#this ask sent me into space and back again

[neil-gaiman]

This isn’t a question, but I want to thank you for your books and how they’ve impacted my life.

Over thirteen years ago, I read Neverwhere for the first time and it changed what kind of writer I wanted to be. I went on to read more of your books—my other two favourites were The Graveyard Book and The Ocean at the End of the Lane.

About 11 or so years ago, I asked you on Twitter if I could read Stardust on a Twitch livestream, and you responded, “Fine by me”. It was one of my best streams, and while life got in the way of me doing more, I still remember it incredibly fondly.

Ten years ago I had a baby, and while he was an infant, I read him, Fortunately, the Milk, in an attempt to read him a book. He didn’t seem interested. I decided I’d try again some other time perhaps. But I did resolve to get him to read The Graveyard Book someday.

Nine years ago, when I was a mother of a one-year-old, I posted a status on Facebook simply saying, “We do not forget.”

Two years ago, I went on holiday, and I downloaded the audio book version of The Graveyard Book from our local library. My eight-year-old son listened to it as he fell asleep, though he ended up missing some parts, and we shelved it.

Last year, he read Coraline and didn’t like it. That isn’t your fault. He read Charlotte’s Web and didn’t like that either. He just didn’t quite have the understanding for them.

This year, he read Coraline and liked it. I told him it was from the same author as The Graveyard Book. He lamented that he never finished The Graveyard Book, and I said he could always download it from the library again.

Then about a month ago, he and I went through a tough time. I was really stressed about life, he wasn’t doing so well either, and our relationship got strained. I was angry with him all the time. I needed a break from him, or I thought I did. But one day when he was at his dad’s I realised that I wouldn’t get this time back. That I needed to fix it. So I asked him if he wanted me to read to him at bedtime. Just like when he was little. And we settled on The Graveyard Book.

On nights when he got to bed on time, I’d read a chapter. It often meant stretching past bedtime, but I could never stop halfway. It had been years since I’d read it too, and I found myself remembering things I’d forgotten. I’d watch his dark eyes widen whenever things got exciting, and I loved when he would interrupt me with an important revelation. “It’s Scarlett! His friend!” he’d say. “The dog! The grey dog!” “I know what Silas is!” He would tell me that I did the voices so well, that it seemed to match each character so perfectly.

We didn’t read every night, but it was a treat when we did. One night we had an argument and he told me he hated me. That he wished I was dead. And that he wanted to be with his dad. I told him to go take a shower, and that I’d ask his dad to come get him. His dad said no, but agreed to talk to him on the phone. After the shower, my son apologised for what he said. I said okay, and told him to call his dad to chat. After their call, he asked if we would still have story time. I asked if he preferred that or to have some space. He said he wanted both, but wanted story time more than space. So I read to him. It was the chapter when Bod and Silas argued, and then apologised to each other. Halfway through that chapter, my son asked for snuggles. I said, what happened to space? And he said, “I want snuggles more than space.”

We were sad when it ended. We finished it last weekend. I cried as I read it. But it was a beautiful sadness. We’ve talked about it a bit since then, to process it. He says he would like to read more about Silas and Bod’s adventures and asked if there was fan fiction about it. I told him to look, and to write some if there wasn’t. Perhaps I’ll write some too, just for him.

Last night he was at his dad’s and I was browsing Facebook and sent him a couple of his old pictures. Then I found an old post. From exactly nine years ago. And so I sent it to him.

It brought tears to my eyes. I did not remember making that post, and I’ve forgotten a great deal over the years, but I hope I do not forget these little moments with my son. But even if I do, I have them written down here to remind me again.

And thank you. For the words you’ve written and the impact you’ve had on our lives and hearts. I hope that your life holds the same amount of joy and love that you’ve given to others with your words.

That made me so happy. Thank you. I hope you and your son keep growing together.

[redflagshipwriter]

batmom cass: reveal

masterpost

Oh. Fuck. He was invisible. A flood of genuine fear washed through him. He was discovered again, he was away from any allies, he had to get away-

Danny went intangible out of sheer survival instinct and lurched downwards. Bruce made a punched-out sound and lunged to grab him. He actually got his hand around Danny’s wrist and clenched despite Danny being invisible to human eyes. It was no use. Danny slipped through his grip, the chair, and then the floor.

He caught himself there and paused, hovering in the flooring. He could see the weird joints underneath the kitchen, a dark crawl space with way more spiders than Alfred could possibly know about. One of them reared up and waved its front legs at him in what was either a threat or a greeting. Danny shuddered involuntarily and pulled back a little to give the arachnid personal space.

“Danny?” Cass’s voice was muffled but calm. “Sit in your chair, please.”

She made it sound so sensible.

He blinked rapidly. “Right. Right, okay.” He floated back up through the floor and avoided eye contact as he settled back into place and the visible spectrum. He stole a glance around the room. Cass and Damian looked unaffected. Bruce’s face said the same, but the pulse point was jumping rapidly in his throat. His hand was pressed firmly against his thigh as if to remind him that it was a physical thing that existed.

“This GIW is harmful to you?” Damian asked, sensible and unaffected. He pushed his empty yoghurt away a few inches on the tabletop. “I gather from the acronym that we are dealing with an organization rather than an individual.”

“....Yeah.” Danny gripped his knees under the table and clung to the hint of normalcy. If they were going to act like that hadn’t been weird, then maybe he was okay. “I think they’re government affiliated. They say they are. They, uh.” He cleared his throat. “They’re the Ghost Investigation Ward, but I call them the Guys in White.”

“And they are a problem because?” Damian asked crisply. Cass was watching with the full force of her formidable attention, but it wasn’t a heavy gaze. 

Danny forced himself to stop fidgeting. “Well, I might have died a little.” It came out as a question. “And they’re not sure it’s me- at least, they weren’t, but I guess that they are now.” Oof, that was hard to internalize. Of course they did. Now that they knew about Vlad, they had all the pieces to put it together. His parents had definitely put it together. The look on Mom’s face when she saw him hauling Vlad out of the lab…

He felt cold. Danny rubbed at his thighs as if that would help. 

There hadn’t been another choice. It ate at him a little bit that Danny had thrown his life away for someone he didn’t even like, but what else could he have done? Vlad was Vlad, yeah, but Danny couldn’t have left anyone there. 

Bruce had a look that Danny had never seen on him before. Intense. Focused. Dangerous. Danny instinctively pulled away from it, sitting all the way up in his chair. 

Bruce wiped it away, but the memory still sent Danny’s blood rushing. Ecto gathered in his mouth like saliva, his body readying to fight for his life. He swallowed it down with difficulty. 

“As you said,” Cass interjected. She scooted her chair a little closer to him and laid an arm along his shoulders. “Like Jason.” She rubbed at his upper arm. He leaned into her touch. 

“Like Jason,” Bruce echoed. His tone was hollow.

Danny ducked his head and missed the meaningful look that Cass shot her BatDad. 

“What are their capabilities?” Damian pushed. His dark eyes glittered when Danny looked back at him. “You clearly have invisibility and density shifting. Are they able to counter you?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Danny blinked rapidly to try to force himself to focus. This was… so weird. Someone had found out about him and he wasn’t fighting for his life. Even his friends had found out when he was actively under fire from a ghost. His nervous system didn’t know what to do with this. He cleared his throat. “They have a lot of tech, uh.” He flexed his hands. “From my parents.” He stared at the woodgrain on the table. It was probably real wood and not the heavy duty polymer that the Fenton table was made out of. “They’re not exactly competent, but there’s a lot of them, and they have had some success.”

His stomach lurched. He swallowed hard on bile. He didn’t think about what he’d found when he went after Vlad. He didn’t think about Vlad in his human form, strapped down and incisions pinned open, literal pins holding open his torso and skin layers on his arms. He didn’t think about the quietly despairing hums coming from rows of ghost cores on a shelf, neatly labeled with specimen numbers. 

“Let’s walk.” Cass hustled him up and muscled him down the hall without letting go of her comforting grip. Danny went along with it numbly. But she was kinda right. Moving shook him out of his head. The walls were changing around him, curtains and windows and framed portraits and some of Tim’s photography. They passed a room he had never seen before. Cass pushed the door open, let him look around, and then tugged him down the hall before he’d had time to do more than catalogue the novelty. 

She did that at the next door, too. Oh. An impromptu tour. The novelty of seeing new things started to drag him back to the real world, right now, which was not exactly a fight for his life.

At the third door, Danny managed, “Does anyone play that piano?”

Cass made a mysterious hum. It took her a while to unstick her tongue. “Damian can. Jason, if you ask with big eyes.” 

Danny nodded at this information. Damian did seem like the kind of person who would hone a few classic artistic skills. And Jason was manipulable, good information.

…Not that Danny would need much help there. He felt a little sheepish at how threatened he’d felt earlier when he remembered the sincerity and protectiveness he could sense from both Cass and Jason.  

“What should we do about GIW?” Cass broached the topic, as if she knew that he felt better. She probably did know. “Investigate cautiously? Destroy?” She held up two fingers to count off the ‘destroy the GIW’ options. “Horde of lawyers descend from Wayne Enterprises jet, or Justice League?”

Danny snorted. It turned into a laugh, hysterical and too long. He wiped tears away from his eyes. “Personally, I like the idea of blowing up their base,” he admitted. “But someone should rescue the test subjects first.”

“Oh?”

Cass was so weirdly easy to talk to. He leaned a little harder against her. She wasn’t a big woman, but there was something so solid about her anyway. It must be a Black Bat thing. “I left because I was getting someone out,” he admitted. “They were a lot more captives than I knew about.” He squeezed his free hand to ground himself. “I grabbed as many as I could and tossed them through the portal, but I don’t know if that was everyone or if just being home let them heal up.” 

Hell, maybe someone had come along and eaten all the helpless cores. Danny shied away from the horror of that thought. His intuition had identified the helpless ghost cores as viable ectoplasm, healing and delicious. They were scared at his approach because they sensed him, they knew they were helpless shells to crack open and lick out the sweet marrow–

Ah. Yup. He stopped in his tracks and heaved his snack onto the carpet.

#batmom cass #red mama bat #dp x dc #dc x dp

[maivolpe]

sorry I didn’t see what you don’t right for :(. I swear I wouldn’t have sent that tasm ask if I didn’t know.

Could you write headcannons for tasm! Peter with a reader who hasn’t had a bf b4? And he’s all flirty and suggestive;)

Again sorry for sending that ask

you’re totally okay! i think i literally put those up at the same time as you requested so absolutely no worries! also i struggle a bit with the hc format so i’m just gonna do a blurb if that’s okay :) thank you for requesting ♡

･｡ﾟ: ∘◦☾◦∘｡ﾟ.

pairing: tasm!peter parker x reader cw: cursing wc: 491

“whatcha readin’?”

you jumped, quickly closing your book, unaware that someone had been hovering over your shoulder. a quick glance backwards confirmed that it was none other than peter parker himself.

“ever heard of personal space, parker?”

“nope,” he said, popping the p. he pulled up a chair, sitting down next to you.

“you almost made me lose my spot, you jerk.”

he shrugged, pressing his lips together in an unapologetic line.

you pinched the next page between your fingers, doing your best to avoid his gaze. it wasn’t that you disliked him— frankly, it was quite the opposite.

peter parker had an effect on you. it was like nothing you’d ever experienced. without even trying, he could say things that set your heart aflutter, could do things that made you weak in the knees. he meant it all, too, like nobody else had ever before.

but you’d be damned if he was gonna get to you this time. you were going to hold your ground today.

he cleared his throat, startling you out of your thoughts.

“i bet i’m more interesting than whatever’s going on in that book.”

you felt your cheeks warm, though whether it was with annoyance or endearment you couldn’t say. you chose to ignore the comment, instead lifting your book to hide the smile playing at your lips. he noticed, eyes narrowing as he leaned toward you.

he was close. you felt the heat from his breath, catching a whiff of coffee and something that smelled burnt. your eyes traced along the curve of his lips, the slant of his nose, until you met his eyes.

there was a curiosity, a sort of hunger hidden in them. he looked at you like you were a case he wanted to crack.

“what are you hiding?”

“i’m not hiding anything!” you sputtered.

he smirked at your loss of composure. “sure looks like you are. i can see the wheels turning in that pretty head of yours.”

your stomach flipped at his boldness, at how easy it was for those words to slide off of his tongue. you leaned back, breaking the tension between the two of you. “well, you’re wrong.”

he raised his hands in mock defeat. “alright, alright.”

“what are you even doing here in the first place?”

peter grinned cheekily, leaning back in his seat. “it’s a library. flash wouldn’t be in here if his life depended on it.”

“you’re right about that,” you giggled.

his eyes, soft and brown, flashed with pride. “so you admit it!”

“admit what?”

“that i’m right about something!”

you chuckled. “whatever makes you happy, parker. now be quiet and let me read my damn book.”

he was silent for all of two seconds before leaning toward you again.

“reading is kind of an overstatement, don’t you think?” he whispered.

you arched an eyebrow at him.

“well, it’s just that you’ve been on the same page since i got here.”

“peter!”

･｡ﾟ: ∘◦☾◦∘｡ﾟ.

ko-fi ♡

#tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker blurb #tasm!peter parker x female reader #tasm!peter parker fanfic #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker blurb #peter parker x female reader #peter parker fanfic #spiderman #marvel #mai writes

[cottoncandyswisherz]

everybodys type (pt. 2)

yall this is not edited all the way because i have shit going on but bookie is going through it so yuh

bf!matt x black!reader

warnings: dom!matt, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, overstimulation

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

as she sat in the passenger seat y/n bobbed her head to the music playing on aux. her hand was placed on top of matts, which was wrapped tightly around her upper thigh.

never had she ever wanted to wear a skirt, but in this moment, wearing leather pants, she wish she'd been a skirt girly.

but she wasnt. so she settled for the tantalizing stroke of her thigh and returned it with a rub up his forearm.

then her song started playing.

as jaqueese's voice filled the car, she tried her hardest to wait until they got home because she knew that matt was a very attentive driver. but as soon as she heard,

giving you the best you ever had, babe, make me feel like you aint never had it.

she folded.

and when i say folded i mean literally.

she unbuckled her seatbelt, turned to face her man and folded over the center console in order to have the access she needed.

"y/n baby what are you doing..." matt asked, confused as to why she was so weirdly positioned.

she ignored him and began to kiss his neck. sucking on his pale skin, making her way to his jaw, grabbing his chin and turning him to leave a peck on his lips, then allowing him to return his focus to the empty road.

"bab-" matt was cut off by y/n guiding her hand down his chest, past his abdomen, finally reaching his lap.

she reached in his sweats and began to stroke him in the darkness.

"shit" matt jolted at the contact "y/n im so fucking serious. stop. im driving, we're gonna crash." but his words went in one ear and out the other.

she continued to stroke him, teasing her index finger over his tip. "baby just try to focus."

at this point matt knew she wasnt letting up. so he pulled into a rest stop and went all the way to back, where no other cars were, and allowed her to do her thing.

he was going to let her have her fun, because he knew when he had his, it would be worth the frustration he was feeling in that moment.

"go ahead baby. 'do your big one' as you say." he said, tugging his sweats past his knees and freeing his dick of his boxers.

she smiled and placed a kiss to his lips before leaning down and getting to work.

she wrapped her hand around his length at the base and began stroking him again, getting him fully hard. matt was enjoying the moment with his hands behind his head, tugging softly at his curls.

"stop playing and suck it." he grunted. "thats what you wanted right? my dick in your mouth?"

he hissed as he felt her take him in her mouth. his head fell back against the seat as she pulled up and spit, immediately going back down, with hollowed cheeks.

matt, being the supportive boyfriend he was continued to praise y/n, rubbing her back and keeping her hair out of her face, which sent flutters to her pussy.

y/n found a rhythm, bobbing her heard a even pace, making sure matt felt every second of it, which drove him crazy, but he was never a head pusher.

he was more of a head puller.

he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her off him. "you done?" he asked, holding eye contact with his girlfriend who's lips were wet with spit.

she nodded meekly, closing her eyes. trying to get her breathing back to normal.

"use your words my love." he gripped her jaw, causing her to open her eyes and say, "yes, sir."

at that, he pulled her into a rough kiss, a contrast of tongue and teeth. he swallowed the moan that slipped out of her at the intensity of the situation.

"get in the back and strip." he told her as he released his hold on her.

as she followed his instructions, he pulled his boxers and sweats back up and pulled out his phone, playing his song.

brents voice surrounds him as he gets his head in the space it needed to be in for what had planned for his woman.

angel of the night i drown between your thighs im still here, aint no excuse, baby

getting out of the drivers seat and opening the back door on the drivers side, he was pleased to see that y/n had did what he said. she was bare, in nothing but her red panties, sitting up against the door, her closed legs pointing to him.

"open your legs."

she followed his directions, bending her legs, and opening them. normally she'd put up more of a fight, but matt seemed so... calm. so serious. like he wasn't even mad any more.

but y/n knew that wasn't the case. matt was a very serious driver. he did everything in his power to not put people in danger and she contradicted that tonight. so she knew whatever he was cooking in his head was gonna be really good for him and really bad for her.

"you always have had a patience problem sweetheart." he started, getting up on his knees and planting a kiss on her lips. "never willing to wait for the things you want." he kissed down her neck, focusing on that spot behind her ear that sent shivers down her spine. "sometimes it admirable." he continued kissing her neck, moving to the other side. "others its fucking annoying." he bit down on the hickey he just left.

"fuck" y/n hissed.

matt began kissing down her body, licking the valley between her breasts. "i think we need to do some character building." he kissed her left nipple. "what do you think?" the right one now. he looked up at her and saw her eyes were trained on him in the dark car.

he bit down on where he'd just kissed, "i asked you a question."

"yes" she sighed. "yes we can do whatever you want baby."

with that, he traveled the distance down to her pussy, which was covered in her ruined red silk panties. wrapping his arms around her plush thighs, gripped them and planted a trail of open-mouthed kissed to her core.

he licked a stripe along his girlfriends panties, earning a groan from her.

moving her panties to the side, he repeated his previous action on her bare slick folds before glaring up at y/n and saying " cum when you need to but i swear to god, if i hear you, the panties are going in your mouth." before placing an open-mouth kiss on her clit.

she bit her inner cheek, in order to prevent any sound from escaping but her hips buck, only to be slammed back down by his strong hand so he could continue the attack on her senses.

he kissed her core again, closing his eyes and diving in, as if he was terminally ill and her pussy was the only cure. sucking her clit, he buried two fingers into her, automatically using the speed of lightening mcqueen himself.

"oh my fuck.." y/n moaned out, completely forgetting about matts previous instructions. she was quickly reminded of them though, when he pulled his mouth off her, continuing the thrusting of his fingers.

"what the fuck did i just say?" he asked, curling his fingers into the spongy part of her and stuffing her underwear into her mouth. he went back to her pussy, sucking on her clit while using his tongue to trace patterns on the bud.

y/n was going insane. her eyes were screwed shut and her hands found refuge in his brunette locks. she felt that knot unravelling in her stomach.

just when she was about to cum, everything stopped. his fingers pulled out of her, his mouth was now in her line of sight as he stared down at her with a wicked smile on his face.

removing her panties from her mouth y/n asked, "w-what are you doing?"

"character building."

"wha-" y/n was cut off by matt thrusting into her at full force, knocking the air out of her lungs.

she felt nothing but pure bliss. matt was hitting every spot. every spot that drove her insane. every spot that nipped at her soul.

"you." stroke. "dont." stroke. "listen." matt grunted in her ear raising her leg so her thigh pushed her chest.

"matt im gonna-"

"don't you fucking dare." he demanded, grabbing her chin that had rolled to the side. he bore deep into her coffee-black eyes. "you're gonna hold it. because you're gonna learn patience. right baby?"

she responded with babble and breathless pants.

he gripped her chin tighter. "words, my love."

"please! fuck- please matt! i need it!"

"need what?"

"i n-need to cum. please baby i'll do anything."

"anything?"

"yes! fuck!" it was beginning to be too much for y/n. her vision was dotting and her fingers we're losing feeling. but every part of her body was set of fire when she felts matts warm mouth on her pussy.

"holy shit..." her eyes rolled to the back of her head and her body tightened.

"cum, y/n." matt said, plunging two fingers into her core.

with that simple command she let go.

y/n began to shake and pray to whatever god there was, thanking them for the gift that was matthew sturniolo.

matthew sturniolo who rode y/n through her high, and continued to give her multiple highs eventually bringing her to literal tears until all that was left of his beautiful, strong girlfriend was a twitching, drooling, babbling mess.

-

holding her brown legs in his inked arms, he rubbed her feet and asked "what did we learn?"

"patience." y/n hummed.

"good girl."

"i didnt know good girls were your type."

"oh baby..." matt kissed her pinky toe. "you're everybodys type."

niyah speaks💗 for my lilly bae

taglist: @mattslolita @summerssover @jnkvivi @sturnsslut

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic

[ldysmfrst]

America Mate (8) - Time to Tell the Family Pack

Chapter 8 is live for Patreon members! This chapter is 11,456 words of fluff, intensity, and amusement. Check out a teaser below!

“Are you serious? You agreed to be our playmate?” Soekjin inquires, stepping up next to Yoongi.

Standing up, you look at the two hybrids with a smile. “Yes,” you say, glancing over at Namjoon and Jungkook. “I may not be a normal playmate, and this may not be a normal situation, but I am willing to try to make it work.”

At your words, the pack erupts into exclamations of joy, shock, and happiness. The room is flooded with happy scents and a warm abundance of vanilla. 

Their reactions also make you smile, which only becomes wider when you become a Yoongi and Jungkook sandwich. Soon follows Seokjin, then Taehyung and Hoseok, and lastly comes Jimin and Namjoon. You have fully been engulfed in a pack pile. 

While it is all good and dandy, they won’t let go. Logically, you understand that they are just finding a way to claim you as their playmate and temporary pack member. The attention is a little unnerving. 

“Well, this is an endearing sight to see, Bangtan. I won’t disrupt too much. I just wanted to let you all know that I have sent over the signed contract. Miss Y/n only needs to attend a health screening appointment and clear her office desk by the end of the week. Everything should be good,” Manager Sejin says from the hallway. 

“I will let myself out. Remember you have a schedule tomorrow which Yoongi is excused from to assist her, but the rest of you need sleep. It's getting late.”

With that, you find yourself still in the middle of a very warm cluster of hybrid men. As thrilled as most Army would be, it is too much too soon for you.

“Umm, guys. Can we maybe take a step back?” you ask the group, resulting in unpleasant grumbles all around. 

“No, like, really. I need air, or space, or breathing room.” with still no response, you raise your voice, “I need out!” 

You are now batting and pushing for freedom while raising your voice, breaking the boys out of whatever headspace they had gone into. The boys move to sit or stand around the living room, now feeling mildly awkward as you are feeling disgruntled and overwhelmed. 

Once you can wiggle out of them, move to the farthest corner near the backyard doors, take a few breaths, and let the warm vanilla scent settle you. 

Man, you need to find out what kind of cleaner or candle they use.

The boys look at each other and have silent conversations with their eyes and hands about what should happen next since they realize they have overstepped yet again. 

At this most inopportune time, your stomach decides to roar like a ravenous dragon. Looking at your phone, you realize you ate last at the lunch meeting with Manager Sejin.

“It seems that my promise to keep you eating well and happy starts right away,” Seokjin says with a slight chuckle as he walks up next to you.

He hands you his phone with the Doordash app open. “Here you go, dear. Dinner is on me. Pick any place you like and order whatever you want. I think the rest of us should go unpack enough to sleep.”

The boys nod and murmur in agreement, moving to their rooms. Namjoon mentions something about no seafood, and Taehyung asks for nothing spicy.

“Oh… Thank you, Mr. Kim,” you smile while looking through the app, only to stop when a hand is placed on your arm.

“You are with us now. Please use our names or even nicknames. I hope you feel comfortable and allow us to use yours as well,” Seokjin mentions before heading upstairs.

“Names or nicknames. Got it – Jin.”

Before going down the hall, he smiles at you one last time, “When you are done ordering for everyone, just send it out.”

After giving him a thumbs up, you murmur to yourself, “Order for everyone… no, what was it again? Oy… I hardly know what I want most of the time, much less for seven Korean men.

#ldysmfst fic #americanmate #bts #bts fanfic #bts x reader #hybrid #au #hybrid bts #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #angst with a happy ending #plus sized reader #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o #a/b/o verse #a/b/o au #alpha beta omega #kim seokjin #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #park jimin #jeon jungook #jung hoseok #min yoongi

[owl127]

Supercorp idea - Let Us Have This

(abo, alpha!kara, omega!lena- Rated M)

I have 3ish chapter for this idea, and I wanted to see if there is any hope for it. Posting chapter one here (unbeta´d):

Kara bit her lip, puffing her cheeks in a long exhale. “Kara Danvers didn’t sleep with Lena.” She met Alex’s confused expression. “Supergirl did.” (...) Feeling her ears burn, Kara nodded. “It has a zipper.” “Oh my God, why did I ask,” Alex groaned and threw her half-eaten pizza slice back into the box. 

For a moment, Lena was sure she was going to die. 

Part of her knew the attack was coming. She knew something big and nefarious was sent her way the moment she ignored her mother’s single message requesting L-Corp’s archives on synthetic kryptonite. 

So for that brief, frightening moment when the warmth of the explosion kissed the back of her dress and the pressure sent her forward, Lena was absolutely sure that was her end. Eyes closed, she leaned forward and surrendered with surprising peace while wishing for it to be quick. 

And then she was up, up and away, cold wind biting her face as dizziness took over her mind at the sudden acceleration. She could smell the telltale of scorched fabric and a touch of musk. Weightless, her arms crushing a strong neck she knew so well, Lena winced as the white noise from the explosion below flooded her hearing. 

When her heart caught up with her mind to understand what had happened, Lena shuddered and autumn's chilly air filled her lungs with a tinge of strength and alpha that sent her mind reeling again. 

“Supergirl,” she breathed, tightening her grip around her superhero. She couldn’t see well with the deafening wind speed, but she could swear the Girl of Steel smirked. 

“You seem very intent on getting yourself killed, Miss Luthor,” Supergirl said as they stopped many feet above the city.

“I don’t know. Seemed like a typical Wednesday for me.”

Supergirl laughed, clear and low, adjusting her grasp on Lena’s body. 

“Let’s try and tone it down to once a month, shall we?” 

Lena smiled, her body pumping adrenaline and her lungs fighting for air, because with the same conviction she had known it to be her end, she also knew to trust the Super. She opened her mouth to reply, but the hero frowned suddenly, looking behind Lena. Iron-grip fingers dug firmly into her back and legs, and Supergirl’s voice was calm but stern as she spoke, “Miss Luthor, try to get yourself very small and hold tight.”

“What—”

But Lena’s answer came in the form of an armored suit busting into their solitary air space, and she was off in mind-blowing speed, head cradled against Supergirl’s collarbone. Her scent was stronger there, and Lena was getting lost in it until her entire cocoon of protection shook with an impact, and Supergirl groaned.

As another shot flew past them, Lena realized that Supergirl would be fighting off whatever was targeting them if it wasn’t for Lena’s human, frail body that needed protection. However, as the city’s skyscrapers flashed below them, letting go did not seem like an option. So she did what she could: she held tight as Supergirl shielded her from blast after blast. The alpha swallowed groans that Lena could imagine were of pain, her own body shaking violently at each impact. But Supergirl held tight, hands firm and steady as she guided them away from the city.

“Take a deep breath.” 

Lena heard it almost too late, inhaling Supergirl’s essence from her neck and hiding against the fluttering cape as they surged upwards. When Lena realized clouds were getting closer, she closed her eyes and wished to not open them again.

But they turned, completing a loop, and a sudden increase in heat made Lena open her eyes in shock to see the powerful beams leave the hero’s eyes. An explosion ahead of them, and the fingers that surely bruised Lena’s hips relaxed, if only a bit.

She could hear Supergirl’s heartbeat, fast but steady, and the radiator that was the woman’s body was the only reason Lena wasn’t a shivering mess.

Or maybe she was.

She couldn’t speak as they flew back to the city grounds, and she didn’t question why Supergirl knew which building and balcony to land outside her apartment. When her legs hit the polished balcony floor, her knees gave away instantly and Supergirl, also in shaking hands, swooped her back up in bridal carry. 

Lena didn’t protest and let herself be carried into her dark living room. Supergirl guided them to the couch, sitting down slowly but not letting go of Lena. A brief thought that Supergirl was hyperventilating crossed her mind, but then she noticed she was the one having a hard time breathing. 

“You’re safe,” Supergirl said, not complaining about the fact she had been holding Lena for what must have been a good part of an hour. “You’re safe,” she repeated, one large, warm palm resting over Lena’s on the superhero’s chest.

Lena’s fingers grip the crest over the suit. She tried to and matched Supergirl’s breathing, slowing down until her desperate pants didn’t fill the room, only the sirens far down echoing in the background. She breathed more of the alpha’s scent, earthly and fresh, and it was all new and at the same time familiar.

The moment shifted, fast like a winter sunset. Lena’s hand continued to rest under Supergirl’s, hot and clammy, and Lena took a deep, deep breath in the soft spot where the suit revealed skin. Supergirl’s breath caught at the back of her throat, and Lena was suddenly aware of how they were pressed together on her couch. 

Lena almost died today.

But as she rested her lips on Supergirl’s neck, the remnant adrenaline in her body made her feel most alive. She felt the pulse against her lips quicken. She was not sure what she was looking for, but as the grip on her body became a shy touch away from hurting and Supergirl moaned low at a second kiss on available skin, Lena knew she had found it.

“Miss Luthor,” Supergirl asked—or pleaded—and when Lena gathered the courage to look up under the low light, she saw bright blue eyes shut close. 

“Supergirl.” Lena’s voice was unsteady, breathy, rough. If anyone was pleading that night, it would be her. She watched as Supergirl blinked her eyes open, a whimper escaping her mouth under Lena’s touch on her neck. Blue eyes seemed dark in her living room, consumed by what Lena hoped was arousal but also a tinge of doubt. She had never seen the hero so close.

Trembling legs straddled the superhero’s waist, trapping the most powerful alpha on the planet under the weight of an omega. 

Supergirl gulped. 

Not thinking twice, or not thinking at all, Lena reached down for a proper kiss. Her chapped lips touched soft ones, once, twice. Supergirl didn’t respond but for the hands on Lena’s back warming up. Now that she could feel it, Lena wondered, perplexed, how something so powerful could be that soft.

When she pulled away to apologize, to take a breath, or anything else, Supergirl met her halfway and finally responded to the kiss. Slow, moderate—until it wasn’t, and Lena opened her mouth to deepen the kiss and her need. 

“Miss Luthor—”

“Don’t,” Lena found her voice, hands diving into messy blonde curls. “Let us have this.”

“We don’t—”

“We can have this,” she insisted, and the storm of emotions shining in blue eyes was too much. Not letting her hero rethink anything, Lena leaned for another kiss. 

Arms maintaining their death grip on Supergirl’s neck, Lena grinded herself down on the suit, smiling at the resulting bulge.

They established a rhythm in their kissing and grinding. Lena attacked every available skin on Supergirl’s neck, face, and strong hands fumbled with Lena’s dress zipper just for them to hear the fabric tearing. 

Wide blue eyes met Lena as they stopped at the sound. “I’m sorry!”

Smiling, Lena shrugged off the scorched, destroyed garment with minimal effort. She was left in her underwear; she wondered if she should have picked something else than a comfortable bra and panties, but as wide blue eyes zeroed on her chest, she thought that it might be okay.

She met Supergirl’s lips again, hard, and moaned into the responding thrust between her legs. Lena looked between them, and then back at the gaping hero. 

“Oh, Rao,” Supergirl said, her cheeks darkening in the dim room.

A pale hand rested between Supergirl’s legs, and she hissed on Lena’s neck, tongue licking her way back to the omega’s mouth. 

They were impossibly close, moving together, finding secret spots and whimpers to pull out of each other. Noses bumping, they shared the same air, a sudden need for touch consuming Lena and prickling at her skin. 

As much as Lena enjoyed the suit, she wanted it gone. But she had no idea how to get the alpha out of it. Was there a secret zipper somewhere? 

Her frantic search around Supergirl’s crotch went to a sudden stop as the same warm hand that was on her hip rested on top of Lena’s. She thought Supergirl was going to put a stop to it, stand up and leave her wet and bothered on her couch. A protest formed in her throat, but the strong hand simply reached between them, and a satisfying zipper sound echoed in the living room filled with labored breaths. 

“Yes,” Lena whispered and captured the softest lips she had ever kissed once more, swatting Supergirl’s hand away so she would have the satisfaction of freeing the hero from her confines.

Suit on, then.

It was dark, messy, and Lena was partially in shock. But none of that broke through the calming certainty that took over Lena, and she pushed her own panties aside, dripping, and watched the Girl of Steel zero her attention between their bodies as she sank down in one swift motion.

God, she should have taken her time.

Hissing, she swallowed Supergirl’s moan when their lips reunited as they began to move, the discomfort ebbing away at each new thrust.

One hand on her hip and the other pushing her down by her shoulders, Lena let herself be guided by the hero, accepting the rhythm she imposed with strong pushes of her thighs. 

Lena did not expect it to be sweet or kind. She did not expect this at all, only following what her body and the moment guided her to do. But there she was, with Supergirl under her, inside her, soiling her couch in the best possible way. And still, not expecting anything, Supergirl found home in the warm spot on her neck, leaving a new collection of marks that Lena was sure to cherish. She spoke something in a foreign tongue, clipped and slow, words that broke every time their bodies met. 

Lena gasped and pulled her closer, nails digging into a covered shoulder, knees spreading wide over her white leather couch. 

A hand traveled to between their bodies, clumsily slipping between them to find Lena’s point of pleasure. She spread her legs wider, trembling knees digging into the couch, muscles flexing, and she moaned out loud when the soft pad of a thumb found her.

Was that talent or superspeed? 

Whatever it was, when coupled with the deep thrusting reaching the right places inside, it led Lena to a shuddering, breathtaking orgasm. Her mind went blank for a sweet second, and she sucked firmly on Supergirl’s neck. 

“Lena,” the hero breathed wetly on her cheek, hands finally undoing the mess that was once her bun, and hips picked up speed as Lena bounced freely. 

Supergirl was going to come inside her, and Lena never felt so complete. 

It was quiet; the long moan that left the alpha’s mouth was close to a whimper, stretched thin and fading to a gasp as she lost her imposing rhythm and shuddered. She trembled and grunted, pushing one, two, three final times before allowing their heated bodies to cool down with elaborated breaths.

Lena did not know Supergirl could pant like that.

The weight of the day hit her hard, and she slumped over the alpha’s chest, spent, tired, ultimately satisfied. 

“I’ve got you.”

It was the last thing she heard before closing her eyes to the sight of cornflower blue.

Lena woke up in her bed, blinking against the early morning light. Her body felt tired, bruised, aching in all the right places. 

Was it a dream?

She touched between her legs, finding dampness and a delicious soreness. She touched her neck, the skin prickling under her fingers, sensitive. She bit her lips at the memory of warm skin and soft, soft lips. There was a single flower on her nightstand, fresh and red.

Not a dream.

0000

Kara would not know what they were watching for the life of her. Throughout the evening of the typical sisters’ night, she tried to find a way to talk to Alex as they lounged on her couch. More like to confess to Alex.

“I can hear you thinking,” Alex probed, reaching for another slice of pizza. 

“I need to tell you something.” 

Kara took a deep breath and faced her sister. Unimpressed, Alex took another bite from the meat lovers pizza. “Kara, whatever it is, I am sure we can—”

“I slept with Lena.” 

Alex stopped mid-bite, swallowing dryly. “When you say sleep, do you mean sleep or sleep sleep?”

Kara fidgeted with her glasses, blue eyes scanning her loft before tentatively finding Alex’s again. “Sleep sleep.” Her hands moved in front of her under the blanket, but the movement was not lost on Alex.

“Oh, Kara.” The older alpha perked up. “I’m happy for you?” It sounded like a question since whatever was warming up Kara’s face was not joy. She took her glasses off, put them on again. “I thought you liked her?” Alex tried.

“No, that’s not—I mean, I do, I do like her but…” Kara bit her lip, puffing her cheeks in a long exhale. “Kara Danvers didn’t sleep with Lena.” She met Alex’s confused expression. “Supergirl did.”

It took a second or two, but Alex widened her eyes. Her pizza slice sat between them, forgotten in her hand. Alex frowned after the initial surprise. “What do you mean, Supergirl did? How would she not notice—oh God, Kara… with the suit on?” Alex’s mouth contorted into disgust at Kara’s burning face. “How do you even?” It was Alex’s turn with the vague hand gestures between her free hand and the pizza. 

Feeling her ears burn, Kara nodded. “It has a zipper.”

“Oh my God, why did I ask,” Alex groaned and threw her half-eaten slice back into the box. 

They remained in painful silence. “Kara,” Agent Danvers asked, since at that moment she was not asking as an older sister. “Do you think she can ID you?”

“I don’t know! It was kinda dark and—”

“Please no details,” Alex begged, hands in a protective stance between them. 

“I honestly don’t know. She’s been on leave since the attack last week—”

“During an attack, Kara?” Alex’s lips pulled down again, and Kara rolled her eyes.

“Not during, more like, after!”

“Ugh.” Alex ran a hand through her short hair. “You cannot expose your identity to Lena Luthor.”

“I guess I’ve exposed enough.”

“Kara! This is serious.” Alex stood up, pacing in front of the couch as Kara observed. “We need to find out what she knows.”

“As I was saying”—Kara reached for a slice herself—“she is coming back to work tomorrow. I will try and figure that out.”

“Good, good. Sounds like a plan.” Alex nodded at each affirmation. She closed her eyes, one hand massaging her temple. “I don’t think I can look at you the same in that suit anymore.”

“I thought you would be happy for me for… you know, living my life and everything,” she said with her mouthful of pizza. 

“But the suit, Kara?” Alex whined.

“It’s machine washable!”

“Don’t ever let Winn know. He will sew up your zipper.”

Kara made a face, and Alex flopped down on the couch. 

“But how was it?” Alex was trying hard to balance her roles as DEO agent and sister there, Kara had to give her that. 

The little gasps that puffed into Kara’s neck each time she drove into Lena. The combined heat of their bodies and how Lena opened up for her, breath caught in her throat. 

“Really good,” she confessed, ears burning all over again. 

“This is messy.” Alex reached for her abandoned pizza slice. “You need to promise me you won’t tell Lena your secret identity, no matter how good sex was with her.”

“Alex…”

“For now, Lena Luthor thinking she had a thirsty night with Supergirl is safer for everyone.” 

Kara played with the threadbare end of the blanket covering her legs. “I understand.”

They ate in silence until Alex couldn’t hold it anymore. 

“With the suit on, Kara. I can’t believe you.”

“It has a zipper!”

00000

Monday rolled around, and Kara found herself double-checking her email every other minute. Lena had yet to show up at CatCo, and the waiting was gnawing at Kara’s patience. Not that she was an example of patience, but still. 

She cleared her spam box and went as far as checking the promotions tab.

The elevator dinged to put her out of her misery as she excluded an expired Calvin Klein’s coupon. 

Lena emerged from the elevator in her usual grace—pressed, knee-length black skirt and a soft-looking turtleneck the color of the rose Kara left next to her bed a couple mornings ago.

Kara knew exactly what the burgundy solid-knit hid. Marks, an entire constellation of them, left by her mouth on alabaster skin.

“Hi, Kara.”

Lena was in front of her.

“Lena! Hi!” She went for a hug that Lena responded in kind. “You didn’t answer my messages, are you okay? You never take sick days.”

Lena took a deep breath, and a shy smile graced her lips. “I needed some time to center myself after the last… event.” Her lips pulled down, and Kara wondered if there was a better word for “when my mother tried to kill me… again”. 

“Yes, of course. But are you okay?”

Lena stared so deeply into Kara’s eyes that Kara thought that was it; Lena knew, she saw the truth, the suit and zipper were not enough to keep her secret. 

But the intensity in light green eyes faded, and Lena eased back to her smile. “Yes, I’m feeling much better.”

Eve showed up with coffee for Lena, and Kara followed her into James’ office. James wasn’t there yet, and Lena dropped her bag on the empty couch. “Kara, do you want to have lunch today? I wanted to talk to you.”

She didn’t meet Kara’s eyes as she asked, but the phrase sent a shock down Kara’s spine nonetheless. 

Yep, that was it. Lena clearly knew. 

“Yes, of course.” Kara was a little breathless. Lena took a sip of her coffee and looked up at Kara again, eyes glinting. 

“I need to tell you something,” she said, eyes looking around them discreetly, as if she had a secret. 

“Yeah, sure,” Kara replied and thanked Rao she didn’t break the pencil she was holding. 

“I need some friendly advice on something,” Lena continued, her back to Kara as she left her coffee on the corner of James’ table and fished a tablet from her purse. “So don’t bail on lunch.”

Kara nodded and walked back to her desk. She had half a mind to call Alex and request the pile of NDA documents Lena would undoubtedly have to sign after this but decided to wait for lunch.

As she sat back down on her chair, the pencil finally broke in two between her fingers.

Lunch came too fast and horribly too slow. A few hours later, Kara found herself at the outside area of their floor with two boxes of Chinese food while Lena had enough greens to feed an entire rabbit family.

“So… what do you want to talk about?” Kara fought to keep her eyes on her food but lost the battle quite quickly as she watched Lena playing with a cherry tomato. 

Green eyes as sharp as a knife fixed on her, and Kara swallowed a dumpling without chewing. 

“Have you seen Supergirl lately?” Lena measured her focus back to the cherry tomato as Kara blushed as red as the fruit. 

So much for being subtle. 

“No, not really, no,” she answered and went straight for her water to wash down her nerves.

It did not work. 

Lena hummed, catching the stray tomato and chewing it slowly behind lips just as red. 

“Do you know if she has any… companions?”

Kara had the decency to chew her dumpling this time. “What do you mean?” 

“As in a lover.”

Nope, more like half chewing it as it bothered her throat going down. 

“Not that I know of, no.” 

Lena’s tongue poked out to lick at the side of her lips, capturing a stray drop of olive oil. Kara’s eyes followed the motion, hypnotized. When Lena caught her staring with a slight frown, she focused back on her fried rice. 

They ate in silence for a moment, and Kara wondered if Lena was getting ready to drop the truth bomb. She had an excuse ready and cleared her afternoon so they could both head down to the DEO, and J’onn would scold her so badly, and—

“I had sex with Supergirl,” Lena said in a natural tone, gaze on her salad, and Kara widened her eyes. It worked well, since Lena probably thought it was a simple surprise and not Kara’s honest reaction to Lena not connecting the dots.

The glasses did work! 

“Kara?” Lena raised one sculpted eyebrow, and Kara nodded, blinking raptly. 

“Oh, wow, I mean, oh.” She didn't know what would be the appropriate response, lips opening and closing, face flushed. Should she say congratulations? 

Thinking about it, she was in a unique situation to get interesting… feedback. 

“But like, how was it?” Kara pretended to go back to her potstickers, but when Lena smiled broadly, she gave it up to drink in Lena’s reaction. Lena bit her lip, cheeks coloring a beautiful shade of crimson that harmonized with her turtleneck and lipstick. 

“Really good,” Lena laughed, and Kara preened a little under the indirect praise. “I mean,” Lena continued, pushing her salad aside to lean over the table. Kara did her best not to lean and meet her halfway. “It was kinda fast.”

Kara sat back against her chair, stuttering. “Well, I suppose it was what, at the end of the day? Supergirl probably works a lot, like a lot, and—”

“Kara.” Lena laughed freely at that. “I didn’t mean fast like that! You alphas.” Lena’s face flushed further, and Kara felt her own ears tingle with heat. 

“It was fast in a way that it was not planned,” Lena corrected, drinking a sip of water to wash down the last bit of her amusement. “It kinda just happened.”

“Oh.”

“Okay, I may have pushed it a little bit,” the omega admitted from behind the rim of her water glass. 

Kara busied herself with another dumpling. “So it was good?” she asked with a mouthful.

Lena looked to the side while biting her lips. She drummed her fingers on the table and played with her fork. Kara held her breath. 

“You’re my best friend, and I need to gush about it with someone,” she said in a rushed breath, and Kara reminded herself to breathe like a proper human.

“Yes?” There was soy sauce on Kara’s lips, but she couldn’t care less as Lena knocked on the table excitedly with both hands, light touches to expose part of what seemed to be barely contained giggles. 

“Okay.” Lena folded her hands in front of her. “It was a bit dark, and it was fast and all, but, Kara.” She looked up, and Kara felt a responding tug in her pants. “Supergirl has some talents.” 

“Talents?”

Talents, talents? Kara needed specifics! 

“Her hand, her finger.” Lena looked down at her own hands, eyes a little fogged, eyebrow knit in concentration. “It vibrated, like a legit vibrator. Maybe it’s a superpower thing?” Lena faced Kara once more, and Kara shrugged in response. 

But yeah, it was a superpower thing. Kara tried to control her smirk, but it showed some of it by the way Lena blushed and rolled her eyes. 

“And she’s… okay, don’t go all alpha dog on me,” Lena excused herself before any further admission, and by then, Kara was sure of two things.

One: Lena did not recognize her that night.

Two: Kara had freaking good game. 

She stared at Lena, holding herself together not to smile. She could feel her lips fighting it, twisting up, but she nodded at Lena to continue. 

Lena rolled her eyes. “She is well endorsed,” she admitted with a bright new flush. “Not like, too much, but God, perfect. It was almost too much at first but then...” She got lost in memory, and Kara bit the inside of her cheek. “It was good.”

Kara’s smile was out of control now, but Lena avoided her eyes. “Yeah, so, that happened,” Lena added, one hand pulling her salad back in front of her. 

Kara sucked on her lips, smiling and probably looking like a total fool. She ignored the alpha pride bubbling in her chest and her instinct making its own party down her pants to look back at Lena.

Then she asked what she should not, probably. 

“Do you want to do it again?”

Lena's eyes squinted in what appeared to be concentration. She took her time to think, eating a mouthful of greens. When she finally swallowed, she fixed Kara with eyes that could only be described as predatory.

Kara knew that stare; she had seen it in the dim living room before Lena kissed her senseless. 

Rao, why did she ask that.

“I do.”

Thank Rao she asked that.

“Do you want me to tell her that?” Aiming for nonchalance, Kara played with the peanut in her fried rice. She was out of dumplings and potstickers already. 

“What if she wants to keep it a secret? Oh God.” Lena’s hand landed on her own heart, and Kara heard how it accelerated. “Should I have not said anything?”

“Lena, calm down.” Kara had a small smile. “She won’t mind that you told me. I’m pretty sure she’ll tell me when we meet again.”

Lena’s eyes darkened in that predatory way that Kara thanked Rao she chose dark chinos today. 

“If she does, you better let me know what she says about me.”

“Will do,” Kara laughed quietly. “But for the record, I’m sure any alpha would be amazed to be with you.” 

Lena blushed at that, light and pink, different from the previous blushes of their lunch.

“Thank you, Kara.” 

“Anytime.” Kara’s entire face worked on her smile. “Now, do you have plans for that milkshake of yours?”

“I got it for you.”

“Yes!”

0000

Lena woke up feeling good, ready to face the day. In yoga pants and a black tank top, she made herself buttered toast with a touch of cinnamon and opened a new bottle of orange juice. 

Her treadmill faced the full wall window with National City waking up forty floors below. The sun had just started to rise when Lena began her run. Classic music played from the speakers on the treadmill, the watch marking the first ten minutes of her run.

At first, she didn’t think it would be something major. The rising sun seemed too bright and the music too loud, so she shut part of the blinds and lowered the volume. The stopwatch marked fifteen, and Lena had a sudden change in her mood, feeling exhausted, almost dizzy. At twenty, the dizziness intensified, her legs threatened to give away, and she had half a second to press on the emergency red button before she stumbled off the moving lane. 

Lena breathed hard, controlling her intake of air not to hyperventilate. She sat on the floor and crawled to the living room couch, resting her back against it. As the room spun around her, Lena tried to keep her breakfast down. Her stopwatch marked thirty-five by the time she could stand up on wobbly legs. 

She took a long time in her morning shower, washing her hair and staying under the lukewarm spray until she could feel like herself again.

By the time she made it to CatCo, dressed in a navy pantsuit and white satin shirt, her day did not look any better. She felt tired, exhausted even, and the smell of coffee turned her stomach. She sent Eve away with a promise to bring peppermint tea instead.

“Lena?” 

Lena turned at the call of her name, finding worried blue eyes. Mint scent filled the air, and she gratefully took the tea Kara offered. 

“How are you? You don’t look so good.” Kara helped Lena into the chair at her desk outside James' office. 

Leave it to Kara to be delicate about the fact that Lena looked like shit. 

“I’m not feeling well today,” Lena mumbled before taking a scalding sip from the offered tea. It burned her lips but distracted her from the lingering dizziness. 

Kara pushed another chair next to her, one warm hand finding Lena’s forehead. “Do you have a fever?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Lena looked up to find Kara’s eyes crinkled in worry.

The bluest eyes Lena had ever seen fixed on her face as Supergirl rocked her entire body at each deep thrust. 

“Lena? You okay? Maybe you should go home.”

Lena shook her head, pulling away from Kara’s touch. 

“No, I’m okay, just… déjà vu.” 

Kara’s hand hovered between them for a bit, unsure. She nodded, clearing her throat. 

“I still think you might want to take the morning off.”

“I’m fine, Kara.” 

Throughout the day, Lena had a hard time shaking Supergirl off her mind. 

0000

The fight had been all over the news. From the multiple screens at CatCo, Lena watched Supergirl fight, and get really close to losing, with an alien three times her size. The Girl of Steel had heroically taken the fight away from the city and the people, and helicopters and drones struggled to keep up with the superhuman duel. 

Whatever happened that cameras did not catch, Lena was sure it had taken a heavy toll on the superhero.

Still feeling a little off like she had been in the last week, Lena left James responsible for the coverage of the fight and headed home. Her phone screen flashed with updates all afternoon: it had been messy, and hard, but Supergirl had prevailed and captured the rogue alien. 

Lena saw the pictures of Supergirl—lips bleeding and a trickle of red lining her forehead—and grimaced. She had never seen her bleed before.

She made herself tea at home, trading her skirt for sweatpants and fluffy socks. Lena had a book under her arm and steaming tea in her hands, ready to retreat to her bedroom, when she heard her balcony door open.

A shiver went down her spine, pure and raw fear at another possible attempt on her life. She turned suddenly, some of the tea sloshing down her hardwood flooring. 

Fear left her at once when she saw the figure hovering at her window, not quite entering, hair moving with the night breeze. She left the tea and book on her coffee table and walked to the window in time to let the tired body lean over her smaller frame.

“Supergirl?” she asked breathlessly, hands going to the back of the hero. She was warm, maybe too warm. Her suit was torn in places, and her cape was missing. 

Supergirl’s nose found the side of her neck, and Lena smelled blood and soot. She hugged Supergirl closer.

“Can I—”

“C’mon.” Lena stepped back, one hand guiding the hero that looked smaller under her living room light. They walked past the couch, Lena pulling the suddenly shy hero until they made it to her bedroom.

Supergirl blinked, looking around and taking a step back. “I shouldn't,” she said mostly to herself, but one knee buckled when she turned around, hitting the floor with a crack. 

“Nonsense.” Lena helped her up, or more likely, stood next to her as she balanced once more. Without another word, Lena helped the hero to her bed. 

Supergirl complied like a trained puppy, head hitting the pillow in a long exhale. Lena helped her out of the suit—there were many hidden zippers everywhere—and watched as the pile of muscles that was Supergirl lay on her bed with nothing but boxer shorts and a tank top. The blood on her face had dried, but there were different cuts all over her golden body. Under the light of her bedside table, Lena pushed Supergirl’s hair behind an ear, inhaling the alpha scent under the remnants of her battle.

It felt strangely familiar. 

Blue eyes blinked open, and Supergirl turned off the light next to them. 

“You’re safe,” Lena said to the dark room, finding her place as the small spoon. 

She felt the alpha’s responding smile against the back of her neck.

Lena awoke to the sensation of heat. Her bedroom was warm, and she moved to kick the covers, but she was not under the blankets. As sunrise made itself known against the blinders in her bedroom, Lena took a deep breath of alpha.

Last night came back to her, and she turned between the arms of her personal space heater to face the most relaxed, peaceful Supergirl she had ever seen. She couldn’t make out the details of her sharp jawline, the sun barely hinting at east, but she could feel her chest expanding and hear the little snores. 

Lena smiled.

She reclaimed her space under the Girl of Steel’s neck, not shaking the feeling of odd familiarity. Lena’s hand rested on Supergirl’s exposed waist and ran it over her arms to check for the bruises and cuts from last night. They were there, but less pronounced. 

“Hmm,” Supergirl mumbled in her sleep under Lena’s touch, pulling the omega closer, Lena’s cheek resting on a strong collarbone.  

Lena would have been content with that, the comfort of a night together. 

“Do you want to do it again?”

Kara’s question came to her, uninvited, sudden, and Lena shivered.

Supergirl had slept in her bed, and yes, she would like to sleep with her again, whatever that meant. 

If only Kara could see her now.

A small kiss on her temple got her out of thoughts, and Lena melted against the strong chest warming up her bed. 

“Hi,” Supergirl said huskily against messy dark hair, arms wrapping Lena and turning so Lena could rest her chin over a dark tank top. She felt nipples hardening against her own cotton shirt. 

“Hello,” Lena replied, taking in the scent and warmth around her. “I’m glad you stopped by last night.” She looked up to meet sleepy eyes.

Supergirl blinked, slowly, and stretched in the languid way cats do after a nap—neck turning to the side and legs spreading so Lena could fit snugly between them. 

“I should go,” Supergirl said as the sun kissed Lena’s curtains, never stopping its west crawl.

“Can you stay a bit longer?” Lena herself stretched, her hips grinding in front of Supergirl’s boxer briefs and eliciting a moan from the superhero. 

“I could stay a bit longer,” Supergirl confessed, dipping to catch Lena’s lips in a kiss that woke them both up.

So Lena started her morning on her hands and knees, head buried in her pillow as Supergirl made her day so much better.

000000

Kara chewed on buttered popcorn as cars exploded on her TV from one of the Bourne movies. She wasn’t sure which one, but it happened in Europe. Maybe.

Alex had picked the movie.

Alex watched the car chase and shootings fascinatingly, murmuring some of the lines along with all kinds of spies. Kara waited for the final car chase scene to end until she had Alex’s attention. 

“Alex?” 

“Yeah?”

Mouth full of popcorn, Kara stared at the TV, not brave enough to meet her sister’s eyes.

“I did it again.”

“What?” Alex got the popcorn bowl from Kara’s lap.

“Lena.”

Alex promptly choked on popcorn. 

“Kara!”

“I know!” Kara covered her warming face with a pink cushion. 

“You need to stop before that woman develops a kink for suits,” Alex said after downing half of her beer and clearing her airways. 

“There was no suit this time.”

“Kara, did you tell her?” Alex stared at Kara with stern dark eyes that made the superhero shrink to her side of the couch. 

“No. But it was different. I slept there.”

“Oh, Kara,” Alex’s eyes had something that might have been close to pity, and Kara couldn’t take that. “Does she know?”

“I don’t think so.” Kara looked down at her hands, wiping the popcorn grease on her sweater pants. “It was kinda…” Her ears burned, and she avoided Alex’s questioning eyes. “Like, from behind.”

Alex made a face at her and fake-gagged. “Please, no details.”

“It was dark, so I think I’m good.”

“Just stop.”

“I might have forgotten my cape there.”

“Sometimes I wish you were an omega.”

“I’d still do it.”

“Of course you would.”

000000

The email did not call for her immediate attention. Lena had received it at 9:37 am and only looked at it by the end of her day, the clock nearing 8 pm as she made her last checkup on Sam at L-Corp.

She had done the diagnostic tests in her own lab, of course. Being the CEO of one of the most powerful pharmaceutical companies had its perks. But even Lena knew that, sometimes, a specialist should take a look at the results. After an entire week of feeling constantly exhausted and surprisingly hungry, Lena had performed her usual, annual checkup a few months earlier. Most results seemed normal, but a few hormonal levels caught her attention, and she ran them with her head researcher of their omega-focused department. 

Seemed fitting. 

The doctor had sent her an email, at 9:37 am, with the simple title of “Lab test 127 results”. Very innocuous and unassuming. Easy to ignore, considering Lena’s busy life.

She said good-bye to Sam at the elevator, and she had to reassure her CFO that, yes, she was fine. Sam had looked at her with a somewhat puzzled expression, but she didn’t press it. When Lena checked her reflection on her phone inside her car, she realized that she might have been looking like… total shit, yeah, exhausted and wishing she was home with warm tea, pizza and fluffy pajamas, and maybe her strong alpha to cuddle her to sleep.

The last thought hit her so hard that she wondered if she should add scotch to her tea. Was she going into heat early? It would explain her wandering thoughts.

As she finally opened the email when she padded into her kitchen, make-up-free and wearing warm winter socks even though it was still autumn, she realized the scotch would have to wait.

It would have to wait quite some time.

The following morning, Lena did not expect the buzz next to her front door, her intercom startling her out of her email inbox. 

“Miss Luthor, there is a Miss Danvers in the lobby for you. Should I let her in?” Came the gruff voice of the doorman, and Lena looked puzzled from her forgotten phone to her closed door.

Did she sound desperate in her text earlier?

“You can let her up, Charles, thank you.” She was still a little breathless from hurrying to her door to respond. She checked the messages to see what could have caused Kara to drop by unannounced after her texts an hour ago.

Yeah, considering the protective-labrador personality Kara had, she could have framed that better.

Which was why she found herself opening her front door, in pajamas and bed hair, to a whirlwind of pastel and chinos at 9:47 am. 

“Lena, are you all right?” Kara had coffee and donuts in her hands, but she balanced everything on one side to place a warm palm over Lena’s forehead before stepping in. “Do you have a fever? What happened? Is it bad? Oh no, Lena, are you dying?” 

Lena took it all like the champion she was, getting one donut from the bag and ignoring the coffee, opening the door wide and thanking God for her lack of neighbors. 

“I’m not dying,” she mumbled after her first bite—glazed, simple, just what she needed—and herded Kara and her endless questions to her couch.

She wondered if Kara would be mad if she knew what else had happened on that couch, but the alpha was already blushing and adjusting her button-up after dropping the rest of the baked goodies on the coffee table. 

“You kinda look like you’re dying,” Kara said mostly to herself, one hand pushing her frames up her nose. 

Lena fixed her with her most convincing glare, which, admittedly, could be lacking strength without any make-up and hairdo, just a sloppy ponytail she barely bothered to do this morning.

But she had reasons!

“Thanks for stopping by, even though it’s unnecessary,” she said. “But I do need to talk to you.”

“What happened?” 

Kara had one of the bluest eyes Lena had ever seen—warm and familiar and insightful. She closed her own eyes at a warm wave of other blue-eyed memories. Images of another pair, so shockingly similar, shining with tiredness in her darkened bedroom.

If only Kara knew what a stare like that could do to an omega.

Lena used her thumb to clear nonexistent sugar from her lips, watching as Kara took an entire mouthful of a powdered donut. The alpha had white powdered sugar all over her mouth, but she didn’t move to clean it up. Lena smiled, and at that moment she knew she could count on Kara for anything.

“Remember when I told you that I had sex with Supergirl?”

Kara nodded and emitted a confirmation sound from her donut-filled mouth. The white of the sugar became more prominent as she blushed.

“I did it again.”

“Oh.” Kara had completely stopped chewing, just hanging in there with chipmunk cheeks.

Lena reached for her donut but didn’t bite it. She played with the glaze between her thumb and forefinger, pursing her lips.

Would Kara be disappointed?

Only one way to know.

“And I found out last night, you see…” Lena took a deep breath, meeting blue eyes as she exhaled. “That I’m pregnant.”

Kara had the courtesy to look away from Lena as she spat a half-eaten donut all over her coffee table and coughed for a good ten seconds. Lena grimaced at the scene but padded her friend in the back, waiting patiently as she gathered her breath.

Kara held a finger up, clearing her throat and using an offered napkin to wipe her lips. She almost succeeded.

Eyes glossy from almost choking, Kara finally looked at her. “You sure?”

“Precisely.” The word tugged Lena’s lips to the side, and she glanced at her laptop where she had double-checked the results. She had also called her doctor, had bought a collection of pregnancy tests from the downtown pharmacy, and all in all, had looked for any direction that could let her out of this situation. 

Kara stood up, pacing relentlessly in her living room. “Okay, okay. I see. I see. You’re pregnant.” She looked at Lena, who remained on the couch watching Kara freak out. Kara pointed at her, not accusingly, just fitting together the pieces of her speech. “You’re pregnant. With Supergirl’s pup.” She glanced behind Lena, fingers now pointed to the window. “Supergirl’s alien pup,” she completed. 

“Yes,” Lena confirmed, eyes studying as Kara kept pacing back and forth behind her coffee table. 

“Okay. Okay, that is…” Kara stopped, both hands on her hips, her head down, and when she looked up, Lena was not expecting the brightness of tears. “That is kind of amazing,” she said in a shaky voice, biting her lip, and Lena could not take a second look at a crying Kara and not feel her own eyes fighting the flood. 

“Is it?” Lena heard her own voice—small, unsure. 

Kara nodded, sinking back on the couch and reaching for Lena’s hands. “Yeah, yeah it is.”

They sat like that, hands together, and Lena wondered if every friendship was like that.

“Oh, Rao,” Kara breathed out, releasing Lena’s hand to massage her temples. “I need to take you to the DEO.”

“What?”

When Kara looked up, she had a panicked expression that did not help Lena’s turning stomach. 

“Alex’s gonna flip,” Kara whispered, and Lena felt utterly confused. “Oh, Lena.” She stared at Lena, then at Lena’s window, and back at Lena, and Lena felt like crying again.

“Kara?”

Kara took another deep breath and a veil of determination covered her face. “I need to take you to a facility that will be able to help you. Supergirl works there. They need to know this. Supergirl has so many enemies, and if anyone finds out about a pup they could…” Kara’s scent grew, a metallic tinge of fear, and Lena recoiled unconsciously. 

“It’s ok, you’re okay,” Kara reassured her, closing her eyes for a moment as the scent dissipated. “We will help you.”

Lena had many questions. There was a strange feeling growing in her stomach, and she had the suspicion it was not morning sickness. 

“Kara, I have enough equipment at L-Corp to go through with this.”

“Lena please…”

“I don’t want to expose myself to the government or… anyone else.” Lena stood from the couch, ready to turn her back to Kara, but the alpha held her hand, gently pulling so she could face her again. Kara didn’t stand up, instead looking at Lena from her place on the couch. 

“I’m sure Supergirl would want to know. She would want to protect you,” Kara pleaded, lips in a thin line that ghosted a smile. 

The feeling in Lena’s tummy grew. 

“Just for today,” Kara insisted. “Do you trust me?”

The memory came back. Blue, blue eyes with specks of gray and amber. She shivered. 

“Yes.” Lena tightened her grasp around Kara’s hand.

0000

 Oh, Rao; oh, Rao; oh, Rao; oh, Rao.

Kara messed up. 

She knew that. She was aware of that. She was painfully aware she had messed up beautifully this time.

It was not that she had anything intrinsically against what had happened. It just didn’t go the way she had hoped. After months of having feelings for Lena and preparing herself to ask the omega out, all it took was one night of weakness, and Kara messed up everything.

Okay, one night and a morning.

The order of events was supposed to be something like: declare feelings, date, mate, pups. 

They jumped a lot of steps.

Now she got a visitor’s badge for Lena while they went through security at the DEO, and even though she never felt sick, she wondered if the feeling was anything close to the turmoil in her stomach. 

Oh, Rao.

She ignored the questioning glances from the other agents as she strode in all her pastel glory into the DEO with a very confused, very curious Lena Luthor following behind.

Winn almost had a heart attack. 

“Kara! Lena!” He stood up from his rolling chair, hand holding one of his toy guns. “Kara? Lena?” He looked between the two women, their linked hands, Lena’s questioning gaze, Kara’s silent plea. His eyebrows hit his hairline. 

“I need to see Alex in the med bay,” Kara said and hopefully her tone would not require further explanation. Lena’s hand was stiff and clammy in hers, and she guided them to the stairs and into the med bay. Thankfully, it was empty. 

Kara helped Lena to a seat, and before she could roll a chair for herself, she heard Alex making her way upstairs. 

“Just a sec.” She squeezed Lena’s hand and left the room to meet Alex outside. She watched Lena from the inside with a frown, lips pushed together as if she had swallowed a protest.

“Alex,” Kara whispered, closing the door behind her. She could still see Lena watching them from the glass, green bouncing between the sisters. “I need to tell Lena.”

Alex was unimpressed.

“Why is Lena Luthor in my facility?” she asked with a stern tone reserved for Kara’s mishaps, arms crossed over her black polo. 

“Alex, this is important.” Kara reached with both hands to hold Alex’s forearm, and maybe with a little extra strength because Alex frowned and hissed, but Kara didn’t let her go.

“What’s going on, Kara?”

Kara took a deep breath and met Alex’s eyes with unshed tears. 

“Lena is here to tell Supergirl she’s pregnant.” Kara’s voice was hardly above a whisper but clear enough for Alex to hear every word.

“Ouch!” Alex tried to slap the back of Kara’s head, but since it was equivalent to slapping solid rock, her own hand hurt in the process. She shook the pain off, but her stare was still murderous.

“Why did you do that?” Kara said, concerned, reaching for Alex’s hand.

“Because I don’t know if I should hug you or slap you!”

“I could really use a hug right now!”

They angry-hugged which turned into a long hug while Lena, puzzled, watched the exchange from the other side of the glass. 

“Jesus fuck, Kara,” Alex whispered. “You okay?”

“I really need to tell her.” They separated from the embrace, and Kara wiped a stray tear. Alex schooled her shocked expression to something neutral as she opened the door. 

“Don’t make us all regret it,” Alex said and walked inside, finding Lena, still completely confused, staring at them. Kara closed the door behind her, leaving the three of them alone inside. Lena stood up to greet Alex.

“Luthor,” Alex acknowledged Lena with a nod.

“Agent Danvers.” Lena arched one sculpted eyebrow. 

“Your discretion about this facility will be expected.”

“Alex,” Kara warned, eyes widening and her hand finding Lena’s. Alex looked down at their hands for a total of a single second before focusing on Lena again.

“And your discretion about this conversation will also be expected,” Lena replied in a similar tone. 

“You do not give orders here.”

“Alex!” Kara’s free hand rested on her sister’s thigh, bringing her attention back to herself. “Lena won’t say anything. We’re not here to expose the DEO.”

“I need to see Supergirl,” Lena intervened. 

“I see,” Alex said, sparing a look at Kara. “Kara might help you with that.”

“Could you…” Kara gave a pointed look at Alex, who busied herself at the other side of the lab, gathering supplies. Kara pulled a rolling chair next to Lena so they could both sit down, bringing Lena’s hand up for a quick kiss.

Lena couldn’t look more confused, and Kara laughed to herself, a puff of air that almost ended in a sob.

“What was that all about?” Lena’s voice was small, tense. Her shoulders were pulled high and tight. 

“I told Alex so she would know what kind of equipment to bring.”

As if on cue, Alex gathered a tablet from one of the metallic desks and walked to the door. “I will get the ultrasound and will be back in a few.”

Kara waited until the door closed behind Alex.

“Kara?” Kara hated the way Lena looked at her—vulnerable, small. Afraid. Lena was too smart not to notice something was up. “Where’s Supergirl?”

“Yeah. About that.” Kara sucked in a breath through gritted teeth, gently laying Lena’s hand down. She turned around in her chair, her back to Lena. She took off two simple hair clips that held a lock of hair around her high ponytail. It fell to the side of her face. Both her hands reached behind to unlace her thin hair tie, golden waves finally free to spill over her shoulder. There were no hair tie marks on her hair, as it never had, no matter how tight the braid was. She took off her glasses, setting them on the table next to Lena, though her back was still to the omega. Finally, she turned around.

Lena stared, confused, but she blinked twice, her lips pressed together. The green of her eyes reminded Kara of the sea after a storm, with marks of repressed anger and uncontrolled waves. 

With a deep breath, Kara started to undo her shirt buttons. One, two, three.

When the House of El crest became visible, Kara heard the tiny gasp coming out of Lena’s mouth, and she lifted her head.

“No.” Lena shook her head, a humorless laugh escaping her lips. “No,” she repeated, eyes glossy, shaking her head still.

Kara gulped. “Lena…”

“You don’t get to do this,” Lena hissed, any softness gone, voice dripping with an anger Kara had never seen addressed to her before. “You don’t get to lie to me like this.”

“I never meant to—”

“To what?” Lena stood up, and Kara followed. “Never meant to lie to me for years?” 

“I couldn’t tell you,” Kara defended, but it sounded weak.

Alex chose that moment to open the door and wheel her equipment into the room.

“Oh, you couldn’t tell me, but you had no qualms about fucking me on my own fucking couch!” Lena’s voice raised, one manicured finger pointing at Kara’s chest, still blatantly exposing her identity. Kara took a step back if only to give Lena more room.

Kara heard Alex saying nope and wheeling her equipment back the three steps she had managed inside the room, and they were once again alone. 

“Lena, please, listen to me.”

“Oh, now I should listen to you,” Lena laughed sarcastically, and the movement sprung a tear out. “Let me guess, now that I’m pregnant, you felt some kind of obligation to tell me the truth since, you know, I’m carrying an heir to some dead species or whatever.” 

“It’s not like that.” Kara closed her hands in fists, turning her head to the side. She couldn’t meet the coldness in Lena’s eyes. 

“Humor me, Supergirl, how is it then?”

Kara bit her lower lip, one hand threading through her hair. She could feel the heat radiating from Lena’s body, could see her ab muscles flexing, could smell the swell of her scent, her omega presence, and if she focused, Oh, Rao, if she focused she could hear—

“Don’t.” 

Kara snapped her head up from the intense stare directed at Lena’s midriff. The omega had taken a step back, a protective hand over her abdomen, and Kara gaped. 

“Don’t use any of your powers to get out of this conversation,” Lena warned, eyes bright. She had graced herself with light makeup and a high ponytail, but she wore jeans and a long-sleeved, gray shirt, a simple attire from her usual choices. 

“I like you,” Kara confessed, out of practice and out of timing. Lena took another step back, hitting the table with her hips. “I’ve liked you for a long time, and I couldn’t fathom destroying our friendship over my feelings. You were always part of Kara Danvers’ life and not Supergirl’s, and I just…” Kara Danvers, you are my hero. “I was afraid to lose you.” She found Lena’s eyes, and the intensity there softened for a moment. 

“I need some time.” Lena said and turned her back.

“I understand.” Kara took a deep breath; Lena’s scent, even when they were fighting, still soothed her nerves. Kara’s alpha had chosen Lena a long time ago.

Kara walked to the door and gave one last glance at Lena, who hadn’t moved. Alex was outside, but Kara wasn’t able to face her sister without the urge to cry, so she headed towards the stairs. 

Alex took it as her queue to enter the room. 

“So…” Alex started, wheeling her equipment close to the bed. 

Lena wiped at her face with her sleeve, feeling her cheeks warm. 

“There are two bathrooms at the back of the room, and there are gowns in there for you to change into.” Alex seemed surprisingly neutral with everything. Lena hardened her own expression and nodded. 

Her anger was not aimed at the older Danvers, since she could see the logic of keeping Kara's Identity a secret. But Lena hated being the only one in the room not knowing something so important. 

“What kind of exams do you intend to perform? I’ve done multiple tests at L-Corp and didn’t find anything out of the ordinary.” Her voice sounded steady, and for that, Lena was grateful.

“How familiar are you with Kryptonian anatomy? My initial concern is how your body will react to a Kryptonian fetus.”

"Half-Kryptonian," Lena corrected.

Lena had many secret files on Kryptonian anatomy, but Alex did not need to know that. Also, Alex’s data were probably from Kara herself, which was something Lena lacked. As much as she wanted to leave that place as soon as possible, an unfamiliar instinct told her that the best for her pup was to at least listen to what Alex had to say. 

“What concerns would that be?”

“Superman didn’t present his powers until his teen years, but he always had a different metabolic rate, caloric ingestion, and disease resistance.” Alex was all business, and Lena breathed a relieved sigh. “But Kara did not grow up here and manifested her abilities from day one.”

“Are you suggesting this pup could have super strength in the womb?” The idea sent a cold shiver down her spine, and one hand rested on her belly. They both knew what that would mean for Lena. 

“You’re still here, so not for now. But it’s not unlikely.” Alex donned black gloves over her hands and started the process of sanitizing the probe.

Beyond the glass, Lena found Kara’s eyes on the other side of the DEO floor. She found blue laced with worry and frowned.

“Can she hear us?”

Alex turned her attention from her preparation to find Kara leaning over the railings on the opposite side of the hall. 

“Yes,” Alex answered without a beat. “But she won’t if you ask her not to.”

Lena locked eyes with Kara. “Stop.”

Kara nodded and paced away. She had closed her yellow button-up to cover her suit, but her hair was down and her face free of the usual frames. 

“Have you felt any tiredness? Nausea? Increased appetite?”

Lena’s attention went back to Alex, who was now closing the curtains around the bed to shield Lena from curious eyes. She nodded at each question. 

Alex noted something down on her tablet. As Lena turned to change, Alex called her back.

“I know this can be a lot,” she started, not meeting Lena’s eyes. “But please know you’re in good hands. This pup is family.” She looked up at Lena. Her alpha scent spiked for a moment, and Lena felt a soft wave of safety. 

“Thank you.”

She tried her best not to cry inside the bathroom as she changed. The water was cold against her face, and she could feel her emotions fighting to break free from the endless little boxes she had pushed them into. But she was Lena Luthor, and she was not going to freak out. 

The exam was simple, effective. Alex didn’t ask much, taking measures from the grainy image and typing away on her tablet. When she asked if Lena wanted to hear the heartbeat, the omega hesitated. 

After the whirlwind of emotions that had been the last twenty-four hours, that would be the moment to make it real. She wasn’t sure what to say, but she must have nodded because the next thing she could focus on was the rapid beating coming from the monitor.

“Would you look at that,” Alex said affectionately, and it was the first time in that morning Lena saw her smile. 

“Yeah,” Lena breathed deeply. She cleared her throat when Alex turned the machine off. 

“I’d suggest we keep the checkups here, but I understand if you want to do similar procedures at L-Corp. I’m not an OBGYN, but we have doctors who specialize in alien pregnancy.”

Lena had to admit she did not have that. There could be someone in the market for hire, but if anyone got a whisper of who sired this child… another unfamiliar wave of protectiveness filled her lungs, and she shook her head.

“I agree that we need to keep this in a low profile.” She stood from the table.

Alex discarded her gloves and pulled part of the curtains away to let Lena walk back to the bathroom to change.

Lena caught another glance of Kara at the same place against the railings. She was on her side, one hand fidgeting on her temple, and frowning so deep Lena thought she had never seen Kara Danvers like that.

Blue eyes found her again, and she looked away.

“Did you record it?” Lena asked, one hand on the bathroom doorknob. 

Alex threw her gloves in the trash and was working on pulling the rest of the privacy curtains away. “Yes. But you don’t have to worry, no one will—”

“You can give it to her.” The bathroom door closed softly behind Lena.

#supercorp #drabble #I have another chapter or 2 for this #but it never really took off in my head #but maybe? #idk #throwing this here #because in itself is kinda funny #or at least I hope so #supercorp fanfic #abo #kara danvers #lena luthor

[seenoversundown]

For Death Or Glory : Chapter Two

Warnings: uncomfortable tension, drinking/alcohol, brief mentions of depression (if you read the context clues it’s there), anxious themes, the boys are yet again being ridiculous.

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Charlotte’s first encounter with Jake is none other than memorable. Battling her internal monologue is how she lives her daily life, so this situation is only letting those voices run wild.

Author’s Note: Early chapter two because I am so so so excited for you to meet Charlotte! She’s been one of the most fun characters to create because she has such a specific personality. I hope you love her xoxo see you on Thursday 🥰

Looks That Kill - Motley Crue “If you don’t get her name, you might not make it back.”

“In 300 feet, turn right,” plays through my car’s speakers as I slowly drive through these cramped streets. All the buildings are covered in red brick, some with vines attached; it’s a quaint little area in the city. 

I pull into a parking space and check the maps on my phone again; okay, it’s only a street over; I can just walk that. Grabbing my bag and the folder I’ve been sent with, I step out and promptly lock my doors. Looking at my reflection in my windows, I gently adjust my pants and ensure my shirt is still tucked in. Leaning in and reapplying my dark red lip, I need to make sure I look professional. 

It’s mid-afternoon and fairly quiet, so all I can hear is the click of my shoes as I walk towards the bar. Well, Tavern, rather.  The sign jutting out from the building, the ocean peaking out just behind it, that’s a beautiful accident, now isn’t it? As I approach, I notice the cobblestone street directly across from it. Which must be a nightmare at 1:30 am. 

I took a deep breath before grabbing the door and mentally prepared for this conversation. Or so I thought. The door chime rings loudly, given only ten people are in the bar. The red glow is intense even though it’s still light out. I can’t help but notice the immense amount of pirate memorabilia on the walls and the cute vintage jukebox in the corner. 

As I take it in, I hear the chatter from the patrons sitting at the bar slowly increase in volume. I look over to see a petite man with a curly head of hair laughing loudly at the girl he’s sat next to. Quickly startled out of my focus by a tall, slender gentleman. 

“You look lost,” he quietly says, a completely different vibe from the rest of this place, taking me aback, “Do you need something?” 

“Uh, yes, actually,” I stammer a bit, not expecting someone to come out of thin air like that, “I’m actually here because some paperwork wasn’t completed when the bar opened.” 

“Oh!” his eyes go wide, “he will be the one you want to talk to, darling,” he says rather quickly, pointing towards the bar.

“Could I speak with Mr. Kiszka?” I ask, attempting to sound as confident as I can.

Suddenly, the two sat at the bar looked over to me, with the one behind the bar turning to me before, in unison, they asked, “Which one?” The long-haired ‘girl’ turned to reveal that I was, in fact, very wrong. How many long-haired men are in this bar right now? Jesus Christ. 

I looked into the folder, and seeing his name at the top, I thought, “Um, Jacob Kiszka, I’m sorry.” 

They both point at the one behind the bar, with his hair tied into a low bun, shirt halfway open, and towel tossed over his shoulder. He’s definitely not who I expected to run into here; I figured I would be dealing with a larger, burly sailor-type man who just quit working at the shipyard. 

“What do you need from me, dear?” his voice soft and raspy, which continued to throw me off. 

“Well, I’m sorry to do this to you randomly, Mr. Kiszka,” I start, with him quickly interjecting. 

“Mr. Kiszka is our father. Please call me Jake,” the three of them giggling at his comment. Are they all brothers? I mean, I guess they do look similar the harder I look at them.. Unimportant.

He extends his hand over the bar, and I quickly shift everything into the other arm to meet his. 

“Charlotte Rhodes,” I tell him, trying to focus on my grasp being firm on his hand. 

“Well, Jacob, unfortunately, you did not finish filling out some of this paperwork when you opened the bar officially,” I tell him, watching his smile falter a bit. This is the part I hate.

“I’ve been sent here to tell you what is needed from you. It shouldn’t take too long to get situated.” I start flipping through the paperwork, looking for the pages that he needs. 

“Jesus, Jake,” the long-haired one pipes up, “Paperwork’s the only thing fucking you right now, huh?” followed by the most accurate description of a “ha ha ha” laugh I’ve ever heard. 

“SAM,” the petite curly-headed one interjects, his eyes widening. “Not the time.” 

The one who I’ve now learned is Sam mutters, “Tough crowd,” under his breath. 

I inhale deeply, letting out a “Riiiiiiight” on the exhale. I grab a blank piece of paper from the folder, set it in front of myself, and scribble down little things to not forget. ‘Long hair, facial hair, taller = Sam.’ 

As I’m informing him, I watch a young woman waltz behind the bar, starting to wipe down wine glasses and put them away. She is minding her own business, but nonetheless, she’s behind the bar. 

“Um,” I pause, “Who is that?” I quietly ask, pointing at her subtly. 

I swear I watch the color in his face drain out like a cartoon. Oh no, he hasn’t filed paperwork for her either. Well, that’s karma for you! 

“I just hired her,” the subtle panic lacing his voice, “Uh, I just haven’t had time to, um,” he keeps stumbling over his words. One of his hands finds its place on the back of his neck, giving away that he’s getting overwhelmed. 

I don’t know what comes over me; I open the folder, pull out a packet of stapled paperwork, and flip through it. 

“According to your payroll, Joshua M Kiszka and Daniel R Wagner are the only two employees currently.” Noticing the handful of hired and terminated employees below them and choosing not to bring them up. 

“Only I call-” Sam speaks up, locking eyes with the girl behind the bar, “WE call him Daniel.” 

“Unfortunately, ‘Daniel’ is the only name I was provided,” I know my confusion is apparent on my face. What is going on here? He’s defending Daniel’s name but also grouping this girl into it.. Are they..? 

“The rest of us call him Dan or Danny,” the small one informs me. 

‘Don’t use Daniel, or Sam gets emotional.’ 

“I really don’t mind either way-” Daniel starts to speak, quickly interrupted by Sam. 

“No! That’s my- our name for you!” 

I feel a slight breeze as a slender, brown-haired girl swiftly passes me, walking directly up to Sam and grabbing his arm. 

She looked at me, her face twisted into an uncomfortable expression, and said, “I’m SO sorry about him.” Then she glanced at Jacob and said, “Good luck, Jake.” 

She tugged on his arm, and he stood up. Much taller than I was expecting, he grabbed his drink before walking away. 

“But Bird, she called him Daniel!”

“I’m very sorry, but can’t you see the professional pants she’s wearing? She’s IMPORTANT, Sam!”

“Why would I look at her pants?” 

“Just leave them alone!”

I quickly shake my head, trying to remember where I was in the original conversation before things got… weird. 

“Anyway,” I start, “You only have the two boys and yourself as employees, so if she is also bartending, you need to get her paperwork filled out. Otherwise, then you’re also violating payroll.” I’m watching him process everything I’ve told him, his eyes finally looking to meet mine. I can see the anxiety on his face. His eyes look so sad. 

“Um,” I turn to the small man beside me, “Do you mind giving us a minute?” 

“Absolutely. I’m Josh, by the way,” he reaches his hand out to shake mine, 

“Nice to meet you, Josh. I’m Charlotte.” I firmly shake his hand before he prances away to the booth where Sam, the girl who stole him away, and someone else is sitting. 

“I’m sorry about them, or well, all of this?” Jacob finally said, “I definitely didn’t realize that I hadn’t finished things. I double-checked even before submitting it. I really had no idea. This is the first business I’ve ever run, and I’m doing it alone, basically.” His voice is still riddled with panic, and it sounds like he’s trying to make sense of it in his head. 

I pull out a barstool, set the folder on the bar, and make myself comfortable in the seat. Trying to make myself seem less intimidating has always been funny to me, being a more petite girl. 

“I know you’re working, but the least I can do is offer you a drink,” he says, grabbing a glass from behind him and gently shaking it to get my approval.

“Well, thank you. Whatever is easiest for you, I appreciate it.” I start looking through the folder for what I need, realizing I don’t have everything. I can just email it to him. He seems nervous. I’m sure he’ll panic to get everything in order.  

“Wine? Beer?” 

“Actually, if you have bourbon, that would be fine.” 

I watch his eyes go from sad to almost excited. His emotions are evident on his face right now. The corners of his mouth slowly turn into a little smirk, letting out a laugh of disbelief. 

“That’s my kinda girl,” he says, turning around to grab a bottle from the shelf. 

Is it warm in here? Did he just- You’re working, Charlotte, get a grip. 

He sets the glass of amber liquid in front of me, still smiling to himself. 

“Okay, so is there anything else I messed up?” 

“Not to make things worse, but is she certified?” 

His eyes shut as his head drops back; I see his chest rise slowly and then fall, “Oh, I’m sure she isn’t.” 

“Okay, um, so that’s not as important. Let’s just get you situated with this stuff first?” Why are we being nicer to him? He’s clearly behind on everything; just let him have it.  

“Yeah, whatever I need to do. I really am sorry I didn’t do this before.” 

I’m literally ruining this guy’s entire day. Which is his fault. Well, yes, but he feels so bad about it. I’m more used to having owners storm off, not talk to me, or the opposite, yell directly into my face about it. Also, to be fair, I’m not used to bar owners being close in age to me. I’m definitely more accustomed to older gentlemen who would rather risk tax evasion than get their employees on an actual payroll. 

“It’s okay, Jacob,” I look back at him, setting the papers on the bar for him, “Honestly.” 

His eyes look back and forth between mine like he’s trying to decide if I’m lying. The only thing I’d be lying about is that he is kind of cute. Charlotte, you’re here to do your job and leave. Yes,  but he’s been very receptive and isn’t trying to degrade me for doing my job. Plus, his smile is pretty. 

‘Nice smile’

I take a sip of my drink and then surprise myself. 

“How about I leave all of this with you and come back in a few days to grab it? I’ll be in town for a little bit, and I don’t want to overwhelm you more than I already have.” Okay Charlotte? 

“That would be perfect,” he breathes a sigh of relief, “I can absolutely get everything sorted out. Thank you so much.” His voice is back to a more stable sound, and the anxiety seemingly has subsided. 

The door chime sounds off, causing him to glance over as a handful of people come in. I grab my phone from my bag, tapping the screen to reveal 6:07 p.m. Ah, everybody’s out of work. I watch as he looks back at the girl behind the bar, back at the customers, and then at me. 

“Mel,” he addresses her. Can you just find out what they want, and I’ll take care of it?” She salutes as she drops what she’s doing, mumbling, “Yes, Sir,” as she passes him. His eyes roll slightly at the comment, turning back to me. “I can have Josh clock in if you need me still.”

“No, you’re fine. I’m just going to finish doing some work, and this,” I tap my glass lightly, letting a small smile slip through. His face softens a bit at the gesture. 

“Okay, well, please just stop me if you need anything.” 

I scroll through my emails, continuing to make little notes for myself. This bar has been interesting so far, but, the longer I sit here, the more things continue to happen. I’ve just been trying to take in everything while I’m here. Places like this are few and far between. 

I look up from my phone to see Jacob fiddling with his hair, pulling the hair tie out slowly and sliding it down onto his wrist. He ran his fingers through his ends to loosely comb it out and then wrapped it back up into another little bun. His hair is so long? Also, it’s fun to watch a man pull out his baby hair. I didn’t think they knew about that.  

He flips the sink on, rolling his sleeves up slightly so they sit just above his elbows. I don’t mean to stare at him while he’s doing menial things, but something is holding my attention while he washes his hands that I can’t figure out.  

I try to focus on anything else, turning to see Josh walking up to Daniel with his hand held out. I can’t make out what they’re saying to each other, but Daniel grabs his hand and kisses his knuckles quickly, releasing Josh back into the chaos of the bar. Wait- so.. Who is actually with Daniel? 

A notification pops up on my phone, and it’s an email from my boss. 

‘Charlotte,

Again, I’m sorry to hear that you’re going to be out for a few days. How much time off do you want again? I know we just talked about this. Anyway, I hope everything goes smoothly with the Caravel Tavern. It’s a new business, so it would be a shame to see it go under quickly. I know you’ll give them hell, though.’

It’s a bit disheartening to see that the entire reason I was even coming to Portland has been dismissed, but I guess that’s just business for you. Not that I was necessarily excited to be here for a few days and not work, but at least be mindful of the reason. I offered to stop by to take care of this since I would be in the area, and maybe that should have been my sign that he didn’t care about whatever else I would be doing. 

“You okay over there, Red?” his small, raspy voice somehow cut through the chatter of the bar. I look up to find him opening a beer for someone and setting it on their napkin, his smile fully displayed for them. 

Taking a little sip of my drink, slowly becoming water with a hint of bourbon, I nod once. 

“You really run a tight ship around here, huh?” I say as he walks back over to me. Something in that moment shifts; I don’t know what it is. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, like the subtle compliment caught him truly off guard. I can’t read what emotion he’s feeling, but his eyes are conveying something different. 

“Uh, I do my best,” he finally choked out, “I probably drive them all crazy, but we’re still afloat, so something must be working.” 

Mel laughs as she’s drying glasses behind him, “You’re definitely something.” 

He slowly blinks with a tight smile at her comment, with a quick shake of his head. I lift my glass to my lips, taking the last bearable sip before it’s quite literally just water. 

“I think I’m going to head out,” I tell him, gathering the paperwork he needs, “I’ll leave this with you; if you can please try to get it done in the next couple of days, that would be great.” He just nods at my request. 

“Also, I didn’t have the physical paperwork on me to get Mel on your payroll but I can email the forms to you if that works?” 

“I will do whatever is easiest.” 

I’m still not used to someone cooperating as easily as he has. I came in too prepared for him to be an ass about everything, on top of surprising him with more issues. I’m grateful he isn’t making this more complicated than it needs to be. 

I fold the blank sheet, hide my notes about his brothers, and slide them to him with a pen.

“Here, can you write down your email and phone number for me?” I ask quietly.

“Trying to get my number already? We just met.” He smirks at me as I cringe internally. 

I just stare at him for a second too long, not able to come up with any sort of response to that. 

The silence is deafening between us as his cheeks flush, his eyes darting down to the paper. He swiftly grabs the pen, scribbling down his information for me, writing his name above them, ‘Jake,’ as if I would forget. 

He clears his throat before speaking, “Well, I need to, uh, go work on this, so,” his embarrassment slowly taking him over, “Drive safe, and I will see you, um, soon. Sorry about.. Everything today?” 

I choke back the laugh threatening to escape me, not wanting to make him more uncomfortable than he’s made himself. But it was kind of cute watching him shove his foot in his mouth.  I tuck the paper into my bag, grabbing my things as I stand up from the barstool. 

“Oh,” I speak up, “how much do I owe you?” tapping the rim of my glass. 

He leans over, grabbing the glass with a slight smile on his flushed face, “I think you earned it; it’s on me.” 

“Well, thank you. Have a good night, Jacob. I’ll see you in a few days.” 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I hadn’t been to our lake house in a while—years, probably. We used to spend weeks at a time visiting the lake and spending time on the water. As I got older, so did my parents, we slowly stopped frequenting, but they would never get rid of it. I’ve spent countless hours convincing them to rent it out as an Airbnb, but they refuse. 

The roads are a little daunting at night, with so many sharp turns and practically no street lights. I suppose I should be used to living so far north, but I know that area well. I’ve never really had to drive myself around here; I was always in the backseat for this drive.

Pulling into our dirt driveway, there she is. Our sweet little house absolutely has seen better days, but that’s okay. It feels enough like home to make the next couple of days bearable.  I had been dreading this week, but even seeing the outside, in the dark no less, has made me feel a bit of relief. 

Walking through the mud room and into our kitchen, it smells like a basement. It’s apparent that none of us have visited in a while, and to be fair, it’s October at this point. It’s probably for the best that I’m here for a few days so I can clean things up, and then maybe, next time my parents come, it won’t seem as… musty. It will also distract me from my own brain. 

We do tend to get the better of you. Speak for yourself.

I toss my bags onto my old bed, unable to remember the last time I slept there. I finally sit, letting out a long sigh. Closing my eyes, I let my head drop back, letting the muscles stretch for a moment.  The sadness building up and threatening to escape, I grab my laptop from my bag; I need to be doing something. 

‘Hi,

Sorry for the late response. I stopped by the bar today. They had a lot going on, so I left the paperwork with him to fill out, and I’ll stop back there to grab it before coming home. He seemed eager to get everything done; he’s much younger than I think either of us anticipated. 

As for days off, I think at least this week, and then I’ll be good to go.’ 

I’m not particularly good at giving myself days off, but I love my job, so why would I not work? Also, I rarely have to really connect with people, so it makes it easier to just zone out and get my work done. It’s not often that we have to hound people for their paperwork, and even when we do, it’s usually for the new employees to do. It builds character, I guess. Having grown adults scream at you definitely gives you thick skin. 

Reaching down, I pull the folded paper out of my bag. Typing his email into the To: bar, attaching the documents he needs. 

‘Thank you for being so flexible about this. - Charlotte’ 

I added a subject line, ‘New Employee Payroll Forms’, and double-checked that everything was there. I hit send. Perfect, everything is done. 

Charlotte: Hi Jacob, sorry for the late text- I just sent over those forms to your email. If you can get those done ASAP, that would be wonderful. If you need assistance with anything, feel free to reach out. - Charlotte. 

Feel free to reach out? Why are you offering the opportunity for him to text you? It’s literally the least we can do; you saw how overwhelmed he was. 

I can see the way his face drained of color when I clocked Mel behind the bar. The way he stumbled over his words, his hand finding comfort on the back of his neck, probably to prevent from fidgeting endlessly. He definitely didn��t realize he had messed up. I don’t know why you feel bad, this happens to you all the time. 

I set my laptop on my nightstand and plug in my phone. Everything is done, so now I can just do what I need to. I take the time to make something small to eat and shower, killing just enough time and relaxing enough to where I’m about to sleep. I crawl into bed, pulling my hair up into a bun on the top of my head before snuggling in. 

I reach out to grab my phone and set an alarm for tomorrow morning. I opened my messages just to make sure I hadn’t missed anything or forgotten to reply to anybody. 

Unknown Number: oh don’t apologize. Thank you for being patient with me, i really appreciate it.

I tap on the number at the top, saving the number, ‘Jacob’. I lock my phone, placing it back on my nightstand. Staring up at the ceiling, I attempt to fall asleep. Replaying thoughts of her in my mind, I feel a slight prick in my eyes. Finally, I succumbed to the feeling. I’m not ready.  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Chapter One

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[lizaluvsthis]

Destiny has already decided

- What if (in Triple Threat AU) - 

- Eratica got to talk to her inner self? (Eri) -

Summary: Eratica got sent to the abyss where she happens to meet her inner-self

Talked to @dreamteamredstinger about couple of Lore drops Eratica has and the AU itself, since eri's my fav this story is about her and her innerself ^^

Anyways enjoy lovely fans and to people who love Eratica!

Especially to RedStinger since this is one of the first gift fic he's getting

A white light suddenly burst into the plain white space, revealing a lone woman caught off guard by the unexpected appearance. 

Time seemed to slow down as the person’s eyes widened in realization. For a brief moment, fear consumed her, but she refused to let it control her. 

With a clear and steady mind, she quickly assessed her situation and decided to use her sword as a makeshift stair; she stabbed it into the ground just before her body could touch the floor.

Her boot landed on the top handle, and she gracefully landed safely on the ground, her sword still firmly embedded in the floor.

Her feet stabilized as she took in the surroundings around her. 

Her eyes darted around, taking in the endless white spaces that seemed to stretch indefinitely. 

With a determined look, she pulled her sword from the ground, its weight firmly gripped in her strong grasp.

"Where in the hell am I?" She said aloud, her hood falling to her shoulders revealing her face and her mask hanging loosely around her chin. She took a deep breath, taking off her mask momentarily as she looked around the space in confusion.

The woman's face revealed signs of battles past. A scar on her left eyebrow, a scar on her cheek, and hints of corruption on the left corner of her cheek that crept down her neck. 

"What is this place...?" she asked aloud, her voice echoing faintly in the quiet space, the volume seeming out of sync through the emptiness surrounding her.

Her gaze fell beneath her feet, and she looked at the tile reflecting her appearance. 

Suddenly, a faint glow caught her eye, and her focus shifted towards it.

Her senses tingle with anticipation, bracing for a possible encounter yet to come.

The surrounding atmosphere suddenly darkened, the glow intensified to an explosion of brightness. 

In a quick motion, Eratica shielded her eyes with her cape, protecting them from the blinding light that engulfed them all around her as the explosion occurred.

As the brightness faded and the abyss returned to its previous state of blank white emptiness, Eratica slowly lowered her arm, eyes opening once again. 

She steeled for the unknown, preparing to face whatever may come.

Only to find that she was staring back at...herself?

Her eyes widened in surprise to beheld her inner self, transformed into a young, healthy, and unblemished version.

The other version of her wore a purple sleeve and sported long, flowing hair, and eyes appearing innocent.

She couldn't help but take notice of the other version's stature, as she seemed shorter in comparison to her own. 

This difference was both unsettling and yet strangely captivating.

Eratica felt frozen in place, her hands remaining firmly clamped onto her sword's handle as her eyes locked onto her past self. 

Astonishment washed over her, prompting her to utter "You're...me..." 

Her brow furrowed, deepening the frown that now adorned her face.

Eratica's confusion only deepened as her eyes locked with her past self, the glowing yellow aura around her adding to the surrealness of the situation. 

“But how? How is this possible?” Yet no words came from her past. 

The silence between them felt almost deafening.

As the memories flooded back to Eratica, images of the past came rushing to her mind. 

She remembered the rise of the memes, their dominion over the territory, and the chaos that ensued. 

Bloodshed and destruction ravaged the lands, cities were reduced to heaps of rubble, and an army filled in vengeful hearts was ready to strike. 

The most haunting memory of all was the moment where she had taken her own brother's life…

Eratica could feel the weight of the memory as it pressed upon her conscience, its presence overwhelming.

In a desperate attempt to deny the reality of her past actions.

She took a few steps backward, her body instinctively distancing itself from the horrors she had inflicted. 

Her inner-self, Eri, now stood before her, an expression of anger evident on her face as she posed the question, "Why...?"

Eratica's body stiffened slightly as her mind wrestled with memories, her feet momentarily rooted in place. 

With a deep, purposeful breath, she managed to center once more, bringing clarity to her thoughts. 

Her attention returned to Eri, watching as her former self stood there, tears welling up in her eyes and a look of anger and hurt painted across her face.

"Why did you do that...? You..." Eri started, her voice trembling in a mixture of sadness and betrayal.

Eri's voice rang out in anguish, blaming Eratica for the death of her brother.

“You killed my brother!"

 However, Eratica responded to a cold, impassive tone, her face lacking emotion as she firmly stated, 

"He is not our brother. He has become a parasite. And parasites always will be parasites until they've grown to harvest from the mind of each being's existence..."

Eri's eyes dropped to the ground, her fists clenching tightly as she digested the harsh words spoken by Eratica.

Eratica remained cold and unflinching as she listened to Eri's outburst. 

"Why are you sad? I did what we were supposed to do, we finished our job," 

she stated matter-of-factly, in a hint of confusion.

But Eri's anguish only intensified, her frustration and anger reaching a boiling point as she yelled, "THIS ISN'T RIGHT! ALL OF THIS IS YOUR FAULT!" 

To a surge of emotion, she ran up to Eratica and lashed out to a weak punch, but Eratica dodged the attack effortlessly.

Her glow intensified, illuminating the space around her. 

In a sudden motion, she conjured up a small sword that bore a striking resemblance to Eratica's own. 

To a determined push forward, she issued a battle cry, her voice implied with anger.

 "YOU TOOK EVERYTHING AWAY FROM ME!"

Her swing came down hard, the force behind it powerful enough to almost knock Eratica off her feet. 

But the present Eratica stood her ground, her blade held firmly as a shield, defending herself from the onslaught.

“And who are you to think of that to yourself?!”

Eratica's anger flared, visible in the purple glow of her eyes shifting from red. 

She dodged Eri's attack, knocking the sword out of her grasp and pinning her to the ground. 

Her sword pointed menacingly at Eri, Eratica issued a harsh decree.

"You are nothing. You are not worth being yourself anymore," she declared, her voice cold and commanding. 

"I am in control here. And no such parasites shall live."

Her vision fixed on Eratica, a look of empathy and contemplation on her face as she uttered the question, 

"What have I become...?"

Looking down at her younger self, Eratica remained cold and neutral, her eyes devoid of kindness or mercy.

The anger and hatred that resided in her heart radiated outward, consuming her without a trace of compassion.

Eri's voice trembled in regret as she confessed, 

"I've become the worst to everyone, haven't I?” 

Eratica spoke “They think I'm the villain, but I tried everything to save their lives for this." 

Her grip tightened on her sword, anger welling up within her, but she fought to keep hers in check, slowly calming down.

Eratica's voice trailed off, choked in anger. 

She took a deep breath before speaking again, 

"And yet, what did I get in return? Nothing but the loss of my brother, all because of those damned pests."

There was a brief moment of quiet as the two versions of Eratica stood facing each other, both reflecting on the shared struggle and the pain that had driven them to such extreme measures. 

Though separated by time and circumstance, they shared a common bond in the loss of their brother, 

a pain that had consumed their hearts and led them down a path of anger and violence.

Eri's words echo a sense of self-blame and regret. 

She held accountable for the choices made.

 On the other hand, Eratica remained steadfast in her belief that the memes were the root cause of their troubles.

 She wholeheartedly believed that the chaotic influence of the memes had led to all the suffering and chaos.

"But- what about Minion...?”

Eri's words brought up an old and painful memory, and Eratica instinctively flinched at the mention of Minion.

"No- don't bring this up now, she doesn't matter to me” Her response was brief and dismissive, trying to suppress the guilt connected to their past.

But Eri persisted, her voice added frustration as she yelled. "Then why did you stop?" Eratica paused, caught off guard by the question.

She followed by turning her head to the left at her prompting, and her eyes widened at what she saw.

She stood silent. “Don't you see the other side? The bright side of life? Can't you see how it is for other people that can have different paths?" 

Looking to her left, Eratica was met to an unexpected sight—a vibrant, colorful world filled in joy and laughter. 

People moved about, their faces etched that had radiant smiles and eyes twinkling in mirth. Life seemed to hum with energy and optimism. 

Everything here is so... vibrant and alive.

Eratica turned to the other side and saw the scene unfolding before her. 

The white plain abyss loomed, and SMG3 was there, defending SMG4 with his arms protectively wrapped around him.

Minion had bravely stepped in front of the meme guardians, a look of determination and fear mixed on her face.

She was frozen, unable to move, the weight of her feelings pinning her in place.

Eratica's eyes, something stirred within her. 

She was quiet for a moment, the weight of truth sinking in.

"We were different from our world. We killed our brother... and what did it cost? All of it, just because others turned into those insane meme parasites? Was it all just for our brother to return? Hoping everything would finally end? Go back to normal?”

Eratica walked up to the front, she stared at Minion's face. 

Regret and guilt seeped into her expression, the weight of her actions and the consequences they had brought upon them all. 

"LOOK AROUND YOU, ERATICA!" Inner Eri's voice cut through the air, feeling frustration and despair. 

"YOU'VE DONE SO MUCH HARM!"

"I did it to protect the people!" Eratica retorted, her voice firm and resolute, standing unwavering in her convictions.

But Inner Eri's response was equally intense. "THIS ISN'T OUR WORLD! IT DOESN'T WORK LIKE THAT!”

As Eratica's resolve cracked, the pieces of her facade falling away, she stood there, dumbfounded by the realization that hit her. 

Inner Eri's blunt words struck a chord, causing her to question everything she thought she understood.

"Take a hint," Eri urged "What do you think the people around this world act like? Four's crew, who weren't even affected by the meme parasite?"

Eratica paused, letting the question sink in as she looked around, seeing the world differently for the first time.

"It's because they're good people, they protect others from the dangers that are a threat to their world. Look outside. 

Don't you see that nature is still living? On its peaceful side, you wonder why. 

Because they're the main guardians. 

They guard to protect whatever is harming their own home! And what do you think you're doing?!"

Eri's eyes glanced at the sword, she urged, 

"Please... think about your decisions... think it all through... I don't want us to... to go insane again... please..." 

As she spoke, she slowly raised her right hand, offering it to Eratica, hoping for her to take it and embrace the path of understanding and healing.

As Eri stood there, offering her hand to Eratica, she noticed that her hand was fading away, slowly vanishing before her eyes.

Eri's time is running out.

Eratica stood there, torn apart to her and the weight of her past actions. 

Eratica's voice was soft and strained as she spoke, "Please... make a decision... I don't want ourselves to end up in a big mess like this... let it all go... it was all... in the past…"

Eratica felt confused. 

In her world, the guardians had always been in control. But now that she saw them in this world, they seemed different. 

She tried to find why they seemed so different, but it made her doubt what she had thought was true.

As Eri pleaded with Eratica, the urgency in her voice was palpable. 

"Promise me you'll change," she began, her voice barely holding back tears as she spoke of her brother and their world. 

"For us, your brother, the world we were in... promise me," She begged, her hand still extended, the promise hanging in the air. 

"PROMISE ME!" she cried, the weight of her request clear in her emotional outburst.

Eratica's gaze fell upon the sword before her, the embodiment of her identity and the symbol of her convictions. 

It took a moment of deep contemplation for her to reach a decision. As her sword clattered to the ground, a sense of resignation washed over her.

A form of a heavy sigh, she admitted.

"I can't promise that." 

The words hung in the air, went to a mixture of regret and acceptance.

Despite her problems, Eratica knew that some things couldn't be guaranteed.

As the weight of the decision bore down on her, Eratica had self-doubt. 

Her inner self slowly fading away and leaving her to choose her own, the significance of the moment magnified.

The silence seemed to only amplify the tension of the moment as Eri stood there, knowing that whatever decision she made would have far-reaching consequences.

As Eri's words echoed through the air, a bittersweet chuckle escaped her lips. 

Forming a gentle, saddened smile, she continued.

“Then you are an idiot." 

The weight of her statement hung in the air, a stark contrast to the finality of her fading away into the ether.

Eratica stood there, alone in the silent aftermath, grappling the weight of her choice and the consequences that lay ahead. 

The absence of Eri's presence left a void in her heart, and the echoes of her words still resonated within her mind, a bittersweet reminder of the choices made and the paths that had led them there.

As Eratica gripped her sword tighter, determination burning in her eyes, she declared in a firm voice, "There is nothing WORTH for me to give... I've paid the price, and I must end it." 

As Eratica sat there, a wave of emptiness washed over her like a merciless tide. 

She finds it hard to understand, grappling the question at her thoughts. 

“Why does it hurt?” It was a question that had no easy answer, and as the weight of pain and loss settled upon her, she wept without restraint, shedding tears that seemed to come from the depths of her wounded soul.

As tears streamed down her face, Eratica felt a touch on her shoulder and provided comfort.

The faint figure of a familiar soul stood beside her.

Its voice cutting through the haze of her pain as it spoke words that offered both guidance and purpose.

The red gleam flickered in the dim light as the familiar soul urged her on, 

"Come on, Eratica. It is your DUTY to save everyone. Before it is too late, you must fulfill your destiny"

A determined glint in her eyes, Eratica wiped away her tears and stood upright, gripping her sword tightly.

The voice of the familiar soul's encouragement echoed in her mind, reminding her of the weight of her responsibility.

"You're right," she acknowledged, her voice firm yet in a hint of sadness. 

"I must... for the people and everyone," Eratica took a deep breath, filling her lungs to a mix of resolve and lingering guilt. 

Despite the conflict that gnawed at her heart, she steeled following the path she was setting her upon.

In a final swing of her sword, Eratica sent forth a cutting arc that tore open a portal, its shimmering light rippling in the surrounding environment.

With a heavy heart, (I'm sorry) the words tinged in regret of the path laid out before her. 

"But destiny... has already... decided."

~☆~★~☆~★~☆~★~☆~

#smg4 triple threat au #lizaluv #smg4 #smg34 #(minor ship) #smg4 smg3 #smg3 #my art #redstinger665 #triple threat au #smg4 au #eratica #smg4 eratica #minion #smg4 minion #oc #smg4 oc #my fic

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Bonding Rituals

Previous =-= Next

Author's note: More of Claude in mermay. That's @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Cedric.

Summary: Claude hears some strange noises and investigates, what he sees is some strange bonding, and vaguely masochist ritual between a couple of Black Templars.

Warnings: none? Let me know if I need to add anything!

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k

He continues to swim through the water, he’d put the wretched mirror, that might be cursed back into one of his pockets. There are quite a few different pods and schools of space marines in these waters, loyalist, renegade. All of First Born, and he’s only sensed the rare Primaries Space Marine. One of the primaris marines that he’s sensed that are nearby is a good friend of his Cedric- who he’s not seen a long time, since their assignments came down and they were to be sent to different chapters. He’s… he’s fine. Just… it’s the stress from everything and getting shifted into these strange waters after being nearly killed in battle that has him all out of sorts and… seeing Lies in the Mirror.

If he was… if he was a dreadful, hated shape shifter, surely he would know? The Mechanicus would have said something? Or not. But his pod, they don’t shift, or, at least they hadn’t. The Primaris Space Marines who exhibited Oddness or Powers far faster or more strongly were taken away by the Mechanicus… never to be seen or heard of again. That’s why he never said anything about the whispers, the green, the giggles. For it would have him die while in training and his body parts used to further the goals of their handlers. Dying is something that happens, to all, but he’d rather die in glorious service, rather than found wanting and Not Being What He Should be.

Claude had been swimming about lazily, it was during one of his days off and during his free time, he was ... mostly recovered from learning about that Lie in the Mirror. That shard of a mirror that feels like it burns in his armor's pocket. But for some reason he can't discard it, try and trade it away or something. When he tries he gets a wicked headache and some voice within him warns him not to.

So he doesn't and very reluctantly has kept it. As he starts to spiral and brood about the mirror shard he hears an odd clanging noise. And voices speaking in one of the primary languages that the Black Templars speak, as well as more odd clanging noises. Curious, he swims in the direction of the noises, laughter and voices speaking. He sees a mildly scowling Cedric who has his Apothecary 'you are doing something stupid and I have to watch' face.

One of the other Black Templars that he recognizes is Ramiel. He's in an odd large stick with another back templar seated across from him precariously on the wooden stick. He sees that Ramiel was just given a large, heavy dark pan. The pair of Black Templars seem to the shit talking each other- from the way they are posturing. Then Ramiel brings up the pan, takes a swing and smacks the other Black Templar on the side of his head. The other Black Templar sways a moment, before righting himself. Claude hadn't meant to let out the worried and startled trill, as all three Black Templars turn to look to him.

"What are you two doing?" Claude asks them flummoxed.

"We are seeing who's better at taking hits to the head," Ramiel explains, "The person who loses is the one who falls off of the stick."

"That sounds like a good way to get a concussion." Claude says with a frown.

"It is!" Cedric says glaring at his fellow Black Templars, "but this is also one of the bonding rituals of the Black Templars."

Claude has some questions and statements that he'd like to ask, but he knows that a lot of his questions or words wound sound highly insulting at best, and they'd likely get offended at his line of questions. But- as he blinks, with sudden clarity and understanding. He now understands Black Templars a Lot Better and why they are Like That. They beat the shit out of each other with Heavy Pans. For Fun. He's heard the rants from Apothecary Type Space Marines about the dangers of Head wounds and concussions, and how, even with the advanced medicines, technology and healing factors, that Concussions are still quite... tricky and long-lasting injuries that could have long term consequences for the person receiving the concussion. Even years later.

He looks towards Cedric, who huffs out, "The Black Templar Apothecaries have tried to get this particular bonding ritual ended, or at least replaced with a less effective thing to beat our brothers with."

"It wouldn't be as fun or as meaningful!" Protests the eldest of the Black Templars.

Cedric's expression soured, while Ramiel almost shrunk in on himself. Claude eyed Ramiel, who'd been nearly dead upon arrival on Ancient Terra. He's mostly recovered, but is so much quieter than he remembers his brother- no, he's a cousin now, being. Then again, Ramiel's had the honor of becoming an Apprentice Chaplain, of which type he doesn't know. He's also noticed how clingy Cedric's been with Ramiel, and how anxious the latter has been around other Black Templars, other First Born Cousins as well.

He's unsurprised that Ramiel's likely had to suffer the wrath and overly critical and harsh reprisal in their Era from their First Born brothers and cousins for being themselves. He heard about the schism that happened in the Black Templars, and heard of how many of the Primaris were being slaughtered for being 'abominations' which they are not. They are good, loyal, obedient, strong, clever, Angels of the Imperium.

He wonders if any of their First Generation of Primaris Marines have had good stories with First Born or not. Except for the time they spent with the Ultramarines, who'd sent them from Mars to their chapter assignments. Then he remembers what Catius had told him of what happened to him before he'd arrived on Terra and a bitter, sour taste floods his tongue and his expression soured.

"I have heard that Catius has found some of his fellow... brothers who were on the same ship as him, back before his arrival on Terra," Claude says.

Catius had stripped his armors of colors, and from his nightmares and what he'd told him, he's going to respect the other's decision. Although, he's curious of what he's going to do next, and which colors he's going to choose. Whether it's is old ones, which he's going to reclaim, or if he's going to choose a different Chapter to paint his armor in. Claude is drawn out of his thoughts by hearing another loud clang and Ramiel starting to flail and falls off of the wooden stick. The older Black Templar roaring in delight that he'd won the bout. While Cedric swims over and checks them both to make sure they haven't done more than superficial damage. Both of them had been wearing their helmets during the 'smack each other in the temple with a heavy pan' 'ritual' and only had minor bruising.

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #space marine husbandry #warhammer #adeptus astartes #mermay 2024 #mermay #mermay 40k #poor unfortunate souls au #poor unfortunate souls #oc: claude #oc: ramiel #oc: cedric #unnamed black templar oc

[adelphenium]

is there a particular reason your tknp fish photo art has reblogs off? I only ask because I love it sm and wanted to rb!!

hello hello, ty for the ask!

initially i had turned off all reblogs on my np / tknp art due to the alleged np burner situation just so i could think through and process everything. while i'm still not 100% settled on my stance with relation to the "real" and the "fiction" of rpf, i've (tentatively) come to the conclusion that even as my work is tied to the public images + likenesses of these players, its value comes from the derivative nature of fan works that goes so much beyond the original individuals.

it's actually pretty funny timing that you sent this ask in when you did! i was reading some amazing tknp fic this morning that addresses how fandom community at its core works to reappropriate source material, and how that disjunct between fanon / "canon" is a troubled but necessary one.

the main thing about rpf engagement for me personally is that fic offers such a rich space for reimagination and pushing + prodding at the unsavoury bits of real life, but fanart feels more surficial. i don't quite feel comfortable depicting people whose words and actions are at such odds with my own without being able to qualify those depictions, but i also know that what we do here is meant to be messy and unorthodox and ultimately fun. while i'll oscillate between positions, i've turned reblogs back on! though as of rn, i don't plan to draw np again.

this definitely won't be a one-and-done scenario for as long as i'm in rpf circles, but i think it's an important consideration to be grappling with. thanks for sticking around if you've read this far and for liking my art!!💌💌

#ask! #yjtalks #you asked a simple question and i just word vomited but these are Things that i spend wayy too much time thinking about.. ty 4 reading :")

[delirious-donna]

Can’t stop thinking about wedding night sex with Kakashi, HOLY CRAP! 😮‍💨

Romantic, sweet Kakashi with my virgin self, big cock, soft panting, whispered praises, creampie, BARKBARKBARKBORK!!! 🥵

I’m a SUCKER for soft, romantic, first-time stuff, and the mother of all commitments. Please forgive my rambling thirst, but I felt you’d understand!!!

ANON!!! Pleaseeeeee these thoughts are so freaking sweet and hot and fhfkdifhdkdodjfbfj!! 🫠

Soft, affectionate, loving kashi with his virgin wife on their wedding night?! Oh I might just pass out thinking about it. I get you, beloved, I get you so much!

Now, what if I write it? What if I’ve got a title? What then? Oops too late because I have and I do. 🤭

Will it be out tonight? Hell no, but I’ve started and will get it posted as soon as I can… buckle up baby cause our hubby Kakashi is gonna own us completely when I’m through.

#delirious answers #nonnie ask #kakashi hatake #this ask sent me into space and back again #i need it i need it i need it

[rosicheeks]

i do not know if i ever sent this to you. i have posted it. i hope you like it Princess.

#uhhhhhm no you HAVE NOT SENT THIS TO ME BEFORE?!?! #I literally am speechless #I’m not super talky right now #but even if I was I feel like I’d still be fucking speechless #like I already said I love your writing 🩷 #and it fucking BLOWS ME AWAY when people write about me or use me as an inspiration #like????????? what??????? me???????????! #I’m going to keep this close to my heart and look at it whenever I’m feeling down #I don’t remember if I said that already but it’s true #I need to get a journal or a cute box to put things like this in so I can just grab it and look through them when I’m feeling shitty #one thing I needed to say is the fact that you shared this with me now of all times??? is kinda crazy to me #idk if it’s a coincidence or if the universe/God/whoever/whatever is trying to tell me to go back into music and singing #not going to go into it too much but I’ve been looking at my life a lot lately #and I’m realizing I’m not getting any younger…. I know I’m still young but if I don’t do something soon - #my life is going to completely pass before my eyes and I really really don’t want that #I’m *finally* going to get mental help soon (long story but I have to wait a few weeks) #and once I’m actually mentally stable I can focus on what I want to do with my life #so I’ve been thinking a lot about my performing arts background and then randomly a get an email from a choir director I know #asking if I could please join the choir for their Easter performance cause they could really use my high notes #and she just kept complimenting me and it felt really nice ☺️ #then when I went to the first rehearsal I sat next to this girl and we were singing a part and the first sopranos go up to a high A #and I can hit it easily but most of them couldn’t so it felt like I was going this mini solo lol #but she asks me what my range is and I told her that back when I trained I could sing queen of the night which I think goes up to an F6 #and she was talking about how impressive that is #and it made me think about if I actually trained and got back into it how good I actually could get #I don’t mean this to be like ‘look at me look at me I’m so good’ #it just feels nice to have a little bit of a direction again #who knows if I’ll actually go down the music path again but it does sound damn exciting #I miss it with all my heart - I miss singing and performing and acting… I even miss music theory #anyway rant over and i ran out of space but thank you so much I seriously can’t thank you enough 😭🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

[deadsetobsessions]

“I ate paint once,” Danny nonchalantly threw out in the middle of game night.

The entire table stopped. Heads whipped towards Danny.

“Yeah, me too. Cardamom yellow was my favorite. Ugly as hell but the chemicals just tasted right.” Tim replied, using the distraction to nab some of Bruce’s money. Monopoly money, that is. Everyone’s heads snapped towards Tim, only Cass and Danny (who was part of the scheme) caught him cheating.

“Really? I think mine was those spray can blue cosmos paint. But that might have been more my thing for space than the actual taste.”

“WHY WERE YOU EATING PAINT?!” Dick asked, looking like he wanted to lunge over the table and shake Danny until he puked out paint. Bruce looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

“Yeah, what the fuck, Tim?” Jason snickered.

“In my defense,” Danny grinned. “I was left unsupervised. Also, Steph, you owe me $24 in rent.”

“Ugh! I’m almost out of money! Can’t you loan me some, Alfred?”

“I am sorry, Miss Stephanie, you are not qualified for another loan. In fact, one of your properties is about to be confiscated as per the collateral agreement.”

“Noooo!” Stephanie made dramatic dying noises.

“What was your excuse, Timothy?” Damian asked, eyes glued to the board and determined to win the game.

“Hey, I was probably less supervised than Danny was.”

“Yeah,” Danny perked up. “My parents brought us down to their lab all of the time. Taught us a lot of stuff.”

“Really? Like what?” Duke asked, casually slapping away Tim’s sneaky hands.

“Oh, like what a rocket launcher sounded like up close! And how to build a laser gun! Oh! And what human organs looked like when they’re fresh!” Danny chirped, collecting his money from a stunned Stephanie’s hands. He looked up.

“Oh, don’t worry! I at least learned what not to do when it comes to lab safety. And we wore hazmat suits to protect ourselves from the radiation.” Danny smiled in a ditzy fashion as the table fell silent in a horrified manner. Cass tapped his arm amusedly, but allowed his bullshit to stand. After all, it’s not like he lied.

“Radiation?” Duck’s voice raised a couple of octaves. Oh yeah, Danny’s going to laugh about that pitch for a long while.

“Organs?!” Jason’s hands closed around the plastic house he was holding rather forcefully.

“Do you even know what basic lab safety practices are, Danny?” Damian demanded, finally looking up with brows furrowed. He rolled the dice and grabbed a mystery card. He gets $100 from Alfred.

“How old were you??” Duke asked.

“Like… 8, when they first brought me in?”

“Eight.” Bruce rumbled, slipping into a more Batman like persona. When Danny sent him a confused look, Bruce straightened back into his Bruce persona. “Wow, they must have trusted you a lot!”

“Sure?”

“What were their names again?” Stephanie asked sweetly, Cass nodding at him.

“Jack and Maddie Fenton.” Not that they’ll find them here, considering his parents are dead and in another universe.

“Cool, cool, cool!” Stephanie blinked, beaming as her hands formed lethal fists underneath the table.

Danny blinked and tilted his head in an unassuming way, pretending like he had no idea what Stephanie was thinking of. He sneakily handed over $600 to Cass in order to complete his monopoly on his side of the board.

Danny stood up and spread his hands out, one hand clutching his new found victory.

"Well, lady and gents, you've all been floundering against the inevitable tide of capitalism. I am here, as a reminder that you can never win against the hopelessness that will be your financial ruin! I, Danny Fenton, have obtained a quarter of the board and therefore have won against even your best efforts!" He cackled, holding up his fan of properties triumphantly. He shot a mischievous grin at Cass, who held up a solemn thumbs up in support for his monetary takeover.

"... Danny, are you... planning on a career in villainy?" Bruce asked, after a brief and total wave of shocked silence. Damian looked like he was having a conniption at having been bested, unknowingly. Yeah, Danny was disarming like that.

"Yeah, that was concerning." Tim piped up, nabbing a ten from a shell-shocked Damian.

"Hey! The Riddler gives surprisingly good monologues! And he's really loud, so it's hard not to pick up on things. Duke, your turn." Danny sat back down, pouting. The villainy comment was a little too close to his fears.

"Damn it." Duke, who had rolled, landed smack middle of Danny's territory. He handed over a sheaf of bills to a grinning Danny.

"Wait a minute! You have cheated!" Damian bolted upwards from his seat, finally done running through the purchases he remembered Danny making. "You acquired that property not within the games' rules!"

"Okay, first of all, the rule book is a suggestion, like lab safety rules," Danny saw the others open their mouths to protest, but he quickly shut it down. "Second, there's totally no rules about selling and buying places from a private owner so suck on it. And thirdly? Cass sold it to me, so you all can take it up with her."

"Diabolical!" Damian muttered indignantly.

"... Dammit." Dick sighed, falling back into the chair and balancing on its two legs. He couldn't say anything, considering his current of bankruptcy.

"Danny. Danny, I'll buy a property from you." Jason said, eyeing one of Danny's other properties near his own cluster.

"What do you have that would interest me?" Danny asked, falling back into his Vlad-like imitation.

"Ew, don't do that," Steph reached over to jab him in the arm.

"Yeah, Jason, what do you have?" Duke said, the lovely subtle instigator that he is.

"Red Hood's signature."

The others blue-screen, gaping at the actual audacity Jason had to offer up something that would take him no effort. Danny, prepared with a poker face that came with lying straight to Jazz's ever perceptive eyes about whether he nabbed the last of her ice cream or not, was prepared.

"Red Hood? The condom guy working out of the... um. Upper East Side?" Danny asked, pretending to hesitate. He knows where Jason operated. That doesn't mean he couldn't simply pretend otherwise. For science, of course.

...

...

...

The table howled with laughter, Jason's indignant spluttering unable to say anything against Danny's wide eyed look of innocence. Cass leaned against the table, chuckles falling out of her mouth and eyes crinkled in mirth. Dick had fallen out of his chair, helplessly wheezing on the floor. Duke is hiding his face in his hands, mirroring Bruce's pose as they both shake from silent laughter. Damian is smirking, wicked and sharp as he smugly stared at Jason. Stephanie and Tim are leaning against each other, repeating "the CONDOM GUY" in alternating and increasingly louder voices. Alfred had a smile on his face and a tight grip on the bills in front of him that betrayed his amusement.

"He's a crime lord!" Jason exclaimed, indignant.

"Uh, okay. Well, I mean, why would I want a crime lord's signature? I don't want to be on his radar. Or echolocation or whatever. He's... a Bat, right? That's what you guys call that group, yeah?"

"How do you know the Rogues better than the vigilantes?!" Jason glared at his unhelpful family. Those assholes better prepare for a load of rubber bullets the next time they're on patrol near Crime Alley.

"Hey, it's not my fault the vigilantes here are unsociable. Maybe if they monologued more, I'd know who they are."

"Wouldn't- wouldn't that make them more villain like?" Tim asked, stuttering from his laughter.

"I dunno?" Danny replied, enjoying his the family's unabashed joy. "I mean, they're pretty legit and they help people already so I guess they don't need to be sociable... but still I swear I haven't heard anything about Batman other than that he grunts and is mean towards criminals."

Is mean towards criminals, Duke mouthed at a recovering Dick who was in the process of heaving himself back up. It sent him careening back down to the floor with restrained giggles. Cass tapped Danny, reminding him to eat some food.

"Tt. Of course not. They're efficient at their jobs and have no need to be seen as welcoming to criminals." Damian puffed up.

"Yeah, but they've gotta feel safe, right?" Danny shrugged as he plucked a cookie from the cookie platter. "The... one with the sword, what was it?"

"Robin." Damian supplied, eyes narrowed and trained on him.

"Yeah, the baby bird. The kids think his swords are cool so they trust him. But like, the others? The flippy blue one? Not so much."

"Wait," Dick said from the floor. "They don't trust Nightwing?"

"Nah, they trust him to protect them, but he has a history of bringing the kids to the police, you know?"

"What's wrong with that?"

Danny shrugged. "ACAB. But also because everybody knows that half the guys in the GCPD and CPS are child traffickers."

"Wait, what?" Jason and Tim straightened.

Bruce piped in, the emotional whiplash of amusement to concern to amusement to concern visibly making itself known on the man's baffled face. "I thought Batman and Commissioner Gordon took care of that?"

"Sure, the obvious ones." Danny hesitated. Well, he's pretty sure they think he's a meta so... "There's... a meta trafficking ring that they're a part of. That's. That's kind of what I was running from."

Danny looked up pleadingly. Cass placed a hand on his arm in comfort, not knowing that he was fibbing about running from them.

Danny was on the streets helping his own Alley metas to run from them.

Danny is as feral as she was, and that meant he could hide just as much as she could read off of him. Cass was the best and he felt kind of bad about lying to her, successfully or not.

"Uh. Some people said you know Batman, Bruce. I know- uh, that might not be the case but if you do, could you ask him to look into it?" Danny made his eyes tear up. "And maybe he wouldn't care about me much, I mean, I know he doesn't really like metas but if he helps out, I could totally like, leave the city once the kids are safe, promise."

Ooh, Danny put a little too much sincerity into that. He could practically hear the hearts breaking in the game room as everyone glared at Bruce.

"You won't have to leave."

"... Promise?" And Danny's voice was a little too desperate, too hopeful, because Bruce's eyes tugged down in sadness.

"Promise." He rumbled, all Bruce Wayne and all Batman. Danny's core warmed. Danny also saw the rest of the family's faces darken in pure agreement. And partial wrath.

"Yeah! We'll kick Batman's ass if he even thought about kicking you out!" Stephanie proclaimed.

"He's far more proficient in combat than you are, Brown." Damian immediately leapt to Batman's defense and that was that.

Well, later, as Danny was "sleeping" and Phantom was hovering in the cave, invisible and intangible, he got confirmation that his Alley meta kids were going to be safe, soon.

After all, the entire Batclan was suiting up and baying for blood, with Oracle's all encompassing presence behind them, fingers reaching for their enemies' weak points.

#batman #danny phantom #dc x dp #jason todd #bruce wayne #tim drake #dick grayson #red hood #nightwing #red robin #duke thomas #the signal #damian wayne #robin #stephanie brown #the spoiler #cassandra cain #black bat #oracle #barbara gordon #bamf danny phantom #danny phantom playing victim but he's an unreliable narrator #and was totally marked for trafficking before brucie wayne picked him up #danny trauma dumping on family game night #lab safety? danny doesn't know her #danny experiencing familial affection: who me?? #danny winning monopoly like a capitalist villain that Sam unknowingly told him how to be via her rants #danny ate paint as an experiment #I'd like it to go on record that've I have never eaten paint

[ladadiida]

𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 as much as you wanted to stay by his side, you couldn't bear the thought of watching him fall in love with other women while you're stuck at the kitchen washing dishes and measuring ingredients. so you dreamt of leaving, of traveling to different islands to share your lovely songs and tunes; but the more your desire to leave grows, the more sanji finds himself drowning in your warmth.

or,

you and sanji over the years, wherein five times you tried to leave him and the one time you finally did, despite his refusal to let you go.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 musician reader, 5 + 1 things, pining, unrequited love, not actually unrequited love, heavy (kind of) angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 HERE IT IS! the response to the sneak peek was crazy, and so i rushed to get this done. i only watched the live action so beware of minor mistakes if you ever saw one. english is also not my first language and you are welcome to correct me anytime for any grammatical errors. title is a lyric from the last time by taylor swift ft. gary lightbody. this fic is also posted in ao3 with its full summary and WITH A BONUS CHAPTER. enjoy reading!

𝐰𝐜 11.3k

"There you are."

Your soapy, wet hands almost dropped the ceramic plate you were currently washing in the dirty kitchen sink as soon as you heard a familiar smooth and honeyed voice. Abruptly turning off the sink so that the sound of his approaching footsteps were clear to your ears, you wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand before turning your body towards him.

He was carrying a stack of plates, a fresh batch to add to the pile you had to wash, with an obnoxious yet handsome smile plastered on his lips. You took a deep breath to calm the growing irritation at the bottom of your stomach, reminding yourself that this was your job and you only had a couple of hours to endure until you're free to lock yourself up in your bedroom. You were particularly looking forward to writing today, and the thought of finishing the lyrics to your new song tonight slightly eased your mood. Accepting your fate, you pointed to the remaining space beside the sink.

"Place it there." You told him, albeit begrudgingly as you turn on the sink again and pour more soap on the battered sponge.

You took a mental note to ask Zeff later about buying new sponges, and if you were lucky to catch him in a good mood, you'll put in a request to get the sink fixed and cleaned. Your eyes scanned over the grime and rust around the area. If you were going to spend the rest of your life washing dishes, then you might as well get a proper kitchen sink to do so.

An amused laugh fell out of the golden haired man you grew up with, surprised at your compliance to do the job you hated. The sound nearly sent your poor heart into a dizzying whirlwind of little nuisances called emotions. "What a hardworking woman."

"I could say the same to you. It seems like you have a new record today." You said while you splashed dirtied bowls with soap water, smiling at him teasingly, "Thought you would've been kicked out of the line by now."

"The old man just can't help but to accept the fact that I am a greater cook than him." He smirked, wiping a knife with a dish cloth. Trying not to roll your eyes, you shook your head at his usual display of arrogance, yet you can't help but to grin as you began to hear scratching sounds against the floors.

"Then you better get those chopped carrots ready." You replied, and when you got to finish your sentence, the doors to the kitchen swung open, revealing the head chef.

Zeff's cold and steely eyes immediately landed on the blond. He walked towards him with a fast pace despite only having one leg, his braided mustache bouncing in each step.

"Aye, aye, aye. Why haven't you started on the carrots yet, little eggplant? Can you get any slower?" He scolded, loud enough for the whole staff to hear, but none of them even flinched. You returned back to your plates and glasses, smiling softly. This was part of your routine everyday: to listen in their silly arguments.

However, before the younger chef can reply, you butted in, "Sanji fetched some of the plates for me. Since there's a lunch rush, I couldn't leave the kitchen."

Zeff let out a low hum. You couldn't even see Sanji's face, but you knew him well enough to know that he was smiling triumphantly, knowing that he won this time. After a few minutes of contemplating, the head chef clicked his tongue. "Don't defend him, little lass. But I'll let it slip this time. What are you waiting for, then? Start cutting them!"

"Yes, chef." Sanji answered in a jovial manner, placing the carrots on a chopping board.

Twisting the faucet lever so that the water flow from the sink is gentle and quiet, you then paid attention to their little banters every now and then. You brought up a wine glass and positioned it by your side to try to get a glimpse of the two most important men in your life. Through their reflection on the glass, you can see Zeff hunching over Sanji's knifework, nodding every time the vegetables were correctly sliced.

On the other hand, Sanji was unbothered by the head chef's observations and continued to cut the ingredients calmly. Some of the strands in his hair fell down on one side of his face, covering an eye, and most people would think that it was an unusual way of styling hair; yet it was one thing out of many that you loved the most about him.

You accepted it years ago.

You accepted the fact that you somehow fell in love with Sanji Vinsmoke along your weird journey of working in a sea restaurant full of former pirates and making music while at it. How the pesky feelings grew and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. Maybe it was when he learned to cook your favorite food and gave it to you afterwards, or the way his crystal blue eyes reminded you of snowflakes every winter.

Or maybe it was when he pulled your hair out of jealousy the moment he learned that Zeff would be taking in another child in his care, but brushed it and even braided it after the latter cleared the misunderstanding. Maybe it was when he supported you in your dreams and told you they weren't silly, maybe it was when he fought off drunk men that were trying to hit on you. Or maybe it was the way his voice would drop an octave lower whenever he asks you for a favor. The list could go on and on and you still wouldn't know the reason why. It doesn't matter anyway. You tripped, you fell, and now you're pining.

Drying off the last of the plates, you washed your own hands after and patted them dry on your skirt. You were the last one to leave the kitchen, the other staff already back in their quarters after a long, exhausting day of cooking. You fixed the signature blue bandana tied in your hair then went on your way towards the upper deck.

You weren't blessed with a talent in cooking, so you offered to do chores instead. Washing the dishes, cleaning the restaurant, and doing the laundry were few of the things you do in the Baratie. You can't say that you enjoy it, but you were beyond grateful that Zeff gave you a chance despite his opposition to let a woman work inside his restaurant.

As you were about to go to the newly laundered clothes you hung on a thin wire earlier that morning, you heard two voices speaking. You also smelled cigarette smoke wafting through the air, and you only knew one person who could be smoking at this hour. Your breath hitched in anticipation.

"You bringing a woman to your bed again, Sanji?" The other person asked playfully, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. You carefully took a peek so you won't accidentally reveal yourself and be accused of eavesdropping. Two people came into view with their backs facing you.

"Now, what are you talking about, Patty? I am a gentleman. I only had a nice chat with the lovely lady and escorted her back to her ship." Sanji interjected, a cigarette hanging on his lips.

Patty huffed. "I didn't know that chatting included kiss marks on jawlines."

This caused Sanji to laugh and say, "Not my fault she was charmed by my food."

"The boss man ain't gonna like it when he finds out about this."

"He's not gonna find out." Sanji assured him, wiping off the said kiss mark on his jaw. You stared at him as he did so, and you pitied the woman who planted that kiss, knowing she was just one of the many beautiful ladies Sanji had flirted with before. However, a tinge of pain in your chest said otherwise, taunting you that it was not pity you're feeling, but foul jealousy.

"Why don't you look for more decent women, eh? How about 'little lass' for a change?" Patty suddenly suggested.

It was like someone had hit your stomach with one of the metal pans in the kitchen with the way it lurched in surprise and nervousness. Your heartbeat started to quicken the longer you waited for his response, making your grip on your skirt tighter. In moments like these, you allowed yourself to hope, to wish that he saw something in you and that he finds you beautiful and lovely enough to be the person standing by his side.

But his answer made all that hope crumble down into nothing but dust.

"I don't see her that way." Sanji said after a long stretch of silence, taking a long drag from the cigarette then releasing the smoke in a single breath.

Ah.

You blinked repeatedly, trying to keep the tears from forming. It's always been like this, so why can't you get used to it? Taking a deep breath, you gulped away the knot forming in your throat and decided to leave. You can grab the clothes later.

"You're too kind for him." Someone behind you spoke, making you jump and tense up. Turning around, you saw Zeff looking at you with an unreadable emotion in his eyes and his hands on his hips, almost like he knew your secret. Of course he does. He always sees everything.

You stumbled on your words. "Sir?"

"That boy is always up to something." He began, switching his attention to Sanji. "One minute he's stubbornly immature in the kitchen, and the next he'll be a thirsty man staring at women like they're liquid booze."

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile.

"Well, he can be a lot sometimes." You agreed, remembering the days when the two of you would fight over irrelevant matters. Then you chuckled and continued, "But he's kind. He's gentle, and lovely, like a freshly made poem you keep repeating in your head. But then he's also confusing, hot-headed, and reckless. He's like the sea, isn't he? Calm yet wrapped with mystery, dangerous yet beautiful..."

You trailed off, an unbearable heat rising up your cheeks and neck once you slowly began to realize that you just ranted out your feelings to the head chef. You glanced at him with wide eyes, preparing to see a disgusted look on his face; however, Zeff didn't appear to be repulsed by your little speech. In fact, the corners of his lips were slightly quirked up.

"But I cannot swim. If I were to drown, he wouldn't save me." You quickly added, hoping to shut down the topic.

He sighed. "You will meet someone who deserves you as much as you deserve them, little lass." He simply said. He then laid his hand out, and on his palm was a little box poorly tied with a ribbon. "Here, for you."

Altnough you were a bit confused at the random gift, you accepted it and cradled the box to your chest. "I'll be okay, Zeff." You insisted, grinning cheekily. "When I become famous, I'll sing my songs here in Baratie, and people would flood the restaurant to hear my singing. And to eat your food too, of course."

The head chef nodded, relief flooding his expression. "I look forward to that." He said while awkwardly returning your smile.

That night, when you were sure that everyone in the Baratie was asleep, you opened the loose floorboard on the floors of your bedroom and grabbed the wooden box you kept hidden for a long time now. You opened the lid and began counting the Berry you saved for the past few months.

Tomorrow was the perfect day to leave.

You just can't stay here. Yes, you had a roof over your head, delicious food to eat everyday, and clean clothes to wear but you were so miserable. This wasn't the life you wanted. You wish to go out there, sing your heart out, and fall in love with someone who actually loves you back.

A knock on your door made you freeze. You held your breath as the person on the other side continued to knock a few more times. "You awake?"

Pain surged through your veins, your chest twisting in agony. Sanji.

"You didn't come down for dinner. I guess you're too tired, hmm?" He said, his muffled voice gentle, and the sound almost prompted you to stand up and open the door for him. But you dug your fingernails in your palms and resisted, because you can't just let this opportunity pass by.

You heard a brief clinking sound before Sanji spoke again, "Sweet dreams, ange."

Once his footsteps faded away, you cautiously moved towards your door and opened it as quietly as you can. There, on the floor, was a small plate with a slice of your favorite desert: angel's food cake, topped with fresh cream and strawberries.

You bent down and saw a note beside the plate. And when you got to read the contents of the note, you burst into tears and sobs that wracked down your entire body.

Happy Birthday

— S.

You ate the cake with tears silently falling down your cheeks, and that was the first time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

Today was the day, and you won't allow anyone to ruin it for you.

You had saved enough Berries to travel around the world and sustain yourself for the upcoming months. Your notebook containing the lyrics of the songs you wrote laid open on top of your bed as you spent all night revising them while planning out an itinerary. Then you'll find a place to settle in, a stable job that required doing what you loved the most, and overall just be peaceful and free from pirates and chefs and pirate chefs. It was perfect.

Folded clothes surrounded you everywhere, ready to be packed in your bags. Once you finished stuffing them all in, you grabbed your treasured instrument, the one thing you couldn't live without: your guitar, which has been with you since you were a little child. It was given by your mother and you've been attached to it ever since.

It has scratches all over its wooden surface, and the strings needed some fixing occassionally, but you wouldn't trade it for the greatest treasures in the world. You ran your fingers over it, suddenly feeling like it was lacking something. Seeing the paint chipping off at the corners, you figured that it needed a little color.  You'll need lacquer, and paint if you managed to find some.

You set the guitar aside and left your bedroom to head downstairs to the kitchen. As you were about to push the doors open, a loud, angry shout made you stop in your tracks.

"I won't ever become a pathetic waiter for you!" Sanji's thunderous yells can be heard from outside. Your shoulders tensed up. It was a good thing that brunch was over and all the customers had left.

Zeff's own furious voice followed, "Leave then, for all I care! You can do anything you want, but don't you ever serve one of your shit dishes in my kitchen!"

A frown settled on your face. Their fights were a normal occurrence to you, but this one sounded more grave than usual. Crossing your arms, you stepped in closer to the entrance and hesitated whether you should go in or not. Before you could make a decision, Zeff beat you to it by pushing the doors open, rage emanating from his figure as he ignored and walked past you.

Without hesitation this time, you entered the kitchen, greeted by the sight of Sanji bowing over the counter, breathing heavily, his face covered with his hair. He didn't move an inch even as you approached him, the clacking of the heels in your boots echoing throughout the room.

Both of you were silent as you rummaged through cabinets, trying to find lacquer to cover your guitar with, while he tried his best to calm himself down after his outburst. Many cupboards later, you finally found a small can of used up lacquer, but as you started to reach for it, your hand completely stopped mid-air.

You looked over your shoulder, and found Sanji already recovered from the argument seeing that he was on the move again, preparing a cut of beef tenderloin and other ingredients he needed for tonight's dinner.

Slowly, you closed the cupboard and went closer to him. He still refused to look at you. And so you watched him place a bag of flour on the countertop, slices of cold butter, and a variety of spice bottles to season the meat with.

Sanji began to wrap twine around the beef tenderloin. You sighed, and before you could stop yourself, you grabbed a bowl and decided to help him. Your guitar can wait.

It was rare for you to cook inside the kitchen, having so little knowledge about food and how they were prepared, but you knew this recipe well. You poured two cups of flour through the sifter, followed by placing heaps of the cold butter in the mixture.

The moment you started to mix the dough for the puff pastry, Sanji quickly pointed out in a monotone voice, "You're adding too much butter."

You raised your head and glanced at him, his attention now on the meat he was searing on a skillet. You smiled, glad that he was speaking again.

"You're beginning to sound like the old man himself." You joked lightly.

His jaw clenched. "Don't compare me to that shitty geezer."

In a softer voice, you asked, "What happened?"

"The usual." He replied curtly. "Didn't approve of my dishes."

You perked up upon hearing about a dish he made himself. Sanji was talented when it comes to creating his own recipes, and sometimes, you would be the person he chooses to test them out. Every time he lets you taste them, your chest would feel warm and you wouldn't be able to sleep for days because you'll keep replaying it in your head. "What did you make this time?"

"It doesn't matter. He'll never agree to any of them."

"Maybe I can—"

"Drop it. Don't poke your nose in things you're not involved." Sanji cut you off, his hardened gaze meeting your concerned stare. You only blinked at him, straightening up.

"I see." You muttered, eyes landing on the bag of flour. You looked at him, then at the flour, then back at him. A smile began to form on your lips as a devious plan formulated itself in your brain. Sticking your hand inside the bag of flour, you took a fistful of the pillowy powder and threw it straight into his face.

Sanji jumped back, flinching and closing his eyes when some of the flour's particles managed to enter them. His jaw dropped open in surprise, hands quickly removing themselves from the skillet's handle to dust off the flour that rested on his now white hair. You tried to stifle a laugh as you watched him struggle getting the flour out.

Once he managed to clean himself, he stared straight at you and said in the calmest way possible, even if you knew deep inside that he was fuming, "What was that for?"

A high-pitched snort left your mouth. You covered it to prevent yourself from laughing.

You cleared your throat and smiled at him innocently. "Am I involved now?"

His piercing blue eyes then started to sparkle with mirth, amusement replacing the vexation previously swimming in them. He also looked to be trying to push down a smile, and that made your heart skip a beat. "You're insufferable."

He reached for the bag of flour. You squeaked and took off running, trying to escape from his attack, but he still managed to throw a small amount on you. Giggling, you ran the opposite direction to confuse him, and yet he caught up with you, throwing another round of flour. This time, it hit your cheeks, making you laugh loudly. He laughed along, pointing a finger at you because you probably looked crazy at the moment.

You tried to take the bag of flour away from him, but he just took it an as opportunity to catch your arm and grip it firmly. He pulled you into his chest, caging you completely.

With your cheeks warm and your breaths short, you tilted your head up and looked at him, noticing the way that you were both covered in flour; and not only that, you also noticed the short distance between your bodies and how your noses were almost touching. His pupils were dilated, black dominating the alluring blue shade that kept haunting your dreams. You drank in the attention he was giving you, the breathing coming out from his soft lips, and the comfortable silence that wrapped around the both of you like a safe little bubble.

"Caught you." Sanji muttered, voice deeper and huskier, making you let out a quiet sigh. His arms snaked around your waist as he leaned in closer. A million questions started to run inside your head, begging to know what this situation was and how you got into it. "Nowhere to run now, darling."

A slamming of doors shattered the secret moment you shared, and you immediately pulled away from each other. You pushed down your disappointment and hid it in the secret crevice in your heart as the two of you faced your intruder.

Zeff observed your flour-laden figures, his thick eyebrows scrunched together in irritation. He then demanded, voice seething and dripping with anger, "What in the hell are you two little brats doing?"

Sanji blurted out in defense, "Zeff, we—she was the one who started it!"

"And you went along with it!" You accused incredulously, grinning from ear-to-ear. Sanji grinned back, shaking his head and biting his lower lip.

"Oh, shut up before I stitch your mouths! Just by looking at you two, I already know that you snot-nosed shits are both at fault!" Zeff shouted, clicking his tongue at the sight of the half emptied flour. "Wasted them good flour for your childish fights. You're even worse than fatwits. Get out and clean the toilets!"

"Not the shitty toilets!" Sanji groaned, and you couldn't blame him for it. The bathroom area smelled revolting and the floors were always wet for some reason.

"I don't wanna hear complaints from you when you've dirtied my kitchen! Off you go!" Zeff dismissed, and you can't help but to laugh again when you saw Sanji pout like a little kid.

The head chef watched the two of you leave the kitchen together while giggling and exchanging fond looks. Patty, who also saw the whole situation unfold, suddenly appeared beside him, snickering, "I can already hear the wedding bells ringing."

Zeff took a deep, tired breath.

"Oh, they're ringing alright."

You cleaned and scrubbed the toilets the entire afternoon with the man you're in love with, flushing your plans down the drain and forgetting all about them, and that was the second time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

You didn't know how you ended up in a ship full of pirates.

Well, maybe you knew. A little. But it wasn't supposed to be like this.

Your knuckles were beginning to turn white with how tight you were clenching them. A mix of emotions swirled around in your chest, namely confusion, impatience, and hesitation, pondering about whether you should be irritated at yourself or at Sanji.

The opportunity was there, handed to you like a steak on a golden platter, or a miracle that suddenly fell from the sky. The day you met Luffy and his strange pirate crew was the day you immediately realized that he was the key to your exit from the Baratie. He was friendly; a good pirate, according to his own words, so you figured he would allow you to tag along for a while until you find an island to get off to. You just had to ask for his permission and wait for his reply.

Luffy agreed. And you were ecstatic. You were finally going to leave Sanji Vinsmoke and your pathetic, unrequited feelings behind.

Or so you thought.

You watched in horror as he followed you when you boarded the Going Merry, also carrying a bag of his own. He said something along the lines of Luffy needing a cook for the journey to the Grand Line but you couldn't care less. You got here first. Why was he here?

So here you were, sitting in a corner, lonelier than ever and regretting your life decisions. You watched Luffy and his friends celebrate after defeating the pirate Arlong and saving Coco Village from his inhuman hold over its people, but Sanji and the beautiful orange haired Nami were nowhere in sight.

The thought of them being gone together at the same time left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue.

Nami. The first time you laid eyes on her, ethereal was the word that came up to your mind. With soft deep saffron locks that framed her small face and a wide blue eyed gaze, she would have the cruelest of men begging for mercy and affection at her feet.

Unfortunately, Sanji was one of those men.

Fuck, you cursed mentally, rubbing your face with your hands to try and forget about the times he flirted with her and the moments he wouldn't stop talking about her or kept asking about her favorite food or dessert or if she's into blonds. Your already battered heart doesn't need the usual reminder that he'll never see you that way, that you weren't going to experience his sweet words and his loving gazes.

You took a sharp breath. It's okay, you tell yourself over and over again until they were buried in your heart. They'll make a great pair, Sanji the cook and Nami the thief. A strong man with an equally strong woman. Yes. That makes sense.

You'll leave soon anyway, and you'll no longer have to worry about seeing them or how they were going to end up together.

And yet you can't help but to think about the things that could've been if you were the one he was in love with instead.

You were crossing your arms and hugging yourself as the crisp afternoon air was getting chilly when a hand gripping a shot glass filled with amber liquid appeared in front of you. Looking up, you saw Luffy smiling widely at you, waving the glass encouragingly.

"Come on, just one drink! Usopp poured this for you!" The captain exclaimed heartily, obviously trying to uplift your spirits and to make you feel welcomed in his crew, even though you did nothing but to guard the Going Merry while they were fighting for their lives.

You shook your head and smiled politely. "No, I don't drink. Sorry."

Luffy's smile faltered, but he recovered quickly. He nodded, setting the glass down on top of a barrel. "Well, okay." He said, then turned to Usopp, who was currently downing a whole bottle of whiskey. "Hey, where's Nami?"

"Oh, she's with the cook," Usopp replied cheekily, wiping his mouth after drinking. There was a teasing tone in his voice as he continued, "Someone's getting a boyfriend tonight!"

With that said, you reached for the shot glass that Luffy was offering you earlier, grabbed it swiftly, and poured the whole thing down your throat. The whiskey tasted unfamiliar, and it burned and made you dizzy at first taste, but it doesn't matter; as long as it can make you forget just for a little while, you were willing to drink more of the horrible beverage.

Zoro, the green haired swordsman and the captain's first mate, stared at you as if you had lost your mind, but a tinge of concern was visibly written on his face. "Woah, slow down." He warned sternly.

"I thought you didn't drink." Was all Luffy said, blinking in confusion. You chuckled tiredly.

"Now I do."

Drink after drink, glass after glass. You lost count on how many times Usopp poured whiskey for you, or how many times Zoro shook his head in disbelief. Luffy was the same old happy-go-lucky captain throughout the disaster that was starting to brew inside you, turning your brain into mush. You can barely lift your head or your fingers as you asked for another shot in an incoherent voice. Luckily, Usopp was still able to understand you, tipping the whiskey bottle yet again towards your glass.

You started to raise the glass to your lips, eager to just get severely drunk and be over with it already. However, you suddenly felt strong fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you from drinking; and when you caught sight of a familiar silver ring with Baratie's jolly roger inlaid upon it, you didn't need to look up to know who it was.

Sanji's voice was unnervingly calm as he questioned the crew, but the slight shake in his words lets you know otherwise. "Which one of you allowed her to drink?"

"No one. She took the glass and made the decision herself." Zoro drawled, challenging the chef, "The last time I checked, waiter, you were supposed to be the one responsible for her."

Sanji ignored him and turned his attention to you. He stole the shot glass away from you, then kneeled and held your hands comfortingly, smiling. "Come on, ange. It's time for you to rest now." He said quietly, yet loud enough for only you to hear.

You stubbornly shook your head repeatedly and whined loudly. "No! Don't touch me!" You cried, prying your hands away from his, "I don't like you...!"

Zoro huffed in amusement at your declaration. Sanji glared at him for a short second before looking at you again. This time, he stood and gently placed his arms under your shoulders to raise you up. Once you were standing on your feet, he swept you up and carried you bridal style with ease. Another whine escaped your lips.

"Put me down! I want another drink, please, just one more!" You pleaded while throwing weak punches on his chest. Sanji only smiled and began to lead you towards the sleeping quarters. You continued to thrash in his arms as he walked slowly and in small steps so he wouldn't drop you.

Sanji carefully set you down on your hammock. "No drinks for you until you actually learn how to take them." He told you, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek and rubbed it in circles, noting how fast you were heating up due to the alcohol. You pouted.

"Pretty please, Sanji...please..."

He chuckled, staring at you intensely. "Maybe some other time, ange."

You went quiet, staring back at him with half-lidded eyes. Then, you crossed your arms like a child and asked, "Why do you keep calling me that?"

Sanji raised a brow. "Call you what? Ange?"

You nodded. "I don't like it."

He began to smile, the dimples on his cheeks appearing. You briefly wondered if he'd allow you to poke and feel them. "Why?"

"I don't know what it means. Is it an insult?" You wondered aloud, your eyes widening in curiosity.

A hearty and warm laugh came out from Sanji, his eyes forming half-moons as he cackled at your words like they were the biggest joke he heard in his entire life, "Oh, my dear girl, how could I possibly insult you?" He managed to speak between laughs, "It means angel. You're an angel, to me at least. My angel."

Oh.

Your lips parted in surprise. Blinking, you simply said, "You're not Sanji."

He's not Sanji. He wouldn't call you angel; you're not even sure if he found you beautiful or attractive. You wear the same old tattered dresses that Zeff bought for you a long time ago, and you didn't even bother to style your hair or put on face powder like all the other beautiful ladies do. You look nowhere near to an angel.

But Sanji only grinned. "I assure you, I am very much Sanji. The little brat who pulled your hair when we were barely eleven years old."

Your breath hitched at the thought of him remembering one of your fond memories in your childhood. "You remembered."

"Of course I remembered." He whispered, cupping your cheek one last time before he got ready to leave. He turned on his heel and was about to walk away when you spoke.

"Are you going to see her again?" You asked, and he quickly noticed how broken your voice sounded. Sanji faced you in concern and was taken aback with how deep you were frowning. He figured that you were just drunk and women tend to be different when they were intoxicated. You were no exception to that, it seemed.

"Hm?" He hummed, prompting you to elaborate further.

Tears began to form in the corners of your eyes. You shakily mumbled, "Nami...you're going to Nami, aren't you?"

Sanji froze, an icy cold rush filling up his body. A knot formed in his throat, and it continued to tighten the longer he stared at your face. You looked so hurt—like he just destroyed your beloved guitar into pieces. Your lower lips were trembling, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. For a moment, he couldn't find the courage to answer you, feeling like he could die at any second now if he answers your question.

But the answer was simple.

"Yes." He breathed out, a sharp pain stabbing through his heart.

And it only became worse when a teardrop finally rolled down your cheek. "Why?" You rasped, and Sanji didn't know that a single word can hurt this much.

He tried to give you a reassuring smile but awfully failed to do so. He started to explain, "We were just discussing something—"

"Why not me?"

Those three words coming out of your mouth felt like a final blow to his heart. He can feel himself bleed, drained of life and soul because of you and your words alone, and he let you. He let you kill him, he let you make him swim in his own guilt and he doesn't why, why, why.

More tears fell out of your angelic eyes, staining your cheeks with wet trails, and he tried to hold himself back from wiping them off. You choked out, "Why not me, Sanji? I have been asking myself that question for the past decade, and it eats my brain every night like some kind of plague, but I let it anyway. Because why? Why can't you just recognize me and appreciate me and see me? Why can't you go to me if you want to talk about your dreams, or what dish you're planning to create? Why do you have to seek solace in other women when you have me standing by your side everyday, me who is willing to listen to you and whatever you have to say?"

Angry, red rimmed eyes glared at him. Your hair strands stuck to your skin and framed your face as sweat began to form on your forehead. Teardrops clung to your wet eyelashes and your face was drenched like you just took a swim in the ocean. You were burning with fury and rage and want, struggling to breathe properly after your little rant, and Sanji thought you couldn't be more beautiful. You were so beautiful.

"Oh but I couldn't blame you for that. She's just so beautiful, so perfect, and so strong. She could give you anything you wanted and she could be anything that I never was." You hiccuped, smiling forcibly, "But in the end...I will still love you. I will always love you. I think."

You scooted closer to him, leaning in until your faces only had a few inches apart between them. You didn't notice how his lips were slightly parted in shock, nor his eyes that were starting to glisten with his own tears. "No matter where I flee to, or where I lay my heart on, or which skies I look at—it's always you, Sanji. It's always been you."

"I had been so selfless all these years, Sanji. So please, can you pretend to like me too, just for today, before I leave?" You whispered meekly, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands. Numb and completely speechless, Sanji simply gave you a single nod as a response.

You gingerly pressed your lips against his, and he immediately tasted the saltiness of your tears. But your lips were soft, as he expected from an angel like you. And so he couldn't help himself; he closed his eyes and delicately kissed you back, repeating your name in his mind like a sacred prayer and wishing to the stars above to not let the moment end.

However, you broke the kiss by losing consciousness and falling down on your hammock, knocked out and peacefully snoring.

Sanji spaced out, not moving from his position. No. It's not that he didn't want to move—he couldn't move. He couldn't feel anything except for the drumming of his heart, knocking on his chest desperately. His lips were still tingling and his ears and neck were warming up.

He gulped, loosening the collar of his shirt to cool himself down. He needed a cigarette. And a drink.

Scrambling to get up even with his trembling legs, Sanji managed to stand properly. He avoided your sleeping figure and decided to get out of the room as soon as possible. However, when he took a step forward, his foot touched a notebook lying on the floor.

Sanji bent down and took the notebook. He flipped it open, and after reading only the first page, he finally came into a conclusion.

Heartbroken, drunk, and unaware, you dozed off the rest of the afternoon. When nightfall settled on the azure horizon and dusk fell on the rough surface of the sea, you missed the chance to walk away from the crew yet again; and that was the third time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

The next morning, you woke up feeling much better with only the memory of you drinking and crying yourself to sleep and nothing else. Everything was normal, and the crew began to make plans for their next adventure during breakfast.

Everything was normal, except for Sanji, who was quiet throughout the whole discussion. And of course, just like always, you were the only one who noticed his strange behavior. You tried to catch his eyes, but he looked at everywhere except you.

When he finally met your gaze, you gave him a soft smile, hoping he would smile back and everything was fine and you were just overthinking it.

He doesn't.

⸻ • ⸻

"Are you really going to leave?"

Taking your gaze away from the heart shaped cloud you spotted on the clear blue sky, you faced the person who asked the question you were dreading for some time now. Luffy was staring curiously at you, awaiting your answer. You can't help but to smile softly at the captain, whose kindness you have yet to repay.

"I believe we already talked about this, captain." You said, recalling your short conversation last night. He kept asking you if you were really sure about your decision while his eyes darted to a certain blond haired chef every time he shoots you the question. It was strange, and you felt even more suspicious when Sanji pretended not to hear your answer and even refused to glance your way.

Luffy put his hands on his hips. "You know, you're welcome to stay and be a part of my crew."

You crossed your arms, smile growing wide. "And what, pray tell, is my role? Sing battle songs and chant your names while you swing your gummy arms at pirates?" You joked playfully.

The young captain stroked his chin in deep thought, almost like he was considering your suggestion. "That's not a bad idea."

You bursted out laughing, shaking your head in disbelief, "I'll leave first thing in the morning. I told Nami to dock at a nearby island."

"What about Sanji?" He suddenly questioned, leaving you flabbergasted for a split second. You weren't prepared to hear Sanji's name after days of not talking to him properly.

Him not speaking with you wasn't a strange occurence at all; back when you were still in the Baratie, there would be days when Sanji wouldn't bother to acknowledge your presence and would completely ignore you. This would happen whenever he was extremely busy with his cooking or he had a disagreement with Zeff.

And it seemed like this was one of those days, seeing that he had been ignoring you for about a week now. Yes, you have been keeping count. Although he doesn't appear to be angry with you, the short-lived exchanges and the abrupt cut-offs before you could say anything deeply concerned you more than it should have.

You tried to rack your brains for reasons on why he was acting like this. Maybe Nami had rejected him for the hundredth time, or Zoro kept throwing insults in his direction—or maybe his cigarette packet had ran out. Maybe his kitchen knives weren't sharp anymore and he was struggling in the kitchen.

Should you ask him? Should you go to him and demand him to tell you what's wrong?

You pressed your lips together. It sounded like the worst idea you've thought of so far. You convinced yourself that Sanji was fine and he'd be back to normal in no time; there would no need to talk to him.

"What about him?" You faltered, chuckling to ease the tension in your body.

"You care for each other." Luffy explained bluntly and matter-of-factly, "What does he think about you leaving?"

A shaky sigh made its way out of your lips. How will you tell the captain that his cook has been avoiding you like you were some kind of rotten fish these days?

"I..." You stammered, gathering the courage to lie to Luffy even if you thought it would be the gravest sin you could commit, "He...agrees. Yeah. No need to worry."

Luffy grinned, but it didn't look normal at all. You winced in embarrassment. He knew that you were lying and was totally unconvinced.

Luckily, he didn't voice it out. He only nodded and said, "Great! Oh, I have an idea! Why don't you sing for us before we part ways? Think of it as a farewell party for the crew."

Hearing the pure and genuine excitement dripping from his voice, you couldn't turn him down. It was a good idea too, and now that you thought about it, you haven't performed for them yet. "Sure." You agreed, shrugging.

He raised his fist up in the air and cheered. You smiled, watching as he shouted for his crewmates' names to come down and listen to you sing. You prepared yourself for an impromptu performance, making sure that your guitar was properly tuned and your voice was clear enough to give you the best version of your singing. Sitting on top of a barrel, you faced your audience of four, all their eager eyes watching your every move.

As you struck the first chord to your song, you tried hard not to think that Sanji wasn't there to watch you sing the song you secretly dedicate to him.

In the kitchen, Sanji busied himself by plating the food that he'll serve to his fellow crew mates for dinner. He grabbed a large plate and placed the chicken drumsticks that his captain favored, but Luffy wasn't the one in his mind when he cooked those. Looking at the food, he wondered if you would love them too.

He shook his thoughts off and took the plate with him outside. Approaching the crew, his steps slowed down when he heard a familiar singing voice and a melodic tune of a guitar.

Sanji almost dropped the plate.

It was you. Of course it was you, you were the only one he knew who had a voice like that. It was you, and you were singing with a lovely smile painted on your sweet lips, the very same lips that touched his a few days ago, resulting in him not getting a wink of sleep every night. The beam of the sunset right behind you colored your hair in the different shades of the sky as the dulcet-filled notes you made echoed throughout the vast sea. For a moment, he was worried that you were going to attract ferocious sea beasts with your angelic voice and steal you away from him.

He could hear his blood pound in his ears the longer he observed you from afar. You looked happy. Happier than you were when you stayed with him and Zeff. His chest tightened, knowing that you leaving and go on adventures on your own was probably the best decision you could make, even if that means leaving him too.

You were finishing up your song by the time you saw Sanji standing behind Usopp, silently listening. He met your gaze, and for the first time ever, you couldn't read his mind. His expression was blank as you stared at each other, and as you opened your mouth to say something, he cut you off.

"Dinner's ready." Sanji announced shortly, setting down the plate in front of Luffy and then walked away without saying another word.

That was your final straw. You immediately put down your guitar and followed him into the kitchen. You didn't care about how you felt Nami's watchful eyes on you as you went after him, nor how Luffy was scarfing down the dinner and was definitely going to finish it all before you could take a bite; you just chased the blond with determination oozing out of you.

You roughly pushed the door open and found Sanji washing the pans he used for cooking. He glanced at you briefly then quickly looked away after. This irritated you even more as you demanded, "Is there something bothering you?"

"You should eat before the food gets cold." He said with an empty voice.

"Sanji!"

He stiffened. You rarely raised your voice at anyone. Sighing in defeat, he dried off his hands and fully faced you.

Your eyes were sharper than his knives, cutting straight into his soul. "I've known you for a long time now, do you think I don't notice whenever you have a problem?" You glowered, taking a step closer to him, "You have a problem. What is it?"

It happened fast. His hand landed on the small of your back and pulled you to his chest, and the other was placed on top of your cheek, and in a single motion, Sanji captured your lips with his. You gasped in the kiss, your heart dropping to the soles of your feet when he tilted his face to deepen it. Your fingers tightly grasped the sleeves of his shirt for support as he passionately moved his lips against yours. A pleasant heat ran down your spine, your whole body tingling and warming up. You were simply drowning. There was no other way to describe it, and it was only caused by his fervent kisses.

Sanji pulled away, resting your forehead on top of yours, and you took it as an opportunity to breathe in air that you lost. "You are the problem." He murmured lowly, eyes darting down to your swollen lips. Confused and lightheaded, you didn't get the chance to retort.

"Ever since that night, ange, you occupy my thoughts. You gave me a taste of your lips and you didn't even remember the next day. Do you know how that feels, hm?" He said, pecking your lips once again. You made a noise in the back of your throat, turning your head sideways so he couldn't kiss you anymore, but he took your chin and hungrily connected both of your lips.

He spoke between kisses, "You torture me. Ever since I read those songs you wrote about me in that little notebook of yours, you torture me with your presence."

That was when you snapped out of your daze. With all the force you could muster, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him away. Sanji stepped back, surprised at your reaction.

Without giving him a chance to ask you anything, you ran off and left the kitchen, slamming the door loudly so you wouldn't hear him calling your name and be tempted to go back in his arms again.

You arrived in the sleeping quarters, locking the door behind you. You were sure that the others would understand you needing your alone time. Once you made sure you were on your own, your body collapsed altogether, your back sliding down against the door as you panted heavily.

He knows, was all you could think about. He knows about the songs. He knows about your feelings.

Well, you finally got your answer to your previous question, but a more complicated one replaced it. With trembling hands, your fingers raised themselves to your lips, touching its surface. You hated the way that you still felt his warmth on top of them.

A lone tear slid down the side of your nose. He was cruel. Sanji was cruel.

You didn't come out of that room for days, refusing to talk to anyone as you gathered your scrambled throughts and pulled yourself back together, and that was the fourth time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

A stack of books, most of them being a collection of maps compiled in one, rested beside you while you flipped through the pages of the one you chose among them.

Nami has been lending you her books ever since you shut yourself out from the crew. You ignored all of them and only let Nami in, hoping that she'll be able to understand you; and she did. She was a good listener. Although you weren't particularly close with each other, you trusted her and told her everything: your dreams, your problems, your feelings, and Sanji. In return, she confided in you too.

"Here. So you can finally decide on where you will go to," You recall her saying while she handed you her collection of world map books, "and to distract yourself, of course."

"You're too kind, Nami." You said in admiration. Maybe this is why Sanji was enamored with her. She was a beauty inside and out.

Nami shrugged, yet she was smiling. "Just helping a fellow woman out."

The books did take your mind off the stubborn blond haired man that was still resting inside your heart, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. You tried to search for islands that will be suitable for you to start your career, narrowing some of them down into choices, but your eyes wil always lead back to where the Baratie was stationed.

You leaned back against your chair, letting your head hit the wall with a soft thud as you released a sigh of frustration. Not only will you need to prepare yourself for a journey all alone, but you also have to talk to Sanji sooner or later, whether you like it or not. The kiss distracted you more than the books Nami gave you. You think of it in the morning and dream of it at night, and it only got worse every time you remembered that he kissed you like he loved you.

Relaxing in your seat, you closed the book and listened to the silence.

The Going Merry docked for a quick trip to a market to gather fresh ingredients for food. Sanji will be gone for the meantime and you were free to roam around the ship without his heated stare boring holes in your skin.

But the peace was ruined by rushed footsteps and Usopp breaking into the room, almost destroying the door with his brute force. You frowned, standing up on alert when you saw how nervous he looked.

"Sanji's injured!" He exclaimed, which got your brow raising, knowing that he had a long history of lying to people. However, he forcibly pulled Sanji inside, and you were greeted by the sight of a bruised man, whose lips were bleeding and cheeks were starting to yellow.

You immediately sprang into action. You took the first aid kit you packed in your bag and grabbed his arm, making him sit down on your chair.

"How did you get into a fight in just a span of ten minutes?" You asked in irritation, wetting a cloth with saltwater to wipe off the blood on his lips.

Sanji grunted, tensing up when you took a hold of his face and dabbed on his lip using the cloth. "Some petty vendor was selling overpriced onions, and they weren't even the best of quality."

You stopped for a minute, glaring at him. "So you decided to punch them instead of talking it over?"

He only huffed in reply. Pursing your lips in annoyance, you continued to treat his wounds in silence, noticing him flinching and wincing in pain whenever you compress the bruised area with ice. "Who's being petty now?" You scolded impatiently, "Stay still."

The only sound that filled the room was you hastily rummaging your kit trying to find an ointment and an awkward silence that made you want to jump into the sea and never swim back to the surface. You unscrewed the lid of the jar of ointment and scooped some with your finger, looking at Sanji as you did so. He looked back at you quietly, and you tried hard not to think about the fact that you have to touch his lips in order for you to apply it.

It seemed like he realized that too, glancing down at the dollop of ointment on top of your finger, then back to you. You just gave him a small, uneasy smile, showing him that you weren't uncomfortable even though you were, and shyly took a step forward.

As gently as you could, you spread the ointment on the wounded area on his lips, reminding yourself to not be distracted on how soft they looked.

"A busted lip because of overpriced ingredients...it almost feels like you're doing this on purpose so I wouldn't get the chance to leave you." You half-heartedly joked to lighten up the atmosphere. However, you were greeted by nothing, not even a smart comeback or a funny joke from the blond. You hesitantly observed his reaction, and saw that he was grim and serious, guilt swimming in his beryl blue eyes.

The realization began to sink in.

Oh.

You should've known from the start. Sanji was a great fighter; he wouldn't be injured in the first place. "Sanji..."

Sanji took your wrist and held on it tightly. Your breath hitched, only then realizing how much you missed his touch, his warm, gentle, and loving touch.

"Let me go." You weakly said, even though deep down, you didn't want him to.

"Tell me you're not in love with me." He said, sounding utterly desperate that it almost made you fall down to your knees, "Tell me, and I'll let you go."

When you didn't answer, he stood up and cupped your cheeks with both of his hands. He pleaded, "Look at me. Look into my eyes and tell me you don't love me."

"Please don't do this." You whispered in pain as you tearfully shook your head.

"Stay. Please, stay." Sanji begged, pressing his forehead against yours, "What can I do to make you stay? Tell me. I'll do anything. Do I need to kneel? To beg for your forgiveness? Tell me what you want. I'll do anything in my power to make you the happiest woman in all of East Blue. Just please, don't leave."

"I can't." You answered, closing your eyes, a few tears streaming down your cheeks. You hate the way he was making this so hard for you.

He only continued, "Hate me, curse me, shout at me, if you must. Anything but you leaving me. Or do you want to make me yours? Then I am letting you. Whatever you want, mon ange—my heart, my soul, my attention, they're all yours. I'm all yours."

"No..."

"The crew will be incomplete without you." Sanji insisted in anguish.

"I have dreams, Sanji. Just like you and the rest of the crew." You explained softly, placing your own hands on top of his in attempt to comfort him and relieve him from his confusion.

However, he was persistent, "You can achieve your dreams without leaving. You can stay, and I will support you in everything you do. You're better off staying with me—with us."

You said firmly, "I will not spend the rest of my life doing what I don't want."

"Even with me by your side?"

A few second pass before you finally reply, "I'd be miserable."

Pain flashed on his face, making you want to take back your own words, yet you remained strong and unyielding. Sanji took a deep breath and stepped away from you, saying, "I'd rather have you miserable here than go out there and encounter ruthless pirates."

The statement quickly irritated you, frowning at him deeply. "You think I'll have problems with pirates when I've been serving them for years?"

"Oh, darling, you wouldn't be able to say that once you've encountered worse ones, with bounties higher than you could ever imagine." He snapped, voice raising with each word.

"I can manage on my own!" You bit back frustratingly, your tears evaporating into anger.

Sanji scowled at you, impatiently running his fingers through his hair. "You can't fight!" He shouted, voice breaking in the process, and with it, your heart too. It shattered like glass and the shards landed and pierced through your lungs, rendering you breathless. Your eyes widened, mouth dropping open in shock.

Seeing your expression, he immediately snapped back to reality, regret writing itself on his face. You shook your head in disbelief and let out a humorless laugh, "Are you telling me that I'm weak?"

"I didn't say that." Sanji quickly said in a hushed manner.

"But you're implying it!" You choked, still can't believe that he doesn't trust you. He doesn't trust you enough to accomplish your dreams on your own, and that he was not confident that you'll succeed without him by your side.

You wanted to ask him about the passionate kiss you two shared, about his loving gestures that confused the hell out of you, about his fresh bruises that he received on purpose so that he can get you to stay, and why he did all of that. You needed confirmation. But the question that left you was, "What am I to you?"

Sanji stayed quiet, and your heart broke again once more. Deciding that this was the last time he breaks it, you walked away and left him alone to tend to his own injuries.

He lit up a cigarette as he listened to your fading footsteps. A single teardrop fell down from his eye the moment he placed the cigarette between his lips, and all he could think about was that you hurt more than the bruises on his cheeks.

You packed your bags and spoke with Nami, telling her that you were ready, and that was the fifth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke—and tomorrow, you'll finally succeed.

⸻ • ⸻

The sun had just risen, and the early morning breeze smelled of the ocean, the calming sound of waves filling your ears. It was one of those days when the sky was clear and the sunlight wasn't harsh but pleasantly warm on your skin, making it the perfect day to start working on a new song and strum on your guitar for the melody.

But today was different. You were standing on the first step of the ship's staircase that leads to a docking station and a wooden walkway towards an unfamiliar island that was soon to be your new home. Your fingers clenched on the strap of your bag, finding this moment to be surreal. You have tried many times to leave, and here it was, right on the palms of your hands.

"So. This is it, huh?" Your trance broke as Nami commented beside you. She was the only one to bid you farewell and watch you leave, since the others were still asleep. You thought of Sanji and how he looked like when he was sleeping, staring at his handsome features so you can memorize them and implant it in your mind. He was your first love; you didn't want to forget him.

You smiled. "Thank you, Nami." You said earnestly, "I would've liked to spend more time with you. It's tiring to speak to men sometimes, don't you think?"

She laughed. "Yeah." Then, she caged you in her arms and hugged you tightly, surprising you for a second before you laughed too and returned the hug. "Stay safe out there."

"I will."

"So you planned to leave? Without saying goodbye?" A new voice interrupted, breaking the hug you and Nami both shared. You swiveled to look behind you, and there stood Sanji, appearing to have just woken up, with the strands of his blond hair sticking up in different directions. You observed his dejected expression, the downward tilt of the corners of his lips, and the glistening of his tired eyes. You stared at his crumpled suit and his crooked necktie. Despite how messy he looked, he will always be perfect to you.

You walked forward and looked at him fondly, with your eyes full of so much love reserved for him and him only. "Thought it would hurt less." You said, raising your hands to touch his hair and brush it down, "And I was right. How can I leave now when you're standing in front of me?"

He sighed shakily as he felt your soft fingers threading through his hair. "Then don't." He whispered. You only smiled at him. He didn't smile back, but that didn't stop you from taking both of his hands and caressing his knuckles using your thumb.

"Every night, I'll look at the moon and think of you. I'll tell my stories, sing my songs, and whisper my secrets to it. Just like what you and me would do when we were little." You told him softly and endearingly, "Would you be so kind as to look at the moon too and think of me?"

Sanji's eyebrows were scrunched together in agony, muttering, "I can't make you stay, can I?"

When you didn't answer, he just nodded his head, understanding what you wanted to stay. He forced a smile and tightly squeezed your hands. "I'm sorry."

"I'm yours." You answered, placing a soft kiss on the back of his hands. After letting your lips linger on his skin for a while, you slowly let go, and with one last glance at his face, you stepped back and made your way downstairs to the docking area, leaving before you could change your mind.

Sanji watched you go. While you walked away from the Going Merry, from the crew, and from him, not once did you look back. He just watched as you went farther away and became smaller in the distance, until you blended in with the crowd and you were just another person in a sea of people. And then you were gone.

It was the sixth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke, and this time, you finally did.

⸻ • ⸻

The red velvet curtains began to draw in front of you, gently falling back down on the stage as you said your final good-byes to your audience for tonight, a bouquet of roses cradled in your arms while you blew delicate kisses towards them. You can still hear their loud cheering and clapping even as you retreated to your personal room backstage.

A middle-aged woman greeted you inside when you stepped in the room and closed the door behind you, whistling. "There she is, our talented rising star!"

You only laughed at the silly nickname, setting the bouquet of roses that one of the people gave you in tonight's show on top of your vanity table. "You exaggerate, Madam. I have only performed two shows in your beautiful theater."

The madam, who was the owner of the theater you were currently working in, shook her head in disagreement. "And those two shows are sold out!" She informed you proudly, placing her hands on your shoulders, "Let me know if you want to add more, you are welcome to perform here anytime."

"I'll think about it." You replied, smiling. The madam patted your shoulder twice before she left you alone, humming happily to herself. You huffed in amusement, fully aware that she doesn't appreciate your talents at all, but only cared for the money.

Regardless of that, you were happy. It has been a couple of years since you left the Strawhat Pirates and pursued your dreams all on your own, and you've been traveling to different islands across the seas to perform. You never had a permanent home; being a musician meant going to many places from time to time to share and spread out your music.

Yet you can't help but miss life on the sea.

You missed washing dishes on the Baratie and the late night conversations you had with Zeff. You missed Luffy and his weird antics, Usopp and his jokes, Zoro and his blunt comments, and Nami and her kindness.

You missed Sanji and everything that he was.

You stared at your reflection in the vanity mirror on your desk. Your hair was pinned neatly, you had make-up on and you were dressed fancily for your performance. Years ago, you wouldn't look like this. It was hard to believe how much you've grown and changed, but these days, you felt like you wanted your old self back. Slowly, you took the itchy pins off your hair, and cleaned your face with warm water and a cloth. You replaced your dress in a more comfortable one and went outside.

Looking up at the night sky, you saw a bright full moon with no stars in sight. It was just the moon and its beauty, illuminating the pitch black sky with its glow. You silently watched it, a smile growing on your lips as you felt a tug on your heart.

"I wonder what you're up to, Sanji." You thought aloud, cheeks heating up at the memory of your first love and his golden hair and his contagious smiles. Then, to your surprise, a voice spoke unexpectedly.

"Well, I am fortuitous to have met such a beautiful angel."

You froze. No one referred to you as angel except for one.

Sanji.

As you turned around, he was already walking towards you. And there you both were, bathing under the moonlight, with him grinning at you mischievously and you looking at him lovingly.  You didn't know how he found you, but what mattered was that he searched for you and now he was here, and he was still making your heart beat fast in your chest just like all those years ago.

How the pesky feelings stayed and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. But maybe it was because he was standing in front of you, and the way his next words made you run into his open arms and kiss him until you were both breathless,

"There you are, ange."

taglist part 1 @angel-luv3r @appalost @chexmixtrys @nimtano @sparklyphantom @natalieisfreeziing @reallysparklychaos @maydaylovex @johnnysactualgf @mochamei @kisumisumi @ttokyocat @mypurplewinee @rosaliinnn @nonniecannie @court-jester-stuff @detectivelucy07 @megumiif @untitledandrandom @erin-the-king @fangeekkk @nikolaevna-art @candesstuff @chaoticevilbakugo

#opla #opla x reader #opla x y/n #opla x you #one piece #one piece live action #opla sanji #one piece sanji #one piece live action sanji #sanji live action #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #opla sanji x reader #sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #angst #one piece sanji x reader #ਏਓ ladadiida

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 2 - Adjustments

Summary: You're struggling a bit in your adjustment to your new life, and you're finding some of them are easier to get along with than others. Luckily you're not in it alone.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Author's Note: I'm so just overwhelmed with the attention this fic has gotten, but not in a bad way I promise! I'm just surprised is all. Thank you everyone that has read and reblogged and commented. I love all of you and so, since I have no self control, here is Chapter 2. Lots more world building and dialogue in this part, but I promise good stuff is coming.

Also I promise Soap will get his time soon. He's just the hardest for me to write, and you'll see why in this chapter.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“She was lying.” 

Price doesn’t bother looking up as a dark figure leans against the wall next to him. He stares out at the empty space between the barracks and the mess hall, not much traffic between the buildings during this time of day. 

“About how she got to the institute.” 

“Or at least not telling the whole truth.” Price says, turning to look at Simon. “Something tells me she’d talk if we asked.” 

“She’s soft.” Simon says, letting his gaze drift off into the distance. 

“She’s a civilian.” Price counters. “The CIA did a little training, but she’ll need some work. We can’t leave her completely defenseless...” 

Simon turns to face him again. “There’s something else.” 

Price pushes himself off the wall, heading back inside. Simon follows, the two of them making their way down the hall to his office. “There’s hundreds of American military bases across the world, thousands of regiments they could have chosen from, and yet, they sent her to us.” 

Simon closes the door behind him as Price sinks into his desk chair. “You think it was deliberate?” 

Price pulls open one of the drawers, pulling out the file Kate had given him. “Laswell said the CIA has had eyes on her for years.” He slides it across his desk to Simon. “There’s a lot of why's in this situation, and a lot of how’s. Like, if what she’s saying is true, how did a Staff Sergeant get his daughter into FIOT practically overnight?” 

Simon glances up at him over the top of the file. “You think there’s something else going on with this Initiative.” 

Price nods. “I do. I think there’s more than one experiment being run, and we’re the guinea pigs.” 

You stare at your reflection in the mirror as you run a comb through your damp hair. You look tired, the dark circles that have plagued your face for the last few weeks looking even darker now. It’s been a long day, so long it’s hard to believe it’s only been a matter of hours since you boarded the helicopter in London. 

Your new pack had made themselves scarce after dinner, leaving you to your own devices. You had been left alone after lunch too, and you had spent that time laying in bed, resting after the overwhelming scenting. 

You’d played back the last few hours in your mind. Leaving London in the helicopter, meeting your new Pack Alpha, Laswell leaving, meeting your new pack, the scenting. You had plenty to think about, to stress over, and you had been surprised when the knock came at your door for dinner. You were equally surprised to see Gaz and Soap waiting for you. 

You’d been sandwiched between them again as you walked to the mess. It was busier for dinner, and the eyes weren’t quite so quick to look away with the alphas missing. You know they have to be curious, with an omega on base following around two members of a SpecOps team, smelling like them. You know what they were probably thinking of you, what they were thinking your presence means. 

You’ve begun to understand Price’s rules a bit more. 

Price and Ghost had joined you as Soap said they would, coming in late from whatever they had been busy doing. You had been seated next to Soap, Ghost taking his other side while Price sat next to Gaz. It hadn’t gone unnoticed to you how close Soap and Ghost sat, and you remembered the look in Ghost’s eyes when Soap had approached to scent you. How his defensive stare had turned icy, threatening even, when he’d gotten close to you as if you were capable of hurting Soap. It had been a silent warning. If you tried anything, you’d have him to contend with. 

Ghost is territorial, more so than most alphas. You had seen it just a bit in Price, but only because you had been watching for it. Ghost was silent in his claim, but his gaze spoke of his territorialism. As you sat at the table with them, you slowly felt the stares lessen, the curious alphas and betas around you slowly turning away from your table until you were left in peace. You knew it was all thanks to a well-pointed glare from the second alpha at the table. 

They’d escorted you back to the barracks before disappearing again, leaving you alone. You’d opted for a shower to try and clear your head, exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs but your mind was racing too much to really get any rest. You haven’t been told what their normal schedules entail or even what they look like, but you expect an early morning tomorrow. Since Price had said at least one of them needed to escort you around base, that likely meant you were going to be constrained to their schedules. 

You know even when they’re not away, their days are probably full of training and briefings, much like yours had been for three months. They’re probably up early, earlier than you’d like to be, and then they go non-stop all day. 

You wonder if they ever get a break. 

Maybe this is a break for them. 

You sit on the edge of the bed after you finish your routine, eyeing the pillows and blankets stacked at the end. They’re military issue, not as soft or as plush as you might have preferred. This is your new normal, though. Comfort isn’t exactly going to be a high priority. 

Tears prick your eyes as you run your hand over the comforter. You know it’s the exhaustion, the stress of the day beginning to weigh on you. You’re worn out, and that’s causing a slip in the tight reins you keep on your mood. Omegas and alphas were both prone to being moody, and those who were unrestrained could lose control quickly. Alphas were quick to anger, while omegas could get depressed very easily. Exhaustion drives both to being grumpy, though alphas will descend into irritability and anger, while omegas will get whiny and weepy. 

You hate it, how easily you can be driven to cry. How easily you can lose control. It makes you feel weak and helpless, but that’s partially by design. It was supposed to be your pack’s job to fix that, to give you that support and take care of you. 

Except you don’t know your pack. 

What would they do if you approached them like this, all teary and needy? Would instinct take over and snap them into their roles? Or would they give you an awkward pat on the back and leave you to take care of yourself? Gaz would help you, you think. He had slipped into that role so easily during the scenting. Your fingers twitch on the bedspread, your mind telling you to seek him out, track him down, even if it’s only to catch a whiff of his scent again.  

Your phone screen lights up where it’s sitting on the nightstand, drawing your attention from the door. Kate had given you the phone just this morning before you left the hotel. It had her number on it, as well as your pack’s. You’d half expected to find messages already from them when you’d turned it on, but there had been none. They had kept that boundary of meeting in person first. 

You pick up the phone, checking the message. It’s from Price. 

Breakfast is at 0700. I’ll take you to see the Omega Specialist after. 

Seven o’clock. It’s not terribly early. You’d eaten around the same time at the institute. You’ll get to meet the Omega Specialist as well tomorrow. You’ve met plenty of them in your time as an omega, but something about the idea of having someone there who knows, who understands is comforting to you. 

You send a reply in acknowledgement for tomorrow’s plan before setting an alarm for tomorrow morning. There’s an uneasy feeling under your skin, a tickling in the back of your mind that you can’t seem to relax. Your eyes are drawn to the desk where the shirts still sit, and before you know it you’re moving to the desk, letting your fingers trail over each one. 

You grab Price’s shirt, taking it back to your bed. You curl up with your back facing the door, holding the shirt against your chest, letting the scent of tobacco smoke and whiskey fill your nose. Silent tears slide down your cheeks, your face pressing into the pillow to muffle your sobs. 

As you try to muffle your tears, you miss the sound of boots pausing in front of your door, the person on the other side standing there for a moment before continuing down the hall. 

You let out a groan as your alarm pulls you from sleep. You had drifted in and out for a few hours before finally managing to get a couple precious hours of sleep. You’d woken when the others got up. You knew they were trying to be quiet but you had heard them shuffling around, talking quietly amongst each other. You’re normally a fairly deep sleeper, but in a new place you always struggle. 

A new place surrounded by almost complete strangers. 

You turn off your alarm, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. They’re burning a bit, the exhaustion still weighing heavy on your shoulders. You pad to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face to try and make yourself at least look more alive than you feel. The last thing you need is them getting worried about you. That’s attention you’re not sure you want right now. 

You blink sleepily at your closet, trying to decide what to wear. Were you allowed to wear anything? You didn’t have much besides the basics, since the only thing you had been allowed to wear at the institute was its uniform and the clothes they provided. Then when you were with the CIA, they had provided clothes for you to wear as well. The things you have now had been bought by Kate before you left D.C. 

Everyone on base wore similar variants of the same uniform. You’re not military, though, so you don’t think those rules apply to you. No one had said anything about your state of dress yesterday. You opt for comfort, knowing you’d likely find out soon if you were going to be forced to dress differently too. 

You’re tying your shoes when the knock sounds on your door. You had heard the others moving around, footsteps in the hallway, opening and closing doors, quiet voices talking and Soap laughing at something. You know it’s one of them, yet the nervous tickle at the back of your head is back. 

Soap is leaning casually against your doorframe when you open the door. His face lights up in a smile as he sees you. “Morning, bonny. Sleep alright?” 

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Tossed and turned for a while.” 

“We didne keep ye up did we?” He asks, his smile faltering just a bit. 

You shake your head. “No, I never sleep well the first few nights in a new place.” 

“Well, our beds are always open if ye need something more comfortable.” He winks at you playfully. 

Your face warms at his words, the double meaning not lost on you. You were right, Soap was going to be the one to push your boundaries the most. 

Gaz elbows him in the ribs as he passes. “She’s been here a day, mate, don’t go scaring her off now.” He leans on the other side of your doorframe, giving you a smile. “Morning.” 

“Morning.” You say, your face still warm from Soap’s teasing. 

“You hungry?” Gaz asks. 

You nod. You do feel hungry this morning, likely a side effect from your emotional night last night. You step out of your room, the two betas stepping back to give you space as you close the door behind you. Ghost is leaning against the wall next to his door, his eyes watching with the typical cautious disinterest that seemed to be his default setting. 

Gaz and Soap sandwich you between them again, close enough their arms brush yours as you walk. It was almost as if they could sense your inner turmoil, the neediness still tugging at the back of your mind. If Ghost hadn’t been trailing the three of you, you might have been tempted to give in and grip their sleeves, or slip your hands into theirs. How would Ghost respond to such a bold move? The mental image of your body flying through the air as he punted you into next week almost makes you laugh. 

Price is already seated at a table frowning at his phone over a cup of coffee. Gaz and Soap load up your tray for you, something you’re getting used to rather quickly. It was expected from the alphas, or at least Price, to coddle you a bit, but it seemed the betas were more than happy to get in on it as well. 

The thought makes something flutter in your chest. 

You’re seated between Gaz and Price again once you reach the table, Price greeting you with a tired smile. “Morning. Sleep alright?” 

“Not really.” You say honestly. “New place and all. I’ll settle in eventually.” 

“Maybe the Omega Specialist can give you some ideas to help.” He glances at his watch before looking at you as you spoon a heaping spoonful of porridge into your mouth. “Take your time. We have until 8.” 

You listen to the conversation at the table as you eat, Gaz and Soap talking about a football game that’s on tonight. You feel eyes on you, your skin prickling a bit. You glance up, half expecting Ghost to be glowering at you again, but his gaze is focused on his eggs. You cast a quick glance around the mess, turning slightly to look behind you. 

Three tables over, you find the gaze of some soldier focused on you. You haven’t paid much attention to anyone else on the base, but then again you haven’t had much time or reason to yet. You can’t read the expression on his face as he stares at you, but you feel a shiver run down your spine as your eyes meet his. 

He stares at you for a few seconds before his gaze moves slightly past you, quickly dropping back to his plate. You turn around, finding Ghost staring just past your head. His eyes are narrowed, his scent coming off stronger than it had been. You can practically see his hackles raised, the warning clear in the air. You feel the urge to curl in on yourself, the threatening aura radiating from him makes you want to cower. 

It doesn't go unnoticed by those at the table either. 

“Easy, Ghost.” Price says calmly, Gaz turning to follow his line of sight. 

“Bloody wanker.” Ghost grumbles before rising from the table. 

You turn back around, but the soldier that had been staring at you is gone. 

You nervously pick at your sweatshirt sleeves as you sit in the plastic chair next to Price. You’re still on edge a bit from what happened at breakfast. It wasn’t so much being stared at that bothered you. After now three meals in the mess, you’ve almost come to expect it. It’s Ghost’s reaction that has your mind still reeling. 

“I’ve always hated the medical center.” Price says with a sigh as he leans his head back against the wall. “It smells too sterile. Makes my nose burn. Reminds me of too many close calls.” 

His words jar you a bit. You hadn’t even thought about that aspect of his job. He’s used to getting shot at, to getting into fights, running head first into danger that would send most running the other way. You wonder how many times he’s been the one with the close call, and how many others he’s had to watch have their own. 

You wonder how many times he’s had to make that trip to tell someone’s family. 

You’re pulled from your thoughts as the door across from you opens. Price pushes himself to his feet, and you follow as a kind looking woman steps out. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief. You don’t have anything against male Omega Specialists, but you were already surrounded by men. Sure you have Kate, but she’s half a world away. 

She’s tall, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Despite being a doctor she’s dressed casually, no white coat or gloves to be seen. Her eyes are light green and crease in the corners when she smiles. 

“Hello, I’m Dr. Keller.” She introduces herself, shaking Price’s hand. 

American. You think, silently breathing another sigh of relief. Kate really had pulled some strings with this one. 

“Captain John Price.” He says. 

You introduce yourself when she turns to you, shaking your hand. Her voice is soft and gentle, the scent of beta coming off her in waves. 

“Come on in,” She says, leading you into the office. “Sit anywhere you like. Make yourselves comfortable.” 

Her office isn’t what you expected either. Instead of the harsh fluorescents, the lighting is softer, warmer. There’s paintings and posters all over the walls, along with several plants. There’s a desk covered in books and paperwork in one corner and a bookshelf with several books packed into it in the other. There’s a couch on one wall, and a couple plush looking chairs on the other. 

You move to one of the chairs, sinking down onto it. It envelops you in softness, and you feel as if you might sink into it and never be able to get out. After a day of hard plastic and stiff blankets, it nearly makes you weep. 

Price takes the chair next to you, Dr. Keller sitting on the couch across from you. The office smells good, a light, neutral scent in the air aside from the pure almondy scent of beta. 

“Alright,” She says, holding a tablet and a stack of files in her lap. “I always like to start by introducing myself and telling you a bit about me, then we’ll get into the important stuff.” 

She jumps into telling you about herself. Where she grew up: California. Where she studied: UC Berkeley. What institute she did her residency at: West Coast Training Academy. Where she worked last before Kate called her in: some poor inner city institute in LA. 

“Now, on to the more important stuff.” She says, turning on the tablet. “I got your medical records yesterday. You’re quite the healthy girl.” 

“Yes ma'am. I have good genes. That’s what my mom used to say.” You respond. 

Dr. Keller smiles. “Hardly even been sick. Your heats are all normal, too, correct?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You say. “Except for a three month stretch two years ago.” 

“Yes, the heat sickness epidemic that hit America.” She says. 

You nod. “FIOT locked down completely and everyone was supposed to quarantine, but I heard a rumor that it was one of the beta food workers. She snuck out to see her alpha boyfriend and brought it in with her. We only think it was her because she disappeared not long after the first omega got sick.” 

Dr. Keller hums. “I know not everyone was so willing to take it seriously. You made a full recovery, though. No lasting side effects, I’m sure thanks to the state of the art medical facilities that FIOT keeps.” 

“Yes, ma’am. We were lucky it was just a mild case.” 

“That is lucky.” She flips through something on the tablet. “Your lab results all look phenomenal. I like to do checkups monthly, just to ensure everything is working as it should. I know the CIA gave you quite the cocktail of vaccines while you were with them.” She turns her gaze to Price. “Captain Price, I’ve sent in a request for your team’s vaccination records as well. I’m sure you’ve had everything under the sun, but I’d like to ensure there’s no risk of any accidental exposures.” 

“I don’t see a problem with that.” Price says. “If RAMC gives you any trouble, just let me know. I’ll get them for you myself.” 

“Thank you, Captain.” She says. “One last bit in this part and then we can move on. I see FIOT issued an implant before you left, as is standard practice.” 

You nod. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good. You’ve had more than enough time for it to take effect so we won’t have to worry about any accidental slip ups during your next heat.” 

Your cheeks warm at her words a bit. You’ve been trying to avoid thinking about that inevitable side of things. 

“And your next heat is roughly six weeks away.” She says, looking at the calendar. “Don't be surprised if it comes a little earlier now that you’re being exposed to alphas again.” 

Your stomach twists nervously at that thought. It was common for heats to be triggered early after exposure to alphas, especially after such a prolonged period without exposure to them. It wasn’t likely to start tomorrow, but you knew it could jump a week or two due to the natural pheromones alphas put off, and the instinctual call for the alpha/omega bond. 

“You’re planning for the claiming to take place during the heat?” Dr. Keller asks. 

“Yes, that’s the plan.” Price says. 

“That is the most natural time for it.” Dr. Keller says. “Of course, it is always up to omega preference in the end.” 

You don’t miss the way her eyes dart to you for a second. 

“Now that that’s over with,” She says, putting the tablet to the side. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to do this next part with just the two of us.” 

A beat of silence passes before you realize she’s asking you. Her eyes are on you, and so are Price’s. She’s asking you. She’s asking you what you want. 

“I-I guess...yeah.” You stutter over your words, not quite sure how to answer. Is there a wrong answer? Would Price be upset if you said yes? Would Dr. Keller be upset if you said no? Your eyes turn to Price, trying to gauge his reaction. 

“It’s up to you.” He says softly. “We’re here for you.” 

You sit up a little straighter at his words, nodding your head. “Y-Yes. That’s okay.” 

Price pushes himself to stand up. “I’ll be right outside.” 

The air inside the room seems to lighten as he leaves, Dr. Keller reclining back on the couch as the door clicks shut. She pulls out a stack of papers and a pen before she looks at you. Your palms are sweating, and you’re starting to think you’d like the chair to swallow you whole. 

“This next part can feel a bit personal, but I just want you to know that everything you say in here is as confidential as you’d like it to be. Captain Price is right. I am an Omega Specialist, I’m here for you. I’m not just a doctor, I’m here to help you in all aspects of being an omega. I know FIOT teaches a lot, mainly obedience and compliance. I want to make it clear that you can be honest with me.” She holds up the stack of papers. “No one is going to see these papers but me, alright?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod. 

“You don’t have to be so formal with me.” She smiles. “You can call me Dr. Keller, or Doc. You could even call me an evil bitch if you want, it won’t phase me any.” 

You can’t help the small smile that forms on your face. 

“I’ve got some questions I’d like to ask you. They’re a sort of tracker to measure how well you’re settling in and bonding with your new pack. I’d like to meet once a week until your next heat just to see how well you’re settling in. After that we can meet as often as you’d like. Sound good?” 

You nod in approval. It sounds like a lot, but you also know you’re going to have a lot of downtime, even with your pack on base. 

“Alright, let’s get started. How are you settling in? I know it’s barely been a day, but I want to know how you feel here.” 

Your heart begins to pound in your chest. How do you feel here? How do you feel after being pulled from the institute and taken to a training facility where you found out you’d be moving halfway across the world to be a military pack’s omega. 

This wasn’t what you had expected when you reached the age where you became an available omega. Most omegas at FIOT came from rich, powerful, important families and your purpose there was to be groomed into the perfect omega to return right back to that world. 

You thought you would be chosen quickly. You had expected it. With your scores and your high ratings and your status, you were what most alphas dreamed of. Yet, the years had passed and though there was some interest, nothing had ever come of it. You weren’t alone in it. There were others like you, those who excelled at being an omega, but then seemed to stall in the selection once they came of age. 

Of course, now that you look back on it, you can’t help but think it might have been done on purpose. The Omega Initiative was new, you had been told during your first briefing explaining why you were taken to a remote building somewhere outside of D.C. and greeted not by your new pack, but swathes of CIA agents. Military packs were nothing new, but they wanted to utilize the naturally formed packs and make them stronger and more stable by adding in omegas. 

Only highly skilled omegas were considered for the program, but of course you had no say in whether you were going to partake or not. They chose the omegas and they decided where you would end up. 

It wasn’t that dissimilar from being chosen from an Institute. At FIOT there was a screening process packs had to go through to be determined eligible to have access to omega files. Then the pack would have to send a neutral emissary, usually a beta, to meet the omegas in person and choose on behalf of the alpha. Most institutes don’t have that strenuous of a process, and some don’t have a process at all. In some, alphas themselves could walk in and choose an omega without even so much as a background check. 

Omegas never got a say. As soon as you were handed over to an institute, the ability to choose was taken from you. Whoever your caretakers were as a pup signed over their rights to you and the institute became your legal guardian. They dictated your life up until you joined a new pack. 

You had hoped it would be someone rich. If nothing else, you’d get to live a cushy life and you’d never have to worry about anything. When they told you what was really going to happen to you, you had almost cried. You did cry, late at night curled up in your bunk after hours of training and briefings. 

Kate picked you for this pack specifically because she knew them and she knew you could handle them and their world. 

Maybe if you had been worse at being an omega, things would have been better for you. 

Or maybe they would have been worse. 

“It’s...different.” You finally say, picking at your sleeves again. “But in a lot of ways, it’s similar to The Institute. It always takes me time to settle somewhere new.” 

“Me too.” Dr. Keller says, writing some things down. “And with the time change, it’s just so much harder. I feel like I should be in bed right now, but it’s 8 AM. Have you started nesting?” 

You shake your head. “No. I don’t even feel the urge to.” 

“That’s fine.” She says, writing something else down. “In truth, I’d be more concerned if you were.” 

Your eyebrows raise a bit. “Why?” 

“During an adjustment period for an omega, especially in a new pack, there can be something that happens called false instincts. The sudden urge to nest, a drive to bond with pack members too soon, false heats. It’s usually brought on by a sudden change in environment, like when omegas are taken from a place where they’ve spent sometimes years with no exposure to alphas and are suddenly thrown into a space with a lot of alphas. It’s more common in larger packs where you have alphas, betas, and other omegas.” 

“Could it happen in smaller packs?” You ask. 

“It’s possible, though rare. It can cause some serious issues down the line when those instincts are actually supposed to begin to show up, like adjustment sickness. I’d say if you’re starting to feel the urge to nest or bond before the first week is up, then come talk to me, alright?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod. 

She smiles, turning the page. “How far have you gotten with the bonding process?” 

“Just the scenting yesterday.” You answer. 

“And how did that go?” 

You pick at the loose thread on your sweatshirt. “Fine. It was...overwhelming.” 

“They can be.” Dr. Keller says. “The new members of your pack, how are you getting along with them?” 

“Fine, I guess.” You shrug. “I like Soap and Gaz. Price, he’s...he’s nice, and Ghost...” You trail off, not sure how to answer. If she’d asked before breakfast you might have said he doesn't like you. He doesn’t want you to be part of his pack, but after what happened at breakfast...

You can’t be sure he did it for you. He could have thought that soldier was staring at Soap or Gaz or even Price. He could have thought the soldier was staring at him and was annoyed with it. He had scared off the stares at every meal you’d eaten together, but how often did they get stared at? You couldn’t know if that was a daily occurrence and he was just growing sick of it. 

He could be annoyed with you because you’re drawing in the stares. 

“I don’t know what to think about him yet.” You answer. 

She writes something else down, going through a few more questions with you. How is your appetite? How are you sleeping? Are you taking care of your needs? Do you have any concerns? 

Before you know it the hour has passed and you’re walking out the door into the fluorescent, sterile hallway of the medical center. 

“Remember, you have my number. If you need anything, I’m here for you.” Dr. Keller says as you part ways. 

You walk with Price out of the medical center, glad to be out in the fresh air. It’s not particularly warm, and the sun is hidden behind a layer of clouds, but it’s better than the medical center. 

“What do you think?” Price asks as you follow him back to the barracks. 

“I think it went well.” You say, mind still reeling from an eventful morning. You’re beginning to feel your restless night. 

“Do you like Dr. Keller?” He asks, probing a bit. 

You nod. “Yes, sir. She’s nice.” 

“Good.” He says, opening the door to the barracks for you. “I have to leave to oversee training for the next few hours.” He glances at his watch. “One of us will come get you for lunch.” 

You nod. Of course you’d find yourself alone again between meals. You’re beginning to notice a pattern. “Yes, sir.” 

His hand is warm as it settles on your shoulder, squeezing gently. You’re surprised by the touch, as small as it is. Were they too fighting the urge to get close to you, like you had this morning? 

You can still feel the warmth of his hand even after it’s disappeared and he’s gone. You head for the rec room, deciding to avoid the constricting feeling of being shut in your room for the time being. 

The TV is on when you enter, but the room is empty, playing some morning talk show. You move to the bookshelf against the wall, letting your eyes scan the titles. There's a surprising lack of military-based books shoved into the packed shelf. Of course there's a handful of old manuals and handbooks, nothing that you're particularly concerned about needing to read. You let out a sigh, standing on your toes to reach a Brandon Sanderson novel. 

You look around the room but the remote for the TV seems to be missing, and it’s too high on the wall for you to reach the power button, so you leave it on, curling up on one corner of the couch as you begin to read. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed when something moves in your peripheral. The sun has come out briefly, shining in through the windows. You look up from the book, suddenly feeling very small under Ghost’s gaze. His eyes are narrowed as he stares down at you, a thousand things flashing through your mind. Are you in his spot? Is this his book? Had he come to the rec room hoping to be alone and here you are infringing in his space? 

“Come on.” He says, his voice rougher than it had been this morning. “Lunch.” 

He’s already turned and heading out the door as you scramble up, leaving the book on the coffee table as you hurry to catch up to him. His steps are quick and wide, and you find yourself having to almost speedwalk to keep up with him. 

Your thoughts are jumbled as you follow him out of the barracks and off towards the mess. Why would they send him to get you? Was he the only one available? Yesterday they had time before lunch to return to the barracks, or had that only been because of you? Or were they perhaps hoping this might offer a chance for the two of you to bond a bit? 

Or were they entirely blind to Ghost’s disinterest in your existence? 

Perhaps they were used to it. After so long together, perhaps they just thought it was normal. If you were brave enough to bring it up, would you get a “oh that’s just how he is” in response? 

You can’t see the others as you enter the mess, Ghost leading you to the line. He stands behind you like a hulking shadow, his scent covered by the smell of gunpowder and sweat. You fill your own tray for the first time, grabbing things that look appetizing. You’ll have to get used to it eventually, even though the others insisted on doing it for the time being. When they’re not here, you’ll have to do it yourself. 

Ghost leads you to an empty table, and you opt to sit across from him. You begin to eat, taking big bites to avoid the need for conversation, not that you really thought Ghost would strike up a conversation with you. Your eyes flicker around the room nervously, glancing over the entrances time and time again, waiting for the others to arrive. 

“Stop twitching. They’re on their way.” 

The words cut straight through you and you snap your head around to face Ghost. He’s got his mask pulled up to his nose, your eyes immediately drawn to the exposed pale skin. There’s light stubble on his chin. You remember how that had felt on your own skin when he’d scented you. He’s blonde, you think, or at least has light hair judging by the color of the stubble. There’s a scar on his chin, almost hidden by the stubble. 

Your face warms as you realize you’ve been caught in your nervous fretting. Of course, you should have known he would take notice. There’s not a lot they don’t notice, you think. Though, when your survival depends on noticing even the smallest detail of anything or anyone...

You jump as a tray is set down next to yours, your eyes snapping up to see Gaz with a smile on his face. You turn back to look at Ghost, his mask pulled back down but you see a slight shake to his shoulders for a second.

Was he...laughing at you? 

Your attention is drawn from him as Gaz takes a seat next to you, sitting close enough his arm is almost brushing yours. Price and Soap taking their usual spots as well. You’re beginning to pick up on the patterns that existed around them, and their own patterns. Perhaps that will make it easier for you to fit yourself into their lives. You knew from the start they weren’t going to change to fit you into their lives. They couldn’t. You were going to have to find a way to fit into their lives. 

Gaz walks you back to the barracks after lunch, abnormally quiet as he watches you warily. He walks you to your door, leaning on the doorframe as you step inside. 

“You alright?” He asks, big brown eyes shining with worry as he looks you over. 

“Yeah.” You nod, shifting on your feet. “Just tired. I think I might take a nap.” 

He nods, and you’re sure he doesn't quite believe you, but he doesn’t press any. “Alright. Happy napping.” 

You close the door as he leaves, sinking down onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. It’s been a long day and it’s only lunch. Between the probing questions from Dr. Keller and the few minutes you had spent alone with Ghost you feel exhausted. It was good to know you weren’t entirely broken in your lack of nesting instincts, and perhaps your turmoil with belonging in this place wasn’t quite as abnormal as you thought. 

What to do about Ghost.

He’s said more words to you today than he did in the entirety of the previous day. In fact, you think today might be the first time he’s spoken to you at all. You know he doesn’t approve of you, and you’d go so far as to say he doesn’t like you. You can imagine he fought the hardest against you being added to the pack. They were fine without you. It didn’t take a genius to see that. 

You’re an outsider. A civilian. A risk. 

An unneeded disruption to their lives. 

You pull your phone out of your pocket, staring at the dark screen. You know Ghost might never accept you. He won’t want to claim you, he won’t mate you, but...perhaps you might just get him to tolerate you. 

You unlock your phone, sending a quick text to Kate. 

“Can you get a book for me?”

You regret your decision momentarily as you step into the rec room. Gaz and Soap are lounged on the couch, beer bottles open on the coffee table. The TV is playing ads, their attention on each other. You almost feel as if you’re infringing upon a private moment as they laugh, half tempted to race back to your room and hide until your hunger draws you out or someone breaks down the door to get to you. 

“Hey!” Gaz’s face lights up when he sees you, Soap turning to look at you.

“Hey, bonny!” His face lights up with a smile. 

“Do you mind if I join you?” You ask, shifting nervously on your feet. 

“Not at all.” Gaz says, patting the empty spot on the couch next to him. “You want a beer?” 

You shake your head. “No thank you. Never could get past the taste.” 

Soap throws his head back as he laughs, slapping Gaz’s shoulder. “I keep tellin’ ye!” 

“Yet you keep drinking it!” Gaz attempts to defend himself. 

“Cause it’s th’ only thing we got!” Soap argues, leaning around Gaz to stare at you. “So, ye a football fan, bonny?” 

“Well, I watched the World Cup a couple times as a kid.” You say. “My household was more of an American football and baseball household. Two of my older brothers played soccer, though they never were very serious about it. Mostly just did it to fulfill my dad’s physical activity extracurricular requirement.” 

“What did you do to fulfill that requirement?” Gaz asks as he takes a sip of his beer. 

“Softball. I was...not good at it.” You laugh. “I could catch and throw, but I don’t think I hit the ball a single time I was at bat.” 

Both of them chuckle, turning back to the TV as the ad ends. “Don’t worry, we’ll turn you into a proper football fan yet.” Gaz says. 

You watch the game with them, and it doesn’t take you long to realize they’re rooting for opposing teams. They explain things to you here and there in between yelling at the TV and each other. Despite how loud they are, you find yourself relaxing further and further, the tension from the last two days easing away, even as the two betas yell at each other over a soccer game. 

Gaz tenses for a second as he feels a sudden weight on his shoulder. He turns his head slightly, noticing you’ve fallen asleep, your head drooping onto his shoulder. His lips quirk up in a smile as he gently nudges Soap. 

“Wha?” Soap asks, turning to look at him. 

He jerks his head to the side, leaning back just slightly so Soap can see. A grin breaks out on the younger man’s face and he pulls out his phone. “Aww, look a’ that. Think we should wake ‘er and get ‘er tae bed?” 

“Nah.” Gaz says. “Let her sleep for now. She probably needs it.” 

You sleep soundly through overtime, Gaz not moving until the post game is over, letting you sleep as long as possible. He knows you have to be tired, after the last few days and the time difference. You looked tired today, with dark circles and droopy eyes. He hates to wake you, but he knows you can’t sleep on the couch. 

He nudges you gently, trying to rouse you. “Hey.” He nudges you again, your head finally lifting off his shoulder. 

You blink sleepily, rubbing at your eyes. You make a quiet sound in protest of being awake, eyes drooping closed again. 

“Come on, love.” He says, keeping you upright. “It’s time for bed.” 

You cover your yawn with your hand, blinking at him sleepily. “Bed?” You murmur sleepily, Gaz smiling softly at how adorable you are in this state. 

“Yeah, you’ll be more comfortable in bed.” He pushes himself to stand, hands on your arms to pull you up. 

You make another sound in protest, nearly falling against his chest when he gets you on your feet. He wraps an arm around you, letting you lean on him as he guides you back to bed, Soap cleaning up the mess they had made. 

You’re more awake once you get to your door, blinking up at him with bleary eyes. “‘S fun.” You murmur, rubbing your eyes. “Should do that more often.” 

“You’re always welcome to join us.” He says. “Get some rest. You’ve had a long week.” He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Night, love.” 

He waits until your door is closed before heading back down the hallway towards the rec room, a small smile on his face. 

Taglist:

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#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly 141 #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #a/b/o #alpha beta omega dynamics

[tojisun]

not even lying but i couldn’t stop thinking about biker!simon ever since 😭

just imagine biker!simon at the bar with his friends, lounging, waiting for the time to run because after this little after-work drinks, he’s going to drive home to your place. his attention is split between his phone and the chatter of his friends, laughing in bursts at whatever embarrassing thing mactavish is recounting, before turning back to reading the message you sent.

> wearin ur shirt tonight <33

his lips curl in a smile and his heart flutters at how cute you truly are. he types out a response, licking the back of his teeth at the thought of coming home to see you in his shirt, when the chatter dies down in the group.

he catalogues the change, swiftly shutting his phone off before tipping his head up to assess what caused the shift in the mood, only for his eyes to land on a small group of women hovering by their table.

“uh, how can we help you lasses?” johnny, ever the gentleman, asks.

while one of them does respond to johnny, another slides into the empty space beside simon with a giggle.

“hey,” she trills, batting her lashes at him.

simon’s hand tightens around his bourbon, the quiet satisfaction that filled him up throughout the night dissipating. he nods in acknowledgment before turning back to his phone, seeing that there was no immediate danger for him to focus on.

ignoring his obvious lack of interest, she wraps her hand around his wrist and tugs hard enough that simon has to turn his attention back to her. he does so with a sigh.

“it’s so stuffy here,” she says, fanning herself, her eyes drawn onto the helmet he stupidly brought with him inside the bar. she presses close, rubbing her tits along his inked arm. “wanna take me out for a ride?”

simon snatches his arm from her hold, his face pinching in irate. “no, not interested.”

she pouts, cheeks flushing and simon wonders how much of it was because of the alcohol and how much of it was because of shame. he flicks his eyes up to the rest of the group, narrowing his eyes at the unabashed glee in johnny’s face at seeing simon be cornered by someone who can’t take a fucking clue, before shooting a betrayed glare at price and garrick who are choosing to ignore him.

the girl’s friends are now left sitting awkwardly, watching as their friend flounders for simon’s attention – something he’d never give, anyway.

“c’mon, big boy,” said friend croons, twirling her hair. “don’t wanna take a sweetheart for a drive?”

simon sighs, done for the night. “again, not interested," he replies. "'sides, i’ve got the sweetest darling waiting for me at home. i don’t want you, miss.”

and with that, he stands up, snatching his helmet from the table and nodding his goodbyes to his friends. he doesn’t stay long enough to hear her sputter or watch her storm off because simon’s already out the door and walking to the parking lot.

he wears his helmet and slides his gloves on, before fishing for his phone to finally send you that text that he had been wanting to send.

See you soon, sweetheart. <

pocketing his phone, simon finally hefts himself up onto his bike and kickstarts the engine, the machine purring underneath him. he adjusts his helmet, zips up his jacket, before caressing the embroidered letters on his gloves. he traces the initials of your name, feeling his heart fluttering, and brings his gloved knuckles to brush his lips against them.

snapping the visor down, simon revs up the engine and drives off, his thoughts full of nothing but you.

(ext02.) (ext.03) // mlist!

#suns.f #biker!simon #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #suns #what the fuck i was just tryna write a lil thirst headcanon what is this 😭