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taeescript · 3 years

Text

29 + 1 (Part Two)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (squint harder than before for taehyung x reader)

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin; a dash of enemies to lovers au

𝔴𝔠: 7.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: language; a plethora of drunk people, maybe a sext, and a ton of lying (possible implication of impending smut?!)

𝔞/𝔫: this part came out longer than i thought it would be but *shrugs* feedback and thoughts always welcomed. enjoy (: 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: DailyHive is real; this is not associated with it

part one || part three

The bright pop music that is blaring from the speakers does little to slow your animated talking. Bodies are packed into the small local bar, and students on summer break fill booths and form a snake of impatient, drunk (and horny) people. A slow trickle of the brazen has started to fill the dance floor as the evening morphs into the night.

You whip your hair into a ponytail and dab at the sweat that is beading your forehead. You definitely should have worn that sleeveless top rather than this thicker t-shirt dress.

“So, is he like your sugar daddy or something?” Taehyung asks, “Also drink.”

Friday nights were usually spent at home, snuggled under the blankets in your pjs binging another rewatch of Friends. After work today, you could no longer hold onto your secret and invited Taehyung out for drinks. His girlfriend, Fei, was supposed to join but had been held back for overtime.

You tip the shot back with no chase.

“You’re a monster,” he comments as he bites into his lemon piece.

The two of you had made a bet at the beginning of the evening: you each chose a pop song and each time it played, the nominee had to take a shot. That was your fourth of the night, and to say there was a bit of a buzz is an understatement.

“It’s all throat technique, Tae,” you say with a bit of a slur, “Hit the back and swallow. No innuendo intended. Also, why the hell haven’t you had any to drink?”

“You picked ‘Peaches’ for fuck’s sake.”

“I told you I don’t listen to pop music. It was the first one playing.”

“And shouldn’t that have told you something? Justin Bieber of all people?”

“Shut up. It’s your song.” You nod at the pink-faced barista for another round. She slaps your order in front of the two of you without so much a glance.

You don’t even know what song is playing, but you feel quite satisfied watching Taehyung make a face as he downs it in one go.

He clears his throat after the liquor has burned its way down to his stomach. “Back to my question: is he your sugar daddy?”

You bark out a laugh. Was he? Perhaps the fact that he paid for fancy meals at lunch? Those have been his one o’clock meetings for the past two months.

“I don’t know. I’d rather he buy me a car or pay my rent if anything. A casual 1k a week wouldn’t be so bad either. We just sit in his office and eat in secret, Tae. He’s ‘training me in the art of culinary cuisine’. I think it’s just so I don’t embarrass him by stuffing a shrimp cocktail up my nose.”

“You do know – ”

“Yes, I know. And I would never. It’s a metaphor. It’s just that the position ‘intern’ is quite loosely defined at DailyHive, don’t you think?”

Taehyung rinses his mouth with water before speaking. “So let me get this right. Mr. Kim calls you into his office, says he’s going to take you as his guest to the biggest tech event of the year, treats you to lunches and doesn’t ask for anything in return? No secret midnight meetups or shady business deals…”

You shake your head.

“Damn,” Taehyung says, resting his arm on the bar table, “Forget sugar daddy. He’s just daddy.”

Sticking your tongue out, you gag visibly at his comment. “Do not ever call him that again, Tae; ev-er.”

He laughs and watches you pensively. After a moment’s thought, he says, “Nobody has ever called me Tae.”

“What do they call you then?” you reply, wrinkling your brows together. A cute brunette across the room catches your eyes and for the briefest of seconds, you wonder what a one-night-stand would feel like.

He shrugs. “Just Taehyung.”

The brunette waves in your direction. You are about to return his wave when an equally cute brunette runs up to him. He promptly kisses her before swivelling her around to join his group of friends.

“Sorry. Do you want me to stop? I just assumed since we were out of the office…”

Oh Fate, how cruel you are. Life of twenty cats and solidarity, here you come. Maybe dogs. You feel like you could be more of a dog person.

“No,” he stops you, “You can call me Tae. Whatever you want.”

You turn your attention back on the also cute brunette in front of you. In all honestly, despite his youthful god-like countenance, he looks slightly out of place at this college bar with you in his upstanding business attire and dorkishly adorable thick-framed glasses.

“Sure. How about Tee-Tee? Or Hyungie? The TaeMan?” You wiggle your brows with the suggestion.

“God help me.”

The two of you clink your shot glasses together even though neither of your songs are being played.

His Apple watch lights up to indicate an incoming message. He relays the text to you, “Fei’s done work. She’s on her way now.” You can’t help but notice a shift in his previously excited demeanor.

You nudge him with your elbow. “Aren’t you excited? She’ll need a glass of wine or two to destress after work. I might be projecting onto you for this part, but you’re buzzed. So after we get her to unwind I’m sure the overwhelming power of pheromones will get you lucky tonight.” You wink at him to emphasize your point.

“She’s not a big drinker. She’s probably just going to come and ask to leave in five minutes. Bars like this aren’t really her thing either,” he states. He then unbuckles his watch and tucks it away into the pocket of his pants. Undoing the cuffs of his shirt, he rolls up the sleeves and continues to regard you solemnly. “Okay, next round is one me. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to switch songs?”

You notice how nice, long, and slender his fingers are. Plus the thing of girls liking when men have visible veins on their forearm? That had never really caught your attention until now.

“She’s a bit of a bitch,” you say and immediately regret, “Shit, sorry. That just slipped out. Alcohol.”

He offers you his water to drink.

“I mean, she’s a little…uptight at times? But people can be completely different in and out of work. I can only imagine how stressful it is in her position. Working overtime until 9pm on a Saturday night seriously sucks,” you say to try and mend your wrongdoing.

“Fei in the office is basically Fei at home,” he says softly, “It’s always work with her.”

“We support career-driven women, yeah?” A smile is offered from you to him.

He finally lets out a small one and nods. Out of the blue, he reaches over and covers your hand with his. Staring intently into your eyes, he says, “I know she makes you do her reports and occupies your time to do her coffee runs as well. You can say no to her. She may be my girlfriend, but you’re technically my intern, and I will stand on your side no matter what.”

“Um, okay. Thanks, Tae,” you say. His sincerity has caught you off guard.

At that moment, the sound of clicking heels pierce its way into your eardrums through the noise of the even busier bar. Taehyung quickly retracts his hand.

Fei arrives, not a hair out of place in her tightly pulled bun. Her lips are painted a striking red against the paleness of her skin, and her manicured nails dig into the forearm of Taehyung when she reaches them. Even though she is wearing an otherwise drab office business suit, the curvature of her body draws quite a few glances from the younger men in the crowd.

“It’s like a zoo here,” she sneers, turning away from a sacrificial lamb who had been bold enough step out of his circle of friends to greet her with a sleezy “hey”.

“Hi, Fei. Busy night?” you greet her first.

She gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Yes. I don’t know why you weren’t there. Isn’t it the intern’s job to complete reports?”

Again, a loosely defined use of “intern” at DailyHive.

You return her smile with a crisp one of your own.

She turns away from you and regards Taehyung, who looks as if he had been the sacrificial lamb instead. “Teddybear, let’s go home. You know this type of place isn’t my vibe. I’m getting a headache already.”

You raise an eyebrow at his pet name.

He turns a little bit pinker, if that is possible under the current alcohol-induced glow of his cheeks, and says, “Um, sure. Y/N, are you going to be okay getting home?”

Waving him off, you show him your phone. “30% left. I’ve got pepper spray in my bag and enough booze in me to not run from a fight. I’ll call an Uber home soon, don’t worry.”

Fei has already begun to fight her way through the squirming, dancing bodies. Taehyung glances quickly at her and turns back to you once last time. “Text me that you’re home safe.”

“Will do, boss,” you smile at him warmly.

He lingers for just a moment more before running after his impatiently waiting girlfriend.

You turn back to the bar and order another beer for yourself. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is perhaps the biggest perk of being single.

...

On the opposite side of town, sinking deeply into a soft lounge chair is Seokjin enjoying a rare evening out with his best friend. He has swapped his usual attire for a more relaxed fit of a white oversized crewneck and techwear bottoms. A heavy, exorbitant fur-lined long leather coat hangs on the coat rack beside the door to their private VVIP room. He swirls his glass of Chateau Lafite before sipping delicately.

Outside, only a handful of patrons sit quietly engrossed in their own conversations. It is a relatively empty night at the high-end lounge. A lady sings sultrily on stage with the smooth background of a saxophone as accompaniment.

Junho has poured himself another glass while he is talking to Seokjin. Seokjin had since slightly tuned out his friend’s rather elongated rendition of another celebrity sighting to occupy his mind with another individual.

“Earth to Jin? When did you get so lightweight since I’ve been gone?” Junho waves a hand in front of Seokjin’s nose.

Seokjin blinks to refocus.

“The mansion I bought last year or the one I bought last month?” he reiterates. Sensing that Seokjin truly had no idea what the topic at hand had been, he tries again.

“Where should I do my birthday party this year, man? I thought the mansion from last year since it’s closer to the city, but I feel like it’s been reused too many times. It’s not completely furnished yet, but the property I got last month is significantly bigger and I can probably host more people.”

“The new place then,” Seokjin answers half-heartedly.

Junho grumbles something intelligible.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Junho sighs, “Tell me what’s new with you. How’s that little project of yours going? I still can’t believe you won’t let me know who you’re planning to take to the Gala.”

Seokjin had refused to release even the slightest detail about you to Junho. Letting him know that Seokjin had agreed to one of his plans would be enough to inflate Junho’s ego for at least a little while.

“It’s been going...”

Junho waits for more of Seokjin’s answer, but his friend’s attention has been turned to a received text.

10:17pm “Safe and sound, Teddy Bear.”

10:17pm “Or should I say Taeddybear? 🥴”

10:18pm “That last beer done me rael godo.”

10:18pm “Real good**”

Seokjin raises a brow at the unknown number. He responds back.

10:18pm “Who is this? I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

Junho crosses his legs and sits back with a sigh. He presses the button to request for an attendant.

10:19pm “You know who… Anyways, I just wanted to say thank you for saying you’ve got my back. It’s definitely appreciated.”

The response doesn’t do much except to further pique Seokjin’s curiosity.

“Sorry,” he says, sliding his phone back into his pocket, “Rogue text I think.”

Junho shrugs. “Is that right? Seems to have caught your attention.” There is now a manner of indifference to his voice.

“It’s going well, by the way – answering your question. I mean, all things considered. It’s not like I have to teach her how not to stuff a cocktail shrimp up your nose.”

His friend snorts. “I’d be concerned and against this person if it’s who you’re planning to bring.”

Seokjin’s phone buzzes again.

10:21pm “Pray for me when I wake up with the worst hangover of my life. I’m going to bed now.”

A moment of silence.

10:21pm “I hope I didn’t piss off Fei tonight for stealing you for the evening.”

10:22pm “Okay I’ll shut up now. Please don’t tell me you’re reading this. You should be getting some 😼💦.”

The emoji makes Seokjin choke, liquid sputtering from his lips.

Junho cusses. He angrily dabs at the speckle of red wine that has landed on his pearly white top.

10:23pm Download attached image. “Just in case, here’s a little something to get the night started 😉”

“What the hell man?” Junho gets up and makes his way to the bathroom. Luckily, the previously called attendant had arrived in time to escort him.

Seokjin barely notices that he is alone in room as he taps the download button. It isn’t until he has returned home and is looking at the picture one last time before bed that he realizes who his mysterious texter is.

The employee nametag clipped to the collar of your workday shirt hanging on the arm of a chair can only be found when zoomed in past your painted toes and naked feet.

...

You cannot hide your nervousness when you arrive at your “lunch meeting” the following Monday morning. All weekend, you had cursed yourself for not better checking who the recipient of your texts were before pressing send. Never had you thought that in your drunken stupor you would mix up “The Devil” in your contact list with “Taehyung Kim.” Curse you and your lack of friends beginning with the letter “T”.

You balk before, a hand poised in perfect position for a knock. Maybe he didn’t download it? And even if he did, it was just a troll feet pic. You had made sure that it was as pg-13 as possible before you had sent it.

“Hi,” you greet sheepishly when he has given you the go to enter.

In a smart plain blue button-up and round frames that are almost certainly for the aesthetics, the CEO of the company and your boss sizes you up and down.

“I know we’ve gotten to know each other better these past few weeks. But you’d think it’s still common courtesy to at least make eye contact,” he says. You look at him wide eyed without a word.

He rolls his eyes but does not gesture to your usual seat. In fact, you don’t spy a take-out container in sight. He instead stands up and picks up his phone, walking to the door. He notices you have yet to move.

“Let’s get moving. You’ve only got a 45 minute lunch.”

You scramble to match his speed and catch Taehyung’s eye as you grab your jacket at your desk. Taehyung’s gaze follows you as you hurry to leave in pursuit of Seokjin’s coattail.

...

The restaurant is a popular vegan establishment with a plethora of greenery crawling up its high ceilings and a window-framed overview of the city’s skyline. Waiters and waitresses who may just as well be walking New York Fashion Week serve you brunch mimosas on a golden plate; they attentively wait to the side in case you ever run out of water.

Common topics are rare between the two of you. Initially, you respectfully kept quiet and only answered questions when asked, but you have never been one for awkward silence. Yes, it’s awkward only if you make it awkward; there is just no denying the hanging suspense that curls your toes each time. Recently, you have started with simple inquiries regarding the company, who they might meet at the Gala and everyday mundane topics.

“You’re probably wondering why we’re out of the office,” Seokjin says. He continues shortly after taking a bite of his meal and ignores the look of your surprise at his initiation of a conversation. “My office has been getting stuffy with the warmer weather so I thought it’d be nice to get some fresh air. How’s the food?”

You nod, making small sounds of contentment as you chew on the Avocado Lime Tartare. Mmm… tart-y.

He takes a deep breath in, stalling the incoming conversation. “It’s my friend’s birthday this next weekend.”

“Oh,” you say, “Happy early birthday to him.”

“He’s my best friend.”

“Well… An extra happy early birthday to him.”

A sigh. “Are you free next weekend?”

Your chewing comes to a halt and you blink once at his question. Next weekend is the weekend before the Silver Gala. It is also the sole weekend before your birthday the following Friday after the Gala. You had hoped to spend it with Taehyung and maybe even Jimin who had promised to be in town on a long overdue vacation despite your chastising to visit your parents first.

He senses your trepidation. Quickly, he explains himself,

“He’s having a birthday party Saturday night. He has a place about an hour north of here. I can have somebody pick you up if that’s more convenient. I don’t have a birthday present for him and thought it’d be nice for you to meet him.”

“You’re giving him me for a present?” you ask, incredulously.

He bites his tongue. He never anticipated how awkward this conversation could go.

“You’re going as my plus one. He really wants to meet you; in fact, he insisted that you be there. He’ll be at the gala too. I have something else planned for his birthday present,” he adds hastily, “Besides, you’re less than qualified as a present.”

Musing silently to yourself, you wonder if in any situation should a human be qualified as a present. Despite that, you hate yourself as you agree on the spot.

The rest of the lunch passes by quickly in dull silence. As Seokjin pays for the meal on the company card (and hands you the receipt for reimbursement), you note that there has been no comment made on any strange photos texted to him over the weekend.

Perhaps being nonchalantly implied as a human birthday gift to a stranger is your karma for sending weird texts to your boss.

Seokjin stays inside the car as he drops you off at the office after lunch, already preparing for his next business meeting. You nod your goodbye and step onto the pavement through the courteously held open door of the limousine.

“Y/N, try a soft pink. Fuchsia is not your colour,” he tells you as the door is closed.

He then leaves you standing in front of the large office doors, staring at your chipped, week-old purple toenails.

...

“I’m not exactly expecting a package in the mail or a dress laid out on the hotel bed – ”

“You guys are staying at a hotel?” Taehyung says over the phone.

You are standing in your bedroom, an hour before when Seokjin is supposed to pick you up as an offering to his best friend. There are two dresses laid out on your Hello Kitty bed covers: a simple black dress you had worn once when you were a little bit more in shape and your prom dress.

“No, I’m at home. But I mean, let me play into this movie metaphor.”

“You suck at metaphors.”

You have your phone propped up on some pillows so that you can see Taehyung as you debate your fashion decision. He is in a relaxed white tee, hair messily framing his face after a shower and a bowl of popcorn in his hands. You watch as a droplet of water runs down his face from his still-wet hair. He nonchalantly licks it off from the side of his mouth.

“As I was saying, it wouldn’t hurt to get me something. He made it seem like it was a big deal. Like doesn’t the male lead usually surprise the female lead with a big bouquet of flowers and this over-the-top expensive dress which she wears and makes the male lead fall head over heels in love with her?”

He chews silently on a kernel then probes, “You want Mr. Kim to fall in love with you?”

“No,” you hastily correct, “It’s a metaphor. I think you’re the one who sucks at metaphors.”

There is a beep on your phone to indicate you have another incoming call.

“Tae, I’m going to have to call you back. My brother’s calling me,” you tell him. The black dress; your old prom dress is way too early 2000s. Black never hurts.

“Okay. Have fun tonight. Pretend that it’s your birthday party. And then I’ll meet you for brunch tomorrow, my treat? You can tell me all about it,” he says. “Also the black. You look cute in that one.”

“My party if I was 30, rich and successful. Oh wait, I’ll have one thing in common soon; that’s a start. Thanks though. I’ll call you tomorrow morning once I get up,” you say, then switch the call over to your brother. You had missed the flush of his cheeks as you busily swipe your phone.

Sticking the prom dress back into your closet, you rummage around the meager display of shoeboxes for a pair of high heels.

“Hey, Jimin,” you greet over the phone.

“Jesus, I do not need to be accosted by my half-naked sister,” he yells over the phone.

You turn rapidly, seeing that you had accidentally continued a video call from when you had hung up on Taehyung. You throw a pillow over the camera in your haste to cover yourself up.

“I was going to ask why you’re dressed like that but on second thought, I think I’ll leave your sexual exploits as your own secret.”

Despite how disturbed you feel about this comment, his cheerful voice makes you smile.

“So little sis, the weekend before the big three-oh!”

“Please stop reminding me.”

“Where do you want to meet tonight? I just got off the plane, but I can be ready to meet in about an hour. I booked a hotel close to the airport.”

Shit. You forgot to tell Jimin. These heels will have to do.

“Um… I, uh…”

“What?”

You clear your throat and begin to undress in front of the mirror. You have a sudden conscious thought that the dusty treadmill in your living room seems to be staring daggers at your back.

“I’ve got plans tonight.”

“Plans? I wasn’t even aware you had friends here.”

“Ouch, Jimin. But yes, I have friends. In fact, I am meeting a friend for brunch tomorrow if you want to join. I’m sure he’ll be okay with it.”

“He?” Jimin repeats, “Should I put on my big brother boxing gloves? Give him a good talking to in case he’s interested in my baby sister?” Pause. “Was that who you were calling before?”

You bite your answer back, not feeling the need to go down that rabbit hole.

“He’s just a friend; A co-worker really,” you say, “He’s also unavailable. And before you suggest anything, his goalkeeper is technically one of my bosses so I do not want to try and shoot past her thank you very much.”

Jimin laughs. “I wasn’t going to suggest anything. Well if you’re busy tonight, tomorrow morning works for me. Give me a call. I’ll spend the night in watching some good ol’ Netflix and enjoy this vacation time.”

“Sorry again,” you apologize.

“Go out and have fun,” he says, “You deserve it.”

The two of you finish off the call with the usual goodbyes. You have forty-five minutes to dress the part of a sparkly birthday surprise for the co-founder of the company you work for. Throwing on your favourite throwback music, you get to work.

Once satisfied, you snap a picture and sending it to Taehyung making special care that you have picked the right individual this time.

...

The mansion is bigger than you could have ever imagined, and the amount of people present are…

“You’re telling me I can do whatever I want tonight,” you ask Seokjin in the car.

There is no denying that Seokjin knows how to dress for an event. In a velvety black and white suit, contrasted by his blonde hair which he has elected to temporarily dye for the evening, he looks very much the posh CEO magazines brand him out to be. You are glad you elected for the simple black dress as standing beside this Renaissance statue in a floral pastel yellow dress would be like planting dandelions in Kanye’s sculpture garden (if he ever wanted one).

“The majority of people won’t recognize you after tonight. They’ll also be too drunk to even register anything you tell them,” Seokjin says.

He cannot believe that you chose a simple black dress. Did you really not own anything remotely feminine besides the most generic clubbing outfit? Even if you had wanted to make an appearance as a hooker, at least make it an expensive-looking one. Maybe he should have bought you that Versace dress he spotted in the window the other day. Instead…

“Take this. Your earrings are too gaudy for this event.”

You touch the sparkly black cats you have put into your ears. Their eyes are made of crystal, and you thought it looked quite fetching in the light. Opening up the box, you see a dainty elegant pair of teardrop earrings that may or may not be of real diamonds.

“Only Junho will know who you really are and then you can enjoy the rest of your night. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being held here against your will.”

Putting them on, you note that even this simple change in attire has elevated the entirety of your presence. You felt as luxurious as this gift.

“Thanks, Seokjin,” you try the first name basis he had insisted upon for this evening, “Not going to lie, I had imagined that maybe you’d send me a dress in the mail or something, but this is still very nice.”

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Like in the movies? Please, I run a start-up company. I’m not a millionaire and I don’t think you would appreciate my handouts.”

You don’t respond, making your second note of the night on the Prada label on the cuff of his suit. “To clarify, I don’t introduce myself as your plus-one tonight.”

“No. I don’t want you associated with me,” he curtly states. He watches as your smirk twitches and he hits himself mentally in the head again. “It’s to protect you. There are bound to be tons of paparazzi tonight at a party as big as this. I don’t want you to find yourself in the tabloids tomorrow morning. Just be smart.”

The car pulls to a stop after inching its way up to the front door. People mill about outside in extravagant brands, holding glasses of champagne. The man of the hour is somewhere inside the building, charming his way into new business deals as well as making new friends.

“Stay close to me. You can leave after we meet Junho. It is his birthday after all,” Seokjin offers a hand as you step out of the car.

You take it, looping yourself into him so that your hand rests on his forearm. You are only 13 days younger than Junho, and yet this striking contrast in lifestyle hits you like a landslide while the two of you walk up the stairs and into the mansion.

Inside, it is dim with disco lights flashing to the beat of amped party music. Upon entrance, the two of you are offered glasses of liquor (you take a swirling iridescent drink) to which you are then ushered to where the birthday boy lounges.

Junho has an even more youthful face than Seokjin does. Where Seokjin’s features exude class and charm, Junho appears mischievous and looks to have stepped out of every girl’s bad boy dream.

You stop Seokjin with a tug and make him look at you. “Tell me: do I look like a passable birthday offering?”

Seokjin rolls his eyes and pulls you along with him.

“Jin!” Junho hollers loudly across the room when spotting his oldest friend. There is a doll-like female magnetized to his side. “This is Clara, my date for the evening.”

Seokjin shakes her hand and greets them. The female cannot seem to pry her eyes away from this handsome new stranger. He introduces himself chivalrously to her as Junho sides up to you and grips your hands in his. His breath smells strongly of mixed drinks, and you know that in about fifteen minutes the entire night will be a blur for him.

“You must be Y/N!” he says excitedly, “Jin didn’t tell me that you were coming! What a surprise!”

“I am,” you greet back with a large smile. “Although I’m also surprised. Seokjin told me that you had insisted I came.”

Seokjin grits his teeth, annoyed at Junho. Would he ever learn when to keep his big mouth closed?

Laughing loudly, Junho grabs two drinks just as a waiter passes by and hands them to you. “Insist might be a strong word,” he says, drilling another hole unknowingly, “I honestly thought I’d have to play part-time wingman tonight. But I’m glad he’s got someone by his side.” He jabs you a little too hard in the ribs. “Next week’s gala is going to be fun! Okay, now there’s only one rule tonight: there are no rules!”

The four of you clink your glasses together, while you do your best to hide an embarrassed smile on behalf of the birthday boy.

“You bet I’m going around as your trophy wife tonight,” you whisper in Seokjin’s ear when Junho looks away.

He whirls around to look at you, the tip of both your noses impossibly close together. He can taste the acidity of the wine when you breath out with a wicked smile. He barely has time to stop you as you peel yourself away to mingle with the crowds.

Seokjin is about to follow you but Junho pulls him away, flamboyantly introducing his handsome best friend to a group of international models. He turns on his brightest smile, but his heart thunders in his chest at you calling yourself his wife.

...

You twirl around in your dress, nobody noticing the small splash of champagne on the front of it in the quickly changing lights.

“He bought this for me last week. Says it reminds him of the first night we met. Our eyes met across the waters in Tuscany where he was on a business trip. I’ll let you on a little secret, but I was his mistress for a little while.”

Seokjin cannot make out the words you are saying to a small but growing group of people around you. He stands across from Junho, but looks over the latter’s shoulders to watch as you do another spin.

“A little while, Charlotte? Are you still his mistress?” an older lady with an exuberant amount of jewels hanging off her body whispers with a keen interest in your expertly spun story.

Charlotte Dior Laurent, an identity you are pretty sure is an amalgamation of French brands from the top of your mind. You continue to personify this character however.

“Don’t worry. He’s left her since. I know I know, my friends all say the same. ‘He’s already been divorced three times. How can you be sure he won’t leave you?’”

At this point, you are in way over your head at having told this story to at least two other groups and a multitude of other renditions to whomever you have met tonight. But there is something powerful about liquid courage as it courses through your body.

The lady lays a hand on your arm. “I don’t want your heart to break. You are still young.”

Looking up between the heads of your audience, you catch Seokjin’s eyes. They are fiery and it sends a strange sensation up your toes to your abdomen. You give a titillating wave at him in which he does not return.

“He says I’m special and different. How can you say no to that?” you exclaim with exasperation, fully committing to the poor damsel just oh-so in love.

There is a look of genuine concern on the lady’s face at your statement.

Before you can dig yourself a deeper hole, you place your empty glass on the table and excuse yourself. You do not know if it’s the drinking on a relatively empty stomach or if the room is really much warmer due to the multitude of bodies, but you head out to the balcony.

On your way out, you notice that the clock reads twenty minutes past midnight. This gives you a shock at how fast time has passed. Perhaps you should go find Seokjin if you are to get a decent amount of sleep before meeting with Taehyung and Jimin tomorrow. Speaking of Taehyung…

You pull out your phone and see that there are two unread messages. The first is from Jimin, confirming that he is indeed invited to brunch tomorrow morning. The second is a response from Taehyung.

11:09pm “Wow. You have me a little lost for words. I had imagined you’d look nice in the dress but… You really are beautiful.”

Smiling, you type in your response.

12:21am “Thanks, Tae. You’re up late.” You take a picture of the earrings Seokjin had gifted you and attach it to the message. “What do you think of these?”

Barely have you returned your phone into your bag when it buzzes again. This time you receive an attached image. Taehyung seems to be sitting in front of a monitor, as his face glows with a blue light and contorted into a pensive furrow of his brows.

12:21am “A little different from your usual style. Are they new? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear those.”

12:21am “Fei’s out with some friends tonight. She likes when I wait for her to come back before I sleep. To make sure she’s safe, I guess.”

12:22am “Pooey. I should’ve brought you as my plus-one 😩. Also, Seokjin bought them for me for tonight. He says my other earrings are too gaudy.”

12:24am “First name basis 🙃”

12:25am “How is your night going? Having fun?”

You are about give Taehyung a call for a detailed recounting of tonight’s escapades when someone speaks out from within the shadows.

“A penny for your thoughts?” He walks into the moonlight. You flush, meeting the eyes of this particularly dashing gentleman, the phonecall immediately forgotten.

Oh, Alcohol, you make even the smartest of people do dumb shit. And right now, your effects are even worse on this idiot.

Your mouth hangs slightly open as you watch him puff out smoke from his cigar and offer it to you. He brushes up beside you, his fingers trailing up your hand which grips the balcony. You cannot seem to break away from his gaze.

“Lung cancer has an increasing incidence rate particularly for females due to smoking. Are you sure you want to be condoning this type of behaviour?” Seokjin interjects himself between you and your Tuxedo Mask, pushing the outstretched cigar back towards its owner.

There is a small stare down amongst the two men before the latter quietly exits the stage. Your eyes continue to linger on him even as he walks towards another female alone in the night enjoying the outdoor breeze.

“You’ve just ruined by chance. I could have seduced then blackmailed him with the story of his illegitimate child to play Black Widow,” you whine.

Seokjin takes the glass that had somehow magically appeared in your hand during the short walk from inside to outside on the balcony.

“How many have you had since we came?” he asks.

You sigh wistfully, still in your dangerous daydream. “I don’t know. I’ve lost count.” You turn your attention back to him eventually. “What are you doing here? Did you see me with him and get all jealous, hubby?” you tease.

He scoffs, drinking from your glass and pulling a face. Once again, there is that twist and jump within his chest, but he attributes it to whatever nasty concoction he had just ingested. He pours its contents over the railing and into whatever shrubbery lies below. “You seriously went with being my trophy wife?”

You shrug. “Of sorts. You’d better be right about people being too drunk slash not caring about me enough after tonight to remember the things I’ve said. ‘Cuz you’ve been divorced three times, had me along with another as your mistress, I think you’ve sired a few illegitimate children and all in all, a Games of Throne life. Damn, maybe I made you a little too badass.”

“You’re having water for the rest of the night,” he says.

You glare at him, contemplating on making a remark about his equally flushed face but decide against it. Instead, you lean onto the balcony and give a cat stretch. A large sigh escapes from you.

Wordlessly, he shakes off his jacket and places it around your shoulder all the while averting his gaze on the unblemished skin of your upper thighs that had been exposed from your previous movement.

Your blood feels like liquid fire coursing through your veins. Feeling overheated even in the evening breeze, you give him back his jacket. You note his reluctance to meet you even as you throw what could be a thousand dollar jacket in the air to him. “So what’s it like to live like this every day?” you say in wonder. You feel said breeze return and lean over the balcony to catch its chill.

“Like what?” he asks. The warm summer night’s breeze blows through, settling his hair in a childish tousle.

“Like rich,” you say. You sigh again. “Believe it or not, I’m the same age as your birthday boy best friend.

And everything feels absolutely unreal right now. If I hadn’t agreed to come here tonight with you, I’d probably be at another dingy bar knocking back shots with my brother and friend.”

“Are you a secret alcoholic?”

You glare at him. “No,” you state matter-of-factly. “As I was trying to share, this type of lifestyle is something I could ever only imagine. I’m not ungrateful about spending time with them, but at the end of the night I’d go home, sweaty, drunk and gross, and then simply pass out. My bank account might be a couple hundred bucks lighter. Come Monday I’ll be working my ass off just to earn back what I had spent. Then cue the repeating cycle.”

Resting your chin on your palm, your other hand sweeps your hair back behind your ear.

“It’s amazing the difference a few life choices can have.”

Seokjin remains silent beside you. Truthfully, he is at a loss of words. The moonlight plays across your face and caresses your nose down to your lips. You are arching your back once again to pull away the soreness that comes with wearing high heel the entire night. It is just a simple black dress but on you it made you look –

“Well, you’re Mrs. Kim tonight,” he starts.

“Charlotte Dior Laurent,” you correct him.

He raises an eyebrow. “Okay… Ms. Charlotte Dior Laurent. Tonight you get to live like the rich, as you’ve put it. As a rich person, what would you like to do?”

You ponder his question a few moments for the answer. “Hmm…I think I’d like to play golf. It’s a rich person’s sport. I want to play it on a private golf course, wearing cute golfing outfits and talk about million-dollar deals with a client without a care in the world. I want to order sangria by the gallon.”

He laughs out loud. It takes a while for him to be able to speak again, but when he does you feel as if the night has been illuminated a few degrees brighter. “I personally don’t have a private golf course, but Junho does here in his backyard if you’re up for it. I can’t promise cute golfing outfits so you’ll have to do with your wine stained dress. And if you’re really up for it I can pretend to make business deals with you, that’s my job anyways.”

You grin, taking the hand he has offered you. “Call.” The two of you shake upon his suggestion.

As he is leads you by the hand towards the dim gates of said golf course, you tug at him gently. “There’s something missing…” you say.

He shakes his head and pulls you back in towards the party room.

“I’ll see what they have at the bar.”

...

As the hands of the clock continue to spin past another hour, the summer night takes a chilly turn. Seokjin has lent you his jacket but even that cannot stop your fingers from becoming numb. Your hands shake even as they tightly hold the golf club. Seokjin watches you in silence as you prepare to hit the golf ball, a beer in one hand and a few opened bottles littered on the grass beside him. The club hits the ball with a resounding “cling” but does little in propelling it a few centimeters.

“This one doesn’t count,” you announce, “It’s too dark to see anything here.”

Seokjin takes a swig as you readjust your position. You sway in the wind and the last tendrils of your hair come undone in its half up half down hairdo. Your hair now whips wildly around your face when another gust blows through.

“Shit!” you exclaim, missing the ball again. “Why is golfing so hard?!”

You throw your club down and trudge to Seokjin. The six pack the two of you had been sharing has officially been depleted. Seokjin offers you his half empty bottle. This time, you are the one watching as he goes to your spot and effortlessly swings his target into the darkness.

He smirks from the spot.

You grumble. “You’ve had years of practice. Not fair.”

“You’ve got to do better than that, Mrs. Johnson,” he says, teasing you.

Your grumble becomes more audible. You place the now empty bottle on the ground and cross your arms against your chest. Since telling him of your other American alias from tonight, he has not ceased to remind you of your strange choice of name.

“Just so you know, Mrs. Johnson can afford both an affair and the consequential prenup,” you huff.

“It’s still a stupid last name.”

“It’s an American multinational corporation with an income in the billions, okay?”

“Keep telling yourself that if it makes you sleep better at night. Now come on, I’ve got one last ball. Take a swing.”

Groaning, you shuffle over. You wish you had not suggested golf. You had never been good at sports anyways – bad hand-eye coordination.

He stands beside you this time, scrutinizing your every movement with hawk-like eyes. “No, not like that,” he says, “Have a wider stance and bend your knees. Better centre of gravity gives you a better swing. Also hold it with a neutral grip.”

You readjust your positioning following his instructions.

“Index finger down the center. Good. And three knuckles on each hand. No, that’s two. Okay your hands are just weird now. Three. I said three.”

“Stop standing there and show me then, Mr. Know-It-All,” you say, your patience in this makeshift lesson also coming to an end.

He walks closer to you, reaching out for the golf club. He retracts his hands in seeing that you have yet to let go. “You got to – ”

“You can touch me. I did tell you that Mrs. Johnson can afford an affair and prenup. Besides, I’m not going to be able to learn anything if I can’t even see you in this dark.”

He comes behind you and puts a foot between yours to guide your stance. Wrapping his arms around you, he fixes the placement of your hands to grip the shaft of the club in the way he had previously instructed.

Perhaps it is the mixture of wine, champagne and beer offered tonight, but being enveloped in the warmth of this embrace intoxicates you. The tingles that are sent down from his soft breathing on the base of your neck, make you shake like a leaf in the wind.

He inhales the sweet undertones of your perfume. The tendrils of your hair brush against his collarbone, sending a sensual kiss onto his skin. Unconsciously, he draws you closer to him, shielding you from another gust.

“Now you just want to swing,” he says, the words a mixture of a whisper and guttural grunt. His chest rumbles with it, passing the vibration through to your back.

You remain as still as a statue and lean ever so slightly back into him until your entire backside is pressed upon him.

You can’t stop yourself as you ask him, “Do you want to have sex with me?”

...

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

God is With You, Even as You’re Sinning

Pairing | Sam Winchester x reader

Summary | it was your first time not killing a monster, and in its place, taking the life of one of your own. Guilt entraps you, and it is up to Sam to break you out of your pitiful hypnosis.

Warnings | mentions of death, blood, angst, guilt, some smut, oral sex (fem receiving), penetrative unprotected sex, fingering, swearing, mentions of murder

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Fuck God. This was all his fault, everything was to be fair. He had left the world to continue on its own accord, the apocalypse threatening to spill over the planet and destroy it and all beauty that was lingering through the existence of humans.

They killed each other, and the creator of all could care less. It was his smallest problem, he didn’t mind that the murderer was succumbed to guilt, or how many restless nights that he or she endured. God was cruel, even if he held up a facade of being your ally, and trying his hardest as he supposed, to be your friend.

Your hands shook as you remembered the entailment of your mistake. It was a slip up, a vast and surreal experience that people usually learned from. But what were you supposed to do, not kill a human again? Yeah you had gotten that, after all, the initial deed had not at all been intentional.

There was the victim’s blood dried upon the outer layer of your skin, casting you in the perfect image of murderous intent. However, you had no thirst to kill, instead, your hunting of monsters, alike to many others partaking in a similar lifestyle, executed the mythical beasts to protect the human population.

It pained you truly, to know that you had killed a person. You hadn’t even spared the familiar body a second glance, and out of panic, you fled the scene, leaving the body of the city cleaner in the gutter, laying in the remnants of his friends’ and family’s waste, burying him in their crude excrement.

The thought alone, and the sight that was engrained in the peripheral of your mind had you feeling sick. Slowly, you plodded down the steps of the bunker’s entrance, surely leaving footprints trademarked in all kinds of grotesque evidence.

Without much care for what lay heavily inside, you dropped your duffel from your shoulder, allowing it to fall on the ground with a disgruntled clatter. Nothing meant anything anymore, not if you were indeed a real killer. Whilst some monsters had weaselled their way into society, ending their pathetic attempts at normality was different than taking away the life of an innocent and mortal bystander.

Often, with the darker and crueler species, there were reasons as to why they pretended to be of human birth. Mostly, it was so that they could feed from the naive flock, or kill for their own amusement. Either way, none of their reasons were good.

But now, you thought of yourself as no different than them. A creature that needed to be put down for their crimes. Filing, you breathed in, only inhaling the various moulds of putridity that was weaved into your hair, and stuck to your skin like a face mask.

“Should I call you Cassie now?” At the joke, a laugh from the speaker was triggered. He was quite amused with the sight of you, and thus, you sneered at the tall man, hating him a little bit more than usual.

“Your pop culture references aren’t appreciated Winchester, it’s more Dean’s street.” Shoving past him, his high shoulder floundered back at the harsh and ignorant impact, an expression of offence covering his stupid face. Like a fawn, he tumbled after you, watching as you walked sullenly into the kitchen, yanking the door to the fridge open, and extracting one of his brother’s store bought beers.

“I’m going to guess the hunt went bad.” Sam speculated, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, and staring expectedly down at where you popped the cap off the bottle recklessly with your teeth. He almost winced at the sight, but he wished to keep this arrogant demeanour up with you, it was a natural desire to piss you off, and he’d be pissed at himself if he let it slip out of simple pity.

“Guess correct. Well done, you’ve won a trip to Hawaii.” You waved your free hand mockingly in the air, as the other raised the liquor to your mouth, allowing you to wilfully gulp the bitter liquid down. At his presence that remained nursing over you, you cocked a brow, leaning forwards as you expectedly looked back at the moose. “Just leave me alone Sam, I’m not in the mood for putting up with your bullshit.”

He, however, seemed not to be phased by you wanting to be left alone, and instead, quickly snatched the poison out of your hand, leaving you throughly prepared to keep him right in the balls. “What the fuck?” You all but screamed at the not so jolly giant. In turn, he crossed his arms across his chest, placing the bottle down on the island.

“I could ask you the same y/n.” His tone was dominantly serious, causing you to cower back into your shroud of guilty conscience. “Tell me what happened on that hunt, of which i told you that you shouldn’t have went on alone, since you wouldn’t have been able to handle it solo.”

You felt demeaned by his words, they sparked an anger out from the firm pit of your stomach. But you knew deep down, he was getting through to you, which was something that you had not managed to even do by yourself. Air heavily passed through and out of your nostrils, as acidic tears pooled in your eyes; a crack was falling down your walls, and out of all people, it was Sam Winchester whom had caused it.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have gone alone, but you know what, I thought of what a Winchester would do. And then I remembered, I am sure as hell not a Winchester and I don’t have a brother anymore! Not now, he didn’t even know who I was earlier, didn’t even recognise a single genetically identical hair on my head as he watched me parade through the town, the very one that I ran away from when he was a baby and I was seven, wanting to hunt a monster. Yet, i didn’t kill a damn monster Sam, I murdered my brother because you’ve been right all along, I’m not fit for this job. I am a mess, so congratulations, you finally have got me to admit the one thing that you keep reminding me of.”

“Y/n...” Sam wasn’t sure how to respond, he felt the waves of shock ripple through his body. Never so freely had you been vulnerable around him, and here you were now, with very visible tears cascading down your utterly torn face. He understood it was an accident, and the times that he and Dean had tried to kill each other under supernatural circumstances had him wondering what if.

Shaking your grime tethered head at the sound of his cracked voice, you stormed past him, and immediately raced towards the shower room, finding to your luck, which had been non existent during the rest of the day, the halls were barren of life. Walking through the door, you tore your ruined clothes off, chucking them upon the floor without much acknowledgement, before you went under the warm spray of the shower head, trying to calm yourself.

To rid your skin of its evidential accessories, you had to scrub your skin until it was immediately raw. Everything within you ached, as you flicked back to the memory of the clueless expression that had been worn by your blood brother. It was probably a good thing that he didn’t know who you were, or else, he’d have known that his own sister murdered him due to her incompetence to listen to others.

Now, you were not even sure what were your tears, and what droplets of water belonged to the shower itself. For over an hour, you basked int eh warmth that seemed unable to cure your cold blooded system, turning the spritz off, and covering your body in a fluffy towel, that you were sure belonged to someone else, but right now, you could care less about who owned what.

As you reached the door to your bedroom, you found it to be preached slightly open, and as you pushed it the rest of the way, you saw Sam sat on the corner of your bed. You held your arms around yourself, insecure on the fact that beneath the stolen towel, you were nothing more than you. A wolf in sheep’s skin.

“Can I help you?” You bitterly asked, your eyes still burning from your own faulted loss. Sam breathed in, his eyes trailing up to your face, that was naked from any gruesome cosmetics or make up. The bareness to your completion illustrated an aura of innocence, and evidence that you were the same as him - human.

“That’s my towel.” The male hunter laughed, in hopes of changing the previous and well wounded subjected to ensure that you felt better. But what was he kidding, nothing could fill the void that you had dug in your own heart, nothing was closer than the bond between siblings, even if you were considered as strangers.

“Take it back then.” Too exhausted from your gruelling day, you dropped the material, your confident action making his eyes go wide, as he tried to look away from your exposed skin to respect your boundaries. It was impossible though not to allow his hazel hues to slip up the trunks of your thighs, up to- no, that was wrong, very wrong.

You had just lost your brother, not to mention, by your own hand, and he was prone to checking out your freelancing body, taking in every curve and twisted scar that was prominent to his speculating eyes. His eyes dropped to the discarded towel, which he had purposely left on the heating rail for later use, and then, they switched back towards you.

He stood, walking behind you as you looked through comfort clothes within your dresser. A light touch of his hand brushed your hair away from your neck, as he breathed a sweet hoax of hot air upon your scare. Sam was relieved that you didn’t reject the contact, and instead, pressed his lips upon the flesh, finding succession whence you hummed deliriously to yourself.

This interaction had been inevitable for a long time, but now no longer were the suspected intentions for such an exchange to be to release well endorsed frustrations. No, he was going to clear your mind for some sensual moments, and make your pretty little head forget for a moment that you had pained yourself in the worst of ways.

Turning, you laced your hands through his chocolate locks, massaging his scalp as you pulled him closer so that your lips could endure a rougher clasp against his. There was no passion, behind each contribution there was a spur of hunger, he grasped your ass cheeks, pulling you up to be sat upon the top of your heavy dresser.

Obliging his command, you spread your legs so that he could stand between their partition, his hands now running up the windows of your thighs. For a while, the pair of you did nothing more than make out, and cup a feel here and there, but soon after, Sam dropped to his lanky knees, leaving kisses in the wake of his descent.

His thumb and forefinger spread your fluttering folds, watching as your slit squirmed for attention. Sam licked his lips at the sight, running his middle finger up the expanse, until he came to your yearning entrance. Slowly, after making sure you were wet enough, Sam slipped his digit inside, you wiggling your hips to adjust to the thrust of his one finger.

To add to the sensations that were overriding your body, he moved his mouth to closer proximity, smelling the divine aroma that pulsed out of you. It was far too addictive to not get a taste, and thus,he pulled his finger out, sucking off your juices contently.

But that small sample just wasn’t enough, which encouraged him to dive face first into your pussy - literally. His long tongue teased your folds, slurping at the lips, and then switching to your clit to heighten the stimulation. He kept up a rhythm, using it as a pattern to push you closer to that edge, and he was surely certain that you were enjoying his oral work as you ground your face against him, moaning at his succulent administrations.

“Sam.” Oh god, was it pleasant to hear his own name fall out your mouth in such an erotic manner. It was far different from the way that you usually used it to snide at him, though, the thought of your regular treatment of him aided only to spur his lustful actions on. He wanted you to cum, for your juices to run down his face in waterfalls, looking as though someone had tried to drown him.

His work would not be complete until you found it difficult to even pronounce his short name. Digging his tongue in the hood of your clit, tracing around the protective area, his fingers returned to their earlier placement, and he quickened their pace until he could hear a satisfying squelch in the air.

Rapid sounds of parted moans raked from your mouth, your chest sticking out as you breasts heaved with your heavy breathing. It was noticeable that you were close, not just from that, but you were squeezing the circulation out of his fingers. “Fuck.” Left you in the form of a squeal, as you pussy wept its juices.

Sam was quick to lap everything that left you up, once more, tasting those that clung to his fingers. He went back in for another taste, but you tightly grouped his hair, pulling him away from your sopping cunt. “Need you to fuck me Sam, now.”

In an instant, the hunter stood, working precariously on undoing the buckle of his belt, and pushing all material that covered his lower half to the bottom of his thighs. He read already hard, and oozing precum. You swept your finger across the tip of his dick, bringing it to your lips to taste his foreshadowing seed.

Sam huffed at the sight,picking his prick up in one hand, and jerking himself a couple of times. And then, he aligned himself with you, rubbing his cock around your wet crevice a couple of times, slapping his tip teasingly against your puffy clit.

“Want my cock baby?” He asked, smirking as he watched you nod your head repeatedly. With that being all the confirmation that he needed, he pushed into you,feeling even more turned on as he heard you mewl, and watched the ecstatic expression cross your face as his dick fit inside of you all the way.

He grasped your hips, pulling out once before pushing in again. He repeated the action, his own eyes rolling to the back of his head at how tight you were. This would make you forget the cruel method of god, his story was not as epic as he though, for his characters were screwing against his will, basking in a distraction rather than the regretful pain that seethed in your trodden heart.

Another thrust had your nails clasping onto Sam’s covered back, biting onto his shoulder through the plaid, as you held back the tears that were trying to creep out of your blissful eyes. A few grunts left Sam, as his pace increased, and with every thrust, which only served to fuel him further, the dresser smashed into the wall behind it, most likely leaving a decent dent within the historical architecture.

“Gonna cum.” You told him, dragging him in for another tongue filled kiss as your cunt pooled around him, coating his cock in the honey from your delicious pot. He soon followed after, and for a moment, he remained against you, allowing you to bask in the comfort of his strange presence.

And then he pulled out, watching as his distraction dripped from your entrance, trailing down your thigh in a white streak. An orgasm smile was pulled onto your face, but it was certain to not last long for when you returned to the reality that laid waiting for you to return.

Sam stepped closer again, moving his fingers towards your cunt, and pushed his seed back inside of you, watching as your puffy pussy lips swallows any part of him that it could get. He would distract you for as long as he could, and then, deal with the inevitable.

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marjansmarwani · 3 years

Text

maybe, I’m afraid

3.8k || ao3

Episode 2x06, but with Carlos (as it should have been)

Just me here again to give Carlos the screen time he should have had.

A little late to the party maybe (I have no idea how you all manage to get fics up within 24 hours of the episode, I am in awe of that ability) but I still felt the need to make my contribution.

--------

Most days Carlos was pretty sure that after 7 years on the force he had seen everything there was to see.

Other days he got a call to respond to two teenagers trapped in a homemade minefield and he was forced to reevaluate that sentiment.

It doesn’t take long to figure out all there is to know, including just how bad it really is, and by the time the familiar ladder truck pulled up (because of course it was the 126) he was waiting outside the passenger door to give Owen the rundown.

“Officer Reyes,” he greeted when he saw him, “I’m surprised to see you. I thought this would be a little out of your jurisdiction.”

Carlos shook his head, “Just barely within it, another half-mile and the sheriffs would be handling the call.”

“But you managed to snag it, lucky you.”

“Can’t say I would have been too upset if I had missed out on this one,” Carlos agreed drily.

Owen hummed in agreement as he surveyed the scene, “What are we looking at, exactly?”

It was a bleak picture: two brothers, trapped. One injured, both scared and stuck in an active minefield without a map. And the bomb squad was at least 40 minutes out. He saw his concern reflected on Owen’s face as he considered the situation and all the implications. If they waited, the boy would die. If they went in, he would be possibly sending some of his people to die too.

And yet Carlos knew what choice he was going to make before he even opened his mouth. He had learned so many things during his time with TK, and one of them was that in so many ways he and his dad were a lot alike. If it were his call, TK wouldn’t have been able to leave those boys in there either. So when the instruction came, he wasn’t surprised.

“We’re going to need the heaviest duffel we can find and spray paint - the brighter the better.”

Carlos locked eyes with TK briefly as he and the rest of his team turned to start gathering supplies, giving him a smile and hoping that it conveyed everything he wanted him to know: it would be alright, no matter what.

He almost believed it too.

All was calm at the start, the 126 functioning like the well-oiled machine they were. In no time they were prepped and Owen was striding back towards the ambulance, asking the new guy if he was ready to go. The discussion quickly transformed into an argument and Carlos couldn’t help but glance back over at the minefield and the brothers. Every moment they argued was one less moment these boys had. Carlos was considering stepping in when a new voice entered the discussion, effectively bringing the escalating argument to a halt.

“I’ll go.”

And Carlos froze because he knew that voice. He would know it anywhere, it drew him like a moth to a flame in any room. He turned slowly to find TK standing slightly apart from his crew, stance relaxed but jaw set in determination.

“I was a dual function FD medic in New York,” he explained, voice calm and firm, “all my certifications are up to date. I can do this.”

Carlos didn’t need to be looking at him, didn’t need to see where his gaze shifted to know that those last words were directed at his dad. The knowledge made Carlos’s heart ache. The fact that his boyfriend still felt the need to prove himself to his dad after all this time and all he had accomplished killed him, but the thought of TK willingly walking into the minefield killed him even more.

But it wasn’t his choice to make and when Owen nodded, he felt a cold dread spread throughout his body. This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. Today was not supposed to be the day he watched his boyfriend walk into an active minefield. That day was never supposed to come, and yet here it was.

He walked over to where TK was switching out his gear, struggling with a strap that was twisting over his shoulder. He reached out for the strap without a word, smoothing it out and snapping it in place. They didn’t speak as Carlos stepped back, surveying the harness and gear for any other twists or issues.

“It’s going to be fine, Carlos.”

TK’s voice, soft and reassuring, broke the silence and Carlos met his eyes sharply. He wanted so desperately to believe him, but there was a field filled with explosives that had already claimed one life today behind them and he was finding it hard to be optimistic.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked instead.

TK pulled his helmet on, his steady gaze never leaving Carlos, “Of course I’m sure, the kid’s going to die if we don’t go out there, Carlos. I need to help if I can.”

Carlos reached down to grab his medical bag and held it out to him. He didn’t like the thought of the man he loved purposefully putting himself in harm’s way, but he also knew TK. As much as he might hate it sometimes, this was TK: always ready to help, always willing to put himself at risk if it meant saving someone else, and there was nothing Carlos could do to change that. And he wouldn’t want to - it was a part of TK that made him who he was: someone that Carlos loved with all his heart.

When TK reached out to take the bag from him, he didn’t release it immediately. He let his grip linger for an extra moment as he studied TK, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Just, be careful,” he told him softly. TK gave him a small smile, and Carlos released his grip on the bag, allowing TK to walk away, towards the minefield. He was still watching as he ascended the ladder that would drop him out onto the minefield when he felt the presence of others appearing at his side.

“He’ll be okay kid,” Judd said quietly, eyes never leaving the sight of the two Strands climbing to the end of the ladder.

“You don’t know that Judd,” Carlos responded just as quietly, already feeling his fingernails digging into his palm as he clenched his hands at his side.

“No,” the older man agreed softly, “I don’t. But I do know they’ll be as careful as they can.”

Carlos nodded, eyes tracking every movement desperately. They had reached the edge of the ladder now and he watched as Owen tossed down the duffel, as they both reeled back in preparation for an explosion. He could feel his heart skip a beat and his breath catch in his throat as they waited, but there was only silence and after a moment, he allowed himself to breathe again.

“I don’t know if my heart can take this,” Paul lamented from his left, “that was nerve-wracking and they still have a long way to go.”

Carlos nodded wearily, but caught his retort before it slipped out of his mouth: if they made it that far. He didn’t need to release that idea into the universe and the others didn’t need to hear it. So he swallowed it and continued watching. Each and every movement they made was agonizing to watch, but each and every thud of them landing unharmed gave him a moment to catch his breath, a brief reprieve for his heart to beat normally. They had settled into a rhythm, and everything was going smoothly.

Until it wasn’t.

The sound of the mine exploding filled the air around them and worked its way into Carlos’s soul. It sent shockwaves through his body as he watched, desperately trying to see through the haze of smoke and debris. He couldn’t see him, he didn’t know if he was okay.

That fact was more than enough to bring on the fear. It attacked him with a vengeance, freezing him to the spot. He felt as if the whole world froze in that moment; suspending him in the terror of not knowing, trapping him with doubt and fear.

And then he heard TK’s voice, and he could breathe again. It might just be the most wonderful thing he had ever heard.

When Owen’s voice sounded across the radios, confirming that they were both in one piece, time picked back up at its usual pace. He felt himself sag in relief, grateful for the knowing and supportive hand on his shoulder from Judd. He spared a glance at the others, seeing his relief reflected on their faces and in their stances.

Marjan let out a long breath, “That was…”

“Intense,” Paul agreed grimly, “let’s never do that again.”

They all nodded, and Carlos couldn’t agree more.

If there was an upside to that moment it was that the path forward was now clear and the two Strands made quick work of the rest of the journey, closing the distance between them and the boys in seconds. Carlos watched in awe as TK slipped into medic mode the moment he reached the boys’ sides, calmly managing the scene and taking care of the patient. It was a wonder to watch. He handled it all with focus and compassion, quietly reassuring the boys even as he gave instructions to his dad and administered care. He was cool and steady even as he delivered the lifesaving compressions, forcing the teen’s blood to pump through his veins with his own hands. It was only minutes before his voice sounded over the radio, announcing that the injured boy was stable and no amount of fear or worry could have stopped the intense pride Carlos felt in that moment.

“Kid’s got some skills,” Judd observed with a fond smile and Carlos could only grin.

Paul nodded, “Looks like someone’s been holding out on us, that was pretty impressive I must admit.”

“Badass is more like it!” Mateo exclaimed and Marjan, standing next to him, laughed even as she placed a hand on his arm.

“Steady Probie,” she reminded him, “they still have to get out of there. Let’s not jinx anything.”

Her words tempered the celebratory mood of the group, but even though Carlos had never let go of that fear (he knew he wouldn’t until TK was out of the minefield and at least 2 miles away) it felt different from before. It was wrapped in that pride now, and even as Carlos watched them prep to move and the bomb squad moved out to locate and detonate any mines along the path, he couldn’t shake that. It was almost stronger than the fear now, this pride he felt for TK. That was his boyfriend; the person who had just saved two young brothers in the middle of a minefield was the man he loved. Just when he thought that he had come to know every bit of his body and soul, he managed to surprise him all over again.

It took every ounce of restraint and professionalism Carlos had to not rush over to TK the moment he cleared the edge of the minefield. He forced himself to wait, focusing on his own job while keeping a watchful eye on TK as he reported back to Captain Vega, as he got an exam from the new paramedic. It wasn’t until he headed back to the ladder truck that Carlos broke away from the crowd, meeting him at the side of the engine. TK looked up as he approached, a smile on his face and a greeting on his lips, but Carlos pulled him into his arms before he even had a chance to speak.

He held him tightly, savoring the feeling of his breath on his collar and the faint sound of the beating of his heart. His familiar scent filled Carlos’s head with each breath and he closed his eyes. He would have been happy to stand there forever, feeling this and just being them and while he knew they couldn’t, he was determined to have at least a few moments more before the world interrupted. If nothing else, the universe at least owed him this.

“I’m okay Carlos,” TK said evenly, his voice muffled against Carlos’s shoulder.

But you almost weren’t. The words rang through his head, but he didn’t speak them. Instead he pulled away just enough to see TK’s face as he asked, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” TK assured him firmly, placing a steady hand on his chest, “the new medic looked me over but I could have told you anyway, I’m fine. Not injured, my dad and I both made it out and so did the boys. This was a win Carlos, I’m more than okay.”

And he was, Carlos saw as he studied him. He was beaming; enthusiasm pouring out of him. His eyes were alight with something Carlos couldn’t name and he was practically vibrating. Despite everything, Carlos couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He was still worried, still terrified by all the ‘what ifs,” but seeing TK like this gave him a lightness he couldn’t have imagined feeling even a few minutes before.

He shook his head, trying to mask his smile with little success, “I am glad you’re so pleased with yourself, considering you almost gave the rest of us a heart attack.”

He had been going for a joke but he instantly regretted it when TK dimmed, “I’m sorry,” he told him sincerely, “I didn’t mean to scare you guys, especially you. I just knew I could help…”

Carlos interrupted him, moving his hands so they were on each of TK’s shoulders, “You have nothing to apologize for Ty,” he assured him firmly, “you did the right thing. You saved a kid’s life and you did amazing. I am so proud of you.”

TK’s smile returned, softer than before but still glowing with pride, “You are, are you?”

Carlos leaned down to place a soft and tender kiss on his forehead, “I am. So incredibly proud. You’re a pretty impressive guy, you know that?”

TK’s smile could have lit up the world and Carlos would have been happy to let it. But they were both still on the job and decidedly not alone, as they were suddenly reminded when Paul peaked around the side of the engine. He smirked at them before calling over his shoulder, “Yeah, they’re decent back here, you guys can come around.”

Carlos rolled his eyes at his friend while TK casually flipped him off. Paul crossed towards them, completely unfazed before reaching out and pulling TK into a hug of his own. “You can’t keep scaring me like that man,” he told TK when they pulled apart, “I’m getting too old for that crap.”

TK rolled his eyes at his teammate and Carlos chuckled. He looked behind him to see the rest of the team materializing.

“That’s my cue,” he told TK, “I need to get back to work and get this scene wrapped up anyways. I’ll see you at home later?”

TK nodded, reaching out to squeeze his hand, “I’ll be there right after my shift.”

“Think you can make it until then without nearly dying on me again?”

“I’ll do my best,” TK assured him and Carlos smiled.

“That’s all I ask,” he responded, “I love you.”

“Love you too, Carlos.”

Carlos smiled at that, the warmth he felt every time he heard those words from TK rushing through him. With one last squeeze of the hand holding his own, he stepped away, letting TK’s team get in their time. As he reached the corner of the engine he looked back, still feeling the whirlwind of emotions deep in his chest.

But TK was safe and happy - he couldn’t ask for anything more. So he turned the corner and returned to the task at hand.

----------

“You know, that call today? It felt good, really good.”

Carlos looked up from his dinner sharply to see TK idly playing with his, his focus clearly elsewhere. “Please don’t tell me this means you have decided to become a real-life minesweeper, I am going to have some objections to that,” Carlos deadpanned.

TK laughed lightly, shaking his head, “No, not quite.”

“Thank god, I don’t think my heart could handle that.”

TK shook his head fondly at Carlos before his expression grew more pensive, “I didn’t mean the minefield, or even the danger or adrenaline. I meant the saving the boy part. I know I do that all the time as a firefighter, but there’s something different about doing it as a medic. I haven’t had the chance to really do any medical calls since moving to Austin, with the way the department is structured.”

“You’ve never really talked about it before,” Carlos noted, “I’ve seen you do medical stuff in the field, but before today I didn’t even know you were dual certified.”

TK shrugged, “It just never really came up, I guess. It’s pretty typical in New York, but their firehouses are structured differently. I guess once I made my peace with being down here I never really thought about it again. It’s not like I could do both the same way I used to.”

His tone was almost wistful as he turned his gaze down to his plate, but Carlos had a feeling he wasn’t really seeing the food on it. “Sounds like you miss it,” he ventured after a few more moments of silence.

“Sometimes I do.”

“So why not go for it?”

TK looked at him sharply, but Carlos just shrugged, “What? You’ve spent most of the past hour talking about it and you mentioned how the new guy quit and there’s an opening on the paramedic team within your first 10 minutes of showing up tonight. I know you and I know you’re already thinking about it, so why not try it?”

“Even if I applied, there are so many other candidates. There’s no saying she’d pick me.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. She knows you and how dedicated you are to your job. She saw you in action today, willing to take the risk that someone else wasn’t in order to save a patient. You did the job well and you did it under insane pressure after months of not doing it. If I were her, I’d be wondering what you’d be capable of on an average day.”

TK looked startled at the efficient takedown of his doubts, but Carlos just raised an eyebrow, “Next?”

He would dismantle his boyfriend’s doubts with logic one by one if need be. Whatever it took for him to start believing in himself the way Carlos did.

“I’d have to leave the team,” he said softly, “I wouldn’t be working with them anymore. We’re like a family, I can’t just leave them.”

Carlos reached across the table to take TK’s hand in his own, “It’s not like you’d be leaving the station,” he reminded him, “you’d still be in the same building and on the same schedule. And they’re not going to feel like you abandoned them, Ty, they’ll still be right there. And right here,” he added with a laugh, gesturing towards his living room, “we’ve fed them, I don’t think we are ever going to get rid of them now.”

That pulled a smile out of TK, but there was still so much doubt in his eyes that it hurt Carlos to see it.

“What do you think they would say, if you told them it was something you wanted?” he asked instead, “Do you think they would tell you to forget about it? To stay with them because it was more comfortable?”

“No,” TK said quickly, “of course they wouldn’t.”

“So why are you worried about them? They want what’s best for you and they always will. Unless,” he hedged when TK’s expression didn’t clear, “they’re not the ones you’re worried about.” TK pulled his gaze up from the table and Carlos saw all the confirmation in them that he needed, “Your dad?”

TK nodded, and Carlos sighed. “TK…”

“It would be a big change Carlos,” he said softly. “Except for my probationary period, I have always worked with my dad. I don’t want him to take it personally.”

“But it is a little personal, isn’t it?”

He was careful to keep his tone even, non-judgemental and he watched TK closely, waiting for his response.

“Maybe a little, yeah,” TK admitted. “I feel like this would be a way for me to really see who I am without him right there. It’s not like this is a reaction to him or any news he may have shared recently,” he added hastily, “I would hope I’m past the ‘blowing my life up to piss off my dad’ point, but it is something to consider. And…”

He trailed off, but Carlos had a feeling he knew what was going to come next, “And you’re worried he might take it personally?” he suggested.

TK nodded and Carlos sighed and set down his fork, reaching across the table again to pull both of TK’s hands into his own, “Look,” he began, “what’s important is why you’re thinking about this. So, what is it? Why are you thinking about becoming a paramedic?”

“Because I think I’d love it,” TK said without any hesitation, “because I feel like it’s the best way I can help people.”

Carlos smiled at him, squeezing the hands in his grasp softly, “Then I think you have your answer. You should do this because it is what you want and because it is right for you. That’s all that matters. Everything else - and everyone else - will fall into place.”

“And if they don’t?” TK asked softly, and Carlos felt a pang in his heart at the sound of so much doubt in the other man’s voice.

“They will,” Carlos assured him. “Nothing ever stays the same, remember? And your dad knows that. We all know that. And,” he added, leaning forward in his seat to close some of the distance between them, “I will be here for you, every step of the way. No matter what.”

The smile TK gave him warmed every inch of his body. They sat in companionable silence for a while, intertwined hands connecting them across the table until TK spoke again.

“If you really mean that,” he began with a grin, “I could probably use some help with my resume.”

“Anything for you,” Carlos quipped back, but even as he said the words he squeezed their clasped hands. He meant that, in every way possible. He would be here for resumes and job interviews and everything in between, as long as TK wanted him to be.

Judging by the way TK met his eyes, and the soft ‘thank you’ that fell from his lips, he had a feeling he felt the same way too.

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sariahsue · 4 years

Text

A Cat of Their Own - Ch 1

Sabine checked her phone again in anxiety. There hadn't been an akuma attack in the last two days, which meant that one would begin any second. She'd been telling herself that every few minutes since breakfast. Tom was playing video games with Marinette, hunched forward over his controller. He was supposed to be getting information out of her, but it didn't look like he was trying too hard. Sabine watched them while she stirred the soup. Steam rose off the surface in faint curls and twists.

The phone screen lit up, and she grabbed it. An emergency alert. An akuma had been spotted. Civilians were advised to shelter in place until Ladybug and Cat Noir had dealt with the problem.

It was the same message that she'd read dozens of times (and ignored more often than that), but now it made her mind numb with fear. But she had to go through with their plan.

"Oh, there's another akuma attack." Her voice sounded hollow and forced. To her dismay, Marinette immediately paused her game and turned around, eyebrows pinched with concern.

"Where is it?"

"Parc Montsouris," Sabine said. "I just got the text."

Marinette looked out the window, her face steely, game controller forgotten next to her. Tom and Sabine shared a worried glance.

"Dinner won't be ready for another half hour," Sabine said, then took a deep breath to keep her voice from shaking. This was the most important stage of the plan. "Did you finish all your homework?" Please. Please, say yes.

"Oh, uh, now that you mention it, I do remember that I forgot to do something." Marinette waved goodbye quickly, then bolted up her stairs, letting the trapdoor thump loudly behind her. Sabine came to sit next to Tom, soup completely abandoned.

"It's looking likely," he said. Sabine could only nod. Her fingers were cold, and she flexed them to try to bring life back to them, but it didn't help. Her whole body felt numb, and she wondered if she would actually go into shock.

Tom reached for the remote and switched to the news. Cat Noir flitted across the screen, fighting a giant frog monster by himself. He jumped off window ledges and rolled across the empty street to avoid a steady stream of some type of red projectile.

The camera was far away, and the angle was bad so it was difficult to tell, but he looked like a teenager himself. He was thin and lanky, like he was in the middle of a growth spurt.

"We could still be wrong," Tom said.

Nod.

Ladybug swung into view amid scattered applause. Cat Noir dodged a jet of steaming red goo that shot out of the akuma's wide mouth and shouted hello to his partner. She waved back, her cheerfulness jarring against the backdrop of the fight and Sabine's own dread.

"Do you want me to check?" Tom asked.

She couldn't even nod. The screen had her transfixed. She barely registered the shift of the sofa and the creak of the floorboards under his footsteps.

Tom reached the top of the stairs. "Marinette?" No answer. He knocked on the trapdoor, and it sounded hollow. "Marinette?"

Sabine closed her eyes as the trapdoor creaked open and Tom's footsteps disappeared into their daughter's room.

Faint screams and gasps from the television filled the room while Sabine sat and waited, holding her breath. She didn't even hear Tom come back down.

"She's not there," he said, sitting down next to her and grabbing her hand. "And the skylight's propped open."

She squeezed back tightly. "That basically confirms it," Sabine finally said. "Our daughter is Ladybug."

Tom sighed. "Yeah."

On the screen, reporters were running for shelter, hiding behind cars and in recessed doorways, Cat Noir was yelling at civilians to stay out of the way, and bright red puddles sizzled on the cracked pavement.

"What are we going to do?" Sabine asked. "How did this even happen?"

The questions she wanted to ask were why Marinette had never told them, and how could they have not noticed for so long? How was Sabine supposed to keep her own child safe?

The camera shook as the crew set up again, much farther away, but Sabine wished they could do one closeup shot of Ladybug's face. Maybe they'd made a mistake. One good look at her face, and Sabine would be able to prove herself wrong about the superheroine's identity.

The battle had looked fine up close, but from a distance it didn't look like it was going well. The super duo was on the defensive and having a hard time avoiding the frog's goo. The akuma had covered most of the available surfaces already, so they had fewer and fewer places to safely land. Ladybug hung from a lamppost. Cat Noir was just above her, perched on top of the light her yoyo was connected to.

The cameraman crept closer and closer, finally stopping when he was a mere twenty feet from the fight, and Ladybug yelled at him. Sabine squinted at the television, but the image changed too fast, focusing instead on the monster. It was a little smaller than a car. Its muscles rippled as it stalked toward the two heroes.

"We should turn this off," Tom said, though he made no move for the remote. "She's going to be fine."

"No, I need to watch."

They flinched and gasped for the next few minutes, and Sabine shrieked when Ladybug slipped and got hit in the chest. It knocked her to the ground, but she sprung back up before Cat Noir could reach her, even though he ran at top speed, ignoring the spray aimed for him and almost getting hit himself.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Fine just... Ugh! Gross!"

"You could say you're in a sticky situation," Cat Noir said, before laughing loudly at his own joke and his partner's predicament. Sabine's heart was still pounding as she clamped down on Tom's hand.

Ladybug's face tightened with the effort of holding in her laughter, then scooped a bunch of the stuff off her stomach and reached to touch him. Thick strands of it hung off her fingers.

"Oh no, not slime!" Cat Noir jumped back, dodging both Ladybug and the akuma, who shot another mouthful at them. "Slime! Whatever will I do?"

Tom pulled Sabine closer. "Well, it doesn't look like a very dangerous one."

She was sure he was trying to reassure himself as much as her, but she wasn't having any of it. "They should be taking this threat seriously," she said. "If they're overconfident..." She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence, so it hung in the room along with her dread.

Sabine was unfortunately right to worry. The frog reared back on its hind legs and came down on the street so hard it cracked the pavement, letting out a wide stream of the goo. Ladybug, still distracted with teasing her partner, didn't react fast enough. Cat Noir did, and he jumped forward fast enough to shield her, though he got a faceful of slime. He spat it out on the ground while Sabine and Tom leaned forward in their seats, desperate to know if he was all right.

Ladybug just patted him on the back and laughed while he wiped his face with both hands.

"See?" Tom said. "See? He's fine. They're both fine."

"That thing can break pavement. What if it had landed on them?"

But the atmosphere changed as their daughter laughed with her friend. They seemed so earnest in their amusement and maybe even relaxed. The voices of the onlookers and reporters changed in response, becoming less strained. A few people laughed along with them.

The news report itself even changed. Cat Noir tried smearing the goo on a camera as a warning when it got too close, smiling the whole time, while Ladybug rolled her eyes at his antics.

Her parents watched their exchange in interest. Despite the levity they were injecting into the fight, Cat Noir was obviously still very protective of their daughter, which they were both grateful for. He pushed her out of the way of another jet of slime when she was distracted by her own Lucky Charm, and he didn't hesitate to continue fighting without her while she took a few minutes to set up a trap for the monster. They didn't miss the adoration on his face as he watched her.

Ladybug – Marinette – was protective of her partner too. When the monster got too close to him, she would yell out a warning. When it landed on top of him with another sickening crack, she dropped the trap she was crafting and leapt forward to wrench the monster off of him. To anyone else, Ladybug still looked calm and in control, but to her parents, they saw the panic that briefly flashed across her face when she realized her partner might be hurt.

That delay made the fight take a little longer than it might otherwise have been. At the end, Ladybug dashed off, hand over an earring. Cat Noir waved at her as she left, a hesitant smile on his face, then turned and comforted the frog victim, who was now nothing more than a disheveled and confused-looking man in his fifties.

"She'll be coming home soon," Tom said. "Should we go up there and wait for her?"

"Not yet," Sabine said.

The reporters were trying to get close again, no doubt to interview Cat Noir and the latest victim. The poor man looked shaken, and Cat Noir did his best to shield him from the reporters, finally picking him up and carrying him away.

"We need to talk to her about this," Tom said.

They fought against impossible odds with laughter, though they were both just children. And Cat Noir cared about their daughter so much, that was plain. How deep did that go?

"We need to talk to him too," she said.

Read Chapter Two

***

Author’s note: This is a reblogging of an old thing that I originally posted two years ago. I’ve altered it slightly. (Content-wise, nothing is different.) If you’re curious, the original can be found here.

Chapter two is almost completely done, and I think chapter three is in okay shape, so hopefully those updates will both be next week.

@tbehartoo @redhoodsdoll @salsyy301 @lunadensmidnightprowl

#ml #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #i've been saying for two years that i've been meaning to finish this story #I'M GOING TO FINISH IT

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thr-333 · 4 years

Text

Just Another Class Trip :) Part 6

Marinette goes on a nice peaceful trip to the pool. Me? sarcasm? how dare you sir!

First< Previous >Next

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

“Did you find what you were looking for Marinette?” Kagami asks oh so foolishly.

“Kagami look into my eyes and ask me that again,” Marinette dares, her eyes red rimmed with bags underneath bigger than Chloe's luggage.

“... You found your glasses?”

“Never mind,” She sighs, finishing the rest of her coffee, “At least that one isn't missing,”

“I thought you only wore them as M-you-know-who,” Chloe whispers, a purposeful look towards Lila’s posse leading the way to the bus.

“Just wanted to try them out without a mask,” She brushes off easily, she needed to be able to transport back to Paris at any time after all.

“Oh it was just terrible!” Lila cries, capturing the attention of everyone surrounding her.

“Did she finally hear a recording of herself?” Chloe scoffs, making Adrien shush her and Marinette crack a smile.

“This Starling kidnapped and tortured me for information,”

If only I had

“Luckily Batman was there to save me, but I knew he would be,” Lila croons, the class fretting over her all the while, “He was probably searching furiously the second I didn’t return his call,”

“When did she get Batman’s phone number?” Chloe whispers to her.

“No idea, think she’d give it to me?” Marinette smirks.

“Oh sure I bet it's 3825968,” Chloe laughs at her own joke.

Marinette doesn't get it but Kagami starts laughing, so she moves to stand next to Adrien while they share a moment.

“Any idea?”

“Not really,”

They reach the door going through it to find Gotham in the nice peaceful state it's always been.

Just kidding, lights start flashing in their faces and everyone around them is yelling. Lila of course tries to take this opportunity to get attention. To Marinette's great delight they push right past her, and to her horror opt to shove a million microphones in her face.

“Miss Wayne were you adopted?!”

“Yes but-” the cameras start flashing and the yelling increases tenfold.

“When?! How long ago!?!”

“A baby I guess?” She hadn't known her birth parents after all.

“How have you stay'n out of the public's eye for so long?”

By not being like Lila for one

“Mari I don’t think you’re talking about the same thing,”

“Yeah thanks, I’m getting that Adrien,”

“Adrien Agreste? Are you two dating?!”

“Great,” She ignores them, instead whispering to Adrien, “From now on Buttercup will be your codename,”

“Cool,” He leans in to whisper in her ear, “But I don’t think that’s helping things,”

It’s at this point the cameras are going crazy taking a million pictures of the two whispering in each others ear, while Kagami and Chloe try to push them all back. The class follow behind just as confused. Madame Bustier is trying to reason with the crowd, trying to . They reach the curb, fighting not to be pushed onto the road by the crowd. A limousine pulls up and for a wonderful second Marinette thinks Liam has come to save her, the wonderful manager he is. Instead Alfred steps out, surprising to say the least. He ushers her inside and tells the rest of the class the bus will be through momentarily. Marinette slides into the car right next to Bruce Wayne… well.

“Hello again, I um…” Marinette thinks back to their last meeting, “I don’t think I actually told you my name,”

“No you didn’t,” Bruce chuckles, “And Selina has been avoiding me ever since,”

“Sorry, well I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng Auntie Selina’s niece,” Marinette shakes his hand, “She didn’t tell me she was engaged,”

“Bruce Wayne, Selina didn’t tell me she had a niece,”

“Yeah, that's a bad habit isn't it?”

“Indeed,” Bruce pauses, both trying to reach for a conversation topic, “So you like fashion?”

She had said she would design her aunts wedding dress. She should probably double check that with the groom, whoops,

“I do I already sketched out some designs,” She takes out her sketchbook which has a good thirty pages dedicated to wedding dresses, “Oh you were probably going to hire a professional designer weren’t you?”

“We were considering MDC,”

“.... I think that’ll work out just fine either way,”

“Hm,” Bruce looks curiously at her as she hides away her sketch book, she would be using those designs either way.

“Anyway!” She changes the topic oh so subtly, “About those reporters…”

“Theres a certain rumour running rampant that you are a Wayne, after someone took a photo of you with my son at the airport,” Bruce explains, switching over to business mode in a heat beat, she could appreciate that, “We’ve been doing our best to contain it, but…”

“At the airport…” She mutters to herself, “Oh! Tim’s your son, that explains Alfred, that must mean Dick is too!... work at Wayne tower, yeah very funny,”

She tries not to roll her eyes at their understatement of the century, wasn't Tim Drake a CEO there?

“Impressive, have you met Damian too?” Bruce asks, a slight smile that would have called Kagami expressive.

“Not yet, but should I invest in a bingo card?”

“Maybe so,”

They fall into silence Marinette would usually hold polite conversation but her thoughts were in turmoil. Lila didn’t seem to know anything about the miraculous then again her interrogation was cut short by a certain someone . However Tikki had advised her against placing all the blame on Lila, she needed to consider other options as well. But who else could it be? she was in Gotham Hawkmoth couldn't reach her… unless he somehow...

“Marinette are you alright?”

Marinette startles look over at Bruce who is blurred by tears. She hadn't even realised she’d been crying.

“I-I’m sorry,” She hiccups trying fruitlessly to wipe away the tears, “I-it just…”

“It’s ok,” Bruce rubs her back comfortingly, but boy did he choose the wrong words.

“IT’S NOT OK!” Marinette yells not looking at anyone in the car, they didn’t matter, nothing else mattered, she had failed and people were going to suffer for it, “I left it behind! It’s all my fault! Now it’s GONE! It’s been stolen and I don’t know where it is!”

“What was stolen?” Bruce presses, getting over the shock of the polite and put together girl melting down into a puddle of sobs.

Now I’ve gone and messed up, time for a classic cover story and some half truths

“A good friend of mine gave me a very important jewellery box,” Marinette sighs, wiping the tears away and rebuilding herself, “It was stolen shortly after arriving in Gotham and I’ve been trying to find it,”

“Do you know who stole it?”

“I thought it was one of my classmates,” Marinette frowns, they should have certainly been there by now, “Still do honestly,”

“Which one?”

“Lila probably,” Marinette tries to keep her tone neutral, tries, “Brown hair that looks like sausages,”

Marinette could almost see the words ‘oh fuck’ written across his face.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, we have arrived,” Alfred speaks up for the first time, not leaving her time to puzzle over the reaction, “Your class arrived some time ago,”

“How did that happen?” Marinette frowns, they should have arrived ages ago.

“Alfred must have taken the scenic route,” Bruce shrugs, acting like an innocent party in all this.

“Well then I guess I’ll see you for the wedding,” Marinette tries not to rush out of the car, certain her class or rather Lila would have caused some grief by now.

“I’ll make sure to send the invites to your family personally,” Bruce promises, shaking her hand before she can run off.

“And I’ll make sure Auntie Selina doesn’t destroy them,” Marinette smiles back brightly, she can see the concern for her all over Bruce's face but doesn't have time to reassure him.

Marinette walks into the indoor pool, knowing her luck the class was already inside. They were and the owner was not happy about it.

“First your class was late then you waltz in here late as well?” The manager berates her.

“I’m sorry sir,” Marinette tries to seem more sincere but her tardiness falls short on the things she has to worry about now.

“That class mate of yours came an yelled at me that one of our pools were dirty so we had to drain the whole thing,”

“Let me guess, sausage hair?” Marinette raises a bow, it really being all the energy she can put into the action.

“Yes,”

“Sorry sir I’ll talk with her,” Marinette promises, she slips into the changing rooms as they grumble about lazy employees.

There is absolutely no way Marinette was going to talk to Lila. She enters the changing room, a shower running somewhere. She tucks Tikki and Kaalki into her bag, Tikki had insisted she relax today, recharge and get ready to find the miraculous. She couldn’t find enough will to argue not after having to wake up in the middle of the night to fight an Akuma back in Paris.

She slowly changes into a red and orange ruffled one piece swimwear. She honestly just wanted to take a nap in here, hide away from the class and the well meaning questions from her friends. Instead she drags herself towards the shower, they are all open and there's someone towards the back standing underneath the spray in their bathers.

Something fires back at her to be careful, it puts her on edge but with miraculously potentially loose in Gotham city it’s no wonder her instincts are screaming at her. Instead she steps under the spray hoping to loosen up.

She doesn't, after standing there for ten minutes she still can’t relax. Maybe it’s the cold water, maybe its the other person. The were still standing there, they had been in the shower even before she entered the changing room. Marinette peaks over, they are still standing still, with their arm out… the same way they had been ten minutes ago.

“Are you ok?” Marinette calls, no answer, not even a twitch.

Marinette creeps over. They are standing stock still, she can’t see evidence of them so much as breathing.

“Hello,” Her voice echoes off the tiles, not a noise in the empty room besides from the shower running.

She is right behind them, they haven't even moved, arm still raised. She walks around to see their face. Frozen in a look of concentration, not so much as blinking with water running into their eyes. She follows their eyeline to see them peeling off dead skin from their arm, stretching towards their fingertips. There's a faint glow of yellow all around them, concentrated at their back.

Marinette steps away, walking out the showers, she closes the nearest door to find herself in the pool area. Her friends are on the other side. Kagami is dunking Adrien as Chloe waves her over. Marinette sprints over to them.

“No running!” The life guard yells.

But that doesn't matter, all that matters is that there is someone using the bee miraculous for evil, she has to stop them before they get another Hawkmoth. They probably have the whole miracle box! She'll need the back up.

“Mari-”

“Come with me,” She doesn't let them have another question helping Adrien out of the pool.

She pulls them along despite Chloe's protests, pushing them through the door.

“Mari what's-”

“Hush now Buttercup,”

“You were serious?” Adrien gasps, Chloe just giggles.

“Yes,” She walks over to the frozen body, “Look at this,”

“Whats-” Chloe pokes them, immediately recoiling, “The fuck?”

“They’re frozen,” Kagami does the same.

“We have to help them,” Adrien waves in front of their face, looking on in horror.

“We have to hide them,” Chloe pokes them again, getting slapped away by Kagami.

“We have to find the culprit,” Marinette races at the idea that this could be the Bee miraculous.

“We’ll do all three,” Kagami decides, getting their attention, “Now first let's put them in a stall so we don’t alarm anyone or the villain, then we need to look for clues,"

They all nod, Marinette turns the water off. Adrien tries to move their arm to no avail.

“Looks like we have to carry them,” Adrien suggests, he and Marinette each taking an arm.

“Ew, no I’m not touching it Buttercup!” Chloe cringes away, backing up as Kagami lifts a leg off the ground.

“Has that really stuck?” Adrien asks Marinette, as Kagami sends Chloe a powerful enough death glare to get her to help.

“You bet Buttercup,” Marinette grins, as they shuffle through the changing rooms to the toilet stalls.

“Fine then, I’m calling you Cupcake,” Adrien teases, sticking out his tongue.

“As you wish Buttercup,”

“Someone get the door,” Kagami commands.

“I will!” Chloe lets go of the leg, the body becoming no heavier.

They manage to fit them inside the stall without too much hassle.

“Who could have done this?” Adrien looks on sadly at the person, tilted at a slight angle to fit into the stall.

“I’ve been thinking,” Marinette speaks up, “If this is a villain it doesn't make much sense to attack a random person, and if they were trying to be stealthy they would have hidden the body,”

“They aren’t dead!” Adrien says aghast.

“Exactly, why wouldn’t a villain just kill them?”

“That's very dark of you Cupcake,” Kagami says, missing Adrien’s pout, “What’s your theory?”

“This is likely a new villain, one not ready to kill,” Marinette decides, not even blinking at the nickname, “They have something against the pool, they probably want to ruin its reputation,”

“You did say that this was a very safe pool for Gotham,” Chloe closes the stall door, “Minimal murders, so why would someone want to ruin it?”

“Insurance? Sick of their job?” Marinette’s eyes go wide in realisation, “The pool!”

She darts out the changing room the others close on her heels.

“No Running!”

“Where are we going!?”

“The manager said they were refilling the pool,”

“Why- oh my god,” Chloe gasps, overtaking the lot of them, “Run faster!”

They burst into another pool room, the pool noticeable empty with diving boards on the other end. They run to the edge of the pool. A frozen body wearing employee uniform frozen at the bottom the water slowly rising.

“Get them out! Get them out!”

Marinette jumps down into the pool, causing a splash, the water is up to her ankles, barely a centimeter from covering the person at the bottom. She runs over and tries to pull them up. Kagami makes a splash behind her running over to help. They drag the person, frozen in horror the yellow focused on their chest instead. The pool is far too deep to climb out of so they pass the body up to Adrien and Chloe.

“Who would do this?!” Adrien can just reach them when Marinette and Kagami lift the person over their heads.

“I heard the manager mutter about lazy employees,” Marinette gives one last push, Chloe and Adrien pull them up over the edge.

“So we have a suspect,” Kagami says, water rising up her leg, “We should check their office next,”

“Well, they went from no murder to yes murder in record time,” Chloe huffs, the employee safely to the side.

“It’s concerning, but they may have more of a grudge against them than the other person,” Marinette points Kagami towards the ladder to get out.

“More evidence towards the manager,” Kagami nods, letting her up the ladder first, “We should choose codenames if the manager is potentially familiar with us,”

“They did have the class roster,” Marinette nods along, then grins, “You should be Teacup!”

“Fine by me,” Kagami nods, not showing how happy she truly is with the nickname.

“Oh I want to be-” Chloe cuts herself off head snapping towards the door.

They hear scratching at the door, everyone tenses. Marinette crouches in a position to defend her friends. The door slowly creeps open and… a little snout pokes through followed by the rest of the dog.

“Is this what you wanted to see Cuppy?” A person wearing a lifeguard uniform follows in a second later.

“Excuse me is your dog named Cuppy?” Marinette plasters on a fake smile quickly pulling a nearby towel over the body.

“Yes it’s a weird name I know,”

“No! It’s perfect! On another note could we please borrow your dog?”

“Um... sure?”

“Thank you, we have to go! Careful the pool is empty!” She calls as they race out the room, the person tucked away out of sight, “Come on Cuppy!”

"NO RUNNING!"

The dog wags its tail following them out the pool area and through the changing rooms. They come to stand outside the staffroom door, dripping water on the carpet.

“Everyone ready?” Marinette asks, hand on the door, they nod and Cuppy lets out an 'off', the door slowly creaks open.

Marinette looks through to see, nothing, the hallway is desolate and dark.

“It’s safe,”

“You call that safe?” Adrien pokes his head through the door, followed by Chloe and Kagami.

“Be brave Buttercup be brave,” With that Chloe pushes him into the corridor.

They creep along the empty hallway, footsteps echoing around them. The manager's office door could be seen at the end of the hall. Gold color plate glinting in the few stray beams of light filtering through. Marinette could feel every hair stand on end, danger seeming to lurk from every shadow in the dark hall. The pressure of something ready to pounce and immobilise them at any moment hung heavy in the air, dragging them down into a pressure that-

“HIC!”

Everyone jumps out of their skins, Adrien actually hits the ceiling, rubbing his head on the way down. Kagami draws her sword, Marinette falls into a defensive position.

“Hic!”

“Chloe!

“I’m sorry! Hic! It’s not like I can help it! Hic,”

“Thats it! You’re Hiccup!” Kagami snaps, Marinette tries not to snort.

‘What?!” Chloe screeches stamping her foot, “No way!”

“Deal with it and lower your voices!” Marinette shouts, Cuppy barks along, “Not you too Cuppy?”

Another yip

“Traitor,”

“Cupcake stop picking fights with the dog and lets move on,” Adrien implores, still rubbing his head.

Marinette rolls her eyes speed walking to the manager's office before the tension rises again. The reach outside the door, Marinette counts down to three on her fingers and they burst through the door.

Inside is silent, the bright light blinds them for a second, she shuffles in front of her friends acting as a shield, waiting for them to adjust. When she does she sees the desk chair is turned away, Cuppy pads forward Marinette doesn't grab his collar in time.

He starts licking someone's hand, Marinette creeps around the desk, waiting for the hand to snap out and grab her. The others follow, surrounding the chair preparing to come face to face with the villain. She peeks around the edge they are sitting there, she freezes the others following her lead. A beat, another one, nothing. They’re frozen.

“It’s not the manager,” She relaxes, patting Cuppy’s head.

She lets out a sigh, releasing all her tension.

BAM

Turning around the door is slammed shut, a striped villain standing before it. They all drop into a fighting stance watching for the stinger on their right hand. Cuppy starts wagging his tail, trying to approach the villain.

“Cuppy no,” Marinette grabs his harness, bringing the Pitbull back.

“He’s my therapy dog,” The villain growls, Cuppy wagging his tail happily.

“Not a very good one is he?” Chloe sneers, looking the villain wearing her stripes up and down with disgust.

“Wait, you’re the lifeguard at the pool?” Marinette gasps, maybe she really shouldn't have run, “Why did you-”

“I work here, you can’t imagine the horrors I face every day, people are disgusting,” The villain shudders, this was the guy who stole the miracle box?

“Yes, but murder?” Kagami gets a nod from Chloe and hissed at by Adrien.

“My co workers are completely useless and the boss always yells at me,” A sinister smirk crosses their face, “Or at least they did,”

“So you thought murder before you thought quitting ,” Adrien points out, probably not the best time to imply a villain is stupid.

“I didn’t kill anyone,”

“Ah yeah thanks to us!”

“Shut up!” They lash out at Chloe, stinging her in a single strike.

“Run!” Marinette shouts, they all scatter.

Marinette dodges the first swipe, ducking down. They get distracted by Kagami lashing out. Marinette darts around them to get closer to the door, Kagami gets hit. Marinette reaches the door the villain comes after her, they are inches away. Adrien leaps in front of her, getting stung. With the distraction Marinette bursts out the door Cuppy on her heels.

“Traitor,” She sprints down the hall, “Did you know?”

Cuppy happily pants beside her. She can hear the villain banging around the corridor behind her and runs faster. She dodges into a room around the corner, hiding among the pool noodles. She sees the shadow pass under the door. Pause. She holds her breath intently watching the shadow, she has no one, not even Tikki. He heart beat rises, she can feel her breaths shorten, this is it, this is it, this is it, this is-

Something nuzzles her hand, she looks down to see Cuppy. He starts to lick her hand, letting her relax into it, focusing on him as the shadow continues on. With a sigh Marinette starts to take off her skirt, flipping it inside out to the cape side.

“You aren't going to tell anyone about this are you?” Marinette asks Cuppy, right before pulling up her mask, he lets out a happy bark, “Good boy,”

She sneaks out the room, looking up and down the clear hallway. She walks the opposite way of the office. She doesn't need to see her friends paralysed, she just needs to help them, she just needs to fix her mistake.

She reaches the pool area, hiding behind a lounge chair, watching through the slats as the villain gathers everyone together. Starling sneaks closer, Cuppy on her heels. There are several civilians, locals if their calm demeanour is anything to go by, although they do seem uneasy at an unknown villain. Her class is significantly less calm.

She had told them time and again that there was no coming back in Gotham, no miraculous cure. It seems for once they had decided to listen to her. Unfortunately they did not do well under pressure. Lila of course was aggravating the situation, making empty threats. The villain reared up to silence her and man, Marinette could relate.

“I don’t suppose I can wait a minute can I?” She whispers to Cuppy, he settle a paw on her knee, letting out a quiet whine, “I guess that’s a no,”

She runs up behind the villain, signalling the civilians to be quiet. Lila looks down at her, anger flashing over her face. Starling bears her teeth right back, she can just try it. Lila ultimately decides her life is more precious than petty revenge, a hard choice for her to be sure.

Starling stands up to her full height behind the villain tapping them on the shoulder. They turn around in surprise, to find her dazzling smile. But the real thing that makes them see stars is her right hook. As the fall Starling rips the bee miraculously right out of their hair, their transformation falling. Marinette stands above them as they detransform, Pollen hiding behind her. It makes her stomach churn watching them detransform, looking up at her with fear. The twisting of her insides lessens when Cuppy nuzzles up next to her. She busies herself with hiding the miraculous away.

“It’s them!” Lila screeches, ah now she can get to that petty revenge, “The one that kidnapped me!”

“Look what you did,” Staling bites instead, looking down at the villain.

“I had nothing to do with this!” Starling is highly entertained when Cuppy growls at Lila, actually getting her to back off.

“Sure you didn’t,” Starling openly rolls their eyes, grabbing the villain and hauling them up by their shirt, "Where is the rest!"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about!" She scowls, making them whimper, guess they really didn't know,

Shit

"Where did you get this?" She holds up the miraculous.

"I found it! it was just lying out on the street!"

Shit

"Did you see any others?!"

"No!" the blubber swearing by it and begging for mercy.

Shit

The police sirens can now be heard, Starling drops them and runs from the room.

“NO RUNNING!” She turns on her heel and glares down at the villain, “... sorry, it’s a reflex,”

She nods running from the room to change, grabbing her bag with Tikki and Kaalki on the way. After a small celebration at finding another miraculous and reunion with Pollen, they have to make a plan to find the other miraculous. They are cut short when sirens are heard outside. She wears the Bee miraculous under her ponytail, to keep it hidden from view.

When she is ready she goes to find her friends. They are outside talking to the police. Marinette only gets the chance to signal she’s ok before being intercepted by officers to get her statement. When she’s retold her account of trying to find the pool freezer she is finally allowed to check on her friends.

“Hey Cupcake, glad to see you missed all the fun,” Chloe teases.

“Sorry Hiccup,” Marinette looks her in the eye deadly serious grasping each shoulder, “You were an adequate shield,”

“Shut it,” Chloe pushes her away playfully.

“Teacup, Buttercup are you alright?”

“It was nothing,” Kagami assures.

“Didn’t you guys think their powers were a lot like Queen Bees?”

“You would know Hiccup,” She nudges Chloe playfully, “If it was I think we should keep that to ourselves, wouldn't want that information somehow getting back to Hawkmoth,”

She looks purposefully towards Lila, the others nod along.

“Still some random person now might have the miraculous,” Chloe glares down at the ground, “Can we really trust this Starling person,”

I mean no I'm operating on negative six hours of sleep, but also yes

“I don’t think we have much other choice,”

“Marinette,” She freezes at that familiar, low gravelly voice.

“Batman, sir,” She adds, trying to look like someone who wasn't chased down by him yesterday, “How can I help you?”

“I heard you knew the most about this villain,” How did she get in trouble for interrogating Lila when this is how he talks to civilians.

“Not really I just found someone paralysed and tried to find the culprit,” Marinette shrugs, hoping her friends wouldn't point out that she is lying to The Batman.

“You didn’t call the police,”

Well thats a good point, not that I would have

“... To be honest it absolutely did not occur to me,”

“These abilities were spontaneous and now they seem to be gone,” Batman points out, damn he already knows too much, “Do you know what caused this?”

“I do not,”

“Very well,” Batman nods turning away, “Go to your class,”

“Yes sir,” Marinette walks away far too quickly.

How was she going to search the city with that hunting her down?!

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

Taglist

@smolplantmum @flufflepuffle296 @dawnwave16 @caffeinetheory @g-arya @Maribat-2k20 @ladybug-182 @Actual-disaster-human @fusser90 @messrs-weasley @soap-lady @paintedhope7 @zeneralla @mochegato @random-nerd-3 @clumsy-owl-4178 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @too0bsessedformyowngood @certifiedbidisaster @Purplegeekypanda @awkward0ghostfan @theymakeupfairies @tikki-marinette @insane-fangirl-of-everything @elmokingkong @inarachi02 @slytherinhquinn @moongoddesskiana @dast218 @buginetye @redscarlet95 @biodad-bruce-month @hansa-12 @waiting247 @toodaloo-kangaroo @how-to-fuction-properly @trippingovermyfeet @greekmythgal @whatthefox22 @the-alice-of-hearts @bigpicklebananatree @indecisive-mess-named-me @nalu-ismyjam @deepestobservationwombat

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anika-ann · 3 years

Text

Hell Froze Over - Pt.1

The Good (and Fast) Samaritan

Type: mini-series to a series (part 1 & part 2 & part 3 & part 4), Avenger!reader AU.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 2750

Summary: There’s a new enhanced on a scene, showing up at places of the Avengers’ fights. She’s fast. Really, really fast. And Wanda can’t read her mind.

So far, she has been helping. But surely it’s only a matter of time before she switches switch sides – otherwise she would have approached you instead of speeding away.

You had a problem. And you needed a solution.

Warnings: violence and blood, mention of multiple characters’ death (the Snap), a bit of inuendo and language… oh and extreme fluff

A/N: This part of Melting Hearts’ verse follows after everyone was brought after the Snap. The majority of the story was written after A:IW, soooo, there are no references to Endgame and there’s canon divergence. They somehow saved them all, without building a damn time machine and all that. Just run with it ;)

Previous part of the series II Story masterlist

────── ·❆· ──────

Aliens.

Why was it always aliens?

And extremely annoying ones on top of that.

They had freaking tentacles – or multiple limbs, whatever they called it. The thing was, they had four ‘arms’, which made them incredibly handful, pun definitely intended. And what was making it worse? Once you cut off one limb, two grew in its place.

More than once during the fight, in which New Yorkers were being terrorized again, you wondered if these particular creatures, aka Tentacles, had been on Earth before, possibly meeting Hydra. You couldn’t imagine the Nazis’ organization getting the inspiration for their motto anywhere else, Greek myths be damned.

Apparently, these aliens loved going after Captain America too. Then again, they generally didn’t seem to be fond of the group of superhumans standing in their way of invading this planet, so perhaps Steve was not special in that respect.

Pinning two Tentacles to a wall by spray of thick icicles, you allowed yourself to breathe in after a long time. If you were being honest, you wouldn’t mind if Tentacles were the ones whose population would stay with the half of them erased from existence by Thanos. Seriously. They were obviously dickheads.

Taking few more breaths, indulging the feeling of having time to do so, you scanned your surroundings; the fight was definitely going your way, the aliens falling one after another, but the damage to the area was immense. It was a miracle no building had collapsed yet, but you had a hunch it wouldn’t take long. Wanda was helping with removing the civilians out of the harm’s way with her mental powers, but several blocks had been hit. You hadn’t had your eyes on her for a while now.

Hearing a roar by your right, you were immediately back to the highest alert. Tentacle no.39 was not coming your way though; it went after Natasha. You sent an icicle right through the creature’s belly, killing it at instant. Nat just nodded your way and threw herself back into the fight. You did the same.

Your whole body hurt, burning with exhaustion, but you knew you had to keep going. Even when a warning pinch bit the base of your spine; you were getting really fed up with this whole fail-safe trigger, because in moments like this, you simply couldn’t allow yourself to stop fighting in order to be fine. You were supposed to push yourself to your very limits, because lives were at stake.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have a choice.

You slowed down a little, trying to stay closer to Steve who was the nearest. He must have caught up on you pulling back, because he stated fighting with more ferocity – one you weren’t sure where he got from.

You noticed he didn’t have his helmet anymore and it made you bite the bullet and throw yourself back into the fight despite knowing the pain would only grow with time and at one point, it would paralyze you. But Steve had lost his fucking helmet again and he had the armour for reason goddammit!

And then, all of sudden, the battle was over. Car alarms blared all around you, smoke rising to the sky, flames licking anything they reached; you did your best to put the fire out. It was why you didn’t notice it at first – the loud creak of metal tens feet away, but then the concrete started screaming, just like the people.

You snapped your head that way, only to see a restaurant collapsing onto itself.

With people still in it.

You acted on instinct, sending the thickest layer of ice you could summon to slow down the falling debris, seeing a flush of red energy heading the same way. You felt the crushing weight of the building almost on your shoulders.

And the very same moment, you could also see that in a blink, there were no people underneath it.

They were gone; more specifically, several feet nearby, staring as incredulously as you were. Feeling unbearable sting in your back, you allowed yourself to let go, Wanda following your example.

Unlike the civilians, you knew all too well what happened. But your eyelids felt too heavy and you were too tired to be annoyed; in fact, you were grateful, because you didn’t know how long you would have been able to hold the improvised barrier.

You mentally thanked the girl who got all the people out in what seemed like a split second.

Dark spots danced in front of your eyes, your knees getting wobbly. The world threated to sway out of its place and you knew you were about to fold like a house of cards, only to wake up seconds later. It wouldn’t be the first time.

But you didn’t hit the ground. Strong arms enwrapped you securely, pulling you to your Captain’s chest, supporting you as much as you needed. You closed your eyes and breathed through the dizziness.

“Hey, it’s okay, I got you. It’s over, you can rest. But stay with me, alright?” Steve’s voice reached you from a terrible distance, slowly getting closer as you were gradually regaining your strength. The vibrations of his words caressed your own torso and you blinked your eyes open. “There you go, Snowflake. Let’s wrap it up here, okay?”

You just nodded, looking up to his face gratefully. He gave you a small smile in acknowledgement of your wordless ‘thank you for not letting me fall’.

“She was here again,” you mumbled and Steve grimaced as he cautiously let you off his embrace.

“Yeah. I know.”

────── ·❆· ──────

You all entered the conference room slowly, some of you barely standing on your feet. It was a miracle you didn’t have to drag each other in here. After a long time of scrunching your nose at it, you reached for the energizing drink specially designed for you just like everyone else.

While no one had suffered a serious injury – serious on the Avengers’ scale, things like the cut on Steve’s forehead didn’t count –, you were all ready to just have a shower and go to bed. But no. Being an Avenger meant you couldn’t. It meant that if the work wasn’t finished, you couldn’t get rest.

You dropped into one of the comfy chairs, Steve’s body making a muffled thud as he chose the one next to you. If even Captain America was dead on his feet, things were bad.

You pushed yourself up, sitting up straight to inspect the gash on his smooth skin. It was already healing and you knew he had it treated (by you, at least), but the drying bloody line on his head just wouldn’t let you relax.

Your fingertips carefully brushed alongside it, wary of not applying any pressure. Steve smiled at you faintly.

“Snowflake, it’s okay.”

His hand caught your wrist tenderly, pulling it away.

“How did you manage to get it anyway? How did you lose your helmet again?” you questioned. He bit his lip and looked almost apologetically. Naturally, that had you frowning. “Steve-“

“He was getting too close to--- to them, alright? I admit I didn’t quite see the other three coming-“

You gritted your teeth, torn between admiring his heroics as he defended the civilians and clipping round his ear for having a tunnel-like vision and not looking around properly before jumping to the rescue.

In the end, you just huffed, letting your hand slip from his grasp.

You carefully eyed the rest of the team, glad you found Wanda mothering Vision and Bruce checking Natasha once again, while Tony, Sam and Clint were on the phone. It put a smile on your face as you saw Bucky fumbling with his phone as well – you knew he had started seeing a woman from accounting here and now he was probably wondering if he should let her know he was fine.

“We make a good team. Taking minor risks is worth it,” Steve whispered, straightening in his chair in favour of dropping a kiss to your forehead. You closed your eyes contentedly at the pure and innocent display of affection.

When his lips lingered, his hand brushing your jaw and he inhaled the smell of your shampoo – if there was any smell left after the fight and debris flying around –, his breath faltering, a realization dawned to you.

He hadn’t lost his helmet when defending some civilians, had he?

Steve wouldn’t let himself to be distracted enough to be jumped when protecting civilians. Never. He only lost his focus when protecting the people he loved. Mainly the ones he had lost before, in the Snap or otherwise; if he could help it, his gaze never left you on the battlefield, simply too scared you would disappear in a blink of an eye. He might be getting less anxious about it lately, but it was always in the back of his mind; having your loved ones wiped off by a snap of fingers and seeing them fall to ashes did that to a person.

Not that you would know – you were among the ones who disappeared.

But Steve knew. He saw it happen to you, Bucky, Sam…. And he could only watch. Nothing he could do stop it. You still remembered the burn of in the base of your spine as your powers fought to freeze the process of your body disintegrating, watching in horror as many of your friends did – and that you were about to meet the same fate. Just as helpless as Steve was.

“…I’m just stalling, Steve. I know it and you know it too. I should— I should let go-“

“No! No, Snowflake, you stay and fight-“ he practically growled, gripping your wrists with enough strength to bruise them.

“I love you, Steve,” you whispered in response, feeling your whole body trembling in both exertion and fear. You didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want this to be your end.

The wild haunted look in Steve’s eye only made you shudder further, a painful twist to your gut.

“No-“

“Please, say it back,” you pleaded, swallowing your tears and the scream that was threatening to erupt from your throat. The burn, fuck, the burn… you couldn’t hold it any longer.

“NO! You fight this!”

Lips trembling, you understood you wouldn’t get the last love declaration you craved. You closed your eyes.

“Goodbye, Steve.”

“NO!” he yelled, pulling you to him, bodies aligned as he wrapped an arm around you, holding you impossibly close. “You--- sweetheart, please. I love you. I can’t-“

“Thank you,” you sobbed, breathing in his scent, feeling the coarse material of his worn uniform, revelling in the warmth of his touch… and you let go.

The last thing you heard was him, choking on a desperate shriek of your name.

The memory and the sheer wonder about what it must have been like for him almost brought tears into your eyes. Again.

Could you really be mad at him for being reckless?

“Thank you for saving me,” you whispered, hearing his breath hitch. You opened your eyes, only to see his resigned ones as he guesses you figured out the truth.

“No ‘you idiot’, huh?”

“No. Not this time. I can see you’re fine. You’re allowed to look out for me as long as you walk away relatively unharmed.”

“Lucky me,” he murmured and kissed you lightly on your lips, tasting after the sickeningly sweet energy drink. You couldn’t say you minded.

“I love you, Steve. I care for you too. Nothing wrong with that,” you hummed lovingly, gazing into his eyes, the rest of the world be damned. “So yeah. Thank you.”

His blues got their vivid spark back, the corners of his lips rising inconspicuously. “Always. And I love you too.”

“You two are sickening,” Bucky noted close to your ear and you honest to god yelped, almost falling off your chair.

Bucky receded with silent laugh and while you clutched at your chest, your heart too frantic in your ribcage, you noticed Steve rolled his eyes at his friend fondly.

“Lefty here has a point,” Tony hummed, making you huff and turn to the big screen as it lit up with news feed.

There were already so many images and videos on the internet that it was scary. Why people hunted down good shots instead of running away?

Unsurprisingly, Tony froze the frame in which a blur of dark blue could be seen. Hint: it was neither you nor Steve in his stealth suit.

No. It was the enhanced girl. The fast one. The one you knew too little about to your comfort.

“Hate to say it, but things could have got ugly without the Rush-girl rushing in,” Tony announced and you scoffed, mainly because you felt like he was nudging your conscience.

It felt like he was blaming you, seeing you wouldn’t have been able to hold the falling debris for long enough. You were sure Tony wouldn’t blame you, since he knew all too well you simply couldn’t beat it; after all he had been the one to install your fail-safe, preventing you hurting yourself. But you also knew he didn’t like the thought of anyone else getting hurt because of it either.

The thing was it always went like this with this enhanced girl. She would show up, help the Avengers and then puff, she was gone. No trace. Except for the people she saved. The ones you might have failed to save unless she had come.

You forced yourself to drift away from the dark thoughts.

“Tony, your nicknames are getting more ridiculous with each try,” you remarked, earning a few hums in agreement from around the table.

“I can go back to naming you if you want… Popsicle. I bet Cap here got the memo and he loves to lick and s-”

“Stark!” Steve lashed out at him, his cheeks getting an unhealthy shade of red. You choked on your own spit.

You were pretty happy with Tony somewhat reconciling with Steve (and you and others), okay, but his jokes were sometimes too much. He really was pushing it.

“Go to hell, Metalbrain,” you muttered under your breath, feeling your ears burning.

Also, yes. Yes, Steve got the memo. So did you. But you didn’t need to talk about it in front of everyone, thank you very much.

“Cute blush you have here. I hit the nail on the head, eh?” Tony continued, earning a murderous glare from Steve, who certainly was sporting a remarkable blush.

“Tony!” you called out, not less horrified than your significant other.

“Trust the advice of the elder – biologically older anyway. Hate to break it to you, but that’s not how you make a kid. Then again maybe that’s the point-“

“Tony, shut your metal mouth or I swear to god I will tell Pepper you’re being a pervert.”

A look of pure horror appeared on his face and you couldn’t help but smile smugly. This always worked.

The thing was Tony would know how to get a girl pregnant; Pepper Potts lived to tell the tale. She was in her twenty-seventh week, after all; and her hormones were misbehaving. Big time. Her emotions were like on a roller-coaster lately and no one with a shred of brain wanted to be on her bad side, ever, let alone now.

Needless to mention Pepper Potts was a strong woman, capable of handling herself, being in control. She wasn’t quite in control of herself now and what was even worse, she always had been the more rational part of the Stark and Potts-Stark duo, keeping Tony’s impulsiveness in check. Once again, not now. And it was driving her insane.

So yeah, threatening Tony with snitching him to Pepper always worked these days. It was even mean of you. Then again, Tony was being extremely pervert today, venting his frustration on you and you did not like it at all.

“Ouch. Low blow, Popsicle, low blow,” Tony said darkly, before his expression turned gleeful again. “See what I did there with the blow--- never mind, I have a place to be. Bye, kids!”

Tony took his abrupt escape, disappearing from the room, and you sighed heavily. You massaged the bridge of your nose, feeling your face burning with embarrassment. The rest of the team pretended not to watch you highly amused.

“He’s an actual infant— no, he’s worse,” you stated, your voice a little too high-pitched.

“That’s hardly any news. Now, can we pay attention to the actual problem?” Natasha interjected, switching back to professional mood.

“Sure. Let’s talk more about the Rush-girl,” Clint hummed, a smirk on his lips.

A collective groan was the answer, but you did start working.

────── ·❆· ──────

Part 2

────── ·❆· ──────

There we go!

The first chapter of the last part of Melting Hearts. Hopefully, I will make it worth it your attention ;)

Thank you for reading! Happy Sunday :-*

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader #captain america x you #mcu #marvel #avenger reader #avangers fanfiction #steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers imagine #captain america imagine #avengers #melting hearts series #melting hearts #hell froze over #anika ann

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im-the-king-of-the-ocean · 3 years

Text

The Bitterness of the Earth

Jonmartin Week Day 3: Healing & Recovery // Self Sacrifice

I originally planned for this to be the first in a series of oneshots set in this fantasy au, but things didn’t go quite as planned (I didn’t get the other oneshots written in time for jmart week). So instead I think I’m going to restructure it as a short multi-chapter fic.

Enjoy!

@jonmartinweek

The first lesson Martin learned after transforming for the first time, when his mind was still realizing his body had switched sizes and everything was different and wrong, was never to interfere with the ocean’s whims.

The old sea captain who had changed him looked down upon his flailing form with uncaring eyes and told Martin it is their way. As one of them now, Martin is bound forevermore to follow their laws without question, lest they forsake him to return to his miserable life on shore.

Martin tried to gasp and beg, plead ‘no, no! Of course I’ll follow the rules!’ at that. The thought of returning to where everything ached and hurt and was never ending pain horrified him down to his soul. Neither words nor familiar sounds came out of his mouth, for it was gone completely. Instead, Martin made a gurgled, strained squawk with his new, unfamiliar beak.

Peter Lukas, the old sea captain, chuckled at Martin as if he could understand him. He rubbed a hand across his large, salt-speckled beard, took one final consideration of Martin, and then turned and strolled off into the thick fog that covered the docks.

It took Martin a handful of days, though time blurred together so he’d never be quite sure just how many, to adjust to his albatross form and learn to fly. It took significantly longer for him to gain the confidence to leave the shoreline behind and glide out to sea for the first time. It was almost two years before he realized he could purposefully transform himself from albatross form to human and back again.

It was not something Martin did often.

He kept to his role, gliding out above the waves, always watching, observing, but only swooping down long enough to feed himself when he felt hunger. High amidst the clouds, everything was easier. The world was quiet and calm, unbothered by his presence. Martin found it nice, pleasant, and came to not care how deeply he sank into the feeling.

Eventually, driven by the need to have a place to rest after particularly brutal storms, Martin found a small, isolated island to call his own. He never considered turning it into a home, but he did build a structure and fill it with books and other distractions for the few times when he felt like being human again.

Things progressed for years. Martin’s life remained peaceful, tranquil. Not much changed in the day by day for him. He could never bring himself to care too much.

...

As one unremarkable day dies and an equally uninteresting night begins, thick, dark storm clouds roll across the sky. Not in the mood to deal with the lightning spirits who would surely come out to dance, Martin hunkers down on his island.

He observes as wind whips the few trees and vegetation of his not-home and howls bitter agony. Waves roar and crash, wreaking havoc upon the beach. Thunder bellows. Lightning cracks across the sky in blinding flashes.

The storm reaches its crescendo somewhere in the hours just before dawn. The wind twists and twists. For a moment, Martin fully believes a tornado will form and sweep him off wherever it pleases. With a deafening snap, the sky cracks open. Something falls, tumbling through the funneling wind. With a mighty smack, it plunges into the ocean. Water shoots up and sprays in all directions. Waves roll, and then still.

Slowly, surely, as if nothing of note had happened, the storm subsides. The world calms back into silence. Martin blinks, and ducks his head back inside his shelter. He’ll wait until sunrise to take off again. Best not to tempt the powers that be so soon after they expressed themselves.

When morning comes, and Martin walks across the beach, indulging in the squish of the sand between his toes, he finds himself coming to a startled stop just before the spot where he usually gives up his human form. There’s something there. Someone. Someone with the warm, even breath of the living. A form, unceremoniously dumped by the ocean on dry land, where it naturally belongs.

Martin stares at it, uncertain of what to do. It has been so, so long since he’s come across another person, he doesn’t know how to, what to, should he…?

A muffled groan comes from the person, and an emotion long disused painfully twinges inside Martin. He smothers it back down and, when that doesn’t truly work to rid himself of it, resigns himself to dragging the person to his shelter. He doesn’t care what happens to them, Martin tells himself. He just wants the guilt that will accompany doing nothing to go away.

The person sleeps and sleeps and sleeps and fills Martin’s abode with the rich scent of earth, and life.

…

The first time Jon wakes, it’s in the unexpected way one does when they weren’t expecting to wake at all. Which is to say, he opens his eyes, sucks in a breath, and abruptly feels everything hurting, throbbing, all at once. He groans and tries to bring up one arm to shield his eyes from the too bright sunlight. He’s stopped, and shushed quietly. Calm, cool hands pin him down.

Jon thrashes. His throat is too hoarse to scream, but he won’t, he won’t. Not after everything he did. He stopped Elias—Jonah—whoever. He sacrificed his life. The world is better off for it. But, no. No. If he must live yet, then Jonah doesn’t get to keep him. Have him. Jon struggles, uncaring of the damage he does to himself or whoever’s holding him.

“Be still,” says a tentative voice, unsure of itself, like it’s not used to speaking. “You are very hurt.”

Jon relaxes. It’s not Jonah’s voice, dripping with condescending and self-satisfaction. Regardless of how much his head is swimming right now, Jon is positive Jonah is incapable of sounding so timid. He attempts to speak, to ask who the stranger tending to him is. He only manages a mangled whimper.

A dish is pressed to Jon’s dry lips. A trickle of cool, crisp water runs into his mouth and down his throat. Without hesitation, Jon slurps the water greedily. When he’s drunken all he can tolerate, Jon settles his head back down. He closes his eyes to give them a brief reprieve.

He won’t remember falling asleep until the next time he finds himself waking again.

…

Jon sleeps and wakes and sleeps and wakes in a dizzying cycle he can’t keep track of. Each time he stirs, it’s for a handful of minutes at most. Long enough to gulp down some water or what could possibly be soup broth offered to him. He groans and murmurs what are hopefully intelligible articulations of the questions his feverish brain comes up with; Who are you? Why are you taking care of me? Where are we?

His mysterious caretaker doesn’t offer explanations, only soothing ‘shushes’ that are so soft Jon wonders if he imagined them. The most Jon is able to feel the person’s presence happens late one night, when he’s jostled out of a nightmare into wakefulness. There’s hands on his shoulders. Jon almost screams at the physical contact. The hands immediately vanish.

“You’re alright. It was a bad dream. You’re safe. Nothing will hurt you here.”

Jon gasps. How can I trust you? is the question he wants to ask, but he can’t quite get those words out. He’s not scared of this person. If they wanted to hurt him, they’ve had ample opportunities. The question of trust, though, is something Jon’s not sure he wants an answer for. Not while he’s so vulnerable.

Out of the darkness comes a thick blanket of better quality than any Jon has noted so far during his stay wherever this is. It surrounds, and then swaddles him. No matter how hard he looks, Jon can’t make out more than his caretaker’s moving silhouette. It leans in close to Jon and he hears the words, “Sleep peacefully now,” whispered in his ear.

In the morning, Jon wakes. There’s no sign anyone but himself was ever there.

…

Martin paces across the beach. This is bad. This is very bad. Being around someone for so long feels uncomfortable, like something under his skin is aflame. No matter what he does, he can’t make the sensation go away. He wants it to. He wants to not care. He can’t.

“I just need to get him off the island,” Martin tells himself, while not sounding very convinced. “Then everything can go back to the way it was. Like it never happened.”

Is it technically even interfering if the ocean spat the man out onto the island? Surely, if it was the waves’ will to drown him, the man would have been gulped down long before he could ever reach Martin. Saving his life, therefore, wasn’t actually breaking any rules.

Martin pauses in his pacing, considering. He knows what Peter would say to him now. What Peter would have done in his place. He’s not Peter. Martin squeezes his eyes shut and clenches and unclenches his fists. No matter how hard he tries (and he’s mostly done his best to avoid having to try at all), he cannot bring himself to be cruel, or completely callous.

Martin sighs. He heads back into his shelter. He purposefully looks everywhere but the man he’s been nursing back to health. Martin reasons with himself that, if he is to make a voyage (a true voyage on a boat), he needs to take stock of what supplies he has.

He’s deep into counting what little funds he has and debating how to go about acquiring a boat when he hears a small, but pointed cough. Martin ignores it. He knows how to sail well enough. Once upon a time, he was part of the Tundra’s crew. That’s not the issue. Flying to the coast and acquiring a small dinghy to transport the man is. Martin will have to talk to people.

Maybe he could steal something? Scavenge from a junkyard?

There’s a second pointed cough. This time, it strikes Martin that someone had to have made it. Apprehension sinking in his gut, he turns.

Looking at him, studying him with what could be called a curious expression, is the man. He has warm brown eyes and tangled curly hair matted with sand and sea water. He clears his throat, making a hoarse, rough sound. Habitually, Martin reaches for the fresh water he’s been keeping for his patient and passes it over to him. He watches as the man’s long, spindly fingers tentatively reach out, touch the water gourd, take it, and then lift it to his lips.

It’s hypnotizing to watch the man drink. The way his adam’s apple bobs up and down as he gulps. How he pauses to take a breath and wipe his mouth on the back of a hand. It’s like he’s a beacon radiating warmth and life directly in front of Martin. The longer Martin stares at him, the more the chill that has cloaked him for years dispels.

Martin jumps back. He calls upon Forsaken to wrap him in its cold, comforting embrace. Fog rolls. The man makes a startled noise. Without thinking, Martin calls forth light mists and pushes them forward to shroud the man. He tells the mists to make the man sleep.

Martin exhales with relief when the man’s eyelids flutter and he slumps back down.

…

In the end, Martin leaves the man in an enchanted sleep, flies to the nearest continent, finds a wooden, one-man dinghy on a dock, and leaves a pouch with all the coins in his possession in its place. The sail back to his island takes some time, as he’s unused to traveling without a bird’s eye view, but Martin manages it.

The man’s state is unchanged upon Martin’s return. He slumbers uninterrupted. Martin gazes down at him, wonders at him, and then gently bundles him up in blankets and carries him to the dinghy. It isn’t hard. He’s a small, slight man.

The journey is a peaceful, contemplative one. If he’s being honest, Martin rather enjoys it. It’s been years since he last took the time to sail anywhere.

Reaching shore, however, brings back all his old anxieties and fears in a tidal wave of inescapable emotion. The first moment he sees land, Martin panics. What is he going to do? He can’t just unceremoniously dump the man somewhere. Not after all he’s done to take care of him. He needs to make sure he’s safe. At the very least.

Martin stays out at sea for a few days, floating, uncertain and nervous, until a fog bank rolls in from over the water. Under its comforting, concealing damp, Martin finally approaches the shore. He steps off onto the docks, the man held securely in his arms, and soundlessly walks off to find a hospital.

For three days and nights, Martin watches from windows, in his albatross form, as doctors and nurses tend to his man. He’s there when the enchanted sleep wears off and the man wakes and blearily looks around.

Martin spreads his wings and takes off before he can be noticed.

As he flies away, one of his feathers already loose and on its way out, drifts in through the window and lands on the floor of the man’s room.

The man turns at the movement, slides himself out of bed, pads over, and plucks the feather up between his fingertips. He studies it intently, an unreadable expression on his face.

…

There is a man in Jon’s dreams. One he doesn’t quite recognize, but who feels so very familiar. The man’s hair is the color of sand shifting on a beach. His eyes, the blurred blue-gray where sea and sky meet. His skin is vague, somewhere between seashells and fog. Sometimes Jon thinks his imagination concocted the man all on its own. A fantasy. A personification of the ocean to humanize his own experiences while lost at sea.

It’s a lucky miracle, the doctors and nurses of the hospital where he stays during his recovery tell him, that the dockhand who found him unconscious on his boat discovered him when he did. They feared the worst would have happened if no one had stumbled upon him. Jon silently nods along with their explanations. He doesn’t wish to worry them, or be argumentative over the matter. Even if his memory is hazy in some areas, he knows they wouldn’t understand the full story of what he’s been through. He doesn’t want to drag them into it either.

Jon insists on keeping the albatross feather he found on the floor, despite the doctors protests of cleanliness. He holds it at least once every day. Studies it. It reveals nothing to him. At the same time, he can’t bring himself to discard it. It connects him. To what, he’s not quite sure, but it’s not a connection he wants to lose.

When he’s finally discharged, Jon makes arrangements. He acquires a horse and rides across the land to a city tucked in the mountains. It would have been easier to hire an airship, certainly, but an unease in his stomach prevents him from taking to the skies.

Jon passes through the city until he finds the university it’s famous for. He inquires around and makes his way to an ivy-covered, lopsided but still standing, tower on the edge of the campus some distance from every other structure. Without knocking, he opens its door and walks up its spiral staircase all the way to the office at the top.

“Come in,” speaks a tired voice from the other side as he reaches the final step. “And tell me what you seek.”

Jon does as he’s bid. He walks into the office where books are stacked high against the walls. He places his albatross feather down on the desk in front of the seer, who quirks an eyebrow. Ever so carefully, Jon takes a folded bit of parchment out of his pocket and smoothes it out so the seer, a man with long, unkept black hair can read what it says:

My voice was once stolen. This is how I speak.

and a little below that,

I need your help to find the one who this feather belonged to.

#jonmartinweek2021 #the magnus archives #magnuspod #jonmartin #jmart #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #whirls writing

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my-sherlock221b · 3 years

Text

Supernatural Rewatch Ramblings: Bloodlust

2020-21 has been a huge transformative time for many of us. Whether we wanted it or not, we have been forced to stop, switch gears, rethink, reflect, let go, make new priorities, discover who we really are and who we want to be in the face of adversity.

One of those transformations for me has been giving up on control and finding a way to surrender to the power of the universe. Another has been to not let perfection be the enemy of good.

You may well wonder---What does all this have to do with the Bloodlust rewatch and review??!

Probably nothing LOL except for the fact that I still have to write up my review on Bloody Mary and have been unable to write for various reasons. And then because the Bloody Mary review was still incomplete I could not write about the next one etc etc etc.

So when we watched Bloodlust two days ago in the continuing re-watch, I decided that I am going to re-start the review, and from exactly where I am right now!

If time and life permits I might fill in the gaps later. If not, well, life is unpredictable and weird and we keep calm as it carries on….Thank you for coming to my Philosophy talk….:)

Read below for the Boodlust review, Season 2 episode 3 and look out for the post from @soulmates-for-real on this rewatch too!!

The opening scene is the perfect switch and bait because we as an audience have been trained to latch on to types and identities and representations.

Woman in white night gown screaming and running--victim

Person who brutally beheads her—villain.

A few minutes into the episode we realize that we were wrong.

A good few minutes later we realize that we were wrong about being wrong.]

Haha.

We are idjits, swept away on the eddies and currents of this masterfully written and directed episode. Thank you Sera Gamble and Robert Singer!

The acting and the mesmerizing beauty of the two leads is worthy of an entire essay of its own but in order to have a life and finish this review I shall only say this—Oh my goodness HOW gorgeous is Jensen Ackles?!!

It is sometimes impossible to look at him in this episode because my eyes didn’t know where to land! That perfect face? The lips? Those eyes?? The quirk of the eyebrows? Those micro expressions that are constantly weaving across his face? The smile? The way his lips move when he talks?? His hair? The Samulet?

And then the shot pans out and includes his hand and the ring and honestly it’s a miracle I could follow the plot at all.

So the images I am going to include in this review, much as I love Sam Winchester and Jared Padalecki, are all of Dean Winchester. It’s a criminal waste to not do so when the man is just an ode to perfection.

Sheila O’Malley’s review of this episode is in itself a work of art and a thing of beauty so I will direct you most enthusiastically towards it and only add here my little pennyworth bits. Do click on this link but be prepared to sink into a one hour read which will make you feel like you were dropped into the episode itself.

https://www.sheilaomalley.com/?p=87187

Here is a quote from her review which is so insightful.

These are the details that a director like Robert Singer never misses, and at this point his relationship with Ackles and Padalecki would be almost telepathic (it’s probably 100% telepathic now). He has said before that he and Kripke were such a good team because Kripke’s primary concern is Plot/Gore/Horror and Singer’s primary concern is Character/Relationship. And they both end up in the same place. It’s a good mix. If Singer were also Plot/Gore/Horror focused, we wouldn’t have the depth of relationship which is the real point of the show, its real hook.

For a much briefer and far less technically adept and analytical review, read on here!

The opening of this episode shows us the Impala from every possible angle. Gleaming, gorgeous, road -worthy. This is mirrored by Dean. He is also gleaming, gorgeous and roadworthy. He is in a happy mood that not even Sam’s little brother snitty comments can deflate.

Here is the soundtrack of this episode for those who are interested.

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0835248/soundtrack

Here is some random but fun trivia:

Dean tells Sam in one scene "If it's Supernatural, we kill it." One of the rare times the title of the show is actually spoken in the dialogue.

This is the first episode where Sam began parting his hair down the middle, the hairstyle he'd keep the rest of the series.

( I didn’t like his hair too much in this episode honestly but then again I could barely see anyone beyond Dean :D)

During the filming of this episode Jared injured his hand when he fell badly during a stunt. He thought it was merely sprained and went straight into filming the next episode without having it checked. But it got more and more painful and finally he went to the doctor and discovered that his hand was, in fact, broken. Because he had already begun filming, he couldn't bandage the hand until filming for that episode was finished. The writers ended up writing in an accident for Sam and his line "I think she broke my hand" to explain the fact that for the following few episodes he would be wearing a cast.

When Dean kills a vampire, blood is sprayed on his face, mostly on his right cheek. In the next shot the pattern is different, and notably the right cheek is almost clean. Furthermore, his mouth was agape when he made the kill, risking the blood getting into his mouth and turning him into a vampire. While the brothers didn't yet know how a vampire is made at that point, Gordon did and should have been alarmed that Dean might have gotten some of the blood in his mouth.

A random behind the scene shot from the episode:

Guess who she is? Apparently this is Jensen’s sister in a super brief role in Bloodlust!

On to the review, or rather some of my thoughts during the re-watch.

The first scene with the Sheriff they are interrogating him about the cattle mutilations is hilarious. The way they bluff their way into the morgue is hilarious. Dean always leading and Sam following.

Random trivia: When Dean enters the morgue with Sam and sees the name tag of "J Manners", it has been thought the name was to honor Jeffrey Dean Morgan and series producer Kim Manners. Dean guesses "John" - Jeffrey's character name - and the intern corrects with "Jeff"

It a testament to the way Supernatural has trained its audience that we barely blink when they pull out a decapitated head in the morgue, squabble over who is more chicken, dig into the mouth and eventually discover vampire fangs.

Yes, of course they do.

Next scene: Two hot guys walk into a bar…..

…….where the adorable Benny, who is not Benny in this episode but a random dude ( spoilers—later we find out the dude is a vampire), gives them directions/ mis- directions to a possible vampire nest.

We see the first glimpse of Gordon Walker, amazingly played by Sterling K. Brown, and making us worry about and dislike him almost right away. The way he is shown with the light and shade bars on his face from the window blinds is so menacing.

The next few scenes continue to build that sense of unease where the Winchester brothers, apparently telepathically, decide to double back and catch him following them, then he shows them his car and his weapons, where he references their dad and then refuses their offer for help.

The scene where he shows them his car is like a painting. (The car by the way is just as inconspicuous as the Impala –which is to say NOT AT ALL!! How do these people stay below the radar of the regular law enforcement is a mystery….).

The dust highlighting the rays of light, the two brothers on one side of the car and Gordon at the other, it’s all so consciously set up for a few seconds worth of screen time. Impressive!

Next comes a truly brutal kill, at Dean’s hands, which we don’t even see except as a spray of blood on his face. Poetic! But it is Dean’s expression that makes my stomach clench. His eyes are dead and he is somewhere deep that even Sam can’t reach, as we can see from the distress on Sam’s face.

Gordon of course is all chipper and full of bonhomie and offers to buy them drinks.

That following scene is the one which gives Wincest brother-wives vibes like 100%.

Sam plays the role of the disgruntled ‘wife’ to perfection. No one but hubby is allowed to use the nickname. He hates the male bonding going on with Gordon and the more Gordon seems to slip into Dean’s inner circle, the more uncomfortable Sam gets, until he finally decides that he just cannot physically be there any more.

Dean’s smug expression when Sam tells Gordon off for calling him Sammy, his instant worry at Sam going back alone, his hand raised in exasperation to convey to Gordon—look what I have to put up with-- the tossing of the keys to his car----it is all a symphony of Dean playing his part in the brother-wives orchestra.

The last line?! ‘Remind me to beat the buzzkill out of you later.’ And Sam’s expression at that? That’s exactly the way a bullying /abusive husband would react to a nagging wife who doesn’t like his toxic friends and wonders how he can be so blind as to not see them for the bad influence they clearly are.

( Bad Dean!!!)

Sam goes back to the motel and does his due diligence by checking with Ellen, gets kidnapped by vampires, released and on his return is disgusted to find Gordon inside their motel room.

The next scene is where Dean erupts, having clearly had enough of the shifting power dynamics between them over the evening. Sam has been silently judging him since the kill and Gordon has managed to ‘other’ Sam and make Dean feel validated in his own bloodlust as a hunter.

Dean clocks Sam one.

Wow. I did not see that coming. And what shocked me at this re- watch is that Sam just takes it.

Like an abused wife, he just takes it. Not only that, sometime later in the episode he tells Dean to hit him again if it is going to make him feel better.

NO Sam! NO!!! This is NOT healthy and this is NOT the way to deal….ugh. Sigh.

Then the second half of the episode swings in and the moral dilemma they face becomes clear when the victim and villain switch roles and Dean is shook enough to question his dad’s judgement!

Dean is still kind of trying to give Gordon the benefit of the doubt even though he sees him literally torturing the vampire. But of course all bets are off the instant he touches Sam. Dean pulls his gun on him. I was surprised that he didn’t shoot him just on principle later simply because he hurt Sam even if it was a small cut.

That is Dean’s definition of monsters-- Anything that hurts Sam. 😊

We don’t know it at this time, and spoilers ahead, but maybe Dean has been so annoyed and violent with Sam at the idea that he is standing up for MONSTERS is because he might also be one….and the way he looks at the end when he realizes that his whole life’s philosophy has been upended.

There are the details about the vampires who drink cattle blood so they don’t harm humans and therefore want to be treated as the good guys. Of course it is all about the inherent struggle between who you are and what you do—something that shows up hugely magnified in the later seasons when Sam is struggling with his own demon blood addiction and the knowledge of the demon blood inside him.

He needs desperately to believe in this as the utmost foundation stone of his life and its purpose—what you DO is more important than what you ARE!

So even if you are a monster, if you don’t behave like one—that is your redemption.

But it’s not just anybody whose faith he wants in his struggle to prove to himself that he is not a monster. He needs it from Dean.

Remember the dialogue from the panic room “Don’t you say that to me. Don’t YOU say that to me.”

And the fake voicemail set up by Zachariah exploits this at the time of the breaking of the last seal.

Of course he doesn’t know any of this yet, but that’s Sam fucking Winchester for you –always purer and better than his circumstances allow. Always struggling to do better, be better.😍

It is fascinating how the visuals and the roles these two play are of rugged handsome men, badass heroes-- Dean of course super macho role playing all the time. But there are so many layers upon layers and honestly if it wasn’t for Jared and Jensen’s fine nuanced and impeccable acting adding depth to the characters, the show would not have held our interest for this long.

We are shown Sam as the brains with his lore and research, but then in the very next episode (Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things), we see Dean connect dots faster than Sherlock Holmes.

Dean is shown as the instinctively violent one with the gun under his pillow, trigger happy, and in this episode even that brutal kill of the vampire on the docks. But then please remember the way Sam kills Gordon finally. Or the insane way he bites himself to get blood for drawing sigils. Or the way he just simply shoots the crossroads demon point blank!

We see Sam as the soft hearted one and he does rescue kids once in a while, but he is never shown to bond with them even a fraction of the way Dean does—so effortlessly. Also the ladies of course, all of whom have a soft spot for Dean. The exceptions being Sarah and Madison, both of whom completely ignored Dean. Oh and that doctor from Sex and Violence.

Dean has had his share of bad dates of course with Cassie, the woman who gave birth to his magical superfast growing daughter ( who was killed by Sam), and the whole Lisa arc, but somehow we are shown Sam as the one who is invested in relationships. Hello?! Sam was planning to marry Jessica without having told her a thing about his life while Dean told Cassie the secret as soon as he thought he was in love and wanted a relationship.

So anyway, just to say that a rewatch is so brilliant because we know more about them at this point than they do and the character arc is such a thing of beauty to see unfolding!

That last scene where Dean is in a thoughtful frame of mind, the sun is rising overhead ( as a metaphor for him seeing the light, maybe?)--that insanely gorgeous shot of Dean with the ring of fire and light and his absolutely perfect face in a close up…sigh.

Then he thanks Sam for pushing him to see this grey area and for the first time in that episode Sam finally smiles.

His big brother is back with him.

And then he commits to Dean too. Ah…how it warms my heart to hear this dialogue!

DEAN I wish we never took this job. It's jacked everything up.

SAM What do you mean?

DEAN Think about all the hunts we went on, Sammy, our whole lives.

SAM Okay.

DEAN What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing? You know? I mean, the way Dad raised us...

SAM Dean, after what happened to Mom, Dad did the best he could.

DEAN I know he did. But the man wasn't perfect. And the way he raised us, to hate those things; and man, I hate 'em. I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill I didn't even think about it; hell, I even enjoyed it.

SAM You didn't kill Lenore.

DEAN No, but every instinct told me to. I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill 'em all.

SAM Yeah, Dean, but you didn't. And that's what matters.

DEAN Yeah. Well, 'cause you're a pain in my ass.

SAM Guess I might have to stick around to be a pain in the ass, then.

DEAN Thanks.

SAM Don't mention it.

Transcript here http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/index.php?title=2.03_Bloodlust_%28transcript%29

Guess Sam does stick around for the next 15 years to be a pain in the ass 😊

Some quotes from the writers about this episode:

· "The episode was really about what Dean would become if he didn't watch out: that Gordon was Dean in ten years if Sam didn't ask the difficult questions and keep him from getting too militant." - Executive story editor Sera Gamble

· "We set out to create a monster episode where you weren't entirely sure whether these monsters should be killed." - Eric Kripke

· "For me, the show is at its best when the supernatural story reveals something new about the brothers, or forces them to change in some way. Sam and Dean's realization that they've basically been raised as 'monster racists' was really meaty stuff. Exploring these characters' flaws is just as important as showcasing their heroism - these are the things that make them human, that make us invest in them." - Raelle Tucker

Check out this site for more amazing trivia and stuff

http://www.jonescave.com/supernatural/Episode/Episode.php?s=2&e=3#PopCulture

I have already finished watching the next episode ‘Children’s Shouldn’t play with Dead Things’….so let’s hope I get around to writing a review sometime soon !

#spn #spn review #spn meta #sam and dean #bloodlust #the epic love story of sam and dean #wincest #brother wives

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albertasunrise · 3 years

Text

Bad Way - Chapter 3

Masterlist

Summary: IG-11 Knew that the Mandalorian was in a bad way. The Bacta spray would heal his wounds in time but only if he didn’t overdo it and unfortunately that wasn’t an option for them right now.

Pairings: Din Djarin x Cara Dune

Warnings: Blood and Injury, Angst

Notes: I wrote this ages ago and thought I'd share with you all on here 😘

Part 1, Part 2

Din was flooded with a mixture of emotions as he watched Cara walk towards him with the baby in her arms. The child chirped happily at seeing him awake, its arms stretching out as it tried to reach him. Cara placed him on the bed beside Din, not saying a word as she sat down on the floor beside his cot and watched as he picked it up and placed it on his chest.

‘Why did you do it?’ he asked, knowing the child couldn’t reply ‘You could have died.’

‘But he didn’t’ interjected Cara ‘And he brought you back to us.’

‘That’s not the point Cara!’ he spat, his tone venomous ’You should have stopped him.’

‘I did!’ she growled ‘As soon as I saw what he was doing I ripped him away from you.’

Din didn’t answer, just looked at her as she fought to keep her temper at bay.

‘The words you said to me when I held you dying in the Cantina, they echoed in my head and I couldn't let you down.’

‘You didn’t’ said Din, his voice cracking as his guilt began to build.

‘Well according to you I did!’ she spat ‘I carried you here, I tended to your collapsed lung. I saved your damn life and all I get is grief from you.’

Din looked quickly at the child and them back at Cara again. The child really was fine. Violent coughs racked his body and he placed the child down on the floor before wrapping his arms around his bruised body. Cara jumped to his side and place a hand on his shoulder as she tried to help him through the fit. When they subsided Din was left gasping for breath, his lungs winded by the ordeal.

‘Just take a deep breath in and out Mando.’ Said Cara as she showed him ‘Just calm your breathing.’

The Mandalorian mirrored her movements and found himself finally catching his breath again. He looked down at his bandaged chest and saw that his front was a patchwork of bruises. No wonder he hurt so much.

‘You need to rest now.’ she said as she picked up the child ‘You’re not going to get better if you move.’

Din nodded at her and watched as she carried the baby out of the room. When she left she shut the door behind her, meaning he was able to take off his helmet. With a hand either side, he lifted it off of his head, wincing as its interior passing brushed against the many cuts that covered his face. Reaching beneath the bed he pulled a small box out. Opening it he pulled out a small mirror and lifted it so that he could see the damage. His face was a mess but the thing that struck him the most was the dried blood that spread from his mouth, down this chin and parts of his neck. He would need to clean that up at some point. He let his head fall back onto the pillow beneath it. He welcomed the feeling of soft fabric against his head and neck, made a difference from the padding of his helmet. He scrunched his eyes shut as another wave of pain washed over him. As it passed he thought about what Cara had told him. He tried to remember what happened, staring up at the ceiling as an image of Gideon pointing his blaster at him appeared before his eyes. He remembered the man switching his aim at the last minute. The heat from the blast as it sent him hurtling backwards and then there was darkness. The next thing he remembered was being dragged by Cara into the cantina. The pain had been unbearable and breathing had been so hard. He remembered how scared he had been. Not because he was going to die but because he was going to leave the child. He hadn’t realised until he lay there bleeding to the death against a collapsed stone table that he had come to love the child like a son and now he was. His memories after that were muddled but the next clearest one was of him falling, his arms grasping at the air as his jet pack fired up a few times and slowed his descent but despite that he hit the ground with a thud. He could then remember tasting blood, breathing becoming harder and harder but at that moment he had made his peace with death. He was happy to die knowing that Gideon was dead and the child was safe. The images flashed to Cara holding him in her arms. She’d been crying.

Did I really die? he thought to himself as breathed himself through another wave of pain.

After it passed he could feel himself growing tired, his eyes growing tired and he let his exhaustion take him. Closing his eyes he allowed himself to slip into oblivion, welcoming the numbness that it brought.

Greef looked at Cara who was slouched in one of the Co-pilots’ chairs, playing with the Child that was perched on the other. They had barely spoken two words to each other since getting the Mandalorian back here.

‘How’s the patient?’ he said, breaking their silence.

‘Resting.’ she replied as she looked up at the man ‘As long as he doesn’t go flying around taking any more ships down and rests. I think he’ll be fine.’

‘Good I’m glad to hear it,’ he replied as he stood from his seat ‘I think I will return to the town. I still have a guild to run.’

Cara just nodded in response and Greef took that as his cue to leave. Climbing down the ladder he landed on the loading bay floor with a bang. Walking to the bay door he pressed the button to lower it but his attention was drawn the door that he knew Din dwelled behind. He hoped that Cara was right and that the Mandalorian would recover. When asked he would say that he wanted his best hunter back but in truth, he had come to care for him. Taking one last glance at the door he descended the ramp and headed back to town. Cara watched him disappear into the distance from the window of the cockpit. The child giggled and squeaked behind her from his perch, sucking on a metal ball that she gathered Din had given him. She could see his big eyes growing heavy before he sat down and leaned back against the soft blankets in the hit makeshift cot. Cara smiled as the little thing fell into a deep sleep, its ears twitching as it dreamed. The shock trooper slipped through the door and silently climbed down the ladder to the lower deck. She laid herself down on a bench that lined one of the bay walls. She shut her eyes for a moment, her ears tuning in to the silence on the ship. Every now and then there would be a creak or a beep.

‘Cara.’

Cara got up with a start, unsure initially where the voice had come from. Getting up onto her feet she walked towards Din’s quarters and opened the door. He was laying there, helmet in place and breathing quickly.

‘Whats wrong?’ she asked as she dropped to his side.

‘I don’t feel right.’ he replied.

She was shocked with his honesty she placed her hand on his arm and was alarmed by how warm he was. She checked over his wounds that were visible and were happy they were healing, so what was wrong with him?

‘Have you got any medicine on this ship?’ She asked ‘Bacta? Antibiotics?’ she asked.

‘No.’ was his reply.

‘How have you lived this long without medicine on your ship?’

‘I have had it!’ he growled in response ‘I just haven’t had a chance to restock it since picking up the kid.’

Cara did not push him for answers. She knew that bounty hunting was a dangerous profession and undoubtedly he sustained several injuries in his time as one. Now she was unsure what to do. She couldn’t leave him and the child here alone. She wondered if Greef would answer is she called him.

‘Well you’re developing a fever so we need to get you something.’ she said as she pulled her hair back from her face.

‘I’ll be fine.’ he said as he placed one arm around his broken ribs.

‘No you won’t’ she replied, her tone louder as her frustration grew ‘You are developing a fever Mando. If I don't get you some medicine it's going to be the next thing that kills you.’

Din didn’t answer, just stared at her through his visor. He could tell she was angry but he wasn’t aware of just how much. She had been left to tend a half-dead Mandalorian and a child with magic powers. She could scream but relaxing her posture slightly she knelt beside her friend again.

‘Din you need to take this seriously’ she said as she changed her tone to one much softer ‘You literally died… If it wasn’t for your kid I’d be burying you right now.’

Din flinched at her remark but still didn’t say anything.

‘He brought you back but he couldn't heal your wounds too.’ she continued ‘You need proper care and medicine. You will die if we don’t get you the treatment you need and quickly.’

‘Okay.’ was his reply, unsure of how to respond to her.

‘Just let me help you,’ she paused, looking at Din with pleading eyes ‘Please.'

Fic Tags: @maryscarlett2u

Tags: @hayley-the-comet @mishasminion360 @ajeff855@pedritomando @supernaturalgirl20 @dihra-vesa @nicolethered@practicalghost @theanothersherlockian

#mandalorian #mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin gif #din djarin x cara dune #cara dune #din djarin fanfiction #greef carga #the child #grogu

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

EUPHORIA - Chapter 18

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Chapter Warning: NSFW, flangst

WC: 4626

A/N: This chapter fills my ‘mutual masturbation’ square for @spnkinkbingoPlease share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

This series is more than two weeks ahead on patreon!

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

Y/N wakes before her alarm goes off. Her hand finds her phone on the nightstand. She switches off the alarm, because she actually hates the sound of its ring. It’s penetrating and shrill, but she needs that to be able to get up at all.

Her eyes widen when she feels movement next to her in bed and she holds in her breathing for a moment. Her mind races as she tries to remember and piece the events of last night together.

She blinks a couple of times before she turns around, and breathes a sigh of relief when she notices that it’s Dean next to her. His face is buried in the pillow, mouth slightly parted. She smiles when she sees him, how can she not? She’s stunned that he stayed the whole night. Is actually really surprised he stayed at all after he drove her back home.

Propping herself onto her elbow, she watches him sleep. Watch the creases around his eyes. They run deep when he smiles and it’s actually really frustrating that they make him more attractive. His face is sprayed with freckles. Some are bigger, some smaller. She tries to memorize them. Back at school, when he would look at her and turn his head right so that the sunlight would catch his face, they would stand out more and he’d look so goddamn pretty. And that, she thinks, is not fair.

She remembers falling asleep in his arms. Remembers him whispering something to her. Something about keeping... something , she doesn’t really know because she was too far gone already.

Dean stirs and she’s holding her breath. How embarrassing would it be if he woke up and she would be the first thing he saw? Like, she’s not really easy on the eye in the mornings, she knows that. And also, he would notice that she’s probably been watching him as he slept and nobody likes to be watched while they’re sleeping.

Gently, she pushes herself out of the bed and up into a standing position. She has to squint her eyes a little because yeah, she feels sore. Especially around her arms, thighs and between her legs.

The blood rises to her face when she thinks about yesterday. Thinks about how Dean fucked her with a butt plug inside of her ass. How she felt so fucking full and yet still, she wanted more. Wanted it harder, wanted it faster. She’s getting light headed just thinking about it and her pussy tingles, it gets wetter and she knows that it’s definitely not only his cum that’s wetting her panties right now.

It’s weird, because she’s never been this sexual and needy before. And god, if she wouldn’t have to be at work in the next hour, she would wake Dean up and get on his dick again. That’s bad, isn’t it? She should definitely learn to control herself better.

Carefully she walks out into her bathroom and takes a warm shower that should ease the tense out of her body. She takes her time brushing her teeth and making up her face a little before she walks out on her tip toes, trying to get dressed without waking Dean up.

It’s not even 7.30am yet and she knows that usually, he won’t be up until noon. So, instead of waking him up, she prepares a key for him and tapes it to the door on the inside with a note that says that he has to lock up when he leaves. She doesn’t really know his schedule, they’re not really anything yet and she doesn't really keep track of what he’s doing. Burned once, twice shy , or what’s that saying again? Either way, she doesn’t want for anyone to keep close track of her like Cole did and she has learned that she should treat people like she wants to be treated in return.

On her way to work she types a message for Dean.

Y/N: I didn’t want to wake you up because you looked so peaceful in your sleep. The key is taped to the door. Please lock the door when you leave.

Dean wakes to his phone vibrating on the nightstand. In his daze, he reaches out for it but his hand meets an empty mattress. He cranes his neck, blinks before looking around. He’s not in his loft and not on his usual side of the bed, hence the reaching out for a phantom nightstand that’s not fucking there.

He takes a moment to nuzzle his face back into the pillow, smells her skin that lingers there, and he’s breathing in her scent, filling his lungs. As if it’s keeping him alive. Maybe it is, he doesn’t really know.

Realizing that he almost drifts off again while he breathes in her smell, Dean yanks his eyes open. He wonders if she’s still here? She said that she had an early meeting but Dean has no idea what time it is. Turning around in bed, he reaches out for his phone, sees that Balthazar, one of his investigators has called him. But what catches his eyes is a text from her.

Please lock the door when you leave.

Well, he doesn’t really want to leave, if he’s honest. He wonders when the meeting will be ending, wonders if she’s going to come back home or not. And then he realizes that he’s a fucking idiot for not asking. But again, he doesn’t want for her to think that he’s clingy, when that’s maybe what he is deep inside.

He quickly types in a reply, sees that it’s already 11.23am. Surely her meeting must be finished by now.

D: I just woke up and a little sad that you’re not here. When will you be back?

Next, Dean thumbs over the contact of his investigator, calling Balth back.

“Boss,” The man on the other end greets him.

Dean clears his throat before he speaks, his mouth feels dry, his voice is raspy, “What do you have for me?”

“Yeah,” Balthazar says, “Uh, the Cole Trenton guy, I found him.”

Dean’s heart races but he tries to keep his cool. Good news would be if Balthazar told him that he’s in fucking jail but again, that would have been too good to be true, wouldn’t it? “Good. Where?”

“He still lives in the city. I followed him around and saw him lurking around the place where she works but he mostly stays in the coffee shop around the corner and goes back home. He has a new girlfriend, though. Maybe he just needs to check if she’s alright?”

Dean snorts, the dude can check in with Dean’s fist if he wants, “Was he ever around the club?”

“Not since I’ve had my eyes on him, sir,”

Fuck, it’s most likely not Cole who damaged the wall of his club, then.

When Dean doesn’t say anything Balth continues, “There’s the thing, he was arrested for domestic violence about six months back, lost his job in the process, but the woman took him back and decided not to testify. Said that she reacted out of frustration and her injuries were caused because she fell down the stairs. The case has been dismissed.”

“Fuck,” Dean mutters under his breath. He’s fucking angry. What if the women would have been Y/N? What if he laid a hand on her? Did he? She’s told him that he didn’t and Dean believes her, but there’s still that weird feeling in his gut. Dean clears his throat, swallows down his anger, “What’s he doing now?”

“Probably lounging on his girlfriend’s couch and stalking your girl every now and then. His girlfriend has taken on two jobs to keep them somewhat afloat,”

Dean’s so fucking relieved that she’s not with that fucking son of a bitch anymore.

“Right,” Dean says, “Thanks Balth, can you get someone to cover him?”

“Yeah, I can get someone on board for that,”

Dean hears a ping while Balthazar is talking, he guesses that it’s maybe a text from her, “Good, okay. Balth, I need to go. I’ll see you, bye.”

He quickly hangs up, and thumbs over his messages, smiles when he sees that he’s right.

Y/N: I’m on the way back, are you still there?

D: Yeah, I haven’t even got out of bed yet.

Y/N: Okay, please wait for me?

Dean grins. He’d wait a lifetime if he has to. He thought that he made that very clear already, but apparently, not. But he also knows that he can’t write that, so instead, he types something else.

D: I’ll be here. Take your time.

He places the phone back on the nightstand before he gets up, deciding to take a shower before she gets back.

He’s back in bed when he hears the front door, hears a heavy bag being dropped onto the floor and she walks into the room in a flowery dress that’s not too short but it makes his dick stir nonetheless. It’s really weird, because he usually has better self control.

There’s a hint of coffee aroma in the air. It makes his mouth water. Dean’s been up to her kitchen, looking for coffee but all he found was water. He thinks that she should definitely stock up her fridge and pantries but he realizes that between work and being with him, she’s not really at home much. Which leads him to his other thinking. That she’s wasting her money by renting out this apartment when she could easily move back in with him. But he gets it, gets her way of thinking, because for her it’s too soon.

She frowns when she sees him staring. His heart is racing, though, can’t hide the grin on his face, “You’re still in bed?”

“It’s too comfy,” He mumbles and to emphasize his words, he digs the back of his head deeper into the pillow.

Chuckling, Y/N walks around, and Dean’s happy to see a smile on her face. She takes the scent of coffee with her and now he sees her producing a cup from her back where she was hiding it. She holds out the cup for him to which Dean sits up straight in bed, takes it from her and takes a sip of liquid gold.

He grins before quickly taking a couple more sips and sets the half empty cup back on the nightstand before he grabs at her wrist, and thumbs over the back of her hand. Dean looks up at her, still grinning, “You know, this seems like a dream of mine,”

“A dream?”

He nods his head, “Yeah, you bringing me coffee in bed,” His hand tugs at her dress, “It’s just... you wore a little less clothing in my dream,”

She’s full on laughing, “You dreamed about me bringing you coffee naked?”

“Hey, no kink shaming here,” He lifts up her dress, bites back a groan when he sees her lace panties, feels jealous of all the men who might look at her and wonder what’s underneath, also feels pride that he’s the only one who knows that now, “Come on, loose the dress and come in,” He pats his lap and he’s sure that she can’t miss the bulge beneath the sheets. He didn’t get back into his underwear after the shower.

Even though his cock is straining visibly, he has to keep himself in check because he’s not going to fuck her today. He wants to give her time to recover and he can usually control himself pretty well. It’s just.. it’s really hard to do it around her.

She tucks her bottom lip between her teeth and grins before she undresses. Dean watches her pull the dress over her head, watches her standing there in her bra and panties set and his tongue darts out to lick his lips.

As soon as the fabric drops to the floor, Dean grabs her wrist, tugs her down and she falls into his lap with a squeal of laughter. He chuckles as he turns her around so she was half lying on top of him. His one hand caresses her face, thumb painting along her eyebrow, down her nose, and he kisses her, soft and tender, tastes coffee on her tongue as well.

He cranes his neck, their noses are still connected. Pecking her lips once more, Dean lets himself fall on his side, draws her close and lets her rest her head on his upper arm.

She rakes her nails along his body, circles his nipple and Dean shudders. She giggles and looks up at him.

“How was the meeting?” He asks with a kiss to her forehead.

“Good,” She replies and nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck, “I have to attend a workshop in Washington.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, “When?”

“Ugh,” She sighs, “I’m leaving the day after tomorrow, and I’m staying for two nights.”

Dean can’t say that he’s happy about that, but it’s her work and Dean can’t possibly tell her that she should ditch that and live with him. At least not yet. Because that’s his dream? He really wants to provide for her and maybe instead of working, she can fucking write her novels or whatever her heart desires. Yeah, maybe one day he can convince her but it’s certainly not today, and he knows that too. So instead of being grumpy about it, he’s going to be supportive.

“You don’t want to go?” He asks, because she pulls a grimace.

“I was daydreaming in the meeting and when Naomi asked who will represent us at the workshop, nobody raised their hands and then I was probably looking really zoned out, so she asked me and of course I jumped at the mention of my name and the next thing I knew, I said yes and now I have to go,”

Dean throws his head back and laughs heartily because he can just imagine it. It happened a couple of times in class as well and she always picked up the most boring and annoying tasks like that. One time he wanted to help her by nudging against her ribs with his elbow, but that just made it worse because she raised her hand right away and Dean couldn’t roll his eyes back into his head fast enough.

Y/N punches his chest and he bites on his lips to stop laughing.

He surges forward, tilts her chin up and kisses her quickly to not laugh more and avert the subject to something less funny, “What were you daydreaming about, huh?”

Pulling her lips between her teeth, she trains her gaze downwards and Dean smirks because he thinks he knows the answer to his own question.

“I’m so horny,” She breathes out. Sulks a little as pouts her lips, “Like, I woke up really horny and it’s your fault,”

Dean gasps playfully, “My fault?”

“Yeah,” She mumbles and he has to grin some more, kisses her harder, a little rougher.

He bites down on her bottom lip, making her moan into his mouth and she actually starts to wiggle her hips, pushing her clothed cunt into his hard cock. Dean’s hand goes to her hips, holding her still and she whines.

“‘M not gonna fuck you today, baby,” Dean mumbles, doesn’t really actually believe his own words because his restraint is hanging by a fucking thin thread.

“Why not?”

There’s that pout again that he quickly kisses away.

“Because you’re sore and the last thing I want is hurting you,”

“Gah!” She lets out a frustrating groan that makes Dean smirk.

“Come on,” He releases her hips and pulls his arm out from under her, and she’s still pouting, “If I wasn’t here what would you do when you’re horny?”

“Uh,” She parts her lips, her brows arch in a curious manner.

“Show me,” Dean says, and honestly, he thinks that he’s going to regret asking but maybe he’s also just a fucking masochist.

He sits up on the bed, leaning his head against the wall behind it, one eyebrow raised as he watches her teeth biting down on her lips. Her gaze is trained down, as if she’s still debating about it.

There’s an audible exhale and then she whispers, “‘K,” before she crawls over to her nightstand on all fours and Dean groans at the sight of her lace panties, the fabric at her crotch a shade darker. She’s fucking wet and he has a hard time not giving in. Her ass is on full display too, round and so smackable. He couldn’t resist reaching out and smacking down on one of the cheeks, hard. He leaves his hand there and squeezes her flesh, jiggling it around. Y/N looks back at him over her shoulder, a playful glint in her eyes.

Dean watches her opening a drawer by her nightstand, taking something out before closing, and she hides something behind her back.

She sits back next to him and it’s then that he sees it.

It’s a vibrator.

Dean’s grinning like an idiot. He’s pleasantly surprised, actually.

Sitting up, they’re now shoulder to shoulder and he watches her getting into position and taking off her panties. He helps her by unclasping her bra and takes it off as well, tossing it across the room in his eagerness. Before she can turn it on, he snatches the toy from her fingers and she looks at him perplexed. Dean just grins, kisses her, sucks in her tongue and makes her moan into his mouth. He drinks up her breath, swallows down her cries.

By now his dick is leaking pre-cum and it’s fucking throbbing. He has to remind himself that it’s not about him.

Dean turns it on and it vibrates to life. He looks over, sees her tugging her bottom lips between her teeth. He places one hand on her knee to spread her and holds the vibrator to her clit with the other, and immediately, she squirms when the vibrating hits her. He watches her face, tries to find the right place, smiles when he hits it because she’s throwing her head back, closing her eyes. God, she looks absolutely beautiful like this. Completely debauched and blissful.

He tilts his head, nuzzles his nose against her temple, whispering to her, “Tell me how you like it,”

Y/N swallows, “No, like that, it’s… it’s good,”

Pulling the vibrator off her, Dean threads through her folds with his hand that he used to spread her, figuring he doesn’t need it anymore since she opens up so sweetly on her own. He groans when he meets her wetness. She got wet so fucking fast. There’s a small puddle just below her pussy.

“Jesus,” Dean hisses low, places the slick fingers to his lips and sucks off her juice, groaning as he does it.

He goes in again, scoops up a little more and this time, he places his fingers to her mouth, and puts the vibrator back to the place where she needs it most. She has her mouth slightly parted and Dean paints along her lips with his wet fingers, “Taste yourself, you’ll see why I can not get fucking enough of you,”

She sucks in his finger, twirls her tongue around it and Dean groans because he can’t not imagine her tongue around his cock. It’s bad, really bad, his walls are crumbling.

Dean quickly pulls his finger away, cups her chin and titls her face, crashing his mouth to hers and slides his tongue in, tasting the last remaining scent of her on the tip of her tongue, drinks it in. Her hands are both on his arm, fingernails digging into his skin. She moves them, tries to get a better grip, leaving little crescent moons in their wake.

She’s so responsive, it blows his mind.

“Touch me,” He whispers into the kiss and licks up the side of her face when she looks down to where his cock is leaking but is still covered by the sheet.

Nodding her head, Y/N moves the cover away.

“Spit in your hand, baby,”

He grins when she does, accumulates enough spit in her mouth to wet her hand. What a fucking good girl. He absolutely loves how she follows his directions, not that she needs much guiding, though.

She lays her slick hand around his shaft, index finger and thumb toying around the sensitive and leaking head of his cock, and Dean fucking groans loudly at the touch but he’s too far gone in the moment to actually care. He drops his forehead to her shoulder, feels her kissing his hair at the top of his head.

Dean presses the vibrator a little harder against her nub and she jumps up a little, which makes him look up at her again, claiming her mouth once more while she pumps his shaft with both her hands.

They probably look completely weird angled but it just feels fucking right.

Moving his hips he begins to fuck up into her hand. Her fist twists when she reaches his cockhead.

“That’s good, just like that,” He whispers against her cheek, his nose pressed into the side of her face. Dean swallows hard because he sees her face grimacing. She’s close. “How many times have you used your toys since we’ve met?”

“Thr— Ah— Three times,” She manages to say.

He kisses her cheek, leaves his mouth there, “What were you thinking about, huh? Were you imagining me?”

“Uh-huh,” Her nods are frantic.

“Uh-huh?” He smirks, “Imagining me rubbing you? Imagining my tongue on you? God, you’re so fucking sweet, I could eat you out for fucking days, baby,” He tilts her head to kiss her, his teeth biting down on her bottom lip before he parts, and she moans out in pained pleasure, “Did you imagine my cock? Imagining me fucking you? Fuck—,” He pauses to let out a grunt because she grips around his ball with one of her hands, squeezing on just the right side of painful.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” He growls, by now, the string that holds his willpower together is fucking gone. Cut through by her soft whimpers and by her hand fondling is balls and Dean’s such a goner for that.

“Uh-huh,” Y/N manages to say, nods her head and turns to kiss his cheek, tongue skidding over his scruff, “Please,”

Jesus, her voice when she says please just pulls at all the right strings inside of him and that’s not fucking fair. He should have better control, he should fucking not give in—

—but of course he does. He’s such a goner for her. Whatever she wants, she gets it.

“‘K, here’s the thing,” Dean’s voice cracks a little, “I want you to come for me, and when you do, hop straight on my cock, alright? Can you do that, baby?”

“Y-yes,” She says and her face contorts, “I’m close,”

“I know, baby, I know,” He smirks, his hand around her goes a little further down, twisting her nipple, “Come now, I can’t wait to fuck you,”

It’s maybe another minute, and he doesn’t think it’s a full minute either, but she comes with a twisted face as her legs shake. She quickly buries her face against his shoulder, her grip around his cock tightens and Dean has to bite back a pained groan. She’s quick to remember what he asked her to do and gets up to straddle him. Dean helps by positioning his cock to her entrance.

He abandons the vibrator, turning it off and tosses it don’t know where, can’t possibly concentrate on that when she sits down on him, her pussy still convulsing, making it a fucking tight fit, and Dean has to fucking hold himself back as he tries not to come right away.

Dean feels every ridge of her inner walls, feels every bump and it’s hot inside and so fucking wet, “Jesus, you’re still throbbing,” He grits his teeth, swings both his arms around her and holds her tight to his chest. He then moves down with her, laying himself on his back, “Prop yourself up on your knees, baby,” Dean feels her shifting her weight, “Yeah, just like that, good girl,”

There’s another squeeze of her cunt when he praises her and Dean has to grin. She absolutely loves when he praises her, and god, he’s not going to stop doing it.

His arms are tight around her, fingertips digging into her flesh and she buries her face in the crook of his neck as Dean starts to fuck up into her. The wet sound of his dick moving inside of her, of his balls slapping against her ass, is lewd and loud in the room. It echoes off the fucking walls and it is a huge turn on.

Y/N mumbles something into his neck that he can’t quite catch. His eyes widen because he thought she uses the safe word, thought that he’s being too rough and that he hurt her so he stills for a moment, fucking up slow and easy but then he hears her again.

“Dean, harder, please,”

Fuck.

He holds her down, starts to fuck up harder.

“Faster, I’m— oh god, so close,” She whimpers into his skin and who is Dean to deny her this really.

While he fucks her harder, fucks her faster, he tilts his head to be able to whisper into her ear, “Jesus, baby, look at you, begging for me to fuck you rough. Fuck,” He swallows audibly and he feels his balls draw up, “Just fucked you rough yesterday but you’re fucking insatiable. Fucking love it,”

“Oh my god, don’t stop, don’t stop,” Her pleas are coming out in stutters, short whimpers.

“Oh, baby, I won’t,” He’s panting now, “Won’t ever stop fucking you in every which way you want me to,”

Her moans are getting louder.

“Come with me, fuck— baby, I’m going to come,”

“I’m—,”

She comes hard, her whole body shaking above him and her walls hugging him tight, squeezing at his throbbing dick, milking out every fucking drop he has in him.

Dean bucks his hips a couple more times, emptying his balls with every push forward. He releases his tight grip around her body, begins to stroke her lazily soft, and she tilts her head into the skin of his neck, kisses him with featherlight touches of her lips.

“Jesus,” He breathes out as he manages to catch a breath, “You’re wearing me out,”

Y/N has to chuckle at that, and he thinks it’s the most beautiful sound.

They stay connected a while longer until Dean really has to go and check into work. He hates to leave her but she said that she has to prepare some things for the workshop with a couple of more meetings lining up the next days, and he really doesn’t want to monopolize her time. Well, honestly, monopolizing her time is all he wants, but he doesn’t have a say in this.

She says goodbye to him in his shirt that he made her wear yesterday and it does something to him. Seeing her in it and paired with that absolutely beautiful smile — it’s a fucking lethal combination for his fucking heart (and cock).

Dean kisses her once more, bruisingly hard at first but he softens the kiss, wanting to show her that it doesn’t always have to be rough, that he has other sides to him as well. A side that’s caring, a side that shows how fucking in love he is with her.

Chapter 19

#euphoria #spnkinkbingo #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester smut #dean winchester series #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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desdemonafictional · 3 years

Note

Tarnma, “Don’t cry. I promise I will love you and protect you to the best of my ability, til death do we part.” please?

(I spent more time on this one than any of the others, I think ^^; )

In Pharma’s defense, it had been in the drunken aftermath of his third breakup with Ratchet, and the only thing on his mind had been the half-crazed conviction that he would never again subject himself to the idea of being another mech’s secondary. If Ratchet wouldn’t have him, after he’d swallowed down his ego mouthful after mouthful for so many years, just waiting to become the prize that Ratchet never seemed to want--well, to hell with the whole institution, Pharma wouldn’t be anybody’s second.

He put in his application to the arrangement firm as a Primary Conjunx, hit send, and passed out several hours later in a haze of engex.

A month later he’d been presented with the saddest little empuratee on Cybertron, all haunting single optic and clumsy tapping talons.

Pharma whirled on the matchmaker. “What is the meaning of this! I asked you for a secondary and you brought me junk!”

“Doctor,” the matchmaker said, clearly disapproving of the outburst. “Damus is a rare outlier, and has brilliant test scores at Shockwave’s Academy. He’s young, willing, and perfectly fertile despite the unfortunate, hem, adjustments. He’s also a very talented musician, aren’t you, Damus?”

“Yes,” Damus said, very softly. He had a surprisingly deep voice for such a little creature.

“Well there you have it,” the matchmaker said. “Everything you asked for. Culture, intelligence, and submissive temperament.”

“He’s a criminal!” Pharma said, throwing his palm wildly in the smaller mech’s direction. “Think of my career! I’ll look like some kind of--of--”

“We do have other candidates,” the matchmaker said, sighing to himself. “Give me a moment, I have to speak to my secretary…”

He turned and let himself back out the front door, taking a turn toward the garden that Pharma shared with his nearest neighbors. Pharma grimaced at the would-be conjunx in his living room. It wasn’t that Damus was entirely ugly, if you got past the empurata. Pharma did like wheeled vehicles. And he was a good height, not taller than Pharma, but not too small.

“So what did you do,” Pharma asked (very rudely, but he was in a bad temper). “You’re not a murderer, are you?”

“No,” Damus said. “It was for sedition. I was caught at a protest.”

“Really,” Pharma said. He considered it. Ratchet’s clinic was borderline seditious anyway, so it wasn’t as if Pharma had it in him to be particularly shocked about the existence of civil unrest. “Well,” he decided, “That’s alright then. As long as I’m not about to be stabbed in my sleep.”

Damus made a sound somewhere between a buzz and a laugh. He seemed tired. “No wonder no one wants me,” he said, “if that’s what you’re all thinking.”

“...I suppose you’ve been given the run around with a few before me,” Pharma said, feeling an unwanted pang of unhappiness, or sympathy, or something.

“Seven,” Damus said, with dark humor.

“Seven,” Pharma said, and then felt annoyed at himself for being surprised. He hadn’t wanted Damus, so why should he be surprised no one else did? But Damus seemed charming enough in his own way, unlinking single optic aside. Pharma switched tracks. “Why do you even want a conjunx, anyway? It’s not exactly suited to the life of a lone rebel.”

Damus looked at him for a silent moment, and then turned his head to the window. “I don’t know that you’d understand,” he said. “Your home is beautiful, your job is prestigious, you have enough career to be worried about it--I’m not sure you could understand what it would mean for me, doctor.”

“Try me,” Pharma said, impatiently doubling down.

“I guess I’d just like to feel…” Damus went over to the window. “Safe, again. Like I belong somewhere.”

Pharma stared at his back for a long stretch of silence. Outside, the wind ruffled a set of hanging chimes.

“Alright,” the matchmaker said, bustling back in with a ‘pad in his hand, “if you want to see the other options, or defer--”

“No,” Pharma said, suddenly, “let’s give this a try, I think. You have trial periods?”

“Oh,” the matchmaker said, and then hurriedly, very enthusiastically, “yes, yes, the handfasting period is already built into your contract with us if you’d like to utilize it--”

So Damus moved in. Pharma was irritable and techy about the whole thing, about which things were to be placed in what spots, but Damus didn’t have so many things of his own and really it was just a matter of berating the mover bots until they did as Pharma wanted.

The first night was. Strange. Damus very politely waited in the doorway of the berthroom until Pharma--equally nervous and trying not to show it--snapped at him to come lay down already, the morning alarm wasn’t getting any farther away. In the dark, their frames several inches apart, Pharma watched Damus’s hands lift, and flinch, and fall back silently to the berth.

There were meals. Pharma had shifts. The novelty of coming home to someone who was waiting for him, wanting to know about his day, was intoxicating. Damus had any number of passionate opinions on any number of subjects, and would happily make them known at length over the complicated spread of fuels he’d put together for Pharma’s evening return. He soaked up information like a sponge too--any obscure medical treatise or bit of gossip Pharma brought home was eagerly considered and dismantled.

But still… they did not, actually, touch each other.

Pharma thought about it. Most nights. Sometimes during the day. He wondered how far Damus would let him go. He wondered what Damus would look like, pressed down into the pillows, helplessly wriggling on Pharma’s spike. The allure of it spun Pharma’s head around with unease and confusion--no one fantasized about empuratee frames except the worst kind of fetishists, the lowest of the low, and Pharma hated to think he might be one of those, the type that wanted muck and dirt and crying.

Damus went sometimes to see friends, and was out long late nights, in which Pharma lay curled on the berth that was really built for one and felt terribly, horribly hollow. He did not actually have friends, he had realized. There had only ever been Ratchet.

The handfasting period dwindled to its appointed end. They were only a few dozen days away from the end of it when the news came, screaming neon light on the billboard in the quarter square which stopped Pharma dead in his tracks as he made his way home from the hospital--Senator Shockwave, missing, found finally with his frame mutilated by unknown assailants. They flashed the picture. The glaring yellow optic in the expressionless helm, so like Damus’s, made him almost sick in the street.

He transformed and flew home, heedless of sky laws. Clouds whipped past, stream of ice bit his nosecone. He let himself into the house without knocking, door shoved aside, and it was only when he found himself face to not-face with Damus in the metal that he realized what he had been afraid of. But Damus was fine. Physically, anyway. If he’d been crying, it was impossible for anyone to tell.

“I,” Pharma said, and then had no idea how to finish. He felt naked, like armor stripped to protoform.

“So you saw,” Damus said, in a very even, very reasoned voice, and then abruptly spoiled it by making a horrible grizzled sobbing sound down deep in his throat. The overhead lights flashed and popped, spraying glass over their helms.

Pharma discarded reservations entirely. He surged forward, cupping the blazing monstrous helm in both hands as gently as he could, and said, “Damus, my darling, you’re safe here. There’s no safer place in the world than here with me.”

“I’d love to believe that,” Damus managed. The voice came out busted and hazed with static, each syllable like a horrible little scratch against Pharma’s spark. “But Shockwave, he was our--Shockwave is a senator, if he--”

Pharma pulled the smaller body against his own, mouth a thin line, the back of Damus’s helm cupped in his palm. His visions, in that moment, were grim and bloody.

He was the primary. It was his job to make sure that Damus was cared for, safe, that nothing in the world touched him.

“Don’t cry, Damus,” Pharma said, “your conjunx is here.”

His thumb stroked the curve of Damus’s helm, absently tender, as a thousand vicious certainties flashed behind his eyes. In that moment, career and politics were the furthest they had ever been from Pharma’s mind.

“I promise I will love you and protect you to the best of my ability,” he said. “Til death do we part.”

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

All in the Family

Chapter 90: Flesh, Blood, and Bone

"So, does this mean Hufflepuff won?" Peter asked groggily. Even having landed upside-down in a warm, plush chair, the vibrant yellow walls with little badgers painted on them and the earth colored carpet gave it away. "How utterly rude," he finished in a mutter, thinking Harry had been slighted if that were the case. A tie was more than fair-

"Prongs? Moony, you two alright?" Peter flipped out of the chair and landed even more painfully than when he'd been upside down, but ignoring any cricks in his body he'd get for that later, he quickly scrambled around to see Sirius bending over the two in concern, rightly so. James's leg was still smoking slightly, and even as he watched, Remus lost the battle of keeping his eyes open, they rolled back into his head and he passed into sleep right on the table he'd landed on.

"We'll live," Prongs groaned, ignoring Padfoot's outstretched hand and inspecting the rest of his leg for further damage. Thankfully for now it just looked like a really bad sunburn, rather than charred flesh. "Remind me to kill Hagrid though."

"Don't think that'll be top of my list," Sirius crouched down beside him instead, casting a healing charm for him. "Even you wouldn't take those odds mate."

"I still owe him a good one," James returned sourly, still prodding the angry flesh until Sirius slapped his fingers away. "Only reason that blasted skrewt didn't kill us was the sphinx got territorial."

Peter choked in further concern and made his way over to Remus to check he really was asleep. Despite the slight snoring, he easily could have been dead.

Sirius didn't wait for permission this time and grabbed Prongs under the arms, hoisting him to his unsteady feet despite his protests and dragging him to the chair Peter had vacated. Then he came back and Peter was quick to help him get Moony to the couch, he didn't so much as twitch as they sort of half-dropped him down, he definitely wasn't light.

"Probably best we all get some sleep while we can," Alice agreed, standing surprisingly close to Sirius. "What with the tournament being over, and who knows what's coming for us next." Then she patted him lightly on the arm and whispered for him alone, "just remember what I said."

Sirius gave her a strange look as she went back to Frank's side, not quite in agreement, but he'd think about it regardless. For now he shoved Remus's legs at least slightly out of the way and claimed the other end of the couch again, ignoring the strange looks he got from Peter and James for this as there wasn't a lack of seating, but both of them were clearly just too exhausted themselves to care enough to ask, thankfully, as they tried to make themselves comfortable.

Frank watched the exchange with bewilderment, eyeing the shirtless stud of Hogwarts as it was clear some kind of interaction had happened between them, but brushed it off even before she slipped her hand into his and smiled for him alone. "How do you like my common room?"

"Lovely," he complimented with a genuine smile as he looked around once more. "I'm honestly jealous we can't switch houses now." It was a round, low-ceilinged room with a colourful profusion of plants and flowers that seemed to relish the atmosphere of the Hufflepuff common room: various cacti stood on wooden circular shelves (curved to fit the walls), many of them waving and dancing for no apparent reason, while copper-bottomed plant holders dangled amid the ceiling caused tendrils of ferns and ivies to brush your hair as you passed under them. James Potter seemed to be eyeing them with a careful eye Frank couldn't blame, he remembered the Devil's Snare as well, even if such a thing would never be here.

A portrait over the wooden mantelpiece (carved all over with decorative dancing badgers) showed Helga Hufflepuff, toasting her students with a tiny, two-handled golden cup. Small, round windows just level with the ground at the foot of the castle showed a pleasant view of rippling grass and dandelions, onto the grounds beyond. These low windows notwithstanding, the room felt perennially sunny.*

"I hope we get to go to the dorms as well at some point," she nodded to the rounded doors that led off. "But the couches are plenty comfortable," she squeezed his hand and the two curled up under the mantle and began to have a soft whispered conversation of what the other had done while separated in the maze. She never really got around to saying what she'd talked to Black about while stuck around him, but Frank hardly noticed that. He squeezed her tighter and shivered with distaste at the trap she described, while Alice smiled even broader he'd managed to have at least a semi-normal conversation with one of the Marauders, like her. They really weren't so bad individually it seemed, they just all enhanced the worst in each other apparently, she laughed to herself without sharing that thought aloud.

Only Lily and Regulus didn't seem to want to settle, though neither was acknowledging the other anymore despite the fact they shared the exact same thought. It was too easy.

All throughout this tournament Harry hadn't really had much of a struggle, now apparently it was just over? Lily kept flipping the blank pages of the book, it had landed right on top of someone's potions homework this time, but with at least Lupin and possibly Potter already asleep, no words were appearing. She'd seen how far along Regulus Black was though, and there seemed a decent chunk left, more than just the wrap-up of him going back to the Dursleys. You-Know-Who's plan hadn't seemed to come to fruition at all...

Alice had been right about one thing though, they both acknowledged to themselves, may as well catch some sleep now before they added any new nightmares to the mix with whatever did happen.

The floor was so soft Lily was tempted to just curl up right in front of the fireplace, but instead levitated a couch over there instead, mentally apologizing to whomever had been sitting here. She wondered once more what happened to these places once they left, and if a poor group of students would find themselves on the floor with no idea why their couch moved when they left once more.

Regulus curled up uneasily in a chair, not expecting to be able to sleep much in the bright common room, but his traitorous body was already listing to one side before he'd even finished the thought.

Lily was trying to walk her dog around her favorite forest spot, and doing a terrible job of it. The black beast kept tugging her in all sorts of directions no matter how much she scolded, and then when she finally got him to sit, he had a bone in his mouth, and he began chewing on it, loudly. Disgusted, she backed up and heard the crunching intensify, and suddenly the bright forest faded all around her, and she was in the Chamber of Secrets again, the dog had turned into a stag, still chewing on that bone that she now saw had a human foot at the end-

Potter stood before her chewing obnoxiously on some crisps, his hand holding out an unopened bag to her. "Alright Evans?" He asked cheerfully, not even spraying any of it on her, a small miracle. "Better enjoy that while you can," he said quickly to the indignant look she gave to him, though it was more for him hovering over her while she slept than the offered food this time. "It's the last of the food we've got on us, hopefully we get sent to the feast next."

She snatched it away and flounced over to where Alice and Frank were untangling themselves from each other, yawning and holding their own bags with bewildered faces as if they had no idea how that had happened.

Sirius had successfully summoned the bag back to him again and lobbed up for another throw. Regulus's reflexes were still on autopilot though, and he swatted it away once more, still snoring softly. Snickering in delight at the game, Sirius summoned it back for a fourth try when James circled back to him and snatched the bag into his hand.

"I should have woken you up last," he rolled his eyes, "now you've probably gone and crushed them all."

"They're still edible as dust," he shrugged without remorse.

James snatched Sirius's still mostly full bag and left the now abused one in its place, ignoring Sirius's mutters of daddy syndrome setting in as he changed the subject, "have you even tried waking him up yet?" Needlessly gesturing to Remus still snoring loudest of all.

Sirius hadn't, their feet were still tangled together and he was enjoying that too much. Aloud he said, "I'll certainly give it a try. Now that he's had some rest, at least we should only have to threaten bodily harm rather than acting on it."

James left him to it and went over to drop the bag gently on Regulus's face. That finally snapped him awake, and the bag fell to the floor, where he proceeded to crush it under his foot as he stood in surprise at how close Potter was. James sighed for the wasted food but turned away and left once more, grabbing the book and settling down next to Peter just a hair's breadth farther apart than he normally would have and flipped the book open, waiting patiently for the words to appear as Remus was finally roused.

When he saw them at last, a crisp lodged in his throat, and Peter reached over to thump him on the back in concern, but stopped just as quickly when he saw for himself.

"That's, not what I would have expected," he whispered to no one, flinching back away and studying the common room around them with new, worried eyes.

James completely agreed, as he had no idea why he was saying the words, "Flesh, Blood, and Bone."

If anybody had still been groggily waking up before, he had all attention on him now.

Lily heard about Harry and Cedric finding themselves in a graveyard instead of school with such a tight pit in her stomach, she wanted to demand from Potter what he'd really fed her. Surely this was all his fault, he was making this up just to scare them, he'd fed them something to make them all nauseous, he'd started all of this by bothering her at the end of class!

Her anger at him just didn't last though as a figure approached the boys, she knew this wasn't anyone's fault but You-Know-Who's. Sometimes she hated to be right.

Regulus watched and listened with abject horror only on Peter as Potter said the words. Kill the spare echoed in the room, it didn't even sound possible that had come from a teenager's mouth. The spare, what could that possibly mean? His brain shut down, even as he looked at all the older kids around him, their faces pale and looking sickly. The spare, what? He looked around again at the common room, and now refused to let it click together.

Potter wasn't letting anyone live in denial for what that could mean. He read in a rough, unrecognizable voice of the light coming out of a wand, and leaving Cedric Diggory's eyes.

James wanted to put the book down. No, more than that, he wanted to tear it into a million little pieces and then set each one ablaze and throw the ashes at Peeves and see if he could incinerate them further somehow. Nobody had actually tried that, he realized in near sudden hysterics. Why hadn't he thought of that, he was the most destructive person in the castle! Surely, if they just blew up this ruddy book, they could all just go home!

Before his hands could even twitch to begin though, he looked up at those around him. What would happen to them, even if it worked? Would they be trapped here forever without their means of escape? Trapped inside, though Cedric would never be able to come back here. He wondered if his homework was lying on one of those tables, never turned in. What was the point of all of this?!

Sirius moved so fast Peter barely had time to see him coming. Even if he had though, he'd do nothing to stop him, he hoped James wouldn't this time either. He deserved whatever thrashing that was about to happen, he'd actually killed someone, in cold blood, no hesitation. He was a monster, beyond redemption- He wheezed when Sirius's arms locked around him, unable to stop himself from tensing and pulling away on instinct, but found no force constricting the air out of him. Instead Sirius was holding him like a child, the muttered oaths under his breath were directed at himself.

"-never going to turn into that- won't let him be such an idiot again-"

Peter looked around wildly to see James and Remus too looked far more concerned for him, than about him, for once.

It took all he had not to burst into tears all over again as James forced out every cruel deed of this future. Hitting Harry! Creating that potion, using his own hand to bring You-Know-Who back to life...it never seemed to end, and it was all his fault! He'd do anything to atone for this...

HPHPHPHP

*The description of the common room came from JK herself. I don't know where she would have slipped it into the series myself, but I forever wish she'd gotten the chance.

#HP #Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #GoF #Wolfstar #Jilly #Marauders #Regulus Black #Sirius Black #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Lily Evans #Frank Longbottom #Peter Pettigrew #Alice Smith

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louisemwrites · 3 years

Text

One Cold, Summer Night

This one-shot is set the summer before The School Bully. Enjoy. (๑°꒵°๑)･*♡

I couldn't sleep.

I always get nights like this so I wasn't particularly frustrated.

In the pitch dark, I stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the dull pain inside my elbow. My dad and step-mom were out on a date and probably wouldn't be back until dawn. Abby was already asleep next door because she had to wake up early for her morning practice, her Bluetooth speakers softly playing lofi piano music. Outside, the wind was howling, a storm brewing perhaps. This made me smile. I was looking forward to it. There was something soothing and calming about hearing the pitter patter of the rain drumming against the roof and window panes. And it meant I could finally sleep.

Then I heard a crash.

At first, I thought it was thunder. But I could have sworn I heard a muffled, drunken giggle follow it.

Throwing back the covers, I went to snatch my flannel robe off my chair and shrugged it on. It used to be my mom's. Abby and I had donated most of her stuff to charity when she died but we couldn't bear to part with some of her things, including her robes, because it felt as if she was hugging us with how soft and super warm they were.

I exited my bedroom, taking a moment to peek into Abby's to check on her. She was still asleep and I closed the door gently. Then I went to the bedroom at the end of the hall. A bedroom that we were never allowed to enter, so forbidden our ears would sting after the bellowing abuse of its owner if we dare even peep.

I flipped the light switch on. The lamp by his window was on the floor but I didn't think it was broken. I pushed the door further open and saw movement from the bathroom. It was Rohan walking out, holding a disinfectant spray.

Correction, it was Rohan weaving out of the bathroom, holding a disinfectant spray.

When he saw me, he stopped dead but his body swayed. I gave him a befuddled look.

"What are you going to do with that?" I asked him, pointing at his hand.

He looked at the disinfectant on his hand as if he had no idea he was carrying it. Then light dawned and his gaze went to the lamp on the floor, saying, "I broke your lamp."

"No," I muttered slowly, bending to prop the lamp back up. "You didn't break it. You just knocked it while you were coming in through the window." I closed his window next. "And it's not my lamp. It's yours."

He shrugged. "Your dad bought it."

"Our dad bought it," I corrected. "But what were you going to do with the disinfectant spray?"

He blinked and looked at it again. "I don't know. I didn't have a broom."

I finally let out the laugh I was holding.

"You're an idiot drunk, Rohan."

"You're pretty when you laugh."

"And you're lucky you'll forget everything come morning," I said, fighting a blush. "I wonder... Christopher doesn't let you come home this drunk, does he? I'm impressed you got home in this state. And I should really give your friends some talking to. I like them bunches but alcohol is bad for the health, you know, and you're still a freshman. Shouldn't they at least stop you from drinking?"

He didn't answer. But he started swaying as he stood and I knew he was going to fall on his face if I didn't do something. Taking the disinfectant from his hand, I put it on the table and dragged his body to his bed where he fell, face first.

I let out a quick breath. For a fifteen-year-old, he was quite tall, though not as tall as the friends he hung out with. And he was heavy. Real heavy for little ol' me who had yet to have my growth spurt. Even Abby who was thirteen and only a year younger than me had already caught up to my height.

I gave up on trying to pull the covers beneath him so I could tuck him in with them. I took his shoes off instead. He didn't look like it but he was a big eater too. He was just so lean, I wondered where his food went.

"You'll hate me even more if I stay," I muttered with a tiny smile. "So goodnight, Rohan."

I turned to switch off the lights. But just as my fingers reached it, I heard a thump behind me and I whirled around to see that Rohan had fallen to the floor, his bed covers sliding off the bed with him.

"Rohan?"

He was now crawling under his bed to pull his luggage out.

"What the heck are you doing?"

He unzipped it and started throwing random things inside. His pillows, his shoes, his laptop, his headphones. Anything and everything his hands could reach.

"Rohan." I tried to pull his arm back but he shrugged me off. I knelt beside him. "Honestly, you're such a moron. What are you doing? You're not leaving, are you?"

"I will be," he slurred. He was now trying to put the corner of his carpet inside his overflowed luggage. "I... might as well prepare."

"Stop packing," I ordered, slapping his hands. "You aren't going anywhere."

Rohan turned to me. I was determined to give him a piece of my mind because like hell he was going anywhere at this time of the night and at this inebriated state but when I caught his expression, my heart fell to my stomach and I forgot the words I wanted to say.

He looked... miserable.

Miserable and defeated.

"Do you want to leave, Rohan?" I whispered, afraid of his answer.

He stared at me for a long moment. Then I let out a quick sigh of relief when he slowly shook his head.

"Then don't leave," I begged.

"That's why I told you not to get too attached, Emilia." The anguish in his voice was painful to hear. "I told you... and Abigail..." he looked away but not before I saw the shimmer in his eyes.

Emilia and Abigail.

Never Emmy and Abby like everyone else called us.

That was how he was trying to establish distance and indifference. He never called our father Dad either. Only sir.

At first, I thought he did it out of spite. But eventually, it was all making sense to me. His attitude to the whole marriage deal between our parents. He never thought they'd make it through a year together. Now, they were celebrating their fifth marriage anniversary but despite that, he still thought they were a ticking timebomb.

It was annoying to be sure.

Now, it was just heartbreaking.

"Please stay with us, Rohan," I whispered. "Even if worse comes to worst... even if what you believed would happen will truly happen... I want you to stay with us."

"Why?"

"Because you're family." I hesitated once before saying. "You're our brother."

The muscle in the side of his jaw flexed and I realized he was angry.

"Brother... yeah... some fucking brother I am," he muttered before lurching up. "I'm not your brother. Not your fucking brother."

"Alright," I soothed, putting my hands on his shoulder so he'd sit down on his bed before he hurt himself. "Alright, Rohan."

"I hate you," he whispered as he buried his face into the palm of his hands. "I hate you so fucking much."

I'd heard this over the years too much to let his words affect me. "No, you don't hate me."

"Yes, I hate you. I hate everything about you. And I fucking hate how much you always think you're right about everything."

"Just shut up and go to sleep, Rohan," I murmured irritably, pushing him until he was lying on his back and covered him with his sheets. "Before I do something you'll regret." Like take a picture of his drunken state and send it to Christopher.

He opened bleary eyes to glare at me.

"I hate you. I don't trust you either."

That does it. I was going to get my phone and take a freaking picture.

But before I could leave, his fingers were around my wrist and he wasn't letting go. Giving up, I sat next to him on the bed and studied him. He was still glaring at me but I still ran my fingers through his dirty-blonde hair. I've always wanted to that ever since he started growing them out longer. And he was letting me. Drunk Rohan was letting me touch him and wasn't lashing out in anger.

His eyes started to close and his grip started to loosen. I kept it up until I thought I could escape. But his eyes suddenly opened again, surprising me. Looking at the ceiling, he started to look furious again.

"Sheesh, Rohan," I mumbled, patting his chest. "Just go to sleep. You're a terrible drunk and though I want to make fun of you, I just can't."

"All I do is make you cry," he started to mumble.

I blinked. "No, you don't."

"I always hear you crying."

Yeah, but that was for a entirely different reason, I thought, my hand clutching the inside of my elbow where I just had a blood transfusion that day. The sight of rain falling outside his window drew my gaze but I wasn't soothed. I wasn't calmed. Because I knew that I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight.

"You'll all get tired of me," Rohan announced and my gaze went back to him. He was still angrily and stubbornly staring at the ceiling. "I won't change. Not for anyone. Not for you."

"Okay, Rohan."

His expression turned befuddled and he blinked slowly. "It's okay?"

I nodded. "If you want to stay a jerk, so be it. But I won't get tired of you, no matter what. I'll never leave you."

Rohan continued to stare at the ceiling for a long moment.

Then he slightly turned his head to the side to look at me with the saddest expression I'd ever seen.

"Don't ever trust me not to leave, Emilia. Because I will."

I smiled through the pain that clutched my chest that for once, wasn't caused by my disease. "Then I'll make you come back."

The corners of his lips lifted, like he found me funny. Then his eyes fluttered close and I knew he had finally fallen asleep. Touching his face, I repeated my vow once again.

"I'll make you come back, Rohan. Even if it's the last thing I'll ever do."

END.

A/N:

Not a Christmas special but I hope you like this one-shot of Emmy and Rohan!

Merry Christmas! (*^▽^*)

#the bully series #one cold summer night #one night #one-shot #online fiction #fic dump #amwriting #writing blog #merry christmas #one night series

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tomtenadia · 3 years

Text

Island Dreams - Chapter 8

Hello people :)

here's chapter 8 for you. This chapter is a turning point in Aelin and Rowan's relationship. Nothing major... but definitely a major development for them.

I hope you love it.

Gaelic: "Thig a-steach. - come in

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

The next morning the weather was giving its worst. A terrible storm had abated on the town. According to the news from Aelin’s phone the wind had reached peak speeds over 120kph during the night. And she had heard that. Her windows had rattled all night long. She has spent the night hidden under the duvet trying to ignore the storm outside. She had been scared. Heavy rain had fallen non stop. On top of that the town had suffered a major power cut and they had been without power since the middle of the night. When morning finally came she opened the curtains and noted the sky laden with dark clouds. The rain was still heavy and the sea was angry. The pier was empty and she assumed the ferry did not manage to travel that morning. It would have been one heck of a hellish crossing. In the distance she heard sirens from the emergency services and guessed that the damage was quite bad. Very quickly she got dressed and then tried to phone Rowan and suddenly realised that, apart from the number of the shop, she had no other way of contact him. An error that had to be rectified immediately. She wore a few layers of clothing and a waterproof jacket and then left the house. Once out of the house she discovered that the wind still had not abated and it was howling.

A massive wave crashed against the pier and the spray reached all the way to her “Bloody hell.” She braced herself and ran. Ran all the way to Rowan’s and by the she time arrived she was soaked through and freezing. She reached the shop and of course it was closed. So next stop was Maeve’s. Once there she found Rowan helping Maeve cleaning up the coffee shop which looked like it had suffered some flooding “Morning.” She said sleepily. Maeve noticed her “Aelin darling, come in please it’s horrible outside.” Looking around she noticed that most of the water had been cleared and she and Rowan had created a safe corner with two camping gas stoves. It looked like Maeve had coffee on the go and some sort of warm breakfast. In that moment she was greater for the woman’s resourcefulness. “How are you?” Asked Rowan moving closer to her. When he noticed she was shivering her pulled her to him “You are cold.” He brushed his hands on her back to try and heat her up a bit “Take off the jacket, it’s wet and cold. Not good.” He left for a moment and came back with a hoodie in his hands “Put this on. Maeve has gas heating in here which is still working and it was on the radiator.” Aelin grabbed the hoodie and wore it and it was warm and soft on her skin. She snuggled in it and breathed in the scent. Pine and snow. That was Rowan’s scent. “Can I help with anything?” She offered. “My aunt is trying to prepare breakfast enough to offer it to first responders and people who need it as well. Some of the houses closer to the waterfront have suffered heavy flooding.” Then he stopped and realised he had no idea where she lived and if her house was safe. “Is your house okay?” Aelin nodded, “I live towards the end of Newton st. and I am further away from the pier. But the road was flooded and my garden was swimming as well. But the house is fine a part from not having power.” “The whole town is down.” “I kinda guessed.” Maeve reappeared at the front “Rowan darling, go and tell the first responders that I have food, coffee and tea ready. Food is very basic given the situation but at least I have something. Aelin and I will hand out provisions.” Inside Maeve’s shop it was quite nice and cozy and slowly people started to flock in, in search of some relief, warmth and a dry place. "Thig a-steach.” She said to the people and Aelin helped handing out the food. Some people stopped to talk to her, fascinated by the Londoner who had moved to Stornoway and was learning Gaelic. A few grandmas had even played matchmaking with their handsome and single grandsons. Rowan came back half an hour later with a couple of firemen. She hoped Maeve’s place was okay. She really loved it there. Aelin walked up to Rowan and the firemen “Hi,” she said interrupting them “My name is Aelin. I am doctor. Is there anything I can do to help?” One of the firemen looked at her “We have set up a temporary tent operating as triage. A couple of paramedics are looking after the minor cases. The ones that do not have to go to the hospital. We are trying not to overwhelm the A&E.” Aelin had done enough shifts in overwhelmed A&E especially on a Saturday night and knew how bad it was. “Take me there, please. I can help. I want to help.” One of the firemen nodded. Aelin noticed that he looked familiar and wondered if that was Elias’ brother. Rowan looked at Aelin and gave her a smile. Then she removed the hoodie “Keep it warm and dry for me for when I come back.” He nodded and took the hoodie back. “Oh, and by the way… you know that that hoodie is now mine, don’t you?” “I’ll make sure it smells a lot like me when you come back.” And gave her a huge grin in response. “You better.” She added with a smile and followed the fireman out of the shop. Once arrived at the tent the fireman explained the situation to the two paramedic women and they were very grateful for the extra help. Aelin got all geared up and began working through the queue. Their patients were mostly minor injuries but still, it gave her back the vibes and the adrenaline of an A&E. By the time lunch and afternoon came, Aelin was exhausted and famished. But it was a good exhausted. She had helped. Made a difference and it helped her renew the love for the job she had chosen. Not long after she finished, Rowan showed up at the tent. “Hey,” he said staying on the threshold. Aelin removed her gloves and went to him. “How’s aunt Maeve’s shop doing?” “Fine. The fire dept gave us more camping gas stoves. She called a couple of the other staff members and now they have a full kitchen up for the people and everyone working.” Then he lifted a bag “And I am bringing lunch. Aunt’s orders.” “Thank you. I am starving.” He smiled, deposited the bag on the floor and zipped up her paramedic jacket “It’s cold outside.” He picked up the bag of food again and took her hand in his “Come.” “Uh?” “We are going to have lunch in a quiet and dry place.” “Okay.” He put an arm around her shoulder and tucked her close to him while they were walking along the road. She loved the feeling of being so close to him. His scent relaxed her. “Where are we going?” “My place.” Aelin turned to him in disbelief. When they finally arrived at his place she noticed he stayed in a small semi-detached house and he had a well tended garden. The house seemed very cozy. She followed him inside removed her jacket and her shoes and stood there. “Go to the living room.” And he passed her the bag full of food. “I’ll go and get some stuff.” Tentatively she took a few steps inside the room. The curtains were still drawn so the place was bathed in darkness. She took her phone from he jeans and switched on the torch. Once having reached the windows safely, she opened the curtain to let the light in. She then turned and noticed the incredible amount of books. That room was paradise. He had books everywhere, in all the possible nooks and crannies. “I run out of space a long time ago. I have my least favourite in the attic. I just love books.” And he shrugged. “This living room is just wonderful. I am so jealous right now.” “I have some candles. The light coming from the outside is not much and this should help.” He placed a few candles around the house and she laughed when she noticed they were battery powered. “Really? You just killed the mood.” He looked up at her grinning “There is no way I light up real fire near so many books. Such a massive hazard.” Aelin laughed and started unpacking the food containers and placing the stuff on the plates he had brought through. “I put the heating on as well, so it should get cozy soon.” “Come sit down and eat. You must be hungry too.” And she patted the spot beside her. He nodded and sat beside her. They ate quietly. Aelin a few times did try to start a conversation but always stopped not sure if he wanted to talk or not. “Did you go to uni?” She asked. That was a safe question, hopefully. “I did. I studied business management in Glasgow. It came quite useful once I opened my bookshop.” “How the idea came about? To open the shop?” She noticed Rowan stiffen. Shit. Wrong question already. Rowan breathed deeply and decided it was time to listen to his aunt. It was time to open up. He placed his plate on the coffee table “There was this girl, Lyria.” He started, and the usual tug of pain was still there. “We met at uni down in Glasgow. She was from the islands as well. We started dating after we both came back here after graduating.” He closed his eyes and leaned a bit deeper on the back couch “I always loved books. But I hated the idea of using my degree for a boring corporate job. It was not for me. So I started working on an idea: open a bookshop.” He breathed deeply again, trying to chase away the pain “My parents had passed in an accident when I was little but they left me a fund. It allowed me to buy this house and also have enough money left to start my shop. So I used every penny to buy an empty shop in town, I did it up and a year later I had my shop.” Aelin stretched a hand and placed on his, now in a fist on his knee. “I knew Lyria was looking for a job so I offered her one and we started working together. We picked the name of the shop and began thinking about what books to have. She was not a proper bookworm like me, but she liked books enough.” Aelin looked at him and noticed the pain in his eyes. What had this woman done to him to cause him such anguish? “We started dating. Quite seriously. She moved in with me after a while. We started talking about the future, dreams and whatnot. I was never one for flings. I was committed to her to the fullest. I wanted a family, a nice house and kids. The whole package. At the time she told me she wanted it too. And I believed her.” He stood irritated and walked to the window “Just over a year ago I proposed to her. I was ready and she gave me the impression that she was ready too.” “Shit.” “About nine months ago she started getting weird with me. Some nights she would not come home and I later found out she was staying at a friend’s house. She barely talked to me anymore and we stopped…being intimate. She started making up excuses why she was not in the mood. Then all of a sudden she stopped coming to the bookstore and she never bothered to tell me why.” Hi voice now a mere whisper. “Finally I decided to confront her and find out what was happening. She told she was getting cold feet, that she didn’t want to get married anymore, that she made a mistake and she thought she loved me but it was more an infatuation. She told me that my obsession with having a family was freaking her out. But I never pushed the whole kids issue. I was happy to wait for her to be ready. She told me we wanted different things and that I had to go and find myself a woman who wanted all that because she was not the one. The next day she came to the bookshop and gave me back the ring.” Aelin reached him at the window and put a hand on his shoulder “I am sorry, but what a bitch.” She heard a very soft chuckle “I called her worse. Apparently my aunt spotted her a few times with a guy while we were still engaged. I never knew if she was fully cheating on me as well. Anyway, she got a job at An Lanntair.” Aelin face lit up in surprise “Is she a brunette? Brownish eyes?” Rowan nodded “Shit. The first day I was here I went inside and then asked for a bookshop and she told me to look for Rowan’s. Not the name of the shop but yours.” “I can’t go in there anymore, And I love that place but the idea of seeing her…” She took his hands and squeezed it. Then she leaned against his back and hugged him from behind. He did not shy away from the contact. On the contrary he grabbed her hands on his stomach and squeezed them tightly. “Sounds we both have horrible exes.” Aelin knew that was the time. She had to open up to him. She did it with Elias but it had not felt satisfying. She had a feeling that opening up to Rowan was her chance to finally move on and begin to heal. “What do you mean?” He asked not moving from the position they were in and Aelin thanked him for that. It felt perfect. “I was married, Rowan. Until a year ago I was married.” She felt him stiffen “What did he do?” His tone was cold. “He was a police office. We met at the hospital after his partner got injured badly. We had coffee… we hit it off, the usual thing. We started dating and I was happy.” She felt his hands squeezing hard “We were together for four year before he proposed to me. We were married for five.” It actually felt good to talk to him. Just as good as it always felt with Lysandra “But toward the end he became weird too. Life of a police officer is quite hectic too, and we could go on for a whole week without seeing each other, that had happened. But all of a sudden I noticed his shift pattern had started to change to a point that he was never home when I was.” She inhaled Rowan’s scent to try and calm down “One day I was on my break after surgery and I decided to go and see him at his work. Once I got there he was outside Police HQ, with another woman. And they were making out. I walked to him and punched him hard in the face and told the bitch to keep her tongue out of my husband’s mouth.” “Remind me not to piss you off again. Ever.” Aelin chuckled “Three days later I went to his job. Reached his office area and dumped divorce paper on his desk and told him Try and solve this case, officer Westfall. That night he came back home from work and we had a brutal fight. During the afternoon I had asked my friends Lysandra and Aedion to help me move out the following day. Lysandra had a spare room and she took me in. The divorce was brutal.” She hold him as tight as she could “He kept blaming me. According to him it was my fault. I was the one who was too obsessed with her work to care about her husband. He had the guts to tell the lawyers that I induce him to cheating because I was not committed anymore to the marriage. He brought up that I had told him I did not want a family. Which was a lie by the way.” Rowan finally turned around and pulled Aelin to his chest “I did want kids. But we were not thirty yet at the time of this conversation and I told him I wanted to wait a bit. He agreed. But during the divorce he lied.” Aelin pulled away from Rowan and went back to the sofa and sat down, her head in her hands “And I am so damn glad we did not have kids. Imagine the mess.” He heard her sob “He made me pass for a monster. For the one that had given up on our marriage. He was the one fucking another woman for months. And when I told the lawyers that he was never at home and probably sleeping with another woman, he told them that he had been moved to the night shift.” She brushed away the tears with the back of her hand “I checked with is CO. Chaol was not on the night shift.” Rowan kneeled in front of her, with a finger lifted her face staring at her in her eyes, now puffy “I am glad you punched him. I hope you broke something.” Aelin chuckled “It has been almost a year, but I still have so much rage.” “That I can relate to. A least you could punch him. I could never do that to Lyria.” “I can do that for you.” Aelin offered with a grin. Rowan sat beside her and they stayed in silence for a moment. “I am so tired…” she leaned on the side and ended up against him. Rowan got up and came back after a few minutes with a blanket and a fluffy pillow. He got the sofa ready for her “Lie down and rest. The sofa is very comfortable.” She followed his suggestion and lay down. “I am going back to my aunt and see if she need more help.” “I should come to.” She sat back up but Rowan was on his knees near where her head was, he removed hair from her face “No. Stay here and sleep, please.” “Leave me you mobile number.” Rowan looked at her “I… I actually don’t have a mobile phone.” Aelin sat up abruptly “No way.” “I just don’t need it.” “How can I call you?” “Just phone my aunt, if you need me.” He kissed her head and stood “Come on. Stop being a spoiled brat and sleep.” Aelin plunged back on the sofa and buried herself under the cozy blanket transforming herself in a human burrito. “Be careful out there.” Rowan smiled at her tenderly and left.

#rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #lysandra #aedion x lysandra #fanfic #throne of glass series #fluff #angst

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