake of their head) and letting out a small gasp when she finds it.

“Er what’s going on over here?” Luke asks curiously as he eyes the way Julie is holding Reggies wrist and the growing realisation on Reggie’s face.

Julie doesn’t answer him, just reaches out to grab hold of Luke’s wrist and proceeds to do the same thing. Fingertips pressing into the soft skin on his wrist, and for the first time Julie sees the light blue tell-tale sign of blood flowing through veins under his skin.

And then she feels it, the faint pulsating.

She lets out a choked sob, letting her hand that was holding his wrist steady fly up cover her mouth even as the other stays in place, almost scared that if she moves her fingers the pulse will vanish and with it this strange miracle she thinks they’ve been given.

“Holy shit,” she hears Luke whispers above her and she looks up to see him with his free hand resting over his heart, eyes widening with each beat they can both feel.

She doesn’t have any words to say in response. Holy shit seems to be a pretty accurate reaction. Still holding on to Lukes wrist, Julie turns around to see Alex and Reggie each holding the other's wrist like some strange handshake. Unconsciously they all seem to move towards each other, in awkward small steps as no one is prepared to let go of the other until they stand in a loose circle and Julie can press her fingers into Alex’s free wrist and feel his pulse too.

Three pulses where there hadn't been one before. She lets out a half laugh, half sob.

“Is this real?” Alex asks, his eyes wide with unshed tears, as if he’s holding himself back. And Julie remembers when they all first met and how he’d said he never dealt well with change and how death was a big change and how now. Now they might be going through a bigger one. She lets her fingers slip down from his wrist so she’s holding his hand and squeezes it tightly.

“I think so.”

There has never been any answers for their situation. For being ghosts. For being seen by Julie or seen when they play. Definitely no answers for why they could suddenly be touched or seen by others. (Though secretly, in the dark of her room in the dead of night Julie had wondered if it was love that had done it all. Her love for them, her mom's love for her.)

The last two years had just been them guessing at every turn and getting lucky each time. They had written their own ghostly rule book, and getting a heartbeat again would just have to be the newest chapter.

“We’ll just have to figure it out, like we’ve figured everything else out,” Julie says, squeezing Alex’s hand and Luke’s wrist and smiling wide at Reggie. A few moments of silence pass between them, the boys still feeling their hearts beating, counting each one before it’s broken by a startled gasp and they all look to Luke.

“Hey! Do you think this means we can eat now?” Luke asks, his eyebrows shooting up at the thought. No doubt already planning what he wants from the kitchen.

“Only one way to find out man,” Reggie shrugs but his smile is wide and Julie knows not being able to eat has been one of the biggest disappointments of their afterlife for all three of them.

That’s how her dad and Carlos find them half an hour later, gathered around the island in the kitchen with sandwich ingredients scattered around all available surfaces. And three not-so-ghosts eating their creations as Julie looks on with a wide smile.

“Um–” is all dad gets out, a hand half up in the air as he points at them with confusion. Her dad has been pretty understanding about the whole ‘my band is made up of three teenage ghosts, oh, and by the way they kinda live in our garage’ thing, but she can’t blame him for being confused by this scene. Ghosts aren’t supposed to be able to eat after all.

“Woah what did we miss!?” Carlos, ever the enthusiast for all things ghost related, is already running across the kitchen, pulling out the chair next to Julie’s and kneeling next to her, eyes darting between the three older boys as he leans on the contertop to be even closer. “Are they eating? How are they eating?”

Julie shrugs one shoulder, turning her eyes to Carlos and her dad, who’s moved from the doorway to stand at the end of the island, watching all of them.

“We’re not sure but–” Julie starts only to be cut off by Reggie who drops his sandwich back to his plate and stretches out his arms, one to her dad and one to Carlos with possibly the widest smile Julie has ever seen on him.

“Check this out. Go on, feel y’know, with your middle and forefinger. Right there, yeah.” The four of them watch as her dad and Carlos do as instructed, fingers resting over the pulse points on Reggie’s wrists. Her dad finds it first, and Julie can pinpoint the exact moment he must feel the thrumming of a heartbeat because his eyes widen a fraction even as they fill with tears she hadn’t been expecting.

Which is silly, if she really thinks about it, because the boys have found a way into all their lives and hearts so seamlessly.

Because Reggie spends time with her dad helping out around the kitchen or while he fiddles with his camera and jokes around with Carlos and talks with him late at night when he’s supposed to be sleeping.

Because Alex watches all the terrible telenovela’s with him that her and Carlos hate and asks questions about all the movies they’ve missed, and he spends time helping Carlos with his history homework and practices his ball throwing when their dad is busy.

Because Luke listens to him talk about composition and lighting and perspective with real interest and takes his music suggestions seriously and has been teaching Carlos to play guitar when they think no one is around.

They’ve filled a gap in their family that they hadn’t even realised was there.

It wasn’t like their home was lacking in love and laughter and light, it had just been dimmed down. It was like they’d shut all their curtains after her mom had died, and were making do with a cheap light bulb and rare rays of sunlight that peaked through and lit up their life in tiny bursts.

But then along came three dead teenagers and without them noticing, without Julie even realising, they’d opened up the curtains again. Let all the light stream back in and never asked for anything in return other than being allowed to stick around.

So maybe this was their reward.

As her dad and Carlos worked their way through feeling the pulse on each of the boys, pulling them into hugs and sharing in their excitement, Julie let herself smile, tears trailing down her cheeks as she felt her own heartbeat with one hand over her chest.

She didn’t know if this was her mom’s doing or her own or if they’d just accidentally done it themselves with sheer will power.

All Julie knew was that her boys were here, were breathing and eating, had hearts beating in their chests, and were being given their second chance at life.

All Julie really knew was that she loved them, had hoped for a way to keep them, had proud every bit of love and hope into each hug they’d ever shared.

All Julie knew was that she wished she could thank whoever or whatever it was that was answering her pleaded request and allowing her to keep them.

She doesn’t notice them moving, too busy thinking and sending thanks into the world, but all of a sudden there are three pairs of arms wrapping themselves around her in an uncomfortable and awkward hug. But she doesn’t care. She just grabs onto whoevers arm she can, lets out a small laugh of joy and holds them tight. Never intending on letting them go.

#julie and the phantoms #julie molina #carrie wilson #flynn jatp #luke patterson #alex jatp #reggie jatp #jatp #enjoy!!! sorry the ends a wee bit naff tho i think #rosie vs writing #*#*fics

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