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hateswifi · 4 years

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No More Second Chances: Chapter 7

So yep, i think this is the third chapter this month. imma tired, I haven’t slept properly since Sunday. its almost three k words so yeah

The Master: Master List

No More Second Chances: Master List

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Apparently, school had to go on April break for her to get any sleep. Clark and Lois decided that the first half of the week would be spent in Smallville and she couldn’t remember the second place, it’s not even her fault though, people like to talk to her before she can drink coffee.

“Another grandchild! Is this one a clone like Connor?” Aunt Martha asks, pulling everyone into hugs.

“No, Ma, this is the exchange student that we’ve been taking in for the last month and a half, I told you about her,” Clark says, hugging his mom.

“Oh thank god, I don't know how I would react if someone cloned you again, because it was either she is a clone or another one of Bruce’s, but no matter, you’ll be staying Kara’s room,” Martha says, leading the bluenette inside the homey-farm house.

It was fifteen minutes later after she was done getting comfortable that Aunt Martha appears in the doorway. She smiles while saying, “I hope everything is good, I don't know if you want to, but there’s plenty of ingredients if you want to bake. Clark told me that you grew up in a bakery.”

“I would love to, I haven’t baked since before I left home,” Marinette smiles, putting down her sketchbook.

“What are you working on?” Martha asks, taking a seat on Marinette’s bed beside her.

“Oh, these are designs I had to put off because of the move and family issues. Uncle Jagged was understanding but because it’s spring break, I would love to be able to get them to him as soon as possible,” Marinette explains.

“That’s cool, do you want to be a designer when you’re older?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s what I get for growing up in the fashion center of the world,” Marinette shrugs.”

“Well, honey, if there’s anything that you need let me know, I’m going to get out of your hair,” Martha says.

“You’ll never be a bother,” Marinette giggles.

“Dinner will be at five,” Martha says, closing the door behind her. Marinette sighs and goes back to sketching. Uncle Jagged needed his outfits soon so if she designed everything the first half of the week, she can go to the closest fabric store wherever they’re staying the rest of the week. A couple of hours later, though it felt like minutes, she was being called down for dinner where she met Jon’s, Uncle Jonathan.

“Welcome to the family, Marinette,” he greets with a pleasant smile. “You’re not a clone, right?”

“See what I mean! You could definitely be a clone!” Martha points out.

“I guess I could be, but thankfully I’m not,” Marinette giggles.

“But she’s a hero,” Jon smiles, pulling her into a side hug.

“Seriously Jon, why are you calling me out?” Marinette asks, rubbing her temples.

“I’m not!” Jon says, feigning innocence. “She’s a Parisian hero!”

“Or as Dick put it, a magic girl,” Marinette sighs.

“Oh we know, we know everything,” Martha chuckles.

“But you didn’t know that I am not a clone?”

“It gets blurry when it comes to specific things,” Jonathan shrugs. “Jon, you ready to help me tomorrow?”

“Of course! I’ve missed working,” Jon responds with a smile.

“Can I help?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Jonathan says. The rest of the dinner was spent talking about plans and getting to know each other. After dinner, Marinette called Adrien and talked to him for a bit while sketching. They had to hang up not too long after the starting call because it was late for him.

The time flew by, she helped out in the field Uncle Jon, explored the town with Jon, designed for Uncle Jagged, and baked with Aunt Martha. She had a lot of fun and completely forgot about her Parisian problems. Aunt Martha and Marinette shared baking recipes and Aunt Martha sent a recipe to her baking buddy.

On Wednesday, Clark and Lois cam to pick Jon and Marinette up so they could bring them to the other place where they would be staying for the rest of the week. Marinette, again, didn’t hear nor did she care where they were going next. She put in her headphones and sketched the last outfit that Jagged had requested. Marinette asked Lois and Clark to stop on the way to their destination, which they did. She loved the fabric she picked out and couldn’t wait to start sewing. She barely registered when the car stopped, she grabbed her stuff and Jon led her wherever they were staying. People talked around her but she couldn’t hear them, she was focused on her music and studying her designs. She saw people moving out of the corner of her eye but she couldn’t care, she just wanted to sit down and started sewing.

The next thing she knows somebody, who she thinks is Jon, is leading her to a different, which she hopes is her room so she can start working.

“Here’s your room,” the person said, opening the door. She mutters a thank you before sitting down at the desk that was across the room from her. She starts laying out fabrics and separating them for each outfit. That was all she could get done by the time Clark and Lois walked in to say goodbye it was almost dinner time already. She was going to go downstairs when she was interrupted by a call by Adrien. She decided to forgo dinner and just continue working. She heard a quiet knock on the door and an older man walks in.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, Miss Marinette, it would seem that you missed dinner, so I took the liberty to bring you some food,” he greets.

“Great thank you,” Marinette mutters, putting down her sewing actually taking a minute to look up. “Alfred? Where the heck am I?”

“You’re in the Wayne Manor, Miss” Alfred repeats, putting the plate down.

“Oh my apologies, I’ve been distracted with my work, I didn’t even realize where I was,” Marinette sighs, before realizing she was still on the phone. “Sorry Adrien, I’ll call you tomorrow, go to bed, it’s late.” She finishes, hanging up.

“I heard from Martha that you like to bake,” Alfred says.

“Yeah, that’s true, I grew up in a bakery,” Marinette shrugs, taking a piece of bread.

“The kitchen is open if you would like to use it,” Alfred says before leaving the room. Marinette nods to herself while eating her food while it’s still warm. After she finishes, she decides that she needs a stretch so she takes her plate to the kitchen and to grab a coffee.

When she gets to the kitchen she’s shocked to see a pot already brewing. There’s a guy half-passed out, or half-awake depending at how you look at things, practically sprawled out on the counter. “Are you ok?” Marinette asks, looking for a mug.

“Oh my gosh! Are you real?” he asks, startling awake.

“I would assume I’m real, you’re Tim, right? Where are the mugs?” Marinette asks, opening random cabinets. “Nevermind, I found them.”

“You’re the magic girl, you don’t need coffee,” he says, pouring himself a huge mug of coffee.

“Against popular belief, we do need sleep and basic human necessities,” She explains taking the pot from him.

“Why do you need coffee?”

“When I was in Smallville, I wasn’t able to go to the supply store. I asked Lois and Clark to take me they said yes, so we stopped on our way over,” Marinette says, sipping her coffee.

“What supplies?”

“Fabric, I’m behind on my Uncle’s orders, but he understands,” Marinette shrugs.

“Great what we need another coffee addict,” Another voice grumbles, entering the kitchen.

“Good to see you, Demon, what are you doing up?” Tim asks, unimpressed.

“I heard you shriek,” Damian deadpans.

“I didn’t shriek,” Tim says, offended.

“Well, I’m just going to go back to my room, you guys can work out whatever brotherly love is going on here,” Marinette says, brushing past Damian.

“Wait,” he says, grabbing her wrist.

“What?” she asks, turning towards him.

“I- umm..,” he starts catching himself. “Welcome to the manor, I hope you’ll find your stay enjoyable.” he finishes, letting go of her arm.

“Umm.. of course, thank you, Dami,” Marinette yawns, rubbing the back of her neck before rushing off to do her work.

Once she disappeared from view Tim snickers behind his mug. “I can tell you one thing you didn’t inherit from Bruce.” He chuckles.

“I like it better when you were unconscious,” Damian says, stomping off towards his room.

“Words can’t hurt me,” Tim yells at his back.

“But swords can,” Damian shouts over his shoulder.

“Must have gotten on his nerves, it’s been a while since he’s threatened us,” Dick says, entering the kitchen. “Aso what have we agreed on for coffee?”

“But Marinette had some,” Tim whines, rushing away from Dick before he can take his sustenance.

“She’s a magic girl, she gets a pass,” Dick yells at his back.

Marinette was back in her zone sewing what Jagged needed the soonest, he has a concert in Boston soon before going to New York and then coming over to Gotham. She was working on is concert wear first. She works through the night until a knock interrupts her thoughts once again, expecting it to be Alfred or Jon, she mindlessly says come in.

“Good morning, Marinette,” Damian says, entering the room.

“It’s morning?” She asks, looking up from her work.

“Yes, have you been working all night?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I guess I have,” she responds in a daze.

“What are you working on, if I may ask,” Damian asks, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

“Just a commission for my uncle.”

“Your uncle is going to wear a purple-glittery suit?”

“Uncle Jagged is over the top like that, but it suits him,” Marinette shrugs, inspecting her handy work.

“Jagged as in Jagged Stone, you’re his personal designer?”

“You didn’t realize that?”

“If I didn’t realize that, there’s no way my incompetent sibling realized it either,” Damian smirks.

“Why does it matter?” She asks, looking up from her work.

“They love Jagged Stone and they love your designs,” Damian explains.

“Well, Jagged will need to pick up his stuff, by the way, I should mention he’s also trying to adopt me,” Marinette says, continuing to work on the finishing touches to the piece. “Oh by the way, what made you stop by?”

“Oh.. um- I wanted to see if you wanted to come down for breakfast,” Damian responds.

“Sure, let me put this down,” she finished before standing up to follow Damian to the dining room. They enter the dining room together and all of the eyes are on them.

“Hey, Marinette, I thought you were dead,” Jon jokes, taking a bite of toast.

“Not dead, just exhausted. Also, thanks for having us, Bruce,” Marinette says, taking a seat in between Jon and Damian.

“It is my pleasure to,” Bruce says, looking over the newspaper.

“This won’t give you the advantage in the adoption war,” Jon snickers.

“I have a different way to get her in the family,” Bruce retorts.

“I should mention, can my uncle come over later this week to pick up his orders?” Marinette asks, pouring herself more coffee.

“What day?”

“Friday afternoon I would think,” Marinette says, stabbing the food in front of her.

“I was informed that he is also in the running adoption,” Damian says, sipping his water.

“I’m not thinking about adoption,” Bruce says, which brought some confused looks and some coughs.

“All I’m going to say is, my dad is freaking Superman so I think we’ll win this adoption war,” Jon shrugs.

“Jon!” Multiple people say, which caused everyone to look around.

“Wait you guys know?” Marinette asks, confused.

“Of course we know, how do you know?” Jason asks.

“Oh, after she was revealed as a magic girl, Mom was quite annoyed to be left out of the superhero club,” Jon says.

“That makes sense,” Damian shrugs and continues eating. They continue eating breakfast, with some light chatter, and some teases mostly aimed at Damian and Marinette, and there total not crushes on each other.

After breakfast, Marinette holes herself back up in her room to continue working on her commissions. That’s how she spends the rest of the day, she gets a phone call from Adrien and they talked for a while. After lunch, Damian came in and sat with her for a bit and they made light talk. He sat and read his book as she sews more, breaking every once in a while to talk. She was honestly very happy how she spent one of her last days of vacation.

She is even happier the next day Jagged and Penny arrived. The boys’ shocked faces are priceless.

“You’re trying to tell me your Uncle is, Jagged Stone, as in THE Jagged Stone,” Jason exclaims.

“I swear I mentioned this,” Marinette says, scratching her head before shugging.

“How’s my rockin’ ladybug!” Jagged says, pulling her into a hug.

“I’m doing good, I’m exhausted, though,” Marinette yawns before going to grab the bags that held her work from her room.

“Did you guys let her stay up way too late to finish them?” Jagged asks, in all seriousness.

“She lived off coffee for the past two days,” Tim says.

“If you’re ever around her when she’s like this, she has a curfew of one a.m.. At that time, you are allowed to gently take everything from her hands and just lewd her to her bed,” Jagged explains.

“Are you betraying me, Jagged?” Marinette asks arms crossed to the best of her ability because she was holding his outfits.

“All I’m saying Mari is that you lost enough sleep as a hero teen, you need to catch up on it now,” Jagged said, copying her posture.

“Hey you can’t even blame me, I remember having to fight a Fang because he was akumatized into freakin dragon around midnight,” Marinette deadpans. “I don’t hold it against you though, I got to fly, it was liberating.”

“I wrote you and Adrien a song because of it,” Jagged fires back.

“Conversation over, go try on the outfits,” Marinette says, shoving them into his arms.

“Fine, fine, so bossy,” Jagged sighs, before walking away.

“So you’re his personal designer? Which means you are Nettie!” Tim says.

“You’re Nettie and a magic girl! Bruce can we adopt her please!” Dick pleads.

There are three in sync no’s that follow, one from Jagged, one from Marinette, and lastly, on from Damian.

“Damian, why wouldn’t you want Marinette apart of your family? She rocking! If you can’t see this amazing girl, then you’re blind,” Jagged defends. “It doesn’t matter anyway, I got first dibs.”

“Tell that to Adrien’s aunt, she wants to adopt me as well,” Marinette responds.

“Don’t forget about my parents,” Jon adds.

“Joint custody?” Jagged shrugs. “Can we cut Adrien’s aunt out? She can have you when you visit him.”

“It doesn’t really matter to me, I’m just trying to make the most of what my life is right now,” Marinette shrugs.

“It’s decided, Clark and I have split custody,” Jagged shrugs.

“Woah, Woah, Woah, you can’t come into my house and cut me out of the adoption,” Bruce says, crossing his arms.

“You just wanted her in the family, we don’t need a triple custody for that,” Tim points out.

“Well this has been a great conversation, and I love being adopted and stuff, but I haven’t slept since Wednesday so I’m going to go to bed,” Marinette yawns. “Goodnight everyone.”

“I’ll walk you to your room so um you don’t get lost, it is a bit manor,” Damian says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Um… sure, let’s go,” Marinette says, letting him lead her down the hall. When they’re out of earshot Jagged says. “They’re totally into each other, I’m no the only one seeing, right?”

“You’d have to literally be blind or be one of them to not notice it,” Jason says.

“So were you happy to see your uncle?” Damian asks.

“Of course, I haven’t seen him since before my move,” Marinette smiles.

“I’m pleased that you’re staying for the rest of break with us,” Damian says as they approach her room. “Sleep well, Angel.” He says, kissing her hand.

“Damn, I really hope this isn’t a dream,” Marinette mutters out, her eyelids feeling heavy. He leads her to lay down and she drags him down with her. “Imma go to sleep now,” she says hugging him tightly.

“Let me go first,” Damian mutters out.

“No, you’ll help me sleep,” she mutters back into his chest.

“You better not remember this tomorrow,” Damian grumbles. He doesn’t get a response.

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angelkurenai · 4 years

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Imagine you and Dean being unable to stand each other, but it’s only because you get often jealous. The unresolved sexual tension makes Sam lock the both of you up until you solve it out.

“I'm gonna kill him.” Dean grumbled, his agitated tone only managing to make you more angry yourself - as if you weren't already on edge.

He was practically glaring daggers at the door and, even though that too seemed to get on your nerves, it was of the least annoying things he could do compared to his constant pacing and grumbling. It felt like his footsteps, the echo in the otherwise silent room, the useless talking and the constant mumbling as Dean could barely hold his frustration after any attempt of opening the locked door had failed miserably, even the constant huffing was a testament to your patience. And after a mostly unsuccessful hunt - or trail of the right monster at least - your patience could only take so much, even if the man didn't do anything you'd still start getting pissed by his mere presence (which wasn't so unheard of as, obviously, the ones who had locked you in the room knew real well). It was probably him not having done much, or having done the exact opposite of what he should, during said case, that had started making your patience slip away and the more you thought back to everything the worse it got.

You tried to keep yourself under control, though, because all the arguing was what had gotten you both in this position in the first place.

“I'm so going to fucking kill.” he repeated, bringing you back to harsh - more like annoying - reality “He's going to come back to life, naturally, and then I'm gonna kill him again.”

“Will you remember where you've put your gun this time or am I gonna have to help you again?” you muttered, mostly to yourself, the bitterness and agitation slipping into your tone - much as you tried to hold it back - and as expected the man caught on it.

“What's that supposed to mean?” he asked with a frown, his head snapping in your direction.

You should back off, you knew it and it really was the best choice in this situation, but with Dean looking at you in that challenging way, his firm jaw clenched, his full lips pursed, his stunning eyes looking at you fiercely, his muscles stiffening and his broad chest puffing out as he held his breath, a vein so much ready as to pop, all of it serving to make him look darker in a way that almost made you think he could easily push you against the wall and just have his way with you already. Almost. Not entirely. Those thoughts were left for when you were left in the silence of your own room, alone, and not fuming at the memories still fresh because of the stubborn man in front of you.

“I don't know Dean.” you pursed your lips, holding his gaze stubbornly so “What do you think? Or maybe it would be better ask the werewolf we almost got- Oh no wait, it turned out to be a vampire! My bad, in the middle of all this I almost forgot.” you glared right back, and his lips parted to speak but you didn't give him the chance to “Just like you forgot you part of this team that almost became vamp snacks because you were busy doing Chuck-knows-what with that bi-” but you stopped yourself before you could indulge. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction to let him know, even so suspect, how his nightly adventures had you feeling. You huffed, straightening “Just shut up and sit down. Stay quiet, for once in your damn life Winchester do the right thing and listen to me, so we can get out of this mess the soonest possible. I have no plans to stay locked in here for more than a few hours.”

“First time I'll agree with you.” he grumbled, taking a sit on the bed with a heavy sigh “And for that, I apologized to Sam. It's not my fault you can't seem to accept a simple apology like any other person. I got a bit carried away, yes, but you had it mostly under control!”

“Mostly, key word, thanks for saying that! Because it very clearly states how we nearly died because of you and you-” you scoffed a bitter laugh “Apologize is all you do and think everything's fine all of a sudden! You can have things your way whenever you want, like throwing yourself in danger's way, going for the monster however you like, banging that waitress in that bar, bring them over in the hotel room, stay out till late at night and all that while Sam and I do the work and suddenly when you realize you messed up - because you do mess up, every single time - you apologize and everything, magically just like that, is ok. Well, guess what, Dean? It's not ok! But you were always used to having it that way, that now that I am here and finally someone calls you out on your shit, it is annoying or even worse I'm not able to accept an apology. I am on the wrong, talk about some real bs there.” you huffed at last, satisfied to get it out of your chest but only temporarily because you knew the man could very easily and very fast find new ways to torture you.

He laughed, but it was angry just like his eyes. His entire body held so much frustration that you could see him practically struggling to hold back “Well, it ain't me that starts every damn fight, is it? If you could just leave me be, do my thing, then we'd both be much happier. I honestly don't even understand what you get out of all this fighting. If getting off on me being pissed 24/7 or having my mood ruined the whole day is not included that is. And now to top it all of, here we are. Locked in a fucking room like we're a pair of kids, to learn to get along or whatever Sam meant to say. I hope you're freaking happy with the result, cause I'm damn sure you're suffering too.”

“And who's to blame for that too?” you snapped back, eyes going hard because of his attitude “I am not the alone in these arguments you see. You certainly don't miss a chance to snap back, Winchester. Honestly, the mere fact that you want to blame this all on me when I clearly had every right to be angry shows just how unbearable you are. Maybe if you, for once, decided to act with that's between your ears instead of what's between your legs everything would be so much better and my days so more calm!”

Dean himself let out a sarcastic laugh “Because you help so much in that.” he mumbled, though you had a hard time understanding what he really meant, and after a few seconds of thinking he obviously decided to not comment on it any further “Whatever, there is no point in arguing. It will only earn us more time locked in here. And I for one don't want that. If it's peace Sam wants from us, we have to be convincing.”

You only scoffed, raising an eyebrow at him, more agitated by him now “It takes locking you up to come to your senses after all? What's next, being tied down to act like a rational human being for once too?”

“Oh sweetheart-” he smirked but it wasn't coy or easy, if anything the dark look in his eyes was there much as it could be considered very distracted “You have no idea what I'd do while being tied. In fact-” his pride only seemed to grow more “Few women have had the pleasure. They consider themselves lucky, trust me.”

“Lucky about which aspect, Winchester?” you smirk grew, challenging in a way that was far, very far, from the first time and in a way that one could only describe as full of meaning and sexual tension but you'd beg to differ, thank you very much. You added “Being lucky that it all ends within five minutes or that they won't get to experience such a thing ever again? Oh oh or maybe nearly dying of laughter? I get it, life is hard, we all need a good laugh once in a while.”

“Why yes, all the while seeing stars.” he shrugged, still too smug “But I guess you can go ahead and make up whatever little story you, it's impossible to get a real answer from them.”

“Oh how so? Was that easy to forget? I wonder what desperate measures all of them must have gone to forget such an experience.”

“Cute.” he laughed, short, sharp, bitter or was it tense? There was something more to those eyes, the way he was looking at you that made you shift in your place and your smile, as much as you tried to keep it up, to flatter a bit. “But no. They're simply still unable to speak. Not like there are no words that could describe it. Ore in bed in general.” he shrugged, going back to casually sassy.

His posture changed, though the look in his eyes didn't and that was what made you frown.

“One would beg to differ but I suppose there are enough women desperate enough out there. Hell, why would a woman fall for the 'Boy, this coffee's hot. Just like-'” you mimicked him, pointing at him with a wink as he'd done to the waitress, before rolling your eyes “If not out of desperation or boredom. How can any of that be attractive or even enough to promise a remotely goo night? Maybe they even take pity on you.” you shrugged and he laughed, but it was dark and much deeper, a hidden tension coming through.

“You know, some women can use their imagination.” his voice was deep

“That must be quiet a wild imagination right there, let me tell you. And then, of course, the harsh reality comes crashing down on them and they see you don't live up to their expectations.”

“If that helps you sleep at night.” he chuckled darkly, getting up to make his way to the liquor he kept in his room “Sure, go ahead. Since it seems like it's the only thing you do.”

“Wouldn't that sound ideal to you?” you actually laughed “But no, not quiet. Sleep and the barman from Illinois is what I've been doing.”

If you had known that those were the key words to get a reaction out of the man then you surely wouldn't have held them back. Dean's entire body stiffened, you could clearly see his muscle freeze and harder even as he had his back to you. And if all that wasn't indication enough, the silence that followed after your words was a clear indication to the impact they had on him.

He slowly turned to look at you, his jaw clenched so tightly you were scared he might break it or pop a vain, or both. His eyes however quickly drew your attention to them, effectively making any hint of a smug smile fade from your face at having achieved a small victory in pissing him off. Shivers ran down your spine at the piercing look he gave you, making you feel and want to be exposed in a way that wasn't normal.

“You did what?” his voice was so deep and rough, you felt your breath get caught in your throat.

“I-” why had your mouth gone dry all of a sudden? That drink he was holding seemed appealing, so you got up to make your way to him- no, to the drink and get a glass of your own “You know-” you shrugged “One would assume after that punch from you and you all but pulling a gun on him that the guy wouldn't even want to be near me but some men do risk it all, defy all odds, and keep pursuing. Unlike some I know, he wasn't one to back down and quiet frankly he was even more adorable after that. So I suppose I can say...” you paused “Kiss it better is what I did? That and so much-”

But you didn't get the opportunity to complete your sentence, or even get your glass of whiskey as it slipped from your grasp the moment Dean took firm hold of your arm, forcing you to face him, all in a split second as he pressed you against the wall and held you there firmly yet not anywhere near painfully.

“You slept with him?” he still asked though you were sure he wasn't expecting a direct answer. You even didn't know if you wanted to give one, not sure of what his reaction would be or maybe fearing it wouldn't be the one you deep down hoped it would be.

You shouldn't push for it, you knew it. And yet you did.

“You mean did I fuck him?” you narrowed your eyes at him and watched both as his eyes hardened and felt as he pushed you harder against the wall, as a response.

And you pushed again more.

“I'm sorry, you're just making it hard for me to understand you Dean. You have to be a bit more specific. Did I let him push me against the hall and have his way with me, you mean?”

“Quit playing around, (Y/n). Answer my fucking question. Did you really do it?”

“Why, Dean? Why does it even matter to you? What difference does it make?” you hissed “Isn't that what you do all the time? Am I somehow not allowed to do the same? Why? Because you did all that? Because you do what you simply do to me? You can piss me off all you want, you can try to get me back for all the fights, ruing my days and damn you... you can have that effect on me all you want but I will not let it-”

“And you?” he growled, loud and angrily enough to cut you off effectively “Do you know what you do to me? Do you have any freaking idea what you're doing to me, (Y/n)? You ruin everything for me, that's what you do. You've ruined every fucking woman for me. I try to pick 'em up and all I think about is you. I try to and I always end up comparing them to you. I pick 'em up and when I am lucky enough, they will look at least a little bit like you but then again? I always go for the ones that look like you. When I am really lucky enough to go on without you in my mind, hell if that's hard, I wake up to realize I had been dreaming about you too. And that waitress?” he scoffed a laugh, pressing you harder against the wall “I called her by your name. Yeah, fucking great, isn't it?”

His words did earn a gasp from you but he didn't let you say a word, instead kept going, as if his words hadn't already turned everything upside down as it was “Of course, I didn't realize it or the fact that it wasn't actually you until she slapped me. It hurt, but hell it didn't even match up to your punch. Sometimes I feel like I want to argue with you just to make you angry enough so you can punch me again. What a fucking masochist I've become huh? Don't you think? That's what you do to me and fuck if that doesn't make me want you more.” it was only when you felt his hips push yours against the wall that you realized he had his entire body caging yours and you couldn't lie, not to yourself at least, that you liked the feeling more than you ever imagined you would. And imagined you had. Plenty of times.

“So there.” he huffed, as if a big weight was lifted off his chest – not all of it but most – but he was still very tense, his gruff voice proof that the proximity had more than one kind of effects on him; he rested his forehead against yours “You have it. You see what you do to me. You see the effect you've had in me ever since I met you. Take pleasure in it all you want. And now-” he took in a deep breath “Tell me to get away. Push me back. Scream at me and start an argument.”

“Why?” you finally breathed out, your breath ghosting over his lips.

“Why? Because it's all I'll ever get from you.” he scoffed a laugh, bitter but filled with tension just like every other word “Tell me to back off, (Y/n). Push me back or else, I swear, I don't know what I will do.”

“Then-” you leaned closer, as if there was even any significant distance between you to begin with “Why don't you try and figure it out big boy? I'd like to see if it's better than your arguing.”

And you needn't say another word before you felt like he was pushed off the edge and his lips crashed to yours, no longer holding back.

#supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural one shot #supernatural x reader #dean #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean imagine #dean winchester imagine #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean one shot #dean winchester one shot

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dolansontheblock · 4 years

Note

38 with Grayson would be cute omg

i’m just realizing now that i wrote this on the wrong ask, to whoever sent this in, plsssss send it again so i can write the prompt for you!

masterlist

well here’s part two of forgotten dates, i hope it’ll live up to your expectations 🥺

The rest of the night was a blur. You’re not really sure what to feel when your uber pulled into LAX, the girls you were with refused to let the mood fall anymore than it had already. You didn’t even question the plan, deciding to go along with it. Just because Grayson had forgotten your birthday shouldn’t mean you have to sit around moping until he comes home, no, you’re going to spend it with your friends. It’s the first birthday in a long time you want to celebrate, so you’re going all out with no regrets.

You vaguely remember slamming your card down in front of the reception desk after asking for five tickets on the soonest flight to Las Vegas, first class tickets, using the card that Grayson had given you for emergencies. A forgotten birthday is an emergency, right?

You didn’t get mad often, but boy, when you did, it was game over. Grayson only ever saw you get mad a few times, but that was child’s play to what you’re feeling now. Growing up, your father used to say “When she’s mad, even the demons run for cover.”

You remember getting on the plane, buying an ungodly amount of alcohol for you and your friends to enjoy during the short flight, laughing with your friends so much that other guests complained.

Once you got off, you rented the most expensive limo you could for the night, driving to the nicest club on the strip. During the ride, you checked your phone for the first time since in LA and you had 13 missed calls from Grayson and 22 texts.

Grayson: Baby, what’s wrong?

Grayson: Please pick up the phone

Grayson: Sweets, please answer me:(

Lydia grabbed your phone right out of your hands with a giggle and the shake of her head.

“No, no, no. Y/N I don’t want you to look at your phone unless it’s to document tonight. Don’t think about him, tonight it’s about you!” She was right. Tonight was about you and your friends, you had to live in the moment and put Grayson to the back of your mind. Reaching for the shot glass filled with god knows what, you made a toast, smiling at all your friends.

“Let’s get so drunk we don’t even remember our names girls!” The squeals coming from the group of you were almost deafening, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was the warmth running through your veins, the wind hitting your skin and having the spontaneous trip of a lifetime.

You went to bar after bar, club after club, had shot after shot. You were having the time of your life, except you couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit guilty. Grayson had been calling and texting you nonstop, and you knew how much he hated seeing you get so drunk. It was a major obstacle you two had to maneuver in the beginning of your relationship, as you had two completely opposite views. Maybe that’s what was pushing you to keep going, just to spite him.

Dancing with the group of your friends, you were at some club in the VIP section. Your hair was sticking to your neck, grinding against each other while laughing and singing. You felt the best of the music reverberated throughout your whole body, mixed with the alcohol in your system made you feel alive. You couldn’t imagine feeling any better than you do now, even if it was a temporary fix to the pain you actually felt. That is, until Emma came up to the group after talking with a friend you had met at the club, carrying a little baggie full of white pills.

Meanwhile, Grayson was in his bedroom, looking through all your purchases as you make them, with a pit in his stomach. He saw the plane tickets, the limo rental, the countless bills at multiple clubs. He was so worried, so sick to his stomach that he had half the mind to fly to Las Vegas right to you to bring you home where he knew you were safe. It was about three in the morning when Ethan came barreling into his room, eyes wide and crazy hair.

“Bro, what’s the date tomorrow?” Grayson stopped to think, he didn’t even know. When he looked at the calendar on his wall, the realization set in. He felt Ethan’s hand rest on his shoulder, trying his best to comfort him.

“It’s Y/N’s birthday.”

You know nothing about a woman until she’s drunk and mad at you.

#grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan one shot #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan au #grayson dolan angst

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dr-exophil · 4 years

Text

Merman x F!Reader

Hi, and welcome to my first actual story post on this account! This story is about a merman named Tethys, who was based on a drawing a saw online a little while ago (you can see his picture in one of my last posts). It's not very long, only 1944 words, but I'm going to make multiple parts, so stay tuned if you enjoy.

The sky was a deep blue that Saturday morning, orange only barely tinging the horizon. The waves were beginning to recede, the tides no longer under the spell of the moon, and the sand felt soft under my bare feet. It was the first weekend of summer, and my family had insisted on a camping trip to commemorate their favourite season, dragging me along with them. I wasn’t generally much of an outdoorsy person, but even I had to admit that the beach was exceptionally beautiful this morning.

I wandered aimlessly along the coast, only about a foot from the most daring waves, kicking shells and taking in the scenery. It had been a while since I’d last come to the beach, and I was enjoying reconnecting with it. The sound of the waves beside me, the scent of the sea blowing through my hair on a light breeze, the colours of the early morning sky… It was all so magnificent, and I was suddenly glad the light had awakened me this morning.

I was nearing a comparatively sharp turn on the beach, the soft sand giving way to more gritty stuff like crushed up shells and small rocks. As I watched a squadron of early birds divebombing the water in the distance, a few sharpened boulders of varying sizes beside the dunes told me that a new section of beach was coming up. I furrowed my brows and turned my body in the opposite direction, momentarily walking backwards, to see that I’d come far enough that our campsite was nowhere to be seen.

Anxiety washed over me as the waves wash over the beach, and as I was about to walk back, an eerie tune caught my ear and made me look back. A strange sort of humming was coming from around the boulders, the sound alluring in a way I’d never thought possible. Something in me told me this wasn’t right, that the peculiar song wasn’t meant to be heard, but yet it seemed to call to me, slowly coiling around me and leading me to the source.

Before I knew it, I was moving towards the noise, my feet moving without my consent and my heels dragging slightly in the sand. Right as I was about to find the source of the beautiful voice, I caught myself and hid behind the boulder. Suddenly my head was killing me, and my vision blurred momentarily, but it cleared up after I shut my eyes for a few seconds. The singing hadn’t stopped, but it had abruptly become quieter and more hesitant. It was then I realized that whoever was singing must’ve heard me.

A thousand anxious thoughts ran through my head in a matter of seconds. Shit, I really wasn’t supposed to hear it… Oh gods, what if they think I’m some axe murderer, or a stalker? What if they’re the axe murderer? Am I gonna die here?

As my imagination ran amok, and I began regretting ever allowing my family to bring me here, I was stirred from my thoughts by a soft voice calling out nervously, “Hello? Is, uh, someone there?”

It sounded like a boy, or rather a young man. Though his voice sounded slightly deeper when speaking, it was definitely the singer I’d just heard. I suddenly remembered what I was wearing as a cool breeze brushed past my bare legs. I hadn’t expected anyone to come out so early, and all I wore aside from my watch was a large T-shirt, some shorts, and a sports bra, the clothes I’d worn to sleep. Heat crept up my neck as I realized I’d have to show myself like this.

The singer called for me once more before I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and walked around the rock. “Hey,” I said as I brushed some hair away from my face, “I’m sorry to intrude, I just--”

I stopped in my tracks as my eyes met the deep, watery ones of the singer, and I couldn’t help but raise my hands to my mouth in shock. My gaze wandered down his body, past his long, dark hair; his blue and salmon skin shimmering with water and grains of sand, his sharp-clawed, elegant hands, and his scaly, muscular tail. When I came back to his angled face for the second time, I saw his ears, shaped the same as the fins on his hips, currently darker than the rest of his body.

When he cleared his throat nervously, I stumbled back with a yelp, tripping over myself and landing on my bottom. The creature immediately tried to jump to catch me but he was too far, I whimpered loudly and scooted backwards in the sand, eyes as big as saucers. It quickly retreated, backing itself up against the dunes once more and holding its hands up in surrender. “Okay! Alright, I won’t touch you,” he said, his face contorted with worry as he eyed the sharp rocks around me. “Just, are you, uhm, are you okay?”

I ignored his question, once again letting my eyes fall to his tail. It was beautiful, too beautiful to be some elaborate costume. The fin at the end, like the others, was webbed with translucent skin akin to that of reptiles’ shed, or at least it looked that way. If this was really his body, then I had to assume the tail and fins had the same slimy texture as a regular fish. It was hard to rationalize this situation, but focusing on the facts that I knew helped to calm me down. He seemed peaceful enough and asked about my wellbeing, so I assumed he was friendly.

I took a deep breath, heart racing, and eyed him suspiciously. He met my gaze, but seemed to be trying very hard not to look away. “Okay, so, no offence, and excuse me for asking, but… What, um, what are you?”

He seemed relieved to see I had asked such a simple question. “Well,” he said, tapping his claws nervously on the gritty sand, “your people call us many things, but I call myself a mer. I think that’s what’s most common, right? Mermaidens and mermen?”

“Just mermaids, but yeah,” I agreed, before shaking my head vehemently. “But wait, that’s-- mermaids aren’t real?” It came out as a question, as my unsureness was immeasurable. The merman huffed a little laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides, and my eyes went wide as I looked away. What was that? I shook my head once more, pushing the strange twist in my gut down to a nice, dark place where I could forget about it.

Meeting his eyes again, I asked, “If mermaids, or… mer, or whatever, are real, does that mean other “mythical” creatures are real too?” The merman gave me a strange look as I made air quotes around the term “mythical,” but didn’t question it.

“Well, I’m not sure what you would consider mythical, but I have to assume that they are real, if people said mer were make-believe,” he says, looking at a crab in thought as it poked half of its little body out of a hole before quickly backtracking. When he met my eyes again, he seemed a little more apprehensive. “Forgive me for asking, if it’s rude, but what exactly do you call yourself?”

I furrowed my brows a little. “We call ourselves humans, you didn’t know that?” The merman lets out a little snort before he bursts into a fit of laughter. Only then, as a heavy blush of embarrassment clouds my cheeks, do I realize what he meant. “Oh! Oh my god, I’m so stupid,” I mutter, burying my face in my hands. “I-- Oh, would you stop laughing? My name is (Y/n), for crying out loud.”

As he slowly quiets himself, the smile remains on the mer’s face. “(Y/n), you said? What a strange name,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “I’ve never heard a name like that before, but then again, I haven’t ever spoken to a human. My name is Tethys, and it’s… well, startling to meet you.”

I scoff, though in a playful sort of way, and hold my hand out to him. “The shock is all mine,” I say sarcastically. I raise a brow as he stares uncomfortably at my hand, before recoiling and running my hand down my face in exasperation with my idiocy. “Sorry, it’s a, uh, common human greeting. Here, let me show you…”

Tethys watches me warily as I scoot closer to him, sitting on my knees, and slowly reach for his hand. Upon grabbing his hand he immediately pulls away, confusion on his features. “What is this? What are you doing?”

“Trust me on this, it’s simple,” I respond, grabbing him once more. He’s tense, but this time he doesn’t snatch his hand back. Instead, he stares on in interest as I position his right hand so that it’s facing me, and gently slip my hand into his in a handshake. I grin at him, suddenly so excited as I realize that I’m literally teaching a merman how to give a handshake, and he smiles back nervously. I notice, however, out of the corner of my eye, that his ears are changing colours again.

I was about to ask about it when suddenly a loud beeping startled us both. Tethys hissed loudly, his ears twitching violently, and looked to my watch. I quickly shut off my alarm, eyes widening as I turned my gaze from my watch to the orangey sky. Daylight was quickly eating the blue of the night, and I directed my panicked eyes back to Tethys, who was rubbing his temples gently and staring menacingly at my watch. “I have to go,” I said hastily, moving my hands to the ground to push myself up again.

Tethys’s deep blue eyes widened drastically, and he quickly grabbed my forearm to stop me from moving anymore. “But, but wait! You’ve only just got here,” he said, “and I’ve never spoken to a human before! Couldn’t you stay just a little longer?”

His big, sad eyes tore at me, and I really wanted to talk more too, but as I glanced once more at my watch, I knew I couldn’t. “Look, I don’t want to go, but my family is going to freak if they see I’m missing,” I said. I could tell he didn’t quite get that, but he seemed to understand the urgency in my voice. “How about this: I don’t live too terribly far from the beach, so I’ll drive out here a week from now, and meet you right here?”

“A week? How long is that?”

“Seven days,” I respond quickly. “It’s the soonest I can possibly come back; I’m going on a trip during the-- those seven days. Is that okay?”

He hesitates for only a second before nodding. “At night,” he says, “so I can’t be seen. I’ll be here.” I nod in return and stand up as he releases his grip on me, dusting myself off.

“I’ll see you soon, Tethys,” I say, another excited grin making its way onto my face. His ears change to that deep blue once more as he hears his name, and I’m beginning to think it happens when he’s happy. A question for another day, I suppose. He nods once more, smiling big, and for the first time, I notice the razor-sharp teeth he harbours within his mouth.

I shake my head once more as I walk off, a strange yet not unpleasant feeling in the pit of my stomach. A question for another day.

#monster x human #monster lover #monster boyfriend #interspecies romance #tetraphilia #monster x reader #monster #monsters #merman #mer #merman boyfriend #writers #writing #exophilia #exophilia works #part 1 #part one #part 1 of many

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cloburon · 3 years

Text

When Push Comes to Shove

In other words: The fic where Adrien gets epic revenge on Lila and loses his friends all in the same month. https://archiveofourown.org/works/28941447/chapters/71013003 (rest of fic under the cut!)

When Adrien first formulated his, ‘get Lila to leave Marinette alone and eventually expose her’ plan, he knew there would be a lot of risk involved. He had to keep a balance in place. Placating Lila and his father were on one side, and on the other side was his devotion to his friends. Normally this balance existed on a slight skew, always tilted towards his father’s side. That was how it had to be, at least, that’s what he thought it had to be.

So, his plan took longer to execute. He couldn’t do what Marinette did, no matter how admirable he found her actions to be. He couldn’t call Lila a liar to her face, or point out how manipulative she truly was. Adrien had to play a baited game, he had to fake everything, which sucked. He was good at it, but it didn’t make him feel any better. If he was lying to his friends, was he really any better than Lila?

“You look distracted tonight, kitty. Is everything okay?”

He sighed through his nose, he probably shouldn’t be thinking about such personal matters while they were patrolling. He couldn’t help it, Lila was consuming every thought in his head. Maybe that wasn’t healthy..

“Yeah, everything’s fine just.. Got some stuff going on outside of this, you know how it is.”

“Oho, the elusive Chat Noir has problems in his civilian life?” Ladybug sat down next to him, and he couldn’t help the way he deflated.

He couldn’t even keep up his persona with the mask on. He really needed to get Lila done and over with, if how he felt outside of the mask was affecting him as a hero- that was a recipe for disaster.

“Chatton?”

“Sorry, m’lady, spaced out for a second.”

“This must be worse than I thought.”

He nodded, “It’s a lot, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Do you wanna talk about it? I’m always here if you need me. You know that, right?”

“Of course I know that,” he laughed, looking out across Paris. The sun had set hours ago, and the lights of the city winked up at them as they watched from above.

“Soo..?” Ladybug pushed his shoulder gently, and he shook his head.

Really, he wished he could tell her everything. Ladybug was the closest friend he ever had, the only person that truly knew and understood him. He wanted to explain everything, about Lila, his plans, the stress his father was giving him. But he couldn’t,

“I’m afraid that could run the risk of you figuring out who I really am. As much as I wish I could tell you what’s going on…”

“I understand,” Ladybug smiled at him and put her hand on his knee. He let himself smile. He couldn’t help it when he was with her. “But if there’s anything I can help you with, please let me know.”

“You’re too kind.”

He laughed when she booped his nose with her finger, “Don’t make me take it back now.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. We should probably start actually patrolling the streets,” He needed to get his mind off of things, do literally anything else. He pulled himself off the ground and stretched, “Before it gets too late, at least.”

“Is that a challenge, Chat?”

He grinned cheekily, extending his staff, with a hardy laugh, “Yup!”

“You-”

“Catch me if you can, m’lady!”

Why couldn’t he be like this all the time?

***

Adrien sighed, blowing some hair out of his face as he wrote down notes in class. It was easy to get caught up in the memories of the previous night’s patrol. They were far more interesting than the repetition he was going through at public school. Don’t get him wrong, he was seriously grateful for the experience but as of late, everything Madame Bustier was teaching was something he had learned years prior.

He didn’t realize how ahead he was compared to the average student, oh well. He would use what he knew to help his friends out. At least he could use his smarts that way. They were coming upon final exam season, and he knew how both Nino and Marinette stressed about it last semester. Maybe he could tutor them? He needed to bring that up to his father, too. With exams coming up, he would need to lessen his work schedule.

Which meant, Lila would be doing shoots on her own. He straightened his posture. There was no way this opportunity was going to fall in his lap and he wasn’t going to take it. This was his chance to take the separation from her that he needed to figure out what to do about her or-

No, he had a better idea. He could cut her off now, his father wouldn’t think twice about it if it was for the sake of his schooling. He had to bet on that. He looked back up at Madame Bustier as she sat back down at her desk. Cool, that meant they were supposed to revise notes, answer questions in the packet she provided, and in his case, raise his hand to ask a question,

“Yes, Adrien?”

“Would it be okay if I stepped out in the hall to make a phone call? It’ll only take a quick second?”

He felt Nino’s elbow catch his side but he ignored him as he reached into his bag for his phone.

“Of course, than you for asking. Take three minutes.”

Adrien smiled, “Thank you, Madame,” with his phone in hand, he slid out of his desk and out of the room. He kept his promise to his teacher and stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall as he dialed Nathalie’s number.

He knew better than to try and call his father in the middle of a school day. He wouldn’t waste precious time waiting for his voicemail. God forbid if there was an emergency. He felt himself roll his eyes. God- his time with Lila was seriously making him jaded.

The phone rang twice before Nathalie picked up, and Adrien spoke before she could,

“Hi, Nathalie, I only have a few minutes. I just wanted to ask what the soonest date would be for me to have a sit down conversation with my father?”

“Is it serious?” Nathalie kept her voice as even as possible but Adrien could pick up on her slightly confused tone.

“Uhm.. yeah, it really is.”

“Okay, give me a moment.”

“Thank you,” he tapped his fingers against his thigh, looking back at the classroom door. He probably had 90 seconds left, and he could see the shadows of someone trying to look through the window. Probably Alya- maybe Marinette, he couldn’t tell.

Nathalie was quiet for exactly ten seconds,

“You can speak with him tomorrow morning at breakfast. Does that work?”

“That’s perfect, thank you Nathalie. See you soon.”

“Ah- see you soon, Adrien.”

He hung up the phone quickly and walked back into the classroom. Maybe, luck was finally on his side.

Before he took his seat he looked up at Lila as she glared daggers at him. How nobody else noticed was beyond him but it didn’t take long for him to sit back down and return to his notes.

He was one step closer, his plan was finally settling into place.

#writing #ml #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #gabriel agrest #nathalie sancoeur #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #fic #ao3 #also on ao3 #this is my adrien and alya scheme fic

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iwritesickfic · 4 years

Text

perfect, part 2

Over the course of the night, Dell occasionally lets details slip that give Bo a better picture of what his health is like. No matter what he has, he always runs a fever. The picture of health is a combination of various medications, caffine, and Dell’s general ability to maintain his poise. If it comes on during the week, he’ll need to keep it at bay until the weekend, or his soonest day off. Then it’s a mad dash to feel better before he needs to work again.

Bo sees several major flaws in the plan, and while Dell is propped up next to the humidifier, nursing a cup of tea, he decides to bring them up.

“Your methodology might not be so great,” he says, and Dell raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah? How so?” His voice is laced with sarcasm, but Bo just ignores it.

“If you don’t ever give yourself time to fully recover from something it’s just going to come back. It’ll just stretch the whole thing out. Wouldn’t it be worth taking a day off to spare another week of feeling like shit?”

“Astute observation, haven’t considered that,” he says, deadpan, and Bo frowns.

“Ok so then why -” Dell interrupts.

“Your math is off. Listen. Amount of days I can take off, zero. Amount of scheduled free time, static. Your equation is only considering I take time off. Which I can’t.” Bo sighs. Dell can do whatever he wants to do.

“I’ve seen your schedule, you could definitely take a day off,” he says, and Dell nods.

“That’s true.” He seems so casual, so uninterested, it’s almost annoying.

“So why not?” Dell takes a long sip of tea before turning his gaze to meet Bo’s.

“You’re forgetting something.” He pauses. “Someone, rather.” When he finally understands, he scoffs.

“Your mother?” He says, and when he sees Dell’s expression is still serious he feels bad for being so dismissive. “You’re an adult, she can’t -”

“She can. And she does.” A shiver rips through him and Bo feels awful for even bringing it up when Dell is so clearly already miserable.

“Do you own any sweatshirts?” He asks, and the question seems to catch Dell off guard. He laughs softly.

“What?” Bo’s glad the tension has lifted somewhat.

“You look cold, I wanna grab you something.” He’s really shivering now, so much so that he’s started to curl in on himself, presumably in an effort to keep warm. Dell shakes his head, his eyes closed. “You don’t have a hoodie?”

He opens his eyes a bit.

“I shouldn’t, it’ll make the fever worse.” Bo sighs. He wishes he could really comfort him. Hold him. Instead, he just gets up, walking over to the closet that looks like it could be its own room.

He flips on the light. Everything’s immaculate, as he expected, but there’s a drawer half open in the very back, and that’s where he finds Dell’s tiny collection of actual, comfortable clothes. He pulls out an oversized sweatshirt that feels soft from long term use, a few holes near the hem. It’s got a faded image, he can’t exactly make it out.

Walking back into the bedroom, he hears the tail end of a coughing fit. Dell’s just catching his breath when Bo hands him the sweater. Without warning, Dell pulls off his t-shirt, and Bo isn’t sure what exactly he should be looking at. It’s only his chest, it shouldn’t be a big deal, but it’s Dell. Dell who he thinks is so handsome. Dell who has a girlfriend. His body is perfect, no surprise there, except for a large scar that runs down his sternum. As he’s pulling on the sweater he seems to realize Bo’s staring.

“Yeah I know. It’s pretty bad.”

“No, it’s - it’s not that, that’s not why I...you just uh, you have a nice body. Or muscles, I mean. You’re in shape. But I guess I already knew that.” Bo stutters out, feeling himself digging a deeper and deeper hole. “I mean obviously I’ve never - just like, your arms, I guess -” Dell smiles.

“Relax, it’s fine. You hitting on me, it’s flattering.” It’s clearly just to push his buttons, but Bo can’t resist.

“I wasn’t hitting on you.” He hopes his flustered tone doesn’t give off the wrong message. Dell smirks.

“That’s a shame.” If Bo didn’t know any better he’d think Dell was flirting with him. But of course he isn’t. It’s just Dell being Dell.

“Do you feel any better?” he asks, and Dell sniffles, rubbing at his red nose with the cuff of his sleeve.

“Not really.” Bo feels his forehead, then again with the backs of his fingers. The medication had kept the fever down for a few hours but it’s clear it’s coming back full force. He’s still trembling with chills, jaw clenched to keep his teeth from chattering.

He shakes a few ibuprofen into Dell’s palm, and hands him the now lukewarm tea. He downs them quickly, wincing as they scrape past his likely-sore throat.

“You can probably go once I fall asleep,” he says, and burrows himself deeper into the comforter.

“Do you want me to go?” Bo asks, voice soft, and Dell sniffles wetly before answering.

“I want you to enjoy your time off.” He’s almost totally underneath the heavy white comforter now, just his eyes and his mop of curls visible.

“If I leave you here like this I definitely won’t.”

Dell sniffles again, and it takes a moment for him to reply.

“Well then, I guess you’ll have to stay.”

Dell falls asleep a little while later, but not before telling Bo how to use his coffee maker. It’s a french press, and Dell does an alright job, but between running a fever and not actually having it in his hands, Bo ended up having to google it anyway. He’s not very tired but he’d like to stay up as long as he can to keep an eye on Dell. He’s not a child, but sick as he is he’s basically helpless.

So Bo’s sitting in a likely expensive chair, drinking coffee, about a foot to Dell’s right, and alternating between reading Dell’s worn out “collected works of shakespeare” and scrolling through instagram. He’s just finishing a page when he hears coughing from under the covers. He keeps his eyes on the bed to see if Dell will get up - he’s probably due for more fever reducers anyway, so that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

The coughing eases up though without him emerging from the nest of blankets, so Bo goes back to reading. Only maybe a minute later it starts again, and Bo puts a hand on the mattress.

“Dell,” he says, half whispering, and the coughing starts to taper off. Again, less than a minute passes before he’s gripped in another fit. When it’s finally over, he untangles himself from the comforter and weakly pushes himself up on an elbow. He doesn’t seem to notice Bo is there, which just speaks to how bad his fever must be, and he takes a moment before sitting up all the way, resting his head in his hands. Bo’s not sure what to do. Make his presence known? Wait for Dell to notice?

He turns so one foot is on the floor, and he’s about to stand up when Bo puts a hand on his shoulder. Even through the sweatshirt, which is now almost damp, he can feel the heat of the fever.

Dell just looks up at him, confused, and Bo kneels down so they’re face to face. He still looks puzzled. Not alarmed or freaked out, which is good, but puzzled isn’t particularly good either.

“Wh-” He barely gets out a sound before launching into another fit of coughs, practically doubling over, face buried in his sleeve and Bo’s pretty sure the only thing keeping Dell on the bed is his hands on his shoulders. When he gets a respite, he half sits back up, his nose streaming. A sniffle makes his breath catch and forces out a few more coughs, and Bo graduates to letting him rest his forehead on Bo’s shoulder.

“You don’t need to get up, I’ve got it,” he says, and Dell shakes his head. “I do. I’ve got it. Lay back down.”

“No, I need meds,” he mumbles, the congestion apparent in his voice.

“I’ll grab em. Just stay in bed, alright?” Dell doesn’t reply, just shifts himself back onto the mattress, closing his eyes as another fit wracks his frame. Hurriedly, Bo grabs the thermometer, a bottle of cough syrup from the cabinet, a washcloth, and another bottle of water. When he gets back there’s enough space for him to sit halfway on the bed - one leg up, the other on the floor. Hesitantly, he feels his forehead - not that he needs to, but it seems a better way to wake him than to shake his shoulder. Sure enough, his eyes open, and he finally seems to actually see who’s in front of him.

“Bo,” he says, and Bo is sure he’s imagining it but it almost looks like he’s wearing a hint of a smile.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He brushes a few of the damp curls off his forehead. His eyelids flutter.

“It is you,” he says, and Bo almost wants to laugh.

“That’s correct.” He was hoping a little bit of conversation would make him more lucid, but no such luck. he grabs the washcloth from the nightstand and presses it to Dell’s overheated forehead. He doesn’t really react, which is a little worrying.

“But is it you? Is it really you?” He sounds like he’s trying to evaluate some philosophical idea.

“It’s really me,” he says, and flips the cloth so the cool side rests on his skin. “Can I take your temp?” He’s going to either way, but better to ask first.

“I have a fever,” he says. It sounds more like an unrelated statement than it an answer, but Bo slips the device under his tongue.

“That’s true.” It’s a few moments before the thermometer beeps, and Bo frowns when he sees the reading. 103.2. He looks back at Dell. “What’s the worst you’ve ever had?”

“Fuck...” He sighs and closes his eyes for a moment. “I think it was...my last year at university.” His voice is slow and lazy, as if he’s drunk. Not that Bo can actually picture Dell getting wasted enough to start slurring his words. “It wasn’t bad, really, but i found out she set up her phone. On my dresser. So she could sell it. The video.” Bo is deeply confused, eyebrows furrowed.

“What are you talking about?” He really hopes Dell isn’t fully delirious, that would be exceptionally bad. Dell opens his eyes, looking almost annoyed.

“You asked me the worst I ever had.” It takes Bo a moment to understand, then he can’t stop himself from laughing. Sex.

“No, that’s not what I meant. Why would I - and why would you even -” Dell frowns.

“So what did you mean then?” Now he looks confused, and Bo presses his palm to his forehead again. He doesn’t really need to, but Dell seems to like it and it’s the only comforting touch he can justify.

“Fever. Worst fever.” He’s guessing his fevers typically spike like this, but he can’t be sure without asking. Dell hums softly.

“104 probably. Somewhere around there. Probably higher but I was probably unconscious.” Bo breathes an inward sigh of relief. He’s definitely not doing great but at least it’s not catastrophic. He coughs again, luckily it doesn’t escalate into a whole fit but from the look on his face Bo can tell it’s painful. He uncaps the ibuprofen. “I need meds, Bo,” Dell mumbles, and Bo puts the tablets into his palm. He’s about to hand him the water when Dell just knocks them back dry. Sort of impressive, but also probably indicative of how often he actually needs ibuprofen that he’s gotten so good at it.

Bo is squinting to read the cough syrup label when Dell speaks.

“Top line. 10 mull.” Bo’s confused for a moment before he laughs again. M-L.

“Milliliters?” Bo says, even though he already knows.

“I guess,” he mumbles and takes the little cup. He downs it quickly, pushing himself up somewhat so he can have a drink of water. When he’s done he lays, more like falls, back down and lets out a heavy sigh.

“Thank you,” he says, but it doesn’t look like he’s feeling any better than he did before. Bo wishes there was more he could do. Anything more. He breaks into another fit of desperate coughs, burying them in his sleeve, and when he pulls back his nose is a mess. He sniffles, but Bo knows that’s not fixing anything.

“Here.” He hands Dell a few tissues and he wipes his nose, folding the tissue into neat little squares. When he’s done, he lets out a heavy, congested sigh, curling back up under the comforter. His eyes are open, but he’s still got that hazy, unfocused look.

“Can I ask you something?” He says, and Bo braces himself for what will probably be a bizarre fever-induced conversation.

“Go ahead.” Dell furrows his brow for a moment, like he’s really concentrating, before looking back at Bo.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Bo immediately feels himself blush and he prays Dell is too out of it to notice.

“Why are you asking me that?” He says, trying to keep his tone even and calm.

“Do you?” Dell just looks amused, and Bo feels his embarrassment grow.

“No. I don’t.” Dell’s expression doesn’t give anything away.

“Boyfriend?” Bo clenches his jaw.

“Are you making fun of me? Seriously? When I’m here-” Dell shakes his head vehemently, eyebrows knit together.

“No! No, no no no no. I’m...I want to know.” He looks ernest, so Bo relaxes somewhat.

“I don’t.” Dell frowns. Pouts, almost.

“You’re so pretty though. And so smart. And funny,” he says, still sounding so genuine in the way a fever makes you. Bo smirks.

“That’s very nice.” Dell shakes his head.

“S’not nice, s’true.” He pauses, rubbing his nose with his wrist. “I don’t want you to work for me.’

“Why’s that?” At this point, Bo knows nothing he’s saying holds any weight so he shouldn’t really take any offense, but the words still sting.

“Because I like you.” Now he’s really making no sense.

“Then why wouldn’t you want me to work for you?”

“Because.” He says, as if that’s an answer. When Bo still doesn’t really understand, Dell sighs, rubbing his eyes. “Because I can’t just date someone who works for me.”

Bo’s heart almost stops.

“I don’t think you know what you’re saying.”

“Of course I do,” he says, still so casual.

“You’re straight. You have a girlfriend.” Dell frowns as if this is new information. It takes a moment, but he seems to finally understand.

“Oh! Emilia. Right.” Bo presses his lips into a line.

“Right.”

“Emilia’s not my girlfriend. God, I’m fucking freezing.” He pulls the comforter tighter around himself, and he looks so miserable it shifts Bo back into caretaker-mode. He tests Dell’s forehead again, even though it hasn’t really been long enough for the ibuprofen to have made a difference.

“Well, you’ve been sweating so everything’s probably damp. Do you want a new sweatshirt?” Dell shakes his head. “It’ll make you feel better.”

“Emilia’s not my girlfriend.” Bo sighs.

“Then who is she exactly?”

“It’s for...magazines. The internet and stuff. Fuck, it’s cold in here.” Bo’s at a loss. This is an insane amount of information, and it’s all coming from someone with a brain melting fever. There’s a chance it’s all genuine, but just as likely it could be total bullshit. Bo could show his cards, admit he likes Dell too, but if it doesn’t end up being real Bo will almost definitely lose this job.

“I’m gonna grab you a new sweatshirt, ok?” He doesn’t wait for a reply, just gets up and makes a beeline for the closet. He rummages for a moment through the drawer before finding what he’s looking for, and on the way back he tries to form some kind of plan. He comes up short.

Sitting back down on the bed he hands Dell the sweatshirt, and he sits up shakily, fumbling to take off the sweat damp piece of clothing along with the t-shirt underneath. The minute his bare skin meets the air his shivering ramps up and even when he gets the new one on he’s still trembling.

“The fever reducers should kick in soon,” Bo says, but his heart is aching not doing anything more than just sitting and watching. Before he can stop himself he’s wrapping his arms around him, pulling him tight against his chest. He lets out a shaky sigh, and Bo can feel the shivering start to calm. “Is this ok?” He whispers, and he feels him nod.

“Perfect.”

#sickfic #My writing #oc bo #oc dell #perfectseries #fever

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mypassionsarenysins · 5 years

Text

Old Love, New Love Ch.4

(Past Dean Winchester x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: It’s been four years since Dean Winchester broke her heart, now that he has to work with her, how will old feelings resurface?

A/N: This one is kinda long, but worked really hard on it. Thank you to @daffodilsbucky for everything. This one is for you.

Master List Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Sam was rushing down the office. He was supposed to meet Dean 35 minutes ago, but you know, talking with Jess on the phone and having a meeting with Cas took his whole afternoon. He knew Dean wouldn’t mind, but things had become tense since they returned form New York. The other thing constantly on his mind was how much you had changed. It had been a while since he had seen you. Don’t get him wrong you guys talked constantly and you and Jess still met more often than not. It wasn’t the same. Sam felt he lost his sister.

As Sam approaches the office he notices that Jo is not in her desk, so imagines that she had left for the day. The curious things was that the door to Dean’s office was closed. He usually closed the door when he was on a meeting, but it was too late for that. As he was about to open the door Sam heard shouting form very familiar voices.

“I can’t believe you are bringing this up again Lisa,” Dean said loudly with anger noticeable in his voice. “I told you before it’s just business.” Dean sighed. “I am not trying to get back with her,” Dean said louder.

“Its just really suspicious that suddenly you have to work with her,” Lisa said almost screaming.

“Come one Lisa, I left her for you, is that not enough?” Dean shouts. “I broke her heart for you,” Dean says louder.

“Be an adult about this Dean that was four years ago, and she still getting in the middle of us,” Lisa sighs. “What you did to her. The way you blatantly let her take the fault of you cheating and never telling anyone why she left.”

“You don’t get to say that Lisa.” Dean yells. “It was all your fault.”

Sam freezes in his spot behind the office door. How could Dean do that to you? He was pretty sure you where it for him. Without a second thought Sam burst the office door. What he sees is Dean standing behind the desk both hands holding his weight as he leans in shock written in his face. Lisa has her arms crossed anger and annoyance clear in her face.

“Out now,” he says as calmly as he can looking at Lisa.

Lisa clears her throat and looks over at Dean, “I’ll see you later Dean.” With that she looks at Sam quickly and nods. She walks fast out of the office shutting the door.

“Sam,” Dean says softly hurt clear in his eyes.

“I really need you to explain this to me Dean, because.” He takes a deep breath. “ I know you would never hurt (Y/N) and you would never do the selfish thing of making her leave.”

Dean takes a deep breath and takes a minute to gather his thoughts.

“It all started when I met Lisa,” he says as he sinks further in his chair. “ She was there you know, always flirting with me.” Dean closes his eyes.

“Me and (Y/N) had been together since high school, and then Lisa comes into my life.” Dean says still not looking him in the eyes.

“Sam you have to understand that being together that long takes a toll on a relationship.” Dean tried to excuse himself. “And being with Lisa made me feel alive.” Dean says with desperation on his voice.

Sam understood that Dean was desperate, but he couldn’t offer any console to his brother feeling his blood boiling.

“Dean I need you to tell me what you did, I just need to say that.” He says anger noticeable.

Dean takes a long breath, “We were at the old office and we you know,” he gestures with his hands. “We were getting busy, and (Y/N) came in and she froze. I remember she just stared at us and then she ran out.” Dean says seriously.

Sam takes a deep breath resisting the urge to run to New York to hug you.

Dean looks down at the floor. “After she left I ran after her, but she was gone. Then when I got home all her things where packed. Just some old pictures and a letter.”

Dean stands up and walks towards the couch in the corner of his office. He sits down and starts running his hands through his hair. “She left a fucking note saying that she loved me, that I had broken her heart, that she was leaving, and that she would never tell anyone what happened.” He says louder and louder with each word.

Sam stands up and sits in the coffee table directly in front of Dean anger visible in his face.” Then why didn’t you say anything. That was the most selfish thing you’ve ever done Dean.” San says with tears in the corners of his eyes. “That’s my sister, and I lover and you made her leave!” He shouts. “I can’t believe that you would do that to her, and even then she protected you. She left alone and heart broken and you didn’t have the balls to say anything.” With this last words Sam stands up and starts walking towards the door.

Sam took a breath, “I’m going to New York and talk to her. I’ll be staying there for a while.” Sam says with anger lacing his voice. “Don’t call Dean.”

As soon as Sam is out of the office he pulls his phone out and dials his secretary Meg letting her know that he needs a flight to New York the soonest possible. The next call he makes is to Jess letting her know whats going on, and that he is leaving for New York. The last call he makes is to (Y/N). He tells (Y/N) that he is flying to New York that afternoon and that he really needs to talk to her.

In New York

Sam has had time to think of what to say. He’s never kept a secret from (Y/N) and he wasn’t about to. So when he lands and finds his luggage he is about to call a taxi when he spots Bucky Barnes and (Y/N) waiting for him with the biggest smiles on their faces.

(Y/N) let’s go of Bucky’s hand and runs towards him. She wraps her arms around his waist. “Hey smalls I didn’t know you where picking me up.” He says with a smile. The comfort of hugging her bringing him some happiness.

“Well,” she says with a small smile on her face. “When you called to tell me you needed to talk to me I got worried, but then Jess called and told me your flight informations.” She says as she hooks her arms in his walking towards Bucky. “And I assume it was important so I felt like it was the thing to do.”

As the arrive to where Bucky is, both men shake hands.” Hey man it’s good to see you.” Bucky says.

“You too,” Sam smiles at the man.

“So,” (Y/N) says shyly. “I have a meeting with Tony, so Bucky will drop you off at the apartment is that okay?” She asks softly.

Sam smiles, “Of course smalls, this gives me a chance to get to know Mr. Barnes.” He says with a smirk.

She blushes, “Yeah just don’t say anything stupid.” With this she get on her toes and kisses his cheeks. “We’ll have dinner and we can have a talk.”

She then moves to where Bucky is, smile plastered on his face. She goes and kisses him softly. “I’ll see you later, love you.” She says as she gets into one of the two black cars parked waiting for them.

Sam fallows Bucky where he gets into the other car. “She’s something else isn’t she?” Bucky asks with dreamy eyes.

Sam laughs loudly. “Yeah she is.” He then takes a big breath. “I wanted to talk to you before I talk to her actually.” He says seriousness in his face.

Bucky takes a deep breath and turns to talk to Sam. “It’s about your brother right?” He ask seriously.

Sam swallows and nods his head.” Yeah, I just wanted to know I you knew what happened between them.”

Bucky takes a moment to think, “she said that she used to live in LA, she also said that he was her first everything, and that he broke his heart in the worst way possible.”

Sam nods his head. “I figured she would still protect him, and protect herself.”

Bucky looks at him with shock in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Sam takes a deep breath. “He cheated on her, and she caught him. The she left him so he could be happy and never told anyone afraid they would be mad at him.” He says sadly.

Bucky takes a deep breath, as he can feel anger running through him. “I know she will never tell me, and I know its not that she docent love me, but this feels.” He says as he gets lost at the end.

“You know,” Sam says with a small smile. “She has always been that way. She used to take the blame for things me and Dean used to do. But this,” Sam says. “This breaks my heart because it’s my brother and she is my sister and he broke her.”

Sam takes another deep breath unshed tears in his eyes. “When she left it was the saddest day of my life. She just left saying that she needed a change and that she needed to be away from Dean.” Tears start falling from his eyes.

Bucky looks at Sam and pats him on the shoulder. “I never knew it affected you so much. And I will never hold it against her.”

Sam smiles at the man. “You really do love her, don’t you?” He smirks as Bucky’s cheeks turn red.

“I do Sam,” Bucky smiles. “She is the best thing to happen to me.”

As they arrive to the apartment they are still talking about their lives. Sam starts getting to know Bucky and they realize they have so much in common. As Sam settles in the guest room he starts thinking about Bucky and (Y/N) and what a good couple they make. As he starts walking out of the room he finds Bucky sitting down on the couch with his laptop in his lap looking at it intensely.

“Hey,” Bucky smiles at Sam. “I have a dinner with some pals, so make yourself at home.” Bucky smirks.

“Yeah of course.” Sam answers as Bucky starts gathering his things in the coffee table.

“One last thing before I go,” Bucky laughs. “Why does everybody call her smalls?” He asks questionably.

Sam laughs loudly. “As you know we grew up together,” he laughs some more. “So when we had our growth spurt she was left behind, and dad would call her smalls all the time.” Sam looks back lovingly. “The nickname just stuck to her.”

Bucky laughs loudly and looks at Sam as the shake hands. “Well now I know.” They both look at each other for a moment. “It’s really good to have you here. When you called she was so happy to have you with us. Wouldn’t stop talking about you.” Bucky smiles gathering his coat at the entryway. “She’ll be here soon and she said she’s brining pizza.” With one last smile Bucky was gone only the soft sound of the door could be hears.

As Sam was left alone he decided to take nap and he settled in the couch his phone rang. Looking down at his phone he saw that it was Dean calling (again). He took a deep breath and answered.

“What do you want.” He answered coldly.

Dean took a deep breath on the other side of the phone. “I was just wondering if you’ve talked to (Y/N) yet?”

“No she was busy so I was talking to Bucky for a while.” Sam answered and took a moment before he said something that he knew was going to hurt Dean. “He is really great you know. And he really loves her. They look happy together.”

There was a bitter laugh on the other side of the line. “You think she’s ever going to be happy with him?” Dean screamed. “She will never be as happy as she was with me!”

Sam was shocked. Anger boiled in his veins. “Just leaver her alone. Don’t call her. Don’t call me. Let her be happy. Let her be happier than she was before.” Sam shouted, unknowingly he didn’t realize that the door had opened and that (Y/N) was there listening to them.

(Y/N) stood there frozen. As Sam was about to answer back she took control of the situation. She walks over to Sam, drops the pizza on the couch, and takes the phone out of Sam’s hand.

With a deep breath (Y/N) takes the phone. “Sam will call you back,” she says with a harsh voice. “And I’m going to need you to stop whatever it is you are doing Dean.” With that she hangs up and takes Sam’s hands in her’s.

“You didn’t need to do that.” Sam tells her softly.

“Of course I had to. I can’t have you both fighting.” She smiles. She takes a deep breath “You know then.” She tells him.

Sam looks at her. “I just want to know why?” He says as his shoulder drop.

“It’s complicated Sam,” she takes the seat next to him. “I knew that if you or Mary or John or even Cas figured it out you would stop talking to him.” She says as she smiles sadly.

“But it’s what he deserved. He made you leave.” Sam says with some desperation.

“Yeah but I was so in love I could never hurt him.” She says. “But it all change for the better.” She hugs him. “I am happy now Sam.”

Sam could only look at her sincerity in her eyes. “You really are, aren’t you?” He softly kisses her forehead. She only hums her answer.

“You need to call Dean you know?” She says with a smirk.

“Yeah, but first pizza.” He says with a smile. He knew she was going to be alright. They where going to be alright.

TAG LIST: @greenarrowhead @choppedgalaxynerd-blog-blog @theonelittleone @lesleyvalntyne @angelstrenchcoat-67 @frozenhuntress67

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester au

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ehstarwar · 4 years

Text

the gentler gamester is the soonest winner (2/4)

Looking very debonair in dark jeans and a too-tight sweater stretched across his wide chest, is an exasperated man, formerly known a Seat Thief. Otherwise known as Ben.

Oh, fuck.

Rey and Ben find out they have some mutual friends. (Shocking, I know.)

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 2K

Read on AO3

Notes: it's awkward silences! it's a lot of blushing! it's... The Angst™

Chapter 2: to mourn a mischief that is past and gone

“This equation is wrong.”

“What? Where?”

“The variable is in the wrong place, I think.”

“I’ll email Skywalker,” Rey says. Finn continues onto the next problem as Rey thinks of a polite way to tell a professor with an ego the size of Coruscant that he got something wrong. Poe takes a loud sip of a frappuccino that ran out about three sips ago. Rey looks up to give Poe a pointed glare when she sees his face look behind her shoulder and light up.

“Benji!” Poe shouts, waving his hands. Rey is used to Poe’s… eccentric behavior, even has come to like it on occasion, but this isn’t that time. Rey is prepping for her onslaught of midterms, trying to figure out how she can squeeze more hours in at the coffee counter without any more hours in the day, and hoping that she can stretch her clean underwear until next week.

In short, Rey does not have time to make pleasantries with the, most likely, similarly eccentric person Poe is about to introduce to them. Rey glances behind her shoulder and feels her stomach drop.

Looking very debonair in dark jeans and a too-tight sweater stretched across his wide chest, is an exasperated man, formerly known a Seat Thief. Otherwise known as Ben.

Oh, fuck.

Rey snaps her head back around, trying to come up with a way to inconspicuously brush out her greasy, one-too-many-days-of-dry-shampooed hair. She prays that there are no rogue grease stains on her clothes from her shop class and vows to do her laundry as soon as she gets home.

“Guys, this is my friend Ben. I don’t think you’ve met him. He refuses to come to my parties because he has a pole up his tight ass,” Poe says. Ben has now walked up to the table, looking cool and calm in a way that makes her want to die.

“Ugh, hi Poe,” He says curtly. Rey thinks for one minute that perhaps he doesn’t recognize her, probably from lack of throwing daggers with his eyes at her during class, but it proved wrong. “Rey,” Ben says nodding towards her.

“Hey,” Rey says, voice breathless.

“How do you know each other?” Poe asks, taking another sip from his cup. Rey resist the urge to slap it out of his hands.

“Rey is in Ashoka Tano’s class that I’m helping out in,” Ben explains.

“Oh, the one where that guys keeps stealing your seat?” Finn pipes up. Rey would very much like armageddon to happen right. fucking. now.

“That was actually just a misunderstanding on my part! Not a big deal really; we sorted it out,” Rey pipes up, her voice octavos higher than usual. Both Finn and Poe give her an odd look, but ben just chuckles. “Um, how do you know Poe?” She asks Ben.

Ben opens his mouth to start explaining, but Poe beats him to it. “Oh, Benny and I go way back. Our parents are old friends. How’s your Mom doing? I haven’t seen her around the office for a few days.”

“She’s fine. Vacation with my Dad for their anniversary,” Ben says.

“I thought they were divorced?” Poe asks.

“They are.” Ben’s deadpan voice makes Rey let out a nervous chuckle.

After a tense moment Finn clears his voice and Poe pipes back up. “This is our friend Finn. You’d of met him already if you ever answered any of my texts.” A terse silence falls over the group after Finn and Ben shake hands, and Ben looks down at her, mirroring Rey’s discomfort.

“Well, I’ll… see you around then,” Ben nods before walking off. Rey wants desperately to get back to studying, but leave it to Poe not to know when to shut up.

“That was weird.” He looks over at Rey. “Why was it so weird between you two?”

Rey huffs, refusing to make eye contact. “It’s not weird between us.”

“Um, yes it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It totally is-”

“Are you five years old? It’s not weird and that’s that.”

“Ooookayyyy…” Poe drawls.

Rey tries to focus on her work, but can’t help and glance over to where Ben wandered off. She wonders if Poe was right, if it was weird. It shouldn’t be, should it? The air was clear, the seat stealing was all but forgotten, they even had a little flirt.

But it does feel weird, although she’ll never admit that to Poe.

Rey decides that no work will get done under these conditions and begins to pack up.

“Where are you going?” Finn asks when she shuts her laptop.

“I’m just not in a studying mood right now.”

“Rey-Rey, is this about the thing with Ben? I’m sorry for bringing it up-“

“It’s really not, Poe. No worries, really.” Finn and Poe share an unconvinced look so Rey gives them her best mega-watt smile to appease the situation. She thinks, perhaps, that it just makes her look like a lunatic.

“Okay, well… we’ll see you at home?” Finn asks. Rey flashes him a thumbs up before marching on.

A quick detour later, Rey finds Ben on the second floor in the library, pouring over a book that is at least four times her age. He looks every bit the studious literature professor that could be found in the library at four o’clock on a Friday night. She tries not to find it so endearing.

As she approaches him, Ben looks up at her and a wide smile spreads across his face. She tries not to find that so endearing as well. (She fails spectacularly.)

“Hi,” He breathes. Rey stick out the small paper bag in her grasp. Ben’s brow knits in confusion.

“It’s an apology scone,” Rey clarifies.

“That’s really unnecessary, Rey, honestly-”

“Actually it is necessary, for me, at least. I was very mean to you in my head, like shakespearian-level-insults-mean. You accepting this would help ease my mind tremendously. It’s really more of a favor to me, so: take it.” She pushes the bag even closer to him.

Ben laughs, a real, hearty laugh that makes something in Rey sing.

“I’d hate for you to live with this guilt, so,” Ben takes the package, “thank you.”

Rey beams at him. She’s overcome with the urge to sit down next to him and tell him about her day then ask him every question she could possibly think of when she realizes that she did not plan this far.

Obtain apology scone: check.

Present apology scone: check.

Her fool proof plan did not account for how much she didn’t want to leave after giving him said scone, so now she’s standing next to him unsure of her next move.

“Do you wanna…?” Ben gestures vaguely to the table and Rey is seated across from him before he can finish speaking. She hopes the little chuckle he gives is more at her actions than at her.

“Are you a grad student?” Rey asks, desperate to move on from the long, awkward pauses that seem to plague her day.

“PhD candidate, actually. In literature. Thats why I’m assisting Dr. Tano,” He explains.

“Oh wow. How long does that track take?”

“About four years to complete just for the doctoral. I have about a year left.”

“Me too! I mean, in undergrad. Not PhD. I don’t think I could handle another four years of school.”

“What’s your major?”

“Civil Engineering.”

Ben’s eyebrows raise. “Very impressive.”

“It’s really not… but thanks. I’m not sure Professor Skywalker would agree,” Rey laughs. A darkness crosses Ben’s face that make something twist unpleasantly in Rey’s gut.

“That’s not surprising.” Ben says, voice low. This would be an excellent time to practice the self-restraint Rey is always meaning to work on, but her mouth works before her brain does.

“You know him, too? Professor Skywalker?” She ask.

“Ugh, yeah. He’s my uncle.”

Rey is sure her confused face is, in fact, the least attractive thing she could be doing right now, but she can’t quite help it.

“Wow, that’s… crazy that we’ve never met before. I mean- we pretty much run in the same circles,” Rey says. Ben runs a hand through his hair and shrugs.

“I don’t really hang out with them… or anyone, really. They all were pretty pissed when I chose FO instead of Chandrila for undergrad.”

Oh.

“Oh.” The silence is awkward but she’d choose that instead of automatic reaction of calling him a villainous, uncaring, republican snake that she assumes everyone who comes out of First Order University is.

But he’s not. He’s Ben. Her mentor’s nephew. Her best friend’s childhood friend. Her favorite teachers TA. The guy who has been super cool and nice when he could’ve been a total and complete ass and gotten away with it.

“Well, it’s nice that you came back. You should, you know. Hang out with them again, I mean.”

“You think?” He looks at her cockeyed, and Rey hopes she’s not blushing too hard when she responds.

“Yeah! Because… I hand out with them. So we could hang out, together. It would be… nice.”

Rey swears she sees the tips of his ear turn red and is unable to kid herself on how endearing she finds that.

“Yeah… nice.”

They look at each other for a long moment and Rey tries to ignore the plushness of his lips and constellation of moles and the twitch in his lips that she’s come to assume his his version of smiling.

And then, once more, a bomb.

“Ah, there you are Ben! Do you have the 100 level assessments from last week?” Dr. Tano’s voice breaks them out of their reverie and Ben begins to shuffle through his meticulously organized folders. “Oh, good evening Ms. Niima.”

Rey swallows the lump in her throat. Dr. Tano doesn’t seem to notice anything going on between Ben and herself, not that there is anything going on, but Rey still feels like the kid who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Ms. Niima were just going over her midterm,” Ben lies as he hands Dr. Tano a stack of papers. Based on his response, at least Rey knows Ben feels the same way.

“That’s very admirable of you, Ms. Niima. But don’t let Ben take up too much of your Friday night,” Dr. Tano says. Rey laughs a little too hard and it sounds unconvincing even to her own ears.

“I was just leaving actually… I’ll see you in class, Dr. Tano. Um… goodnight.” Rey quickly swings her backpack on and shoves the chair back under the table before either of them have a chance to respond.

Rey does spare a glance back towards Ben when she reaches the door. Dr. Tano is speaking to him, something probably important, but Ben is focused on her.

She exits library and tries to pretend that the clenching she feels in her heart is just temporary and has nothing to do with Ben.

(Unfortunately, Rey is smart enough to know it does.)

#reylo #kylo ren x rey #ben solo x rey #kylo ren #ben solo #rey #adam driver #daisy ridley #sw #star wars #fan fiction #my work

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thecleverdame · 5 years

Text

TTWDBI - THREE

Part Three - Judgement

Masterlist

Summary: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader -Sam’s young, powerful and comes from one of the wealthiest families in New York. When he meets an Omega bartender who’s far from what his family expects, Sam is forced to make a series of hard choices.

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, smut, knotting, breeding, dominance, ownership, angst, family drama

“You were late today.” John quips.

Sam doesn’t look away from his computer as his father takes a seat, adjusting the lapel of his jacket.

“I wasn’t late for anything. I came in later than I normally do, but I was here for the Cavanaugh presentation.” Sam quips, finishing his email before giving his father his full attention. “Are you keeping tabs on me now?”

“Yesterday you didn’t show up for work and I find you shacked up with a woman I’ve never seen before. This morning you wander in at ten o’clock. It seems like I need to take pay attention.”

“Your concern is noted. What happened yesterday will never happen again. But while I’m working eighty hour weeks, I expect to be able to come and go on my own schedule.”

John’s eyes narrow, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together as he stares at his youngest son.

“You need to talk to your mother.”

“I thought you were going to take care of that.”

“You’re not getting off that easy. I told her you’re seeing someone. It’s up to you to break the news.” John couldn’t be more disgusted by the conversation and they both know it. He’s never had the patience for anyone or anything that disappoints him.

“Fine. I’ll talk to her on Friday, at dinner.”

“I think you should break the news before then. And you better bring the girl.”

“You think that’s a good idea?” Sam cocks an eyebrow.

“Of course not, but she’s important to you if you claimed her and your mother will want her there. That’s a huge commitment, Sam. Being a mate is a shit ton of responsibility that begins and ends with your family.”

“I get it.” Sam’s done with the conversation but John is far from it.

“Do you? Tell me you understand why I’m upset, Sam. I need to know that you get it.”

“I don’t.” Sam shakes his head. “Maybe if I had a history of reckless choices I’d understand your concern but I’ve always pulled my weight when it comes to the business. I missed the meeting yesterday and I get that can’t happen again and it won’t. But my whole life just changed, I think I’m entitled to a mistake.”

“Is there anything else I should know?” John pulls his glasses from his pocket. “If this girl is going to come back and bite the family in the ass, you better tell me now.”

“No.” Sam quips.

In truth, he has no idea. You could have a closet full of dirty secrets and scandals that he doesn’t know about. But he’s not able to tell his father that. Besides, he’s loyal. Even if there was something, he wouldn’t throw you to the wolves.

“I sure as hell hope not.” His father grunts, pulling twin folders from his briefcase and throwing them onto Sam’s desk.

“What is this?” Sam cocks an eyebrow.

“What I came to talk to you about.” John stares a hole into Sam before a smile breaks out over his face. His gruff, satisfied laugh laughing filling the room. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. We got final approval this morning.”

“You’re kidding me…” Sam trails off, everything else fading away. “They said FDA approval would take two years at the soonest.”

“I greased a few palms and Caleb worked his magic. As of this morning, we’re officially ready for market.” John laughs again, slapping a palm on the arm of the chair. “Not only are we about to make history but we’re gonna make more money than God himself. This is a game changer, Sam. It’s why I need to make sure you’ve got your head on straight, that you’re all in. This train is going to start moving and things will happen fast. I need you sharp. I can’t do this without you.”

“I’m here and I’m ready.” Sam nods.

“I’m glad to hear it.” John’s stare lingers for a few seconds before he gets up to leave. “Your mother is meeting me this afternoon. She’s coming here before we head to dinner with the Takahashi’s. I’ll send her your way before we leave. You need to tell her Sam. Today.”

“I know.” The younger Alpha nods. “I will.”

—

There’s a soft knock and Sam looks up as his mother slips through the door, carefully shutting it behind her. He abruptly ends his conference call and she’s apologizing before the line is dead.

“Your father said you wanted to talk to me. I wasn’t trying to interrupt. You didn’t have to end that call for me.” She smiles as Sam approaches her, hugging her before pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“You’re always more important than work.” He waves his hand in her direction. “Do you want anything? I can have Amelia bring us coffee-”

“No.” She sighs, squeezing his arm. “I’m just stopping by. I heard you have some news to tell me.”

She looks excited and Sam feels sick. John must not have indicated how unhappy he was with his choice. He’s left the hard sell to Sam. She takes a seat on the small sofa across from his desk and he moves, sits beside her.

“He told you I was seeing someone?” He clarifies.

“Yup.” She quips, still grinning. “But he wouldn’t tell me any details. I don’t want to be that mom, but you know I wanted to call you as soon as he said anything.”

“I know.” Sam smiles tightly.

“What’s wrong? Is it someone I know?” Her good mood is fading quickly once she senses his apprehension. “It’s not your secretary is it? I see the way she looks at you-”

“No, definitely not.” Sam pauses. “I just, I don’t want you to be upset with me. We’ve worked so hard to have this relationship and it would hurt me to know that you’re disappointed in my choice.”

“Disappointed?” She repeats, her eyes narrowing. He can see the wheels turning in her head, trying to figure out where this is headed. “I’m never disappointed in you.”

“I don’t know about that.” Sam snorts and instantly regrets the comment.

“You’re starting to make me nervous.” Her mouth pinches together in concern.

“Mom, I know you have this idea of who you want me to be with. The kind of person you think is a good match, but that’s really not what I want.” He needs to just say it, but this is harder than he thought it would be.

“Well, Lord knows you have no interest in any of the women I’ve set you up with.” She sits back. “Why are you making such a big deal out of this? You think I care that much about who you’re dating, enough that it would affect our relationship?”

“I know you, you don’t like unconventional.”

“Sam,” Mary whispers, taking his large hand between her own. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re…gay? Because I don’t care about-”

“What?” He’s taken off guard. “No. No, I’m not gay. I met a woman and things have moved fast. I don’t want to get into the gritty details right now but I-I claimed her. And despite how it might seem I feel that she’s the person I’m meant to be with.”

“Oh.” She takes a breath, stoic and staring at him as if she’s not heard correctly. Her hands pull back into her own lap.“Where did you meet her?”

“I was out with some of the guys and we ran into each other. She was working actually.”

This is the part that eats Sam up from the inside. If he’s honest, there’s a part of him that hates his hesitation to say who you are. What you are. A job doesn’t define a person, nor does social standing or lineage. But his parents missed that memo.

“Working?” She chokes. “Oh my God, this is your brother all over again.”

“No mom, she’s not a stripper.” Sam resists the urge to roll his eyes. “She works in bar-”

“Thank God there’s a distinction.” She spits back.

“Don’t be like that.” Sam snips, instantly angered by her response. Disappointment he can understand, but her irritation is a whole other beast. He won’t tolerate it, not from her. He’s forgiven a lot when it comes to his mother, he gave her a chance back when his father and brother refused to speak to her.

“Well, I’m not sure what you want me to say.” She grits out. “I think we should talk about this later after I’ve had time to digest the news. I don’t want to say anything I might regret.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

—

“What are we celebrating?” You inquire, slipping on to the couch beside Sam.

He’s popped a bottle of champaign, leaning over the coffee table to pour you both a glass.

“We’re celebrating the next chapter in my life - our life.” Grinning, he hands you a glass clinking his to yours before taking a sip. “First I found you and now we have FDA approval. This drug is going to be huge.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy that you’re happy. But can you tell what I’m happy about?” You laugh, energized by how thrilled he is.

“Sorry,” Sam grins. Leaning forward he kisses you quickly, then a second time as if he needs another taste. Then he tips back his glass, gulping down the champagne.

Sam looks utterly alive as if every part of him is vibrating with excitement.

“Gilead has this world-renowned research and development team. For a decade my father has been recruiting people, the top scientists, and thinkers from around the world. Poaching people from other companies. One of the reasons Gilead has been so successful is our commitment to pushing boundaries, thinking outside the box and being willing to fund projects that some predict are likely to fail. It’s all about the possibility.”

His face lights up as he talks, becoming more animated as his hands grab the flesh just above your knee, squeezing in excitement and leaving his palm there. If you’ve learned one thing about him, it’s that he prefers to always be touching you. The physical contact anchors the two of you together.

“Ten years ago R&D came to my dad and pitched a simple idea. A cure for heat sickness. One percent of the world’s population are Omegas who have unsatisfied heat and we wanted to target that group and find a treatment.”

Truth be told he doesn’t need to explain it. Unsatisfied heat is a condition that terrifies you.

Some Omegas have a heat that grows more severe over time. Often it’s made worse once they’re claimed. The basic idea is their body wants a child, it’s the biological reason for the pairing. It harkens back to a time, thousands of years ago when human biology evolved to combat a dying population. Alpha was the first to emerge of the evolutionary chain and Omega followed with one purpose: to breed. It’s a basic instinctual need that still exists but it’s been dulled over time.

A few hundred years ago Sam would have claimed you and you would have given him as many children as your body could manage. Reproduction was imperative and the preternatural pull was insatiable. Women bore child after child until they became too old to become pregnant or died during childbirth It wasn’t uncommon for women to bear children until it took their life.

And when Omegas aged out of the childbearing years they were replaced by someone younger who was still fertile. It was commonplace for an Alpha to have four or five mates over his lifetime. Foregoing one for the next, leaving behind each Omega to suffer a lonely existence.

It was during these times that unsatisfied heats first showed up.

The more common situation is an Omega being forced to become pregnant to satiate her heat. Being fucked and knotted doesn’t do the trick. In these cases, the body needs a full womb to equalize and the woman’s body turns on herself until it’s given what it wants. It’s one of two options, have child after child or suffer through spine curling heats that often last for weeks a time.

The second and the rarer scenario is when an Omega is unable to be satisfied. Despite claiming, mating and pregnancy their heats grow more and more intense. To date there is no treatment, the condition is terminal but often makes the Omegas suffer for years before finally taking their life.

One percent of the population means it affects roughly seventy million people.

“And you found a cure?” You ask and Sam smiles, pink lips pulling back over white teeth.

“Three years ago we went into clinical trials and the results were incredible. Phase one had a ninety-two percent success rate. I’m talking about no pain, no heat. No symptoms at all. It only got better from there. We were told FDA approval would take years. It’s only been eight months.” He laughs, clearly over the moon at this news.

“You’re going to help so many people.” You beam, proud of this man who’s waltzed into your life. He just keeps getting better and better. “I mean it, that’s amazing. It’s going to change people’s lives.”

“Yeah.” His smile fades as he focuses on you.

All day people have responded to the news with comments about how much money this drug will make and what it will do the company’s stock prices, not to mention future applications. But here you are, talking about the people it will impact.

“What?” You ask, afraid you’ve said something wrong.

“Nothing.” He cups your jaw, running his thumb back and forth across your cheek. “I just like you so much.”

–

Sam’s insistent two of you continue learning about each other. Whether it’s an in-depth conversation or eating you out on the floor of his apartment, Sam’s need to know you is insatiable. His fingers curl into the clammy flesh at the back of your knees, forcing your legs wider.

“Right there.” You moan, butterflying your knees outward as Sam’s tongue works in deft strokes over your clit. You’re spread out on his living room floor, naked, sweating and hovering on the cusp of an orgasm for nearly an hour.

“Wanna fuck you Omega, but you taste too good.” He mumbles against your pussy, taking a moment to lick into your cunt, pressing his tongue inside to get a taste before moving back to your clit.

“You’re gonna make me cum.” You moan, sucking in a breath and tuning your head to the side as you close your eyes in concentration.

“Tell me when.” His tongue slides firm, back and forth, working your bud until the building pleasure encroached on too much.

“Now, Sam.” Warning him you’re momentarily shocked when he pulls his head from between your legs.

Sam moves fast, over your body and pushing his cock into you with breathtaking speed. He thrusts in to the root with one sudden shove of hips. His pelvis rocks into your clit and you cum, crying out, clawing at his neck and back as he holds himself deep.

He feels delirious like he’s in the midst of some feverish dream as he watches you under him, struggling to breathe, your tight little pussy squeezing him again and again. Your back arches as you gasp and go limp, like you’re dying before he brings you back to life.

“Love watching you cum.” He grunts, smiling against your throat, before scraping his teeth over the hollow of your neck. “So fucking beautiful taking my cock Omega. I can feel you, sucking me inside you.”

“Oh God,” Choking, you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your cunt continue to pulse around his thick shaft. The weight of his large frame on top of you coupled with the sensation of being filled to the brim is incredible. If feels like this is where you’re meant to be.

Sam’s never been in love. He’s never even been close before. But as he lifts his heads to watch you silently gasp and twitch as your orgasm fades, he can imagine what it’s like. He can understand the wanting someone completely, body and soul.

“That feel good?” He grins, watching as your eyes flutter open.

“Amazing,” you sigh, smiling lazily and looking up at him. Bringing a hand to his face you bite your lip as you try to catch your breath. “It feels better when you’re inside me when I cum.”

“Better than my fingers?” He clarifies.

Sam’s in the process of the methodical exploration of your perfect orgasm and you think he might just have found it.

“Way better.” Arching up you kiss him. “It feels best when you’re like this.”

“Noted.” He quips, his mouth breaking free to watch your reaction as he rocks his hips, sliding out before slowly easing back inside. “Too much?”

“No,” You sigh, hitching your legs wider. “Just a little sensitive. Be gentle with me.”

“Of course.” Sam nuzzles under your jaw, dragging his nose across your skin as he breathes you in.

He fucks you slow and deep, with long, steady thrusts that make your eyes roll back into your skull. He watches you intently, mesmerized by the way you whimper, clutching at his shoulders, hanging on to him with the desperation of a drowning woman.

“Can you cum again?” He speeds up, just enough to ease the ache of his cock, sliding base to tip with every thrust.

“I don’t know. But it feels so good I don’t care.”

Sam places one hand on either side of your head, holding his weight and pumping faster. The wet smack of your bodies coming together echoing off the walls and becoming his sole focus. That sounds gets faster and louder until he feels his knot swelling.

“Fuck.” Groaning in pleasure, he pops inside you, emptying thick ropes of cum into your belly as you take his knot. He’s not sure he’s ever going to get used to the feeling of knotting you bare, cumming inside you as nature intended. It feels unbelievable every time.

—

You don’t have to open your eyes to know it’s too early for any sane person to start the day, You’ve bartended for your entire adult life so the night owl lifestyle comes as a default. Truth be told you’ve always preferred to sleep until noon and start the day at a slow pace.

Sam is the polar opposite.

“Good morning.” His sleep drunk voice is deep and warm at the shell of your ear as you lay face down in the feather pillow.

“Hmmff.” Grunting, you burrow deeper, stretching out under the covers.

“Are you going to join me this morning?” You feel the smile on his lips as he kisses your shoulder.

He’s been trying to get you to go running with him for the last three mornings. You’ve declined. Not that you don’t exercise. You love to work up a good sweat, you even jog on occasion, but not at 4:45 am.

“It’s too early.” You groan.

“Come on.” You feel the bed dip as he straddles your legs. Pulling down the blanket his lips trailing down your naked spine. “It’s hard the first few times but it’s worth it. If you get out of bed right now we can have a great view as the sun comes up.”

“If you’re trying to motivate me you’re headed down the wrong path.The idea of watching the sunrise makes me nauseous.” Voice muffled by the pillow you make no move.

“Okay, how about this. If you come with me today, I’ll stay in bed with you tomorrow and wake you up more enjoyably.”

Maybe it’s the promise of morning sex or just the playful tone of his offer but you crack on eye open.

“Even if I wanted to, which I do not, I don’t have anything to wear.” It’s the same excuse you’ve used all week but this time he’s ready.

“On the contrary. I took the liberty of having a few items delivered. Not only do you have something to wear, but you’ve also got options.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because I want you to be healthy and live a very long life so I can enjoy you as long as possible. Purely selfish reasons.”

Ten minutes later you’re still half asleep, leaning into Sam’s side as the elevator descends to the ground floor. He chuckles tucking an arm around your side and squeezing you against him.

“It’s freezing out there.” Your protesting hasn’t ended, even as he takes your hand and pulls you toward the front doors of the building.

“You’ll warm up in two minutes. Come on, if we leave now we can be back in time for a nice long shower before I have to leave…”

“Promises, promises.” You laugh as you follow him out into the cold.

–

You walk through the front door of Mick’s just after lunch. You need to beg forgiveness from your manager Joey. He sees you coming across the room and waves the hand towel he’s holding in your direction.

“I don’t wanna hear it.” He warns.

“Please, just let me explain.” Begging you take a seat on the stool across from him.

“Explain what? That you left to fuck some dude and left Jesse alone in the middle of a shift? I don’t hear from you for almost a week…”

“Well,” You shrug, unable to argue with the facts. “Yeah, but things were crazy and I…I - I’m sorry. It won’t ever happen again.”

“I can’t chance it.” Joey stops what he’s doing and gives you his full attention.

“Come on, I never even call in sick.” You counter.

“Maybe not sick but I already gotta give you time off every month for your..Omega stuff. I should have known better. I thought you’d work out but I set you up for failure, that’s my fault.”

“Are you kidding me?” Eyes narrowing you study him, trying to suss out if he’s joking. You’ve known him nearly two years and you’ve never even suspected that he might be prejudiced.

“Look, I’m sorry.” He sighs, distinctly uncomfortable. He’s hoping you’ll walk away or storm out but you’re not going to make this easy for him.

“I know I did a shitty thing leaving like that. But trust me, it will never happen again. I swear. Look-” You push your hair back and pull at the neckline of your t-shirt. “I’m not even on the market anymore.”

He eyes Sam’s bite and takes a moment before rolling his eyes in frustration.

“A claimed Omega doesn’t do me any good. I’m just gonna be honest here. The reason I hired you is that you’re super hot and single. You’re a draw, guys come back every weekend to try and get a piece. But what am I supposed to do with you now?”

“Wow.” You murmur, trying to comprehend what he’s telling you. Feeling a blush rising in your cheeks you try to maintain your composure. There’s a sickening culmination of anger and embarrassment threatening to overtake you.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re making me feel like an asshole.” He grumbles.

“Maybe because you are.” You spit back.

“Hey, watch your mouth.” Joey has always had a quick temper and he doesn’t like to put in his place. “Because I’m a nice guy and I don’t want you out on the street I’ll see what I can do. Maybe we can get you on the afternoon shift.”

“You want me serving burgers to salesmen? No way, the tips aren’t worth leaving the house.”

“Fine, have it your way. You’re fired.”

–

Sam left you a key.

Just like that he trusts you enough to leave a key in a white envelope on his kitchen counter with your name scrawled across the paper. There was a note in his block letter writing - You can come and go as you please.

Unable to control the idiotic smile on your face you slipped the shiny silver key onto your ring. It’s been burning a hole in your pocket all day, just resting there, like an unspoken invitation to his life. There wasn’t a conversation or a massive gesture of commitment. It’s more than that, it’s the way he’s approached his entire short-lived relationship with you.

You’re here to stay and that’s just the way things are now.

Sam’s apartment is massive and modern. You’ve seen the plenty of the master bedroom but you explore the rest of his home, finding an office filled with books and two oversized leather chairs. The shelves are filled with volumes of boring books on business and leadership. But the opposing wall is all fiction. Everything from Tolkien to Jane Austen. You smile pulling the first edition of Mansfield Park, delicately opening the pages.

Across the hall, there’s a small guest room with a neatly made bed and en-suite bath. Off the kitchen, you find a laundry room and a fully stocked pantry. The kitchen and living area are one massive space, open and tall with vaulted ceilings. The far wall of the living room is one giant window, floor to ceiling, wall to wall, looking out over the city.

You don’t even want to guess what he pays for a place like this.

You hear a key in the door and glance at the clock. It’s not even three and Sam shouldn’t be home yet. You’re watching from beside the refrigerator as an older woman lets herself in, dropping her bags to the floor.

“Hello.” You greet tentatively and in turn scare the living daylights of her.

“Oh, Lord!” She shrieks, placing a hand over her heart.

“Sorry!” You put your hands up. “I’m so sorry. I was trying to not to scare you.”

“It’s okay.” She takes a heavy breath, sucking in through her nose. “I’ve been a little jumpy lately.”

“Do you mind if I ask…who are you?” You take a step closer, sock feet sliding across the hardwood of the kitchen floor.

Her expression sours at your question.

“Who are you?” She returns.

“I’m-” That’s a good question. “I’m Sam’s…Omega.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widen, looking at you with a newfound curiosity. She looks you over from head to toe, offering a final nod of apparent approval. “I didn’t know he’d taken a mate. About time.”

“I’m Y/N.” You continue hoping to get more information about this stranger.

“Gail.” She offers her hand and you shake it. “I’m the housekeeper.”

“I didn’t know he had a housekeeper.” You admit as she moves to the sink, already focused on the job at hand.

“I didn’t know he had an Omega.” She shrugs, rinses glasses and loading them into the dishwasher. “We’re both learning new things today.”

You’re a bit taken aback by her attitude, unsure if you’ve done something to offend her.

“I come on Monday, Wednesday and Friday.” She looks up, “I clean and do the laundry. You can leave your clothes in the hamper, or on the floor, but if you want anything dry cleaned, make sure you lay it out in a separate pile. I prefer to do my work and leave. Mr. Winchester likes discretion and I do my best to keep my nose out of his business. That includes friendly conversation. The less I know about you, the better. It’s not personal.”

“Uh, okay.” You nod, slinking away from her.

You try to ignore her presence, but having someone scrubbing the shower and cleaning the toilets while you lay around doesn’t feel right, so you grab your jacket and spend an hour at the coffee shop down the street contemplating how strange life keeps getting.

–

“You look beautiful.” Sam squeezes your hand as the elevator rises. John and Mary Winchester live on the top three floors of the massive Lebanon building. You Googled it this morning, wanting to get an idea of what you’d be walking into and were flabbergasted by the size and opulence of their home. From the rooftop swimming pool to the custom marble floors it’s clear you’re walking into a life that you know nothing about.

You knew they were rich, but John’s net worth printed in bold letters next to his name gave you a stomach ache.

Sam bought the dress you’re wearing. You’d protested when he handed you the box but he scoffed rebutting your apprehension by telling you he saw it in the window and thought of you. You suspect it has more to with the matching lingerie underneath but you couldn’t turn down his generosity. Not to mention the way he looked at you when you emerged from the bedroom, eyeing you from head to toes with a stare that made your belly tight.

“We need to get this over with so I can get you home.” He purred, kissing you in the back seat of his car. You glanced up to see if the driver was watching the two of you make out like kids, but only found two eyes plastered to the road. Sam’s mouth caught yours again, kissing you slow and deep, letting his tongue venture over yours as his hand slid between your thighs. “Wanna fuck you in this dress.”

He warned you this wouldn’t be typical Friday night dinner. It’s part of their yearly employee appreciation initiative. And tonight several members of the board and each of Sam, John and Dean’s assistants will be in attendance.

A woman, evidently staff, answers the door. Sam hands her his coat, then helps you off with yours. Once you’re alone he embraces you, slipping both arms around your waist and pulling you to his chest. Placing both hands on his biceps you stare into his bright, shining eyes, breathing the smell of his cologne and unmistakable scent of his Alpha.

“My family can be…different. I want you to know how much I want you here tonight. You’re a big part of my life now and-”

“Sam!”

You turn to see a blonde woman striding in your direction with a painfully tight smile plastered to her face.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” She slinks closer and Sam relinquishes his hold on you, keeping one hand around your waist.

“Mom, this is Y/N.” He gestures toward you. “This is my mother.”

“Hello.” She extends her hand and you take it. “I’m Mary.”

“Hi, Y/N. Thank you for having me. Your home is beautiful.”

She stares at you for a moment, nostrils flaring as she blinks in rapid succession.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Tipping her head, Mary looks you over one last time before turning back to Sam.

“She’s gorgeous.” She quips, turning on her heels before he has a chance to respond. “We’re having cocktails in your father’s study. Please join us when you’re ready.”

You watch her leave, not quite sure of what to make of the interaction. She’s less brash than Sam’s father but something is simmering under the surface that you can’t quite put your finger on.

Sam takes your hand as he leads you through the long hall before he opens the doors into a two-story office. It’s like something out of a fairy tale, books floor to ceiling surrounded by hardwood and leather.

“Sam!” You look up to see a pretty brunette in a cherry red dress walking toward you. She’s carrying a glass of champagne and it sloshes over the edge. Her eyes stutter between the two of you as she gets closer. Her eyes fall to where he’s holding your hand. “I wasn’t sure if you were coming.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Sam grins, letting you go as he places a hand at the small of your back. “Amelia, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Amelia, she’s my assistant. She keeps my working life in order. I’d be a mess without her.”

“Hi.” You extend a hand and she pauses for a split second before taking it.

“Nice to meet you.” She smiles. Her disappointment is palpable as she looks between you and Sam before asking what she wants to know. “She’s your…friend?”

“She’s my Omega,” Sam confirms without skipping a beat.

You squirm as the color drains from her face. It was apparently the last answer she expected to hear.

“Oh wow, I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.” She recovers quickly, unable to look at you directly.

–

At dinner, you’re seated next to Sam and directly across from John’s assistant Rowena. You’ve caught her staring multiple times now but she’s doesn’t seem intimidated, refusing to look away. She’s studying you and you don’t think you want to know why.

To Rowena’s right is Amelia and on her left is Lisa, Dean’s secretary. It’s interesting, three powerful men with beautiful women working for them. It all feels very old-school. You try to listen to the conversation happening at the end of the table here John and Mary are chatting with Dean about an upcoming project.

“So, Y/N.” Lisa smiles, sweet as sugar. “We’re all so surprised to find out about you and Sam. I’m dying to know more about you. Where did you go to school?”

Sam’s hand finds you under the table, offering a squeeze.

“Um,” You pause setting down your wine glass. “Hillhouse. In New Haven.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard of it…” She makes a production of thinking about your answer, mushing her lips together. “Oh honey, I didn’t mean high school. Sorry, I should have clarified. Where did you go to college?”

You try to control your expression, holding your jaw stiff, willing yourself not to give away any reaction.

“I didn’t. I started working right out of high school.” You answer honestly, suddenly aware that you have the attention of the entire table. Sam shifts beside you, this time he places his hand over yours where it rests on the table.

“Oh,” Amelia chimes in. “Nothing wrong with that. So Sam, why you don’t tell us how the two of you met.”

John clears this throat from the head the table, but Sam doesn’t react.

“I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.” Your Alpha responds, taking a sip of his whiskey.

“How romantic.” Amelia grins, her eyes betraying her. “I think I heard Mary saying you were working? What is that you do?”

You have a sneaking suspicion that she knows full well what you do. These questions are designed to be a deliberate public humiliation.

“I was a bartender.” You quip, not wasting any time. You’ve never felt ashamed of what you do or who you are until now. There’s a heat rising in your cheek and a sick feeling in your belly.

“Was?” Mary inquires. Every head at the table looks from her to you. Shit.

“She’s making a change.” Sam intercedes.

“Better be careful.” Lisa leans forward. “You don’t want to wait too long. I hear entry-level jobs are in high demand.”

Amelia snickers along with Lisa who looks pleased with herself.

“That’s good advice.” You respond calmly.

“I’m sure my son will take good care of you,” John speaks for the first time, his eyes burning with a quiet disdain that settles at your gut. “Why go back to work at all?”

“She doesn’t have to.” Sam’s answer to quick and deliberate. He’s making a point. You’re none of his father’s concern and he doesn’t like that the old man has an opinion about his personal life. “There’s no reason for her to work unless she wants to.”

“Okay.” You try to redirect the conversation. “Do we want to spend all night talking about my career choices? I’d like to know more about what you do-”

“Well, I just want to say that I’m happy for you. Both of you.” Amelia tips her glass towards Sam before staring daggers at you. “It’s a fairy tale ending isn’t it?”

“I’d say.” Lisa joins. “A rags to riches sort of romance. It reminds me of that movie…you know the one with Julia Roberts.”

“Pretty Woman,” Amelia confirms, giggling. “Now that you mention it, I can see that.”

You want to crawl under the table.

Sam has no idea how to handle this. He’s an expert at dealing with his father, but he’s not sure how to navigate this social disaster happening right in front of him.

“Except she’s not a prostitute,” Rowena speaks up.

“Oh my God.” Lisa sputters, putting a hand over her heart as if she’s offended. “I never meant to imply that she was-”

“Oh, didn’t you?” Rowena looks at you with her unwavering stare.

“Will you please excuse me.” You force a smile, pushing your chair back from the table.

–

The moment the door to the bathroom shuts you lose all control of your emotions. You’ve never felt so embarrassed in all your life, but the worst of it is that you’re ashamed for who you are. No one, save for your parents, has ever made you feel like trash.

You want to be angry, but the truth is that you’re hurt. Utterly gutted. The tears sting your eyes before falling over your cheeks. A sob escapes your throat and you cover your mouth afraid that someone will hear you weeping in the bathroom like the weak person they assume you are.

There’s a knock at the door and you freeze, unable to speak without betraying your breakdown. There’s the shuffle of feet and a second rap.

“Let me in.” Sam’s voice instructs, twisting the handle only to find it locked. “Unlock the door.”

Pausing, you wipe futilely at wet cheeks and flip the lock.

When he pushes the door open the sight of you sends Sam’s heart to his stomach. You’re crying, red eyes leaking fat tears. You’ve got a hand over your stomach, trying to anchor yourself. At the sight of him, you clap a hand over your mouth to muffle the cry that escapes.

“I’m sorry. I just needed a minute.” Whispering and broken, you turn away from him.

“Come here.” Sam takes you by the arm, refusing to let go when you tug away. “I’m so sorry, baby. I had no idea it was going to be this bad.”

“I can’t go back out there.”

“You don’t have to. We’ll go home, right now.”

“I don’t think I could stand it.” You don’t mean for your voice to crack. You’ve held it together for this long, but Sam naturally disarms you. You turn away from him, covering your mouth as tears slide down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He mutters, turning you back to him.

Sam pulls you to his chest, wrapping his arms around your small frame and holding you tight as you cry into this chest. He’s pissed. You’re the one person he wants to protect at all costs, the last thing he wants is for you to be hurt. But anger isn’t what you need right now. The feeling of you shaking in his arm breaks his heart. You’d been nothing but gracious, biting your tongue as the entire evening became about backhanded comments.

“They’re just so…mean. Why? If being with you means I have to endure that once a week I don’t think I can.” You look up at him with such earnestly tears streaming down your face. Sam feels like he might throw up.

“I’m so sorry.” he pleads, taking your face in his hands and kissing you. “I’ll never put you through this again. My family, those people, they’re not important. You’re what I care about. Please don’t cry.”

Sam swallows your cries, his mouth covering your again and again until your body begins to overrule you mind, flipping switches as the Omega in you respond to his Alpha. His hands grip your hips, pulling you against him. A final tear falls down your cheek as his tongue snakes into your mouth, curling and tasting, muting any unwanted feelings.

His knees bend and you feel his hand snake under your dress and between your thighs. You part your legs for him out of pure instinct, hitching wide to give him all the access he wants. He grunts softly into your mouth as his long finger swipe over your sex, feeling the sticky lace that’s the only barrier between him and your pussy.

“You’re wet.” He murmurs, his mouth sucking at the skin just under your jaw. The truth is you’ve been wet since he claimed you.

“Take me home.” You whimper, your head falling all the way back as his mouth sends shivers down your spine.

“I want you right here.” Both his hands are under your dress, pulling your panties down far enough to give him what he wants, leaving them around your thighs. “Right now.”

“Someone is gonna hear us.” You pant.

He pulls back, turning you around and bending you forward over the edge of the sink.

“Good.” He grabs a handful of your hair, forcing you to look into the mirror. He stares at your reflection and you meet his gaze.. Your eyes might be a little red but no one would ever know you were crying only moments ago. Your pupils are blown wide with lust, cheeks flush as your mouth hangs open. “Look at you, so fucking beautiful. You’re better than all of them put together and you’re mine.”

Sam’s meets your eyes, locking in a dead stare. He lets go of your hair and places both your hands on the counter, giving them a squeeze, his silent instruction to stay where he puts you. Reaching around he pulls down the neckline of your dress and the cups of your bra so that both your breasts are partially exposed, nipples puffy and hard as his licks his lips.

He pulls your hips back as you stick out your backside. He doesn’t have to tell you what comes next, you already know. You watch each other in the mirror, his eyes never leaving yours as he unbuckles his belt and unzips himself. You’re mesmerized, watching his eyelids fight the urge to close as he presses the swollen head of his cock against your pussy.

“Don’t close your eyes.” He commands, examining your expression as he slides inside. His cock stretches you wide, finding a familiar home deep in your aching channel until his balls rock forward and you feel every inch of his length. “So fucking tight every time.”

He pulls out all the way, leaving you trembling and empty but only for a moment before thrusting back in and burying himself to the root. You cry out, instantly horrified that the entire dinner table can hear you but Sam doesn’t seem the least bit phased.

“Tell me what I feel like inside you.” He grits, one hand reaching around to squeeze your breasts. His hips find a slow rhythm, fucking you deep and steady like he’s got all the time in the world.

You refocus on his eyes in the mirror, watching him watch you as you whimper and twist in pleasure, moaning like a whore.

“You feel big…and deep.” Sucking in a breath you watch as he fucks you from behind. “Sometimes I think you’re going to split me in two.”

Sam groans, fucking a little faster, seemingly pleased with your response.

“I can’t believe I can take all of you inside me, your cock’s so big.” He rewards your confession by grinding deep and holding himself there with the head of his shaft pressed against your cervix. Your eyes roll back into your skull, back arching as you fight to keep breathing. “Fuck Sam, Oh God. It’s too much.”

He doesn’t pull back, just lowers his head to your ear, whispering like he doesn’t want anyone to hear. Like you aren’t alone, locked in a bathroom together. “Have you ever been fucked this deep before Omega?”

“No.” You cry out, trying to move but you can’t. You’re trapped between his massive frame and the marble countertop.

“No what?” His hand in back in your hair, pulling your head back. His cock is unrelenting, your pussy stuffed to the brim as you tighten around him.

“No, Alpha.” Your eyes snap open, taking in the obscene sight of your bare tits arching forward as you squirm on his dick.

“And you’re mine, aren’t you?” He grits at the shell of your ear, still not moving, refusing to give you any relief. “Tell me.”

“Yes.” You hiss as it becomes a long, drawn out moan. “I’m yours. I belong to you, Alpha. Fuck, please just fuck me. It’s too deep like this, I can’t…”

“Can’t what?” He teases, easing out just an inch before pressing right back in to the hilt.

“I can’t take it.” Crying you twist against him, the width of his shaft pulling inside you. It hurts, but it’s a kind of pain that makes you want more. The idea that his cock is this deep and the feeling of him tapping your womb makes you gush around his cock. He really doesn’t need to do anything else, this is enough to send you over the edge. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Like this?” He asks, his tone evening out. He’s not teasing anymore, he’s genuinely in awe of how your body responds to him. Just like everything, he’ll store this information away for later. “You’re gonna come from taking my cock this deep?”

“Ahuh.” You nod, barely able to speak. Maybe it’s the sight of your breasts heaving with every breath or how strung out you look, desperate and writhing on his cock. Maybe he’s the sight of him taking you from behind, how big and dominate he looks standing there. But there’s a swell of carnal pleasure that’s building fast, as you pathetically try to move your hips.

Sam watches in near disbelief, your tight little pussy squeezing and sucking him. He’s not even fucking you, just pinning you against the bathroom counter buried balls deep in your cunt, unmoving and hard as steel as you have, what looks like, an earth-shattering orgasm. He can see the build-up, his beautiful Omega heaving, breathing faster and faster, pussy getting tighter and tighter and then your mouth falls open and your eyes clench shut and you’re cumming around him like he’s just sucked your clit.

“Don’t move.” You gasp, clutching his length inside you, milking his cock.

“You alright?” He whispers, leaning down to press his face against your cheek, still watching. You pant fast trying to catch your breath, hanging on to the counter as if your life depends on it.

“Yes.” Sucking in a breath you keep your eyes shut, still riding out your orgasm. Whatever this is, it’s making you painfully sensitive, your body reacting like it did the first night you were together like you haven’t reached your final plateau and the pleasure is still building.

He shifts behind you, inadvertently pulling out, just an inch, just enough that you feel the drag of his cock but it’s too much and you find yourself plunged into another orgasm, stronger than the first. There are no words, instead, you make a desperate noise, crying out and reaching behind you, trying to hang on to your Alpha as your whole body tightens.

Sam doesn’t wait this time, instead, he fucks you through it, thrusting in and out, pumping with long thrusts while your pussy contracts around him. It doesn’t take long, he comes like a kid on prom night. He barely manages to avoid knotting you in his parents’ bathroom, somehow finding the self-restraint to hold back.

You’re both out of breath, shaking and trembling. The swollen head of his cock is still in your cunt and his seed running down your thighs when there’s a knock at the door.

The handle begins to turn and Sam reaches out to grab it as you stare at each other in the mirror.

“Everything alright in there?”

#Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader #alpha!sam winchester #supernatural a/b/o #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader

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worldcakecakecake · 5 years

Text

The Angel of Venice

Ludwig is an archeologist who gets a big assignment of researching a recently discovered statue. As he is doing his usual inspection with his touches against the stone, he ends up breaking part of a curse that turns the statue human.

Feliciano was cursed long ago, why and how he does not know, continuing to suffer transformations from stone to skin. Ludwig intends to fix this and find answers. Together they will traverse Europe looking for clues, stories and even an adventure that would help them solve the mystery and break the full curse before it’s too late.

Bad news, the draft page is emptying and the next chapter might not be completely done, if so…prepare that a hiatus for this story might come while I fill the draft page once again. If so, I will announce it so in this blog. If I do post a next chapter, then surely afterwards is the hiatus.

Chapter 3

Feliciano had transformed in the early morning, stretching and yawning as if he had just risen from a bed. It was the sight to welcome Ludwig as he came into the living room, cup of coffee in his hand along with a set of clothing.

“First thing is first, Feliciano, I need you to understand well that you have to dress yourself from every transformation. I don’t want you walking around here in the nude and I don’t want others who don’t know you well to see you like this. It’s not the norm, neither suggested, got it?” He repeated it well, Feliciano nodding, taking this new set of clothes and beginning to dress himself in this openness of the room. Luckily Ludwig had closed the curtains so there wouldn’t be any peeking from perverted neighbors.

Feliciano wore a simple cream shirt, along with white jeans, Ludwig later thinking that perhaps he should have saved it for something else instead of remaining at the apartment. As he ushered him to come to the kitchen, Feliciano noticed the new addition of a board, his name written quite gorgeously at the top, the rest was just a time table of different activities as well as a blank area written with the time and hours his statue form had taken.

“That’s a schedule of your activities for the next week. I’ll be introducing and preparing you about everything in this time era, so you can well adjust,” Ludwig explained, pulling Feliciano to focus on his closeness to the counter. “First of all, I’m going to show you how a kitchen works, so you know what to do if you get hungry and I’m not around or asleep.”

He kept him close as he guided him, explaining the difference between the freezer and the refrigerator, where, why and how he placed the items inside, and any new foods Feliciano hadn’t seen before. He showed him how to work the oven, the microwave, blender, grill, sink, coffee machine, where the pans, pots, bowls and any other utensils he could accompanying in his cooking were located. He showed him all the other food packets in their cabinets, the lights, the window, even the cookbooks.

To make sure Feliciano had understood, Ludwig helped him in boiling a simple pasta, along with other ingredients to make as its sauce. Sure, there were dirtied spots in his kitchen now and at one point Feliciano had flared the fire high, but he was able to make them something for their lunch.

Other hours were set for proper German and English lessons, and for Italian, he would just place him to see and hear some Italian TV and radio. He explained all historical occurrences from 1620 till now, how to use the television, the radio, the lights, the bathroom, even the visitor bedroom that would be his in the meantime. He repeated well that if he wanted to sleep, he should do so there…not in his bed.

Feliciano spent the next three days stuck in Ludwig’s apartment, Ludwig doing well and writing down his transformations, varied, but he was starting to get a pattern that he would tell Roderich when he returned. On the fourth day, Ludwig decided to dare and bring Feliciano out into the city. They could have a simple stroll and then get some groceries. Yes, simple, but Ludwig was terrified. After the pattern he had gotten, he decided that at the soonest human turning, he would change, and they would go out. They had twelve hours before he would turn to his statue form, which was more than enough.

“Always stay close to me. Don’t wander, don’t listen and pay attention to absolutely anybody. Any questions keep them to yourself and I’ll answer them when we return. Understand?” A mantra Feliciano had to hide was annoying him.

The day was a cold one, and Ludwig cursed he didn’t buy Feliciano warmer clothes. Perhaps they could get him more things in this stroll. In the meantime, Feliciano had to wear one of Ludwig’s old coats, large on his small figure, but he found it comfortable, testing out by swinging his sleeve, buttons, even the long tails. A pure child making his way down the streets, while Ludwig stressed, ordering still how they could move about without getting too much attention.

“Lidl would be a good start, then we can go to Hirmer…or Hollister.”

Feliciano spun on behind him, distracted with the trees and buildings. How he could keep behind Ludwig was quite a feat.

“Lidl and Hollister, and back. Yes, that will do.” He turned to have Feliciano crash against him. Feliciano disorientated, trying to get himself back on order. “Feliciano, don’t play around. Walk like a normal person and don’t act like such a fool,” he scolded, taking him by the arm and dragging him the rest of the resting way to the supermarket.

Feliciano had been stunned by so much light, by the various number of items well organized into this large room. New things, new processes, new doings. He dropped many packages, opened and just ate a cup of chocolate mousse, plus took longer than expected in the check out because Feliciano couldn’t hold well all the items…leaving Ludwig with just buying a couple of bags to carry them better, which he wanted to avoid.

“I don’t know if I want to take you back to a supermarket,” Ludwig annoyed.

“Aw, but I liked it,” Feliciano said despite, making Ludwig roll his eyes.

Their trip to Hollister was much more successful. Ludwig this time let Feliciano chose what he wanted, quite a fine selection that made Ludwig see that Feliciano had quite a fashionable taste…for someone from the seventeenth century. They headed back quickly afterwards, Ludwig shutting the door in an instant, tempted to slide down to the floor in relief.

“Okay, mission accomplished, now let’s organize all your clothes in your closet.”

He led Feliciano to his room, both working to hang the newly gotten clothes in the wardrobe.

“How about I let you choose what you want for dinner.”

“Oh, oh, can you make that weird…meat thing in breadcrumbs you made two nights ago!”

“Schnitzel?”

“Yeah, that! …And pasta too!” Of course, a meal was not a meal to Feliciano without pasta involved. Sadly, he could not complete it, as he turned half way through it.

They continued on faithfully to the schedule, Feliciano eager and excited for everything, doing well to sit obediently to Ludwig’s teachings. The blond found it all quite endearing, excited himself to teach him everything he knew. That glow in his eyes was an enchanting one he had to admit.

It was while they were working on some English exercises from a workbook, they received the disruptive entrance of Roderich. He made loud sounds and dropped everything rather messily, odd to Ludwig to the point of thinking he had been dreaming. Well, with all this noise and disruption he would have awaken easily.

“Ah, you are awake!” Roderich smiled in welcome to Feliciano…only Feliciano.

“Yes! And I had a really good night sleep!”

“I meant that…you aren’t a statue right now.”

“Oh yeah…that too.”

“I figured you got the files,” Ludwig wanted to hope.

“Indeed!” He took out a file from his nearest bag, placing it on the table on top of their work and notes.

Ludwig instantly went for its grasp, opening it to reveal several copies of baptism certifications, elders in form of old manuscripts, shapes and even writing. There were some that Ludwig could barely understand.

“Feliciano, are you sure that’s actually your name and not your surname?” Roderich asked, Ludwig noticing that most of the people mentioned in these files held it as just a family name.

“Yes, I’m sure! I’m…I’m remembering that my mother gave me that name because she said I was a happy and smiling baby.” He was sure, neither Ludwig and Roderich could deny. Ludwig continued through the files.

“Ah, you remembered something else. Do you remember your mother’s name by any chance?”

“I…think, um, I’m remembering the face of a woman, young, she…looks an awful lot like me,” he chuckled with a saddened tone that had the two other men staring in concern. “But…it’s all I can get…and I don’t…remember her name.” He looked down in defeat, the most hurtful Ludwig had seen in not being able to remind of something so important as his mother. “But yes, Feliciano is my name!” He tried to excite again.

“Well,” Roderich sighed, “I only found one file with a person mentioned as having that name.” It was just as Ludwig found it, one of the lasts in the file. He read through it, indeed a Feliciano mentioned, but it was under another woman’s, mentioned along with one extra name. He presented it forward for Feliciano to see.

“Do you recognize these people and this surname?”

Feliciano read, “Renata Valenti, Lovino Valenti and…Feliciano Valenti.”

There was silence, but it wasn’t long-lasting, the boy was soon standing in excitement, his next words shouted.

“That’s my name! That’s my full name!” He was jumping, all with a glorious glow that was the brightening of the sun inside that apartment.

Roderich smiled, and even Ludwig joined in that small celebration.

“So Valenti is your family name then?”

“Yes, I’m sure! And that’s-that’s my mother! And my brother!”

“You had a brother?”

“Yes! He was older by I think two years. He was usually really mean to other people, but very kind, devoted and sweet to those that mattered,” he smiled warmly.

“There’s a father missing though,” Roderich reminded as he eyed that parchment well, trying to find any hidden thing they missed.

“Or some paternal leader,” Ludwig added.

“What do you mean?” To Feliciano it was all well enough.

“From what we know of your times, Feliciano, it’s just impossible for your mother to be the head of your family…unless she was very wealthy, powerful or you were even an illegitimate child.” Since there was no hardened reaction and Feliciano just gazed on with more confusion, it didn’t seem he would be that case. They still needed to find out though.

“There’s nothing more but your name, but we do have a location to your mother’s birthplace and where she moved to after she lived and birthed you in Venice. We can try to find something about her there and end up finding more about you,” Roderich tried to alight with this piece, which earned a curious glow in Feliciano’s full expression.

“Where to then?” Ludwig wanted to head immediately.

“Florence, Italy.”

They took a flight three days from then, on a plane that had Feliciano panicking the entire way and had called the attention of the stewards and other passengers. At one point, Ludwig thought they would kick them out the plane midair. But they did it, they arrived safe.

“See, we’re here, Feliciano, on the ground, breathe, breathe, breathe,” Ludwig repeated as the boy kept a tightening hold on his arm as they headed out, hyperventilating and close to fainting.

They got in their taxi and made way to the center of the cradle of the renaissance. They managed a hotel with walking distance to all the famous sites, a sure gem for anyone who was visiting the city on a touristic journey. But none of the three came here for leisure, despite how Feliciano wanted to already see all the streets in that instant night of their arrival. They dined in a beautiful restaurant somewhere down the road, in open air, the dimmed atmosphere going well with the candles, old bricks and vines, a wonder that kept Feliciano widened throughout, rare to not focus on the appetizers of sliced meats that they ordered.

“Feliciano…eat,” Ludwig had to command him.

They returned to the room, curtains closed to hide Feliciano’s turning. They kept him in the most hidden corner in the room, being Ludwig’s only watch for whenever he had his eyes opened.

The next morning, Ludwig had to watch as Roderich changed, insisting Ludwig not to bother and join him.

“Where are you going?”

“Just another building with old archives.” Roderich himself dreaded to have to do this.

“You do know I can receive these accesses to find out myself,” Ludwig reminded.

“Actually, for these specific archives, you don’t. I already checked the list.”

“Then how come you did?”

“You’re not my only client, Ludwig. I had an internship here while I was an exchange student and got a lot of contacts. Let me make this easy for you and go myself. If I need you, I’ll call you and let you know about anything I discover.”

“I’m guessing you’re leaving me to babysit again,” he was already expecting.

“Precisely.”

“What am I supposed to do with him?”

“Show him around, stroll, eat, act like this is your holiday,” Roderich suggested.

“How kind of you. Any special reasoning on why I should do this?”

“I’m sure that Feliciano lived here at some point. A day or two around the city could probably help to jog his memory,” Roderich was confident, too highly Ludwig saw. “Show him as much as you can, especially things you knew were there for the early 1600s. Surround him with as much of his times as possible,” his last warning before he headed out, leaving Ludwig alone with a waiting statue.

“It’s gelato,” Ludwig explained, taking from his own vanilla while Feliciano kept giving testing licks to his own raspberry. Truly like a child.

They stood in front of a small gelateria right next to their hotel, the day hot, both wrongly dressed in long sleeved buttoned shirts and jeans.

“Now come on, let’s go,” Ludwig hurried, dropping his napkin with the small empty pieces of his cone in the trash. Feliciano was only halfway through his, but following Ludwig’s lead, he dropped it all along, pouting and saddening at the loss. Ludwig sighed but didn’t bother explaining, just walking on and making sure that Feliciano walked by him.

“What are we going to do?”

“Sightsee. I’ll be taking you around Florence. Maybe you’ll end up remembering something.”

“You both mentioned that I used to live here.”

“Yes. How about this street? Do you recognize it?” Absolutely nothing could be hinted of such times, in fact, Ludwig knew that it was useless, but he wanted to test absolutely anything. Perhaps Santa Maria del Fiore was the only thing that stood the most obvious from his times, and Feliciano did stare at it for the longest time, trying to get a reach, but it wasn’t as Ludwig was expecting.

“Come on,” he ordered again.

It seemed he would have to try harder.

He took him to Ponte Vecchio in just a perfect shine that gave everything quite a color that left Feliciano in ultimate awe, even Ludwig. He bought him entrances into the Uffizi and the academia gallery, hoping that Feliciano would recognize any of those works. He took his time with many of the paintings and statues, noticing techniques and details that most tourist weren’t aware of. He would take Ludwig’s arm and go on with such depths that had Ludwig lost to his words, stilling and focusing. Yet, no new memories arrived.

They went to other museums, Ludwig brought him inside two churches and even the baptistery, but it was the same widened reaction of when something was new, the intrigue of any tourist surely.

It was the late afternoon when Ludwig decided to head back to the hotel, checking his phone constantly for the timing. He knew Feliciano had to turn soon.

“Is there any places with flowers and trees here?” Feliciano suddenly asked.

“Maybe a park or a villa or something,” Ludwig guessed, still focused on their singular route.

“Can you take me tomorrow morning?” He asked and pouted, in such an innocent expression that made Ludwig falter in his steps. He had to look away before he was hypnotized and persuaded.

“It really depends on what Roderich tell us, he’s-” speaking of which, his phone began ringing and vibrating with his call. He didn’t waste a second to answer.

“You have to come here quick.”

The archives were not that far from their distance, Ludwig and Feliciano arrived well in their haste. They were granted entrance by Roderich’s orders and they meet him in his own table, surrounded well by shelves with papers of antiquity, these kinds of files by his side, even some books he used to further research.

“You were quite complicated, Feliciano, but I did find something that will give us a big help.”

Roderich began showing them all the documents which mentioned Feliciano’s name, as well as informing all kinds of things that helped to create a bigger picture.

“Augusto Valenti was your grandfather, who was quite a powerful man. He owned lots of land and profited from the wine and products he sold.” Feliciano saw the written name and smiled warmly, remembering finally his face, his care, his wisdom, his kindness, his smile, the great ways he played with him as a child.

“Nonno…” he had to omit, as if he was calling him even from decades apart.

Roderich and Ludwig smiled as contently, but they had to continue.

“He only had one daughter. Your mother, Renata Valenti. Although there’s not much here about what exactly happened, apparently, she was involved with a man that was not favorable to your grandfather. Because of this, he took full custody of both you and your brother, which is why you held his surname,” Roderich explained, moving about the documents to show all the proof of where he learned this. Roderich expected Feliciano to further detail but he remained as confused in that aspect. It seemed they would not know much of Feliciano’s father for now.

“You were born in Venice but brought to live with your grandfather here in Florence. I assume it’s where you were even raised, but the biggest reason as to why I call you here is because of an apprenticeship you held while here.” Roderich kept exchanging documents until he found one topped with the name ‘Ezio Pellegrino’.

Feliciano instantly pointed to that name, caressing the old parchment as if he could touch him again. “Yes…he was my teacher! He taught me…many new things. I’m…remembering his classes clearly. I think we were five in total under his teaching. We were always experimenting with colors, so it was always covered in all kinds. He wanted us to use as many as possible, scolding whenever we only tried to use one or just two…I drew all kinds of things, but my favorite were…angels with flowers…” Feliciano was impressed with his own reminding, falling silent to just enjoy the sweet memories he had had missed.

“You were an artist…” Ludwig realized, amazed at how such a simple finding could be so grand.

Feliciano nodded sure, proud of his once talent. Now especially he gripped his hands, the want to draw and paint returning, wishing to do so that instant.

“Do you remember your paintings?” Roderich asked.

“I’m…remembering most of them, yes,” Feliciano realized.

“Do you remember where you left any of them?”

Feliciano tried hard to think, but nothing reached, denying with a shake that was like a pierce.

“Do you remember your sketchbook?”

“Sketchbook? Isn’t that too specific?” Ludwig had to question. Roderich shushed him, wanting only Feliciano to speak.

That silence yet again, only hurting Feliciano more to deny once again.

“Lucky for you-” Roderich pulled out a weathered old leather book, opening to reveal surely notes that had belonged to Feliciano’s teacher. “-your teacher mentioned he took you all on a trip to Brussels.” Roderich waited once again for Feliciano to alight. He continued, “he wrote you lost your sketchbook there…he mentions you were devastated, and he really wished he could have done something to get it back…he says you had incredible things drawn there.” Feliciano continued to be as lost, that detail not alighting in his mind no matter how saddening it had been in his past.

“You can’t…remember that?” Ludwig questioned gently.

“No…I don’t remember that,” he gloomed, taking a defeated seat on the chair he had been offered when they had entered the room. The excitement had been too much, he just couldn’t stay still, but now everything was grey again. Roderich and Ludwig could only give him his silence for now, not knowing words of comfort. Ludwig had to hold himself from reaching a hand to caress at a shoulder.

“What about this sketchbook?” Ludwig returned, hoping to change the downpour in the air.

“Well…I was thinking about…searching for it…” Roderich shyly admitted.

“Look for it? Roderich, this sketchbook is centuries old. It could have easily been destroyed long ago or in the hands of some collector in America.”

Feliciano stood, wanting to distract himself in the ancient books that surrounded, not wanting to think about this right now.

“Nothing can hurt by trying.”

“This will take weeks.”

“Not unless we search in the right place.”

“Any ideas on where to start?”

“Yes, I do.” And Roderich gave a smirk that was enough for Ludwig to understand, already groaning at what would surely be the suggestion.

“Are you serious?”

“She’s the best we got right now.”

“We’re not even entirely sure it could still be in Brussels.”

“We never know, Ludwig. Do you still have her number?”

“I can make some calls…still don’t know if she would be willing to help after…”

“You dumped her in a family dinner.”

“…I know…it wasn’t the best way, well…that relationship wasn’t even the best choice, but I get it, I was rude and…I didn’t think it well through, but you have to understand I was under a lot of pressure.”

“Why do you always have to excuse yourself like this every time I mention it?” Roderich laughed.

“Because you won’t let me live it down.”

“Just call her and get straight to the point…maybe she won’t eat you and actually give you what you need.”

“For my sake, I hope so,” Ludwig sighed, turning to Feliciano, who was poking at one of the books.

“Should Feliciano come with us?” Roderich questioned.

“We can’t leave him alone.”

“A babysitter perhaps?”

Ludwig gazed to him, omitting how idiotic the idea was. “You said it yourself, we’ll need him with us for everything.”

“How do you think she’ll react once she sees him?”

“Why does it matter?”

“She’ll get ideas.”

“What-” a glow caught their eye, one that created instant panic, standing. They wanted to hope it was just the lighting of the room, something wrong with one of the lightbulbs, but no, it was the worst that could happen. Feliciano’s transformation, right in the center of that area, statue once again, this rare magic uncaring of where they found themselves. Roderich and Ludwig instantly surrounded it in silence, stuttering words, keeping their arms expanded to try and hide it from anyone who could be passing by.

“What the hell, what the hell, what the hell,” Roderich repeated.

“What the hell are we going to do?” Ludwig wanted to be quick, looking everywhere, hoping for some sign or idea to arrive, as well as just watching for anybody.

“How weird will it look dragging it across the city?”

“Very! I thought it was obvious enough not to suggest!”

“This is Florence! Statues are surely being dragged about constantly!”

“Not a statue that has been on the news and is supposed to be in my flat in Munich!”

“Well, what other idea do you have?”

“Um…” Ludwig continued to look about, until luckily his eyes landed on a plastic cover well between some old items in the shelves. He fetched for it, already unwrapping and extending with clear to cover the statue.

“We need more than that!” Roderich scolded, still watching the halls for anyone that might enter.

“There’s nothing else!” Ludwig told him harshly in turn as he put it over Feliciano, the fabric enough to keep everything, not a single inch of marble to be seen.

“Now what?”

“We…” Ludwig really wished he had better ideas, “…carry it back to the hotel.”

Roderich stared with stupefaction, Ludwig already reading all the insults in that gaze. “We clearly can’t do anything else!”

“This is insane, this is insane, this is insane,” Roderich repeated to himself as he rubbed his temple and tried to control his breathing.

“Now, come on, help me,” Ludwig began to haul without a moment’s hesitation, keeping watch of where they had to go. Roderich was on the verge of crying his desperation, but ended up having to help in the carrying, too much for his smaller figure, and Ludwig knew well he was carrying the biggest force, but he managed. He tried to think it was just another exercise regimen. Luckily Roderich had been given a special entrance card, with which he could head out of the deeper archives without any wanderers or eyes. Sadly they could not hide anything from the receptionist, who watched with clear question, remembering that neither of these men had brought such a large item, that they didn’t even have something like this in their holding in the building…and where was even that third fellow?

“Just something…I left a long time ago here,” Roderich tried to excuse in the calmest smile he could utter.

She was new, and he was well known in the archives, as well as there was truth in the fact that he did use to leave a lot of things behind in the past when he was a student. Hopefully she wouldn’t mention anything to the rest, and if she did, they would just be confused and not pursue more on it.

They managed to head out, down the crowded streets, through different crosses, blocks, street signals and small parks where they rested. Sure, they got heavy stares, but nothing too questioning, nothing too out of the ordinary for Florence. They arrived to the hotel with the receptionists asking heavy questions. Somehow Ludwig and Roderich having convinced them that they just bought a replica and so finally they managed to get into their room, falling dead on their beds once the door and the curtains were well shut.

“You don’t pay me enough,” Roderich commented lastly. Ludwig only groaned and didn’t utter anything else.

With the night, they headed to their rest, Ludwig promising Roderich that he would try to call…her…tomorrow morning…which meant he wasn’t looking forward to the next coming day at all.

< chapter 2 chapter 4 >

#the angel of venice #gerita #gerita fanfiction #gerita fanfic #gerita fic

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theaceofgrapes-blog · 5 years

Text

Restoration (Defender part 3)

"Princess. Do you honestly think this is a good idea?"

"No. Not at all, Coran. But it's the only thing we can do. I don't care what he did, we're not murderers, we can't let him bleed out like a dying beast here on the ground. He's not a threat anymore."

"But he will be if we let him heal! He'll try to kill us like he did back in the Rift!" Coran stomped his foot, furrowing his eyebrows. "He's a Galra, the son of Zarkon nonetheless, and as it has been proven, they cannot be trusted!!" The Gorgeous man was fuming with indignation, both towards the Princess, and the Galra Royal bleeding out on the concrete. Nonetheless, the Crown Princess of Altea did not heed to his words and lifted the man off the ground, carrying him inside Blue. "If his restoration will be my undoing, so be it. I already gave up my life once, don't think I won't do it again if we have even the slightest chance at peace. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an healing pod to prepare, whether you're going to help me with it or not."

That was three weeks ago, at least on the planet they were. Being in a different time pocket made days on Earth go by like doboshes in there. She remembered texting Lance in what she thought were two different days, yet the messages on his device were barely five minutes apart. -This is good- she thought. -this way, we have all the time we need.- to do exactly what though, she still had no idea. Allura had been staring at the man in the pod for what felt like ages to her now, a raging storm of conflicting emotions deeply distressing her. Her torturous stream of conflicting thoughts were brought to a grinding halt by Kolivan and Krolia entering the room, drawing a surprised gasp from the Princess. They bowed, and Allura absentmindedly gestured them to stand up as she turned her head to look at the fallen Prince.

"What news do you bring? Anything that may hint towards the circumstances of his exit from the Rift, or how he survived?" Asked the Princess apprehensively. The man before her eyes was a mistery, wrapped in an enigma and tied with a pretty ribbon of misdirection. He claimed to abhor violence and was shown to be suave, elegant and respectful in his ways. Yet. He killed. This man had his hands soiled in the blood of Alteans, and he kept such an information from her! How could he, how could he do such a vile thing, to someone as innocent as her people, as Romelle! It was that name that was uttered by the two Blades.

"We found news regarding Romelle. Rather... disturbing news, may I add." It was Kolivan speaking, his deep voice echoing lightly through the otherwise empty room. "After raiding Lotor's various hideouts, we found an encrypted datalog, that, once we cracked the code, revealed a series of video diaries dating back to when the Colony was first founded. And.. well, We believe it's better if you look for yourself."

While taken aback by that statement, the Princess couldn't call herself reluctant to comply. She would've done anything to learn more about the mysterious man that so inadvertently entered into her life, completely turning it upside down. She eagerly grabbed the device from Kolivan's hands and waited for the two to leave, before sitting down on a chair by the desk and turning the contraption up. She was greeted by a list of video files, all dating back thousands of years into the past. She clicked on the first with trembling hands and almost gasped as Lotor's face showed up, looking slightly younger than he was now. Unlike his current counterpart, the Lotor of the Diary had a much more emotional approach, given away by the weak smile and weary eyes he sported, she wondered what could have ever happened to turn that soft visage into such an unreadable facade.

"Hi! Uh.. I really don't know how to start this- but here we go. I guess introductions are in order. I am Prince Lotor, son of Honerva and Blood Emperor Zarkon. During the following years, I shall document the development of our colony through these video diaries. I.. I currently am in exile, on a planet beyond the Quantum Abyss. The wildlife is pacific and most of the flora and fauna is edible, so rations won't be an issue. The lakes and rivers are also devoid of any dangerous pathogen, although the construction of a water purification station is underway. The First Altean who joined me, Petrullius, he's extremely happy to be here. Currently, he's briefing the others on what the life on here will be like, away from the grasp of the Empire... no need to hide, to constantly change appearance... no running away. Not anymore. This is our new Altea, brought forth from the ashes of the Old one."

Allura wasted no time and immediately clicked on the next one, captivated by the apparent innocence of the young Prince.

"Entry number 2, officially marking three years since the start of the colony. Everything proceeds smoothly, and the empire is seemingly unaware of our existence. Our people are thriving, and apparently, they begun working on... some sort of monument. Project Lazon is still in its drafting moments, but it looks more than promising. If the pacing of our progresses remain stable, we may be able to restore our past back to its former glory. The universe will soon remember the might of Altea."

"The might of Altea..." Allura muttered, biting the edge of her sleeve and rapidly moving on to the next entry. What was shown did not make any sense to her, none at all. If the man was so enamoured with Altea and Altean culture, why exploit them for Quintessence? She hoped that this data may harbour within its cybernetic walls the answer to her doubts. And so, entry after entry, recording after recording, Allura fell deeper into the rabbithole that was Lotor's psyche, into the labyrinthine depths of the Emperor's mind.

"Entry number 16, this day marks eight full centuries since the Colony's creation. Project Lazon, the plan to create an elite force of Alteans piloting Quintessence-powered robots, has been put on hold for the time being due to a fallacy found in Alfor's writing. But I'm sure it must have been a translation error, which will be sorted out the soonest possible. Other than that, the Colony's population has been at its all time peak, to the point we actually seemed to have skipped one person during the latest census! Haha, those sentries can be... rather unreliable at times. Said person, Romelle, she's Bandor's older sister. God she's such a sweetheart, so interested in the functioning of our Galra and Altean tech... it's refreshing to see someone willing to learn with so much animosity and glee. Oh? I think they're calling me, I better get going."

And with that, the vlog ended. She then noticed that the next entry was way closer to sixteen then all the other ones were to their previous ones, hesitant, she pressed the display to the following entry and immediately held back a shocked gasp. The man in front of her looked utterly devastated! What could have happened to bring his morale down in the span of mere weeks?

"Entry Number 17: Dark, Darker, Yet Darker. Grim is the future I see, and even after pondering all my options, Grief seems to be the only constant. It's as if the Universe itself is mocking me, reminding me of my constant failures and shortcomings. My mother- no, she's unworthy of said title. Haggar, that witch, she's found out about the Colony! About us!"

Young Lotor slammed his fist on the table, making the camera wobble.

"Romelle is a spy, a treacherous snake acting as her eyes and ears behind my back! Oh how foolish I was, to let myself trust again! The Witch has given us an ultimatum. I am to provide her with the most gifted Alteans of our Colony for her to further her sickening experiments.. failure to do so will prompt her to reveal the Colony's location to Zarkon, thus marking the extinction of Alteans as a whole. For now, I shall comply. I.. I can't let my race be wiped out because of impudence.. I'll find a way to turn this around, I have to! Oh sages help me!"

Allura robotically moved on to the next entry, unable to process anything going on at the moment. In it, Lotor was admittedly more under control, but not less devastated in the slightest, for his eyes betrayed great grief behind his best attempts at a calm and collected expression.

"Entry Number 18: I decided not to tell the truth to the other Alteans, so that panic does not spread like wildfire. It is vital for their survival that the true purpose of the Moon Base is hidden. A medical ward, where I attempt to restore back to health all the victims of Haggar's failures. To the questions that they ask, for the people who do not come back, I tell them that they lost their lives during the exploration of the Quantum Abyss. And so they've repurposed my statue as a memorial, inscribing on them the names of those they 'Lost' as if to scalpel the proof of my failures deep into my soul. Romelle.. she isn't aware of what she did. She's a clone with implanted memories and a preset killswitch. The simple thought of that rotten hag doing something as dehumanising as this.. it sickens me to the core. But perhaps, perhaps I can turn this in my favour. She truly believes her brother is on the Second Colony, and she truly believes that I'm untrustworthy.. but I can plant a seed. I'll break one of the Alteans out, and have him tell her the truth, all the truth, nothing but the truth. I alone cannot fight her, but an organised rebellion with the Alteans, we may be able to subdue her!"

The next entry, nineteen, was nothing but a two minutes video of Lotor crying his eyes out before abruptly cutting the recording. She skipped to the next entry, the last they were able to salvage.

"Entry number twenty.. everything went wrong. As I was trying to break one of the Alteans free, the alarms rang. I managed to send the pod off but the kid didn't know how to properly land. The vehicle crashed into the Holo-sphere where I had Romelle secluded but he was in critical conditions and only managed to spew a few broken words out before I had to take him back to the medical ward. I can't afford other Alteans to die, not if I can prevent it. I let Romelle run off, in hopes she would do the right thing, but she seems all the more convinced that I am the Devil. Project Lazon is to be considered a complete failure.. and, as My Generals are tracking the Trans-Reality comets, my last resort has to be put in place. From this moment on, Project Sincline is officially open."

"And so.. now you know." A feeble, raspy voice beckoned from behind her. She snapped up in shock and immediately turned her head to see the broken Prince just now trying to raise his head to meet her gaze. She didn't think twice before tossing herself in his arms, hugging him tightly and breaking into sobs, apologising profusely. Lotor was shocked, yes, but too weak to fight back. He closed his eyes with a weak sigh and slowly, gently wound his arms around her, his fingers gripping the fabric of her clothes. As the Princess that stole his heart was wetting his bare chest with her warm tears, Lotor felt all the pent up betrayal, anger, and sadness melt away. Lotor cupped her cheeks, calmly lifting her chin so to meet his gaze.

"Allura." His voice was a whisper, a murmur lost to the weakness of his body, The words of a shadow trying to break through the light.

"Your Highness.. you hurt me. You were the first person in my millennia long life I was able to fully trust, the first I could be wholly vulnerable with. After our fight.. the years spent in the rift were spent reliving our last moments together for what felt like an eternity. It's a deep scar, one that will hurt for long. However, you tried to heal me. You tried to bring me back, after finding me again, even going against Coran. You.. you tried to understand me. That, Princess, is more than anybody has ever done for me in my life, and.. it's more than I expected. I would be foolish and childish to just ignore that and focus on the painful moments, for how brief and scarce they were. I won't forgive you, Allura, because there is nothing wrong that you have done to me."

Allura was shocked by Lotor's statement, and suddenly overwhelmed by rapidly resurfacing emotions. She clung onto him for dear life, her body shaking, broken from the outpour of whimpers. Her heart stilled as she felt one of the Prince's hands press its thumb over her altean mark, stroking it with infinite gentleness and care, wiping the tears away from her face. "Your Highness.. you needn't weep. Still those tears, Oh Muse, for I haven't lost what once we shared. I have not rejected the past we lived, I didn't sway from the path we walked. Don't mourn my loss, for you haven't lost me at all. My Queen, I love you." The Altean woman resisted no longer, she couldn't deny her need to share this passion with the man before her, and so she closed the distance between them. Her arms wound around his muscular back and held it tightly, her legs were now splayed over his, straddling him, and just as that, with fierce urgency she claimed his lips for her once more, earning a surprised gasp from the half Galra below her. She breathed his breath, she tasted his lips, but it wasn't enough. She pushed past the barrier of his teeth and brought the kiss on a deeper level, losing herself as her senses faded into the haze. Intoxicated by the coppery taste, and by the incredible softness of his flesh, the Altean royal pulled away after what felt like ages, only to notice that her retrieved lover's face had turned from its classic mauve to a deep red. From her position, she could feel Lotor's heart racing like a wild horse, something that brought a sly smirk to her face. Since the pod had finished its job, she climed down and helped Lotor exit the contraption, guiding him to a pair of crutches so that he may regain motion after such a long period of immobility. As they exited the room together, They noticed Krolia and Kolivan had fallen asleep waiting for the two to exit, nestled into one another for warmth. Chuckling at the cute display, Allura decided to carry a blanket to the two and cover them with it. To avoid embarrassments, the two royals agreed not to question them on the happening after their awakening. The following days flew by with Lotor and Allura doing some much needed catching up and planning the next steps to take against Honerva, especially now that she had several Alteans under her rule.

"And so.. the Alteans in the pods were the secret team that helped you build the portal on the ruins of Daibazaal, and it was the overexposure to the Rift that got them sick?" Asked Allura, looking down in thought. "Precisely." Stated Lotor. "It was basically a race against time. The earlier I could provide free, unlimited Quintessence to everyone, the earlier that filthy, filthy hag would've stopped her barbaric experiments. I lacked the magic of Oriande, and for that reason, I was not able to restore them... I am sorry."

Allura interrupted his apology with a quick peck to the lips, having to stand on the tip of her toes to reach him. "You don't need to apologise, Lotor. You did what you could, with the methods you had. It's me, I should apologise for what I did back then... I should have trusted you, I should've let you explain yourself. I was blinded by my prejudice against your race, by the feeling of having another Altean close to me I abandoned reason completely in favour of a gut reaction. I'm.. oh so deeply sorry, Lotor, for having hurt you to such a cruel extent." Lotor smiled softly at the woman before him, and took her hands between his, holding them tightly. "Allura, my love. Worry not for the mistakes of your past, all is forgiven, and I love you." His voice was low and mellow, his tone was warm, soothing, sweet like molten gold for the Princess' ears. Allura's heart was caught in a deadly grip, threatening to crush it. This man really had given up everything to be with her, and she had shut him down so mercilessly, she wondered if she had actually been the villain all along. She bit her trembling lip and sunk into his arms again, weeping warm tears that trickled down his chest. The Galtean prince then combed a hand through her hair, smiling softly, and sheepishly kissed her forehead. "Shh, it's okay Allura, you don't need to cry. I'm here for you and with you, we will see the end of this together, I promise." Allura replied with a gentle nod, nestling into the man's thick chest and relaxing to the drumming rhythm of his beating heart. As the alien sun settled below the hills outside of her window, she guided Lotor to her bed, and the two spent the night in one another's embrace.

The following morning was wasted in softness and cuddles, with the Princess spoiling her man with chaste kisses and soft caresses, the likes of which he had never felt before. But as the noon came, the two had to rise from their shared bed and make preparations. For that day was the day the team would return to earth and organise the Universe's last stand against the Witch Haggar. Packing their things was a rather quick job, if intermitted by Coran's vigilant gaze and the knowing sneers of the two Blades, which brought a flush of red on the lovers' cheeks more than once. As they boarded the Blue Lion, a little more cramped up than before, the Princess' mind couldn't help but wonder how the paladins would have reacted to the news, in particular, a very clingy sharpshooter. The travel to Earth was safe and free from stops, and, as the Mecha landed, Allura couldn't help but wonder why the Hangar's door were sealed with the armoured blinds.

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cant-icle · 6 years

Note

you may be full up on prompts... but if not, i've been thinking about akira getting back to his hometown and just... not adjusting. he's a completely different person from who he used to be before the trauma of the arrest, before being uprooted, before the phantom thieves. his old friends abandoned him over a year ago. his parents can't even begin to understand. he's probably got more than a bit of PTSD. idk, i just want angsty "akira can't handle normalcy any more", lol

(a quick note–akira is a Scorpio and his birthday is the 21st of November and you’ll never take this headcanon away from me)

Everyone who knew Kurusu Akira before his parents transferred him out of town for the year agrees that he’s changed.

He was a charismatic child, a dreamer and a dancer, an ace on their tiny gymnastics team, a drama enthusiast in the school plays. No one would have thought he’d be the sort of person to assault someone; no one would have recognized him when he returned if he hadn’t had the same name.

He doesn’t look any different, except for the way he does; the Kurusu that left, all his teachers agree, moved light on his feet, faster than he should, a recipient of banged elbows and skinned knees from the time he could walk. The Kurusu that comes back…slinks. He places every foot with deliberation, with almost unnatural grace, his eyes cataloguing everything that moves behind a mask as still as stone. “A resting bitch face,” Nakayama-san might be heard to mutter, “that Kashiwagi should learn to emulate.”

He might look the same, but his demeanor has changed completely. There’s no sign of the cheerful boy that left them before the end of their first year; the one that comes back for the start of the third might as well just be wearing his face. He’s silent verging on sullen; his attention is perpetually fixed on the window instead of the chalkboard. He has a cat. The cat sits in his school bag and watches everything with unnaturally attentive eyes, and no one can figure out how to bring it up to him so that he leaves it at home instead.

The students are unnerved. The faculty are unnerved. The only one who isn’t unnerved is Kurusu himself, who parts the students in the halls like a knife wherever he goes, leaving whispers in his wake.

Rumor has it, and time proves it, that he spends every lunch on the roof, tucked over in the furthest corner rain or snow or shine. He’s always on his phone— no one ever is brave enough to eavesdrop, but a pair of eagle-eyed second years peek around the corner with a pair of binoculars and report back that, whoever he’s talking to and whatever it’s about, he’s smiling. It’s downright creepy to watch his face transform from that expressionless mask to something mobile and animated; sometimes his teachers catch flashes of it on his face when he looks down at his phone during lessons.

There’s another thing; no matter how little attention he pays during class, if you ask Kurusu a question he’ll always know the answer. That’s the only thing he’ll say, and he’ll only participate if you forcefully call him out. His grades are top-notch— top of the class, in fact, to the dismay and rabid jealousy of the former valedictorian, who now is known to spend hours after school in the library cramming.

Kurusu never spends time in the library. Kurusu spends as little time at school as humanly possible, and once the bell rings he’s out of there, come hell or high water.

As the spring turns towards summer Kurusu gets jumpy; his resting bitch face never changes, but his foot taps sometimes during class, and occasionally someone will catch him whittling his pencils down into something sharp and deadly, or fiddling under his desk with paperclips and string. He looks out the door more often, is out of class first and soonest; once he just leaves class in the middle of a lecture, and Kashiwagi is too stunned to call him back.

The weirdest thing about the new Kurusu, though, is the out-of-towners.

No one knows how many of them there are; they come in a big old beat-up van at any given holiday. For Golden Week there were only three; during the summer there are six.

The first time anyone sees them is the first time they see Kurusu emote since his return— there’s a slim brunette and a bombshell blonde waiting by the school gates, and those lucky few who were there say that Kurusu actually dropped his school bag in shock, right before he was tackled clean off his feet by another blond and sent tumbling across the grass.

Kurusu’s laugh is unexpectedly lovely, for someone who never uses it. Kurusu’s smile is the same. Kurusu with dirt on his palms and grass in his hair, looking happy like it’s going out of style? That Kurusu is a heartbreaker, and sets several girls from every year scheming. They’re all in for disappointment; any letter that goes into Kurusu’s shoe locker never sees the light of day. He doesn’t even touch them.

During the summer no one sees Kurusu for a month or more; he disappears right out of the school yard, though one third-year says that she saw him getting into the van with several other people their age, and then popping out of a hole in the roof and yelling, arms up, as they peeled out of town. It’s an audacious claim, but she has blurry picture evidence. He shows up again at the very end of the summer, and this time the out-of-towners are all with him— several ladies, lovely in yukata of every pattern and color, a tall thin boy also in a yukata, and the blond that tackled Kurusu across the grass that one time.

Those who see him say Kurusu looks more alive than he has since he came back, suffused with vitality— they say he wins every carnival game he tries his hand at, offloading plushes onto each of the girls with him in turn, that he poses in front of the shrine for the boy in the yukata to sketch him, that he roams through the stalls and up the hill to the observatory hand-in-hand with the blond boy looking utterly at peace.

Fall begins; several official-looking cars park in front of the Kurusu household, one of them containing up-and-coming politician Yoshida-san, who’s come to Inaba to tout his platform. To everyone’s surprise, Kurusu is his assistant at the schoolwide assembly Yasogami High holds for Yoshida-san, standing up on stage like it doesn’t bother him, his neutral face giving away nothing.

But Yoshida-san speaks to him warmly, and Kurusu speaks back just as warmly— they’ve met before, clearly, and when someone in the audience asks Yoshida-san just laughs and says that Kurusu helped him quite a bit during his year in Tokyo.

Helped Yoshida-san?? With what?!

The further the fall progresses, however, the weirder Kurusu gets. In gym they do a couple lessons of self-defense; the guy partnered with Kurusu can’t so much as lay a finger on him. Kurusu moves like he’s water, like he’s dancing, like he’s weightless; when his partner gets frustrated and charges at him yelling, Kurusu barks a laugh and backflips away, parkour-ing around the gym like a goddamn bouncy ball. He ends up on top of the basketball hoop somehow, his feet planted on the rim as he sits square on the backboard, and the smile on his face as he looks down on all of them is a wild, godless slash across his mouth.

The day they learn how to disarm is the day things go south; Kurusu gets the rubber knife away from his opponent with laughable ease and turns to walk away. The teacher is out of the room for a moment, talking to Kashiwagi about something or other, which is probably why the embarrassed opponent makes a move.

He rushes Kurusu from behind, and Kurusu flips the knife in his hand and stabs backward in a single, vicious strike. He impacts the guy square in the solar plexus, sending him sprawling, gasping for breath; the entire gym goes silent, aside from his breaths.

Kurusu spins the knife across his fingers and spins on his heel, taking in the onlookers; he raises his hands as if to say “any other takers?”

There are. There have been a lot of tensions since Kurusu started dominating the room, a lot of people who don’t like the change in the pecking order. Those people step forward; anyone who doesn’t want a hand flees to the edges. No one goes to get the teacher or Kashiwagi, not until Kurusu has a pile of bodies at his feet and his hand in a boy’s hair, dragging his head back, the rubber knife pressed to his throat.

He’s not even breathing hard.

He’s suspended for three days.

The group of defeated boys get their chance for some petty revenge in late november; Kurusu’d had something delivered to the office, and comes back with a box of cupcakes that he doesn’t so much as pretend like he’s going to share; no, the bastard sits there and eats them one by one in front of everyone. They look goddamn delicious, and expensive— they’ve got the logo of a famous Tokyo bakery on them, it must have cost tons to get them shipped fresh to Inaba.

They’re doing timed races in gym that day, and the gym teacher lets everyone get a chance to fire the starting gun. When he’s out of the room, someone hollers “Hey, Kurusu!”

When Kurusu looks over, seemingly on autopilot, they point it directly at him and fire.

Kurusu…bluescreens.

That’s it— he just stands there, hands clenched, eyes empty. His breath picks up; tremors rack up and down his body, seemingly without his notice. It’s really fucking creepy, and he doesn’t respond even when the one who fired tries to brush it off as a joke.

He only really responds when someone— one of the girls— comes up and pats his shoulder to ask if he’s okay.

He flinches violently away from her touch, staggers back, and barely makes it to a trashcan before he pukes.

He’s not in class for the rest of the day. He’s not in class the day after, either. The day after that, a light-haired, dark-eyed defense attorney visits the school to talk to both the principal and the boy who fired the racing gun. The boy who fired the gun is given a three-day suspension, and the rest of the gym class is treated to an impromptu lesson on PTSD, and why you don’t fire a gun at a person who you don’t want to kill.

Which, for the savvier third years, raises a question— who pointed a gun at Kurusu? Who tried to kill Kurusu?!

Kurusu comes back after a few days, but he’s pale and wan, and makes absolutely no attempt to pay attention in class. He’s on his phone constantly, to the point where he often carries it around attached to a portable charger to bolster the battery; the teachers allow it, if only because his grades are still top of the class and he does it silently. He’s probably the least-disruptive person in class at this point. No one has heard him talk since the incident.

Two days before the winter holidays, the blond is back outside the school gates. There’s no tackling this time; Kurusu’s cat jumps out of his bag, and Kurusu just walks forward into the blond’s arms, clinging back tight enough that his knuckles are white.

They don’t move; his classmates walk by rubbernecking in clumps, but it doesn’t look like either of them notice. Kurusu’s face is buried in the blond boy’s neck, and the blond rubs his hand up and down Kurusu’s back like he’s soothing him. Kurusu’s cat winds around both their ankles, talking in its weird purry chirps.

A few of the stealthier second-years decide to trail them from a distance; the blond wraps an arm around Kurusu’s shoulder and walks him right to the train station. They don’t stop by his house or anything; Kurusu gets on in his school uniform and everything and vanishes.

He doesn’t come to class for the rest of the semester.

No one sees him over the winter break.

He’s not in class on the first day after break, either, and eventually word comes down from on high that Kurusu Akira has transferred out of Yasogami High back to his prestigious Tokyo school.

There’s a weird mood through the third-years after that. No one knows if it’s because of the guy who fired the gun— not even the guy himself, who carries some vague aura of guilt for the rest of the semester. Nobody misses him— well, nobody misses him for who he was. He wasn’t a very friendly boy, after all. Who knows how he got all of those weird out-of-towners to follow him around?

No, the only thing Kurusu Akira is missed for is the breath of fresh air he brought to Inaba when he came back, the sheer mystery of his presence. After a few weeks, few even speak his name.

#filed under:#akira kurusu #canticle's (bi)centennial celebration #god this was so fun i love maladaptive akira lmao #anonymous

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virgofabreakdown · 6 years

Text

Chapter One - Double Lives AU

Prologue | Next Chapter

One Year Later

Patton's POV

Blackberry Cafe 2:30 PM

"Virgil, where are the rest of the cookies from this batch?"

"What do you mean?" Virgil shouted from the bathroom. "That's all of the ones from that batch."

"What do you mean that's all the cookies from that batch?! The recipe makes over 30 cookies, but there's only 2!"

"I just sampled some of the cookie dough!"

"Some?"

"Most of the cookie dough..."

"For the love, Virgil. Why?" Ding! The bell at the front of the store rang across the store.

"Hello, welcome to Blackberry Cafe. Can I help you - oh, hi Roman!"

"Hey Pat, can I get the usual?"

Virgil came out of the back, "depends, are you gonna pay this time?"

"Probably not," he admits. I package up two cookies and three scones and hand them to him.

"Two chocolate chip cookies and three rosemary ham and cheese scones, on the house!"

"Patton, no," Virgil sighs. "I was trying to get him to pay for once. He can't just always get free food."

"That's just the perks of having an little brother who owns a cafe," Roman states with a wink.

"Plus, if I didn't give it to him, he probably wouldn't eat until dinner."

"Well maybe that would teach him to pack a lunch," Virgil reasoned. "Or better yet, actually pay."

"But he's hungry..." I pout at him for a minute before Roman cleared his throat.

"So, guys, me and Logan are going on a date tonight, if you guys are interested in joining us...?" Virgil looks at me. "It's up to you guys, of course, you don't have to, if you don't want to."

He trailed off, looking at the two of us. I shrugged, "I have work off tonight, so it shouldn't be a problem for me. What do you think Virg?"

"I don't think I have work. Sure, why not," Virgil looked at me with a smile. "We could use a date night anyway."

Roman gave us a big smile. "So, we've got a reservation for nine, so let's plan to meet up at my place around...eight, eight thirty?"

"Wait, you were planning on us coming?" Virgil sighed in frustration over the fact that his brother made the reservation without knowing if they could come. "Let's do eight, just to be on the safe side."

"Awesome," Roman said, walking towards the door. "See you later, then?"

"See you later!" I shout, waving to him.

"I can't believe he didn't ask us first! What if we couldn't have made it?"

"Then they would have a slightly bigger table," I say. Virgil looked very worked up. "It's fine."

"Yeah, but still."

"Now," I say, placing a hand on my hip. "Mind sharing why exactly you ate almost an entire batch of cookie dough?"

Time Skip

The Black-Berry Residence 7:30 PM

"Hey Virg? What do you think of this tie?" I shout across the apartment.

"I don't know, it would be a lot easier to tell if you weren't on the other side of the house." He sounded stressed.

I walk out of our bedroom into the living room and do a little twirl. "How do I look?"

Virgil seemed to be at a lack for words. "You look great," Virgil admitted. I wasn't wearing much, just some slacks and a loose blouse. I added a small blue bow to match my shirt. It was slightly fancier than my usual attire, but Virgil seemed to like it. We stared at each other for a moment. Nothing was said, but a comfortable silence filled the air. And then my phone rang. It pierced through the air with a certain, yet annoying ring.

I sighed, "one second." I picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, we need you to come in." I walked back into bedroom.

"I'm sorry, what?!"

"Look, I'm sorry, sir, but we need you to come in."

"No way, it's date night!" I protest. "I've got plans. Call someone else in."

"It is imperative that you come in to work," the man on the other end insisted.

"What could be so important that you need me too come in on my one day off," I demanded. "I mean, honestly, it's bad enough that -"

"Dracowitch. We have a lead on Dracowitch."

"Draco -" I shout, before lowering my voice. "Dracowitch? But how? He's been off the radar for months now."

"Which is why you need to come in. You are the best man we have."

I sighed, "fine. You better be paying overtime for this."

"Once the job is done, we will. But you must get here as soon as possible."

"I'll be there."

"Good. Farewell, and may you be fruitful."

"As to help the company grow," I say, finishing our company motto, before hanging up. Walking back into the living room, "so bad news," I look at Virgil, who had just hung up a from his own phone call. "Oh, who was that?"

"What, oh, I was just on the phone with Roman. So, what were you saying?"

"Oh, yeah. Unfortunately, I just got called into work. They need someone at the shelter for a few hours. Something about someone being delayed at the airport...? I don't know. All I know, is that I have to go to work because no one else answered the call." I felt bad lying to Virg, but I couldn't just tell him the truth. Honestly, I wanted to tell him the truth, I really did, but it was against the rules and could put him in danger. If something were to happen to him because of me, I couldn't live with the guilt.

"Oh, that sucks," he says. "Honestly, I want looking forward to sitting in a fancy restaurant and paying 50 bucks for spaghetti, anyway."

He was trying to make me feel better about the whole situation, bless his heart. This is why I love him, he was willing to do anything to make me happy and that, I lived for. Virgil restores my faith in humanity, no matter what happens, he finds a way to cheer me up.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's fine. I'll call Roman back and explain. You go to work."

"Okay. Thank you." I head back into the bedroom for the third time that night to get changed. I get changed and grab my bag. "I love you," I say giving him a quick kiss.

"Love you, too. Now, go take care of those dogs like no one had taken care of them before!"

I giggle. "Be back in a few hours!" I say before closing the door.

Virgil's POV

Patton closed the door. I look out the window, watching for his car to leave. A blue Prius passes by the window. Correction, Patton's blue Prius passes by the window. I watch as it rounds the corner. Poor Patton. I knew he was looking forward to this. We hardly get to go on dates anymore.

I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. Someone was calling me. Again. The first time was Roman and now it was, I look at the caller ID, work. Of course, work always picks the worst times to call. I hesitate for a moment, before picking up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, you need come here, like right now," the person on the other line spoke quickly and sharply, while also sounding rather rushed.

"What? Why?"

"We got a lead on Dracowitch and they put Morality on it. You're his backup, so you need to get here."

"Are they sure it's Dracowitch?"

"Yep. And this is the only good lead we've had in weeks, if not months."

"Alright, I'll be there in about half an hour."

"I said now."

"That's the soonest I cam be there," I insist.

"You live approximately eight minutes away, therefore you will be here in ten minutes. This is more than enough time."

"Fine, I'll be there in a few."

"Be there in five. Farewell and help guide the path."

"To lead the company to greatness."

And with that, I grabbed the keys to my car, a dark blue Honda, and ran out the door. I hopped down the flight of stairs at the front door and popped the trunk. Taking out an extra shirt, I close the trunk and climb in the car.

I hate my job, I really do. If I had the choice to just stay home, I would, but the bakery doesn't bring in enough money. So, I work for the 'print shop' and Patton has been helping by working at the local animal shelter.

My real job most definitely pays well, but it's not something that I would openly tell people about. Even if it wouldn't result in me getting fired. I am...a hacker, in a way. The term that the company hired us under is 'Personal Guide'. Which was true, we do guide people, just not the disabled and elderly. Think more along the lines of hitmen and assassins.

Our job is simple. Aide our assigned partner through their missions by briefing them on the mission, hacking into the security of buildings, giving them directions, and letting them know if anyone was up ahead. Typical hacker things. Oh, and keeping track of their location, incase they need backup. Typically, your partner will need backup occasionally, four to five months is the company average. But I've never had to call backup. Maybe it's luck, but I'm almost certain it's not.

I believe it's my partner, rather than luck. He is literally the best assassin this company has. When they paired us up, everyone was curious as to why. Based on all the rumors flying around, this guy was a legend. No one truly understood why he had been paired with a newbie with no prior experience in anything related to computers or the company.

Until they saw us work together. We just clicked. I would have locked doors slide open as he approached them, as he responded with the witty pun that made me groan. In the middle of missions, we shared our stories about life outside of the company. We'd swap jokes and recipes, recommend restaurants for the other to try, we literally would just talk about anything. Morality, as he was called, was the only thing that made this horrible job worthwhile.

Our current target was an online personality by the name of Dracowitch. It seemed to be a German, or possibly Russian name, seeing as it was pronounced Draco-vitch. They've been untraceable, up until now.

I pull up to the print shop. Even though the store was a small local business, it seemed to be bustling with life. The lights were on and about half a dozen people were running around doing various things.

Taking a deep breath in, I walk inside and straight to the counter, where a man sat, attempting to hide the fact that he was watching cartoons with a book. I cleared my throat, before simply giving him a "hey."

"Ah, Mr. Black-Berry. I don't believe you have work tonight," the man said, pausing his show and closing his book.

"Got called in."

"I see, your husband must be mad."

"Doesn't know, he got called in too, so I left after he did."

"Be careful with that. Do it one too many times, you'll get accused of cheating. I did that once and she signed us up for therapy."

"Oh, how is the Mrs.?"

"She's fine. Been a bit better since therapy."

"That's good. Well, have a good night, Larry. Say hi to Dot for me!"

"Will do!" And with that he pressed a button under his desk. The door behind him slid open, revealing an elevator to the basement.

End of Chapter One.

@vaugleysassygrunt

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servabrs · 6 years

Text

BTS reaction to you dropping lots of weight because of hate

Warning: Angst!

A/N: Can I have a reaction to you dropping lots of weight because of hate?

Jin / Kim Seokjin

Seokjin grows suspicious very, very fast when it comes to you losing too much weight. He loves every inch of your body, so naturally he wants you to stay healthy and happy without feeling the need to slim down. Additionally, as a guy who loves to cook and eat with you he’d notice right away if you tried to starve yourself and he’d move mountains to prevent you from doing so. Unfortunately in the past months you managed to sneak your way around eating with him as much as before and ended up dropping weight, although Seokjin gave his best to encourage you to eat. Eventually his patience is at an end and he uses the soonest possible opportunity to confront you. “Y/N, I want to ask you something important.” he calmly says as he sits down next to you on the sofa. You look up at him in surprise, but when you see his serious expression you can already guess what he is going to talk about, causing you to look away quickly. “You are hiding something from me, aren’t you? Please be honest with me. You can talk to me about everything, I won’t be mad at you. I just...” you hear him sigh as he runs his hand through his hair in frustration “I’m just very worried. I wish you'd let me help you with whatever you’re going through.” For a few seconds you look down on your hands, thinking about how to put into words what was going through your head for the past months, until you quietly start to speak “You know, a lot of people called me fat on the internet lately. I tried to ignore it, but it’s not that easy.” You sneak a peek at his face and find him looking clearly upset “People call you... what? Who and when?” You press your lips together and slowly pick up your phone to show him the hateful comments under your pictures “See for yourself. I didn’t want to get you involved, but...” Seokjin quickly takes it away from you and starts scrolling and reading through what feels to be every hateful comment you’ve received. You can’t even remember a single time when you’ve ever seen him seriously offended, but right now his expression becomes angrier by the second, until you try to calm him by saying “You promised to not get mad.” Seokjin stops himself immediately and hands the phone back to you “I’m sorry, you’re right. I can’t grasp why people would do something like that. You look perfect the way you are.” You move closer to him, taking his hand and leaning your head on his shoulder. “Y/N, I don’t want you to lose weight like this. It can’t be healthy. Stop looking at those comments and... I don’t know. We’ll think of something together. Just don’t stop eating like that.”

Suga / Min Yoongi

Since Yoongi generally doesn’t eat all that much you didn’t have a hard time losing weight in the past few months. But as you dropped more and more weight in a short period of time your boyfriend became rather worried. Not knowing how to approach the topic he remained silent about it for a while but paid more attention to your behavior instead, causing him to notice you really are skipping meals. At this point he couldn’t ignore it any longer and decided to talk to you. “I know I’m not good at this, but you can always talk to me.” you hear him whisper next to you with a very soft voice as you both are wrapped up in blankets on the sofa. Wondering if he really said that just now you raise your brows and look over to him “What? Where is that coming from?” Since Yoongi is not the type to show much verbal affection you are well aware he must be serious right now. Of course you knew he’d notice your behavior sooner or later, yet you were not prepared for him to adress it so soon. “You know what I’m talking about.” your boyfriend replies eventually. He doesn’t look at you, not intending to put any pressure on you. A sigh leaves your mouth as you think about where to start “Actually, I wanted to talk to you for a while. But I didn’t know how to bring it up, you know?” As you finish the last sentence Yoongi turns his head to you, providing you his whole attention “It’s okay, you can talk to me now.” You immediately feel at ease with his reaction and nod with a slight smile on your face before continuing “People are sending me hate. I didn’t think it would get that bad, but it’s actually really bothering me. It’s been going on for a while now and it doesn’t seem to get better. Because of that I completely lost my appetite. I really hate being helpless like that.” From his expression you can’t judge what he is thinking at all and it doesn’t help he remains silent as he just nods while looking down absorbed in thought. You wait a few seconds for him to show some kind of reaction, but eventually you break the silence yourself “Yoongi?” The sound of your voice pulls him out of his thoughts immediately, making him lift his head and look at you with a slightly surprised expression on his face “Sorry, Y/N. I was just thinking of how you went through this on your own up until now. I should have talked to you sooner, so I feel kind of disappointed by myself.” Not allowing him to speak another word you take his hand into yours, looking at him with your brows knitted “Don’t you beat yourself up about that. It’s equally my fault, it was my decision to keep my problems hidden from you.” Yoongi pulls your hand onto his lap, stroking your thumb with his “You can lean on me whenever you feel helpless, I want to protect you. Also, let’s try to eat more together, okay?”

J Hope / Jung Hoseok

Hoseok certainly is the most caring and supportive boyfriend anyone could wish for. You knew he would have done everything to stop you from losing that much weight, so you chose to not tell him about the hate you received in order to diet freely, without him suspecting a thing. Now however, as you are about to change into your sleepwear, you see Hoseok standing in the door frame with a seriously worried look in his eyes “You know, lately I noticed all your clothes are much too big now, but just a few months ago they used to fit perfectly.” His sudden observation leaves you at a loss of words and as you avoid his eyes by looking down you spot how your - once tightly fitting - pants look more like a tent on you than actual pants. “Y/N, why in the world woud you lose that much weight?” Hoseok eventually adds as he starts walking up to you. “Well... I... actually...” you struggle as you don’t find the words to explain yourself, but your stuttering is quickly interrupted by Hoseok, as he pulls you into a warm hug. “It’s okay, Y/N, calm down first.” he softly whispers against your hair, his hands soothingly stroking up and down your back. Overwhelmed by his kindness you bury your face in his shoulder, and all the sadness you tried so hard to fight on your own seems to escape your body, as you are unable to hold back your tears any longer. Your boyfriend notices your sobbing and lets go of you, only to cup your face in his palms, thumbs brushing over your cheeks, as he quietly says “It’s okay, babe. You don’t have to tell me if it hurts you that much. Just know you’re not alone, okay?” You nod and take a deep breath to collect yourself before explaining “I got a lot of bad press, you know? People started hating on me, and it was all too much to handle. I didn’t know what else to do, I just wanted it all to stop.” As you finish the last sentece you start whimpering again, so Hoseok enfolds you back into his strong arms “Babe, that’s terrible! You deserve so much better than this. I always thought you were beautiful just the way you are. Who cares what others think?” You rest your forehead on his shoulder, slowly calming down “I know what you’re trying to say, but receiving hate is actually very draining and exhausting.” Hoseok falls silent for a few seconds and gives you a squeeze, before slowly releasing the embrace to give you a serious look “Believe me when I’m saying I understand your feelings. In my career I’ve had these situation too, multiple times. The important thing is to not let it get to you, and I’m saying that from my own experience. You are more than what people think of you.”

RM / Kim Namjoon

During the promotions for his new album you barely got to see your boyfriend’s face, and shortly after, he already had to leave for his tour overseas. Although he called you every single day you still felt incredibly lonely, not knowing how to fight the hate on your own. Since Namjoon was super busy you didn’t want to distract him and kept it all to yourself, causing you to drop lots of weight. The time you’ve spent apart from him felt like eternity, but finally you hear him hastily walking up stairs in the corridor. You jump on your feet and sprint to the door, already hearing him turning his keys in the lock, and hop right into his arms as soon as he tears open the door. “Y/N!” Namjoon calls out your name in excitement and immediatly wraps his arms around your body, turning around in a circle. Finally, you break apart, and his eyes flutter open, a big smile curving his mouth “God, I missed you so much.” You return the smile brightly, but his smile suddenly fades as he takes in the sight of you, his arms slowly falling off of your waist. "Y/N, you're all skin and bones..." his voice gets silent as he tears up in concern “What in the world happend to you?” Immediately you raise your hands to soothe him, knowing very well he’s blaming himself, without even knowing why you lost weight “Babe, please... I’ll tell you everything, but you have to calm down first.” Namjoon takes a deep breath, and you step behind him to take off his jacket. The least thing you wanted was to upset him after spending so much time apart from him. Already lost in thoughts your boyfriend walks right to the kitchen table and takes place, waiting for you to join him. You don’t dare to break the tense silence and follow him, sneaking a peek of his concerned face. “I’ve calmed down. Please tell me what happend.” You bury your face into your hands as you think of how to put into words what you went through lately, but as you start speaking, the words just fizz out ouf your mouth, not even skipping the slightest detail. Namjoon is a good listener, you almost forgot about that over the past weeks. He didn’t even have to do anything, but now that you got everything off your chest you feel so much better. Eventually you look up to your boyfriend, who seems to be processing what you just told him, until he starts speaking “Y/N... I am so sorry I couldn’t be there for you. I had no idea. I know you didn’t want to distract me, but...” he stops and takes your hand into his “... All I want for you is to be happy and healthy. Please share your struggles with me so we can fight them together.”

Jimin / Park Jimin

You knew Jimin has serious problems involving dieting and exercising too much, way before you became a couple, so you made it a priority to keep your own struggles secret, because you wouldn’t want him to think it was his fault, or even trigger him. However, the more weight you lost the harder it was to hide it from him. Even if you wear wide sweaters with shirts underneath; Jimin is your boyfriend, he would surely notice sooner or later. And yes, he did. With his tight schedule you rarely got to eat together, which is quite for your benefit, but today he’s all free for you, and that means you’ll have to try and eat in front of him, especially because you agreed to cook together. “Y/N, can you pass me the salt shaker?” Jimin asks as he’s busy turning meat in the pan, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Ah... yes, sure.” you reply and stop cutting vegetables to grab the salt shaker and hand it over to him. It has been a while since you’ve eaten in front of him, and for some reason you feel incredible anxious now. The only thought you have on your mind is to escape the situation somehow. You notice Jimin looking over to you more and more often, he probably noticed something’s off. You try to reassure him by forcing a smile on your lips, but contrary to your expectations he doesn’t return the gesture, looking at you with a quite serious expression instead. In that moment you feel so unnerved, you suddenly realize you actually want to see him happy more than anything else. Maybe everything has come to the point you’re destroying your relationship with Jimin? Keeping secrets from him doesn’t feel right anymore, you love him too much to let your problems get between the two of you. Without a second thought you grab and tug on your boyfriend’s sleeve, pressing your lips together to not burst into tears. “Y/N...” Jimin softly says your name, without asking any questions, as he just pulls you close into a hug. Your tears start flowing immediately, as his warmth feels too good to be real. “I’m sorry Jimin... I lied to you the whole time... I’m not okay... I don’t think I can do this alone...” you whimper, burying your face into his shoulder. “I know, I know...” you hear Jimin respond in a heartbreaking tone, causing you to look up and find him in tears. “I knew it the whole time, I just... I was so upset because you didn’t talk to me. I am... I am so sorry...” he whimpers, covering his face with one hand “I hoped you’d ask for help the whole time... I wanted to help you so badly...”

V / Kim Taehyung

It is not like you actively tried to hide your struggles from Taehyung, you told him about the hate you received from the beginning, and you knew he did his best to support you in every possible way. Nevertheless, you happend to lose a lot of weight while trying to deal with all of it, and that is the one thing you don’t want him to know. Maybe you thought you’d have to overcome this on your own, or that he wouldn’t be able to help you anyway. Maybe you were afraid he’d feel disappointed after everything he did to help you. In the end you cannot remember, it already became a habit to skip meals, and you're left with no apetite at all. You have no idea, but Taehyung kept an eye on you the whole time, unsure of how to talk to you about your weight loss, but still watching over you in his own way. Thus when you hear the doorbell ring you are surprised to find your boyfriend standing on the doormat with a steaming bag of food in his hand. “Babe, hey. I had no idea you’d bring something to eat!” you call out, trying to sound delighted, before planting a kiss on his lips. “Well, I wanted to surprise you.” Taehyung explains with his little smile, as he enters your apartment. You take the bag out of his hand, saying “You were definitely successful. Take off your shoes and get comfy, I’ll set the table.” before leaving into the kitchen. As you get out the plates and chopsticks you can’t help but sneak a peek at what’s inside of the bag. “Damn, too many calories...” you mumble to yourself and take everything to the table. “This is your favorite food, isn’t it?” Taehyung asks, still smiling in the most innocent way, as he sits down. You nod and attempt to actually look happy “Yes, I’m glad you bought it. You’re too sweet.” You drop on the chair and find yourself sitting in front of the food you once loved, only picking at it with your chopsticks without really eating much. “Hey, babe. Try this for me, it tastes so good!” Taehyung speaks enthusiastically as he leans forward to feed you. His behavior doesn’t surprise you a bit, since he’s done that a lot lately, feeding you. So you open your mouth and eat what he was holding in his sticks, chewing as long as possible, before eventually swallowing with a heavy heart “Yes, it’s really good.” Taehyung nods, a relieved smile curving his mouth “I’m glad to hear that. I’ll get you this one next time.” You take a deep, frustrated breath and whisper “No, please don’t.” Your boyfriend’s happy face changes into a concerned expression, as he lowers his chopsticks to take your hands instead. “I know you hate me for doing this. But you need food, I need you to stay healthy and eat well. Because you are really important to me.”

Jungkook / Jeon Jungkook

You wouldn’t say a word about what you’re going trough to your boyfriend. There’s nothing he could do about his own fans sending hate to you on social media without losing them. And you definitely don’t want to get in the way of his career. So you kept silent, all this time, and dropped weight. Jungkook noticed your weight loss from the beginning, but he is used to people in his environment being on diets, so he really didn’t think much of it. However, his ignorance finds an end today, now that he’s sitting at his desk and browsing though your profile. The hateful comments catch his eye immediately and even though he’s in shock he can’t stop reading, just like you when it all started. Jungkook swallows hard as he realizes why you dropped so much weight recently, the next moment he hastily gets up from his seat and takes his jacket to rush to your apartment. You are just about to finish cleaning when you are interrupted by your boyfriend, who keeps ringing the doorbell. You walk up to the entry door swiftly, wanting the ringing to stop, and open the door. “What the hell, who would even do this?” you think to yourself, but then you see Jungkook dashing up the stairs. “Babe, what happend, why-” you can’t even finish the sentence, as he pulls you into the tightest hug you’ve ever had. “Y/N... I am so sorry... I had no idea what you were going through... It’s all my fault...” Too surprised to say anything you slowly free yourself from his embrace and drag him into your apartment. “Babe, you need to calm down. Nothing of this is your fault, okay?” you say after closing the door behind the two of you. Still upset, Jungkook shakes his head “How could I be so dumb? I should have noticed it. I saw the comments on your posts, I saw...” You soothingly raise your hands “Shhhh... Calm down... There’s nothing you could have done.” Your boyfriend inhales deeply in frustration before laying his hands on your shoulders and looking at you with sad puppy eyes “Y/N... If I had known what you’re going through I would have told you to not change for people like them. I’d have told you that you’re beautiful, no, gorgeous just the way you are. I adore you for who you are, not for the size of your body. Please, don’t do this to yourself. I am here for you, even when you have a really bad time.” A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as tears start to fill your eyes “You know what? I think that would have helped, actually.” Gently Jungkook bends down a to plant a kiss on your forehead, before smoothly wrapping his arms around your waist. “Y/N, you can always count on me to be there for you. Please don’t suffer in silence.”

#bts #bts angst #bts reaction #bts reactions #bts angst reaction #bts angst reactions

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