moxie-girl · 1 month ago
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DRDT SPOILERS
all the theories/evidence/etc I still want answered before we wrap up this trial:
- what was the ball of clothes for? why/how were they starchy?? (and how did the culprit know about the old clothes)
- how and when did the culprit get the fish w/out Nico noticing
- what did Nico tell Hu to get the wire from her
- did the culprit use turpentine? if so, how did they get it, and if not, how did they knock Arei out?
- is the origin of anything else in the crime scene in any way important (where and when did the culprit get the rope, empty jugs, something to cut the rope with, etc.)
- how on earth did Nico come up with that crazy murder method???
- why the hell was MonoTV so urgent and insistent on cleaning up Nico’s crime scene so fast (I don’t think we’re actually gonna get an answer to that but why?????)
- what’s up with the scuffs on the ground + the broken light
- what’s up with Arei’s missing glove!!
- was someone actually following Eden in that scene where she thought she was being followed?
- how did the culprit figure out how Nico’s hanging attempt worked without seeing it in action (5 secs while actively being murdered shouldn’t count!)
- why did the person who took the tape think to do so (and do so without anyone else noticing) considering the circumstances
- why hasn’t anyone brought up that someone could’ve easily stolen the tape from whoever took it? (or even just asked to borrow it??) we just recently addressed how dangerous it is to narrow down the suspect pool without solid proof but I don’t think Teruko will make another ‘mistake’ this trial??
- why and how did the culprit listen in on the Eden/Arturo/Arei scene
- why did the culprit target Arei specifically?
- the fact that the culprit misspelled a bunch of stuff in their letter has to be relevant right
- why and how did the culprit move Arei’s body to the swingset?
- why hasn’t anyone brought up that Arei theoretically could’ve been murdered at night and then moved in the morning!!
- why haven’t we addressed that the murderer could’ve had an accomplice, rendering many alibis useless??
like I dunno, it just feels like David just brought up that we need to consider every possibility when looking at suspects and yet we narrowed down the suspects to two people when theoretically it could still be someone else even with the evidence? i don’t think I’m wording this well but… (like it doesn’t have to be likely or even plausible, it just has to be possible for it to be something Teruko should consider? or maybe I’m reading to deeply into David’s latest monologue idk)
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pastelsandpining · 3 years ago
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Whumptober Day 1
all trussed up and still nowhere to go
“you have to let go” | barbed wire | bound
kingdom come - corrupt!zelda au | part 2 
warnings: survivor’s guilt, trauma, gory imagery/body horror (descriptions of Ganon), injury mention, burn mention, blood mention, nausea, head injury, loss of consciousness, acceptance of death, binds, manipulation
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Looking out at the rolling plains, the baby blue sky, the lively green grass, and the flourishing wildlife nearly everywhere he could see, it was hard to believe that Hyrule was decimated a century ago. Where life bloomed now, death had once spread, and it was anything but beautiful when the fields were burning—when guardians and monsters alike chased down any and all living things. It was hard to take down powerful beasts and even more so when they didn’t stay down.
But just like those vile creatures who only wanted to cause chaos, Hyrule never really died either. It was the quick and clever thinking of Princess Zelda that saved them all by containing the beast of Calamity inside of the very place she once called home. She was a thing of myth some hundred years later when people recalled her beauty or her bravery. If it were not for the moons scorched with blood, or the chilling cry of a colossal demon, or the guardians still roving over the land, one could find themselves thinking that the story of Hyrule was nothing more than a cautionary fairytale. What moral could come from such devastating times? Do not run from fate, or you will end up as caged as the Hyrulean Princess? Do not put heart above duty, or you will fall just as the legendary hero? Or perhaps, do not put trust in things you cannot always control?
Really, there was no lesson to be learned. Destruction would come as it did, and there was nothing they could’ve done to stop it. At least, that’s what Link told himself on the many nights he was found unable to sleep, too haunted by the ghosts of his past and terrorized by the stalling sensation of guilt. How solemn that sounded, how pitiful. He did not want pity. What good did that do him, when he’d already lost everything? He’d fallen once, and that cost him his friends, his life, the place he called home–pity would not bring that back. Hymns of brave soldiers and lost princesses would not bring that back. Stories that turned a traumatizing cause of devastation into a life lesson would not bring that back.
The only thing he wanted, months after waking in a shrine to a beautiful voice and with a fractured soul, was peace. He wanted to toss the sword of legend aside and never look at it again. He wanted to curl up in the bed of his Hateno home and sleep for another hundred years, or at least, until the pictures of a burning kingdom and the unholy screeching of Calamity Ganon disappeared just long enough for his mind to go quiet. He wanted to try to be normal, for even just a moment. No hero, no revenge, nothing of the sort.
It was a shame that the image of what he wanted was incomplete without the princess he’d once devoted his heart and soul to. He could not remember her in the way he would’ve liked. Link was granted a glimpse of her face here, a whisper of her voice there, a ghost of her touch when the loneliness became too much. On the few occasions he remembered more, when he could see her so very clearly in a moment framed in time, it felt almost like a dream. A dream that he didn’t want to wake up from. And just like a pleasurable dream that left one feeling warm and special, Zelda slipped through his fingers like liquid, faster than he could process and unable to be stopped. In its wake was a blank space of aching emptiness, right where he knew she should be. She was all he had left, the one thing that could connect him to the world he lived in, because without her, he had no purpose. He had no guidance. He was nothing.
So Link scoured the whole of the continent, from icy tundras to scorching deserts, climbing active volcanos and harnessing what the wild gave him, to grow stronger. He tamed the Divine Beasts and freed the shackled spirits of his long lost friends. He offered his company to the princess on the nights of the blood moon, where she would warn him and assure him that he was doing well, and that she was alright. He sought out the legendary Sword that Seals the Darkness and underwent trials upon backbreaking, painstaking trials to prove himself worthy of the full power the Master Sword was capable of. 
And then, he hesitated. He hesitated because he could not recall what Calamity Ganon looked like, or was capable of. Freeing the Divine Beasts became something horribly tedious, something that stoked a new sort of trauma in him, because the Scourges were certainly not for the faint of heart. The first time the malice surged past him and combined to form a twisted amalgamation of a beast, Link thought he was going to die again, with no hope for recovery this time. Every blight was grotesque, dripping with the glowing incarnation of hatred, and over twice his size. Their sickly skin stung to touch, leaving angry red burns everywhere it could. Their weapons were brutal and chaotically, skillfully wielded, and it was by miracle alone that he’d survived this long. There was nothing quite as agonizing as being shred alive by an ancient demon, only for his fire-filled nerves and ragged skin to stubbornly patch itself back together before his very eyes. Mipha’s Grace should not have been used so kindly on him.
For as much trouble and agony the Scourges were, they were only extensions of Calamity Ganon, small pieces of the monstrosity awaiting him deep within Hyrule Castle. Just thinking about it rendered him on the brink of a panic attack. Princess Zelda had faced it utterly alone for decades, so what if he failed to do the same? What if he could not defeat the beast, and would therefore be responsible for yet another destructive wave? All of the friends he had made, all of the new life that’d bloomed, it would be devastated by his hands if he could not slay the Calamity. What of Princess Zelda, then? Surely it would kill her, too. Picturing her expressive green eyes dulled by the kiss of death made Link feel so nauseated that he could not eat for hours. 
Shamefully and pathetically, he put it off. He searched for that hundredth Korok Seed, he filled the Hyrule Compendium, he ran every single errand and helped every single person that he could, all the while wishing that the darkness of night or comfort of walls could hide him from Zelda’s ever watchful gaze. It did nothing to quiet the screaming in his skull, the longing in his chest. It was only when his guilt had him by the neck that he swallowed his nerves and stormed Hyrule Castle before the courage could leave him.
Every room was empty. Sad, decrepit, and empty. Of course, the Calamity would want the biggest stage it could find and so, to the top floor of the castle he climbed. The guardians were pesky and the monsters relentless, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the beast, free of its prison, towering over him like it was starving and ready to feast.
He thought he saw a glimpse of golden hair, precious and fleeting, just outside of his peripheral vision, but the Calamity lunged for his neck and Link was forced to throw himself to the side, searching for any opportunity to counter the attack. For a monstrosity of a size that rivaled the Divine Beasts, it was quick. 
A jump at the wrong time, a split second too late, caused the Calamity’s ancient axe to slice through his skin. It was nothing more than a nick, but it stung enough to make him stumble and gasp, clutching at his arm through his rapidly soaking shirt. In the pause it took for him to steady himself, Ganon had crawled up onto the second floor like some ginormous spider. It looked ready to pounce on him and, Hylia above, there was nowhere he could hide. It would crush him easily. 
But it did not crush him. He wished it had, because it aimed the rapid red dot of a guardian’s laser on his chest, sending a spiral of panic through his spine and into his stomach, where it curled and lurched and made him want to vomit. He raised his shield, but the blast sent him spiraling through the air until his back hit a solid beam, knocking the wind right out of him. The Master Sword was sprawled uselessly out of his grip and he reached blindly for it, but his supporting arm slipped out from underneath him and his head hit the ground with a sickening crack. His vision was blurred. He wondered why he could see something walking towards him, something far smaller than the Calamity. It was Hylia, perhaps, coming to resolve his hideous fate at last. He tried to summon Mipha’s Grace, tried to will the strength back into his body, to will the excruciating pain away, but then Hylia was crouched before him, and her fingers felt so lovely and comforting in his hair that he wanted to fall headlong into her touch. He wanted to let her take him away.
“That’s it,” she cooed softly, brushing the bangs from his forehead. The motion was so jarringly familiar, the voice was haunting—this was not Hylia. “My dear Hero, look what they’ve done to you.”
Link choked on his attempt to speak, trying with everything in him to move, to take her hand, to see her clearly, but her hands pushed him gently back to the Sanctum floor and he groaned, his voice strained with pain. 
“It’s alright, Link,” the figure assured him, threading her fingers through his hair again like she was trying to subdue him. “The pain will fade soon, I promise. Can you do something for me?”
Death must’ve been approaching. He tried to nod, to tell her he would do anything for her, but the heavy ache in his head made it hard to do much of anything. She must’ve gotten his answer somehow, though, because her hands were cupping his face.
“You have to let go,” she whispered, her thumbs brushing against his cheeks. “Let go, Link, and I will catch you.”
She sounded so sweet, so incredibly lovely, and she felt so warm. Link felt his body relax, going completely still beneath her hands, and he wondered, vaguely, if they had all been wrong. If she was not sealed, but dead, ever waiting for her knight to join her so that she may be the one to welcome him into the afterlife. Princess Zelda’s green eyes came into clarity for no longer than a second, but comfort washed over him and he was quite happy that, for a second time, she was the last thing he was going to see.
There was a high pitched ringing in his ears and his head was swimming. Link tried to fight the grogginess that kept his eyes from opening, but he had very little success when the light was painful and his head was pounding. He raised a hand to rub his eyes, but the rough and tattered surface of what must’ve been a rope rubbed against his wrists, leaving them stinging with a brush burn he already knew would scar. That was his first indication that this was not his only time fighting his way back to consciousness. The pain brought him a little more clarity, even with the panic welling up in his chest.
He could see the Sanctum floor below his head, but trying to turn it to get a better look at his surroundings made him wince and squeeze his eyes shut again. He took a shaky, shuddering breath and, in one quick motion, tried to force himself to sit up. All he’d managed to do was make himself dizzy. His vision swam again, leaving him vulnerable and impaired, and he could do nothing but lie there as still as possible, waiting for the feeling to leave. When it did, it took the ringing in his ears with it.
He heard soft humming instead, backed by the horrid squelching of malice and a rumbling that chilled him to his core. Link tried slowly to tilt his head and immediately wished he hadn’t, because Calamity Ganon was among the last of things he needed to see right now. The beast was sitting, if one could even call it that, on the floor just below a balcony, right across the room from him. It seemed content to just sit there, watching him through orange, evil eyes. He tugged on the restraints again, sending another spike of pain down his spine, but he was stuck. Should it pounce, he would be done for.
But it didn’t. It sat there, staring him down. He thought he could make out a smile, cruel and unsettling and awful. It unhinged its jaw then and made a noise, a screech of unimaginable volume, and Link curled in on himself with a quiet whimper.
“I was just beginning to wonder when our guest would come out of his slumber.”
His eyes opened, wide and wild, and he tilted his head up towards where he thought the voice had come. There, sitting on a throne in the deck above the Calamity, sat Princess Zelda. It was the first time he’d seen her clearly in over a century. He could not breathe then, choked by his swell of emotions and the scratchiness of his throat. 
“Then again,” she continued, tilting her head with a cruelly beautiful smile, “our little hero is prone to sleeping in. Do be gentle with him, Ganon, and try to keep your patience.”
Those words meant nothing to him, but the Calamity turned its ugly head back towards Link and growled. Zelda clicked her tongue, beckoning the beast into silence, and it struck a horror into Link so deep that he felt the ache in every joint of his body.
Calamity Ganon was obeying her.
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masterlist | whumptober by day | whumptober by collection | original post
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deans-haunted-baby · 4 years ago
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Okay I see there are those who are confused as to why most of us are pissed about 15x19 I will gladly explain in depth:
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Let’s start off with our boys Adam Milligan & Michael. These characters have not been seen for 10 fucking years. During that time there were Adam stans like myself campaigning like mad to have him and the infamous archangel return for some much needed closure. We had to content ourselves with headcanons, fanfictions and metas based on what we briefly knew of Adam and Michael as people while they unfairly sat in Hell. You might have seen the “Adam’s Still in Hell” memes that circulated. WE WAITED OVER A DECADE FOR THIS. And finally SPN answers our prayers and returns these boys back into the story for the final season. None of us anticipated what their arc and dynamic would look like. Before we could only imagine who these two characters were/are after having been trapped in a cage so long; what their personalities would be like and if they’d be antagonistic to TFW. 15x08 was a surprise because not only were Adam and Michael likable right out of the gate but the writing for them and their dynamic was damn near flawless! And Jake fucking stole the show he killed it as these two. It’s a crime they were not featured in more episodes because the chemistry between these characters is amazing and they’re played by the same dude.
We were given so much background into both Adam and Michael’s psyches in just a short period of time. Their motivations, interests and how they viewed those that wronged them (like the Winchesters); how Hell affected/changed them both and how they viewed their families. We got to see them banter, cooperate with one another and most importantly their different personalities. With Jake Abel appearing in only a handful of SPN episodes, he still fleshed out Michael and Adam beautifully; giving them layers and complexities that most side-characters (who’ve appeared more times than they have) didn’t. The way Jake played Adam’s anger and resentment towards his brothers was brilliant because it’s more under the surface compared to his angsty teenage self in 5x18. He’d become somewhat restrained, laid-back, gentler and wiser which works because Adam displays traits similar to Sam and Dean. He’s kinder and has a sense of humor but none of that distracts from rational thought as he’s quick to analyze and dissect situations. Man, he would’ve made a great hunter/Men of Letters recruit. We know right off the bat Adam’s pissed at his brothers for abandoning him in a thousand-year-prison-sentence and didn’t lift a finger BUT that ironically doesn’t compromise his willingness to help them unlike his past self in 5x18. Jake gets the point across with this character without saying much and that’s what made him so compelling to watch in this episode.
Now Michael was even more of a mystery onion since he wasn’t onscreen as much as Adam had been in past episodes so Jake got to really build on top of this character. Going from the uptight, cold-blooded merciless celestial warrior/dutiful son of God we saw in 5x22 to someone whom despite his arrogance and regal princely demeanor was very human, intelligent, fair, mindful and compassionate. He trusted Adam and respected his opinions even if he didn’t agree 100%. Whereas most angels take over the vessel completely from their original occupant; Michael chooses to share his vessel with Adam as a mutual agreement which says a lot about who he is. He’s fascinated with humanity and wanted to explore it instead of returning to his throne in the clouds. We know that Michael was created specifically to be Humanity’s protector and guardian of Heaven and Earth so these quirks he’d demonstrated in 15x08 aren’t too far off. He holds a lot of pain inside from his abandonment issues with his father whom he loves to a fault and grief over the death of his brothers. On the surface there’s very much an abused child syndrome thing going on with him though he masks it with a domineering presence. And above all this we saw that he was capable of forgiveness. Whether or not Michael always had these traits inside to begin with, its very evident that his friendship with Adam influenced the person he became post-Hell. And that was someone who, like Castiel, chose to rebel for the sake of free will by aligning himself with the Winchesters after witnessing the evil his father had committed. He actually cared about saving the world. This is what we call character development.
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What does 15x19 do? It shits all over that. We don’t get to see Adam and Michael’s dynamic at all; and this was perhaps one of (if not the first) most healthy portrayal of a relationship between an angel and its original vessel occupant in the history of Supernatural. Adam is just killed off-screen Thanos style without so much as one last word and Michael barely reacts like he gives a crap. It was just established to us in 15x08 that he’d developed an emotional bond with Adam through years of inhabiting the same body. He protected Adam while they were trapped together in Hell. They were each other’s only friend and source of comfort. They’d developed a certain co-dependency on each other while respecting one another’s space. They’d both made peace with their joint situation. All they had was each other and the writing in 15x19 basically tells us their relationship meant absolutely NOTHING to Michael based on his OOC actions in this episode. He shows up much darker and shadier now that Adam is gone and its like all those years of friendship, things like that independence, newfound strength and humility he’d gained from living with a human for so long are erased. Michael just reverts back to Chuck’s 5x22 bitchboy persona in the most ridiculous 180 shift I’ve ever seen in my whole damn life. And all because his little brother called him mean names. Pitiful. Just when he lectures Lucifer about standing up for what’s right; he betrays his own words, his allies and the rest of humanity in T-minus 2 minutes. That is total character assassination. Nothing about this motivation makes any sense.
There’s no build up to it, no foreshadowing in 15x08 or throughout 15x19 until they get to the lake. He’s completely deconstructed as a character in this episode and rendered weak. It’s like 15x08 never happened. Stripped of all his development for lousy shock value. Instead utilizing all of what he’d learned through Adam and sticking it to Lucifer by proving he could be more than what Chuck tried to mold him into; Michael becomes just another NPC in the story forfeiting the hero he was. And his reasons for siding with Chuck are never specified. Was it about about saving Adam? Was it about proving something to Lucifer (whom he’d already killed in anti-climatic fashion)? Was it all an act that he was in on with the Winchesters; cause there’s absolutely NO FUCKING WAY they could’ve predicted he’d flip on them like that for their magical plan to work. Not after everything Chuck’s done, killing Adam and Jack and leaving Michael to rot in Hell for eternity. And why would he suddenly go along with destroying the Earth when defeating Chuck would probably get Adam back (if that was his goal) which IT DID not to mention its his sworn duty to freaking protect humanity, hello? So his betrayal meant jack shit in the end as it got him killed by his fucking dad!! He’s brought back into the show only to be ruined forever and killed off in the stupidest fashion.
Moving on.
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Jack Kline & Castiel. This iron-clad relationship has been in development for 4 in 1/2 years since before Jack was even born. And next to Adam & Michael its the other most healthy relationship on the show. Castiel, a million year old celestial being, spent the first 9 years of his arc on Supernatural following around the Winchesters, being torn between his loyalty to them and to Heaven. He rebelled when he was supposed to be a straight-by-the-book warrior of God. And he defied every rule in the process even when the odds were stacked against him. There was an endless rinse and repeat cycle of love, loss, betrayal and redemption when it came to his relationship with Sam and Dean. It made his character complex, interesting and layered but it still didn’t give him an arc that was his own. Castiel started out moreso being written as just the Winchester’s angel BFF/side-kick. Until Lucifer got Kelly Kline pregnant in 12x08 then things really took off. Before this, Castiel was a lost soul. His faith was broken, he was depressed, lonely, battered and rundown from years of being conflicted over the other angels and Sam & Dean. He felt he’d lost a sense of self and meaning in his life. And didn’t have a mission. Once he turned on Heaven’s orders, Castiel was a rebel angel without a cause so to speak. But like I said this changes the moment he meets Kelly.
Originally Castiel was suppose to kill Kelly in 12x19 because she was carrying the child of the devil and Nephilim are considered forbidden abominations. Told that if Lucifer’s kid was born he could unleash even more evil into the world. But instead of doing what he thought he should, Castiel decides to runaway with her. Choosing to protect her from all threats (Lucifer, demons, other angels, princes of Hell); this especially included the Winchesters. During this short time-frame the angel develops a strong, emotional bond with Kelly and her unborn son that stretches all the way to the S12 finale; to the point where it actually gave him a power-boost. From the womb, Jack appoints Castiel to be his father and protector and he’s given a glimpse into the child’s destiny that he’ll bring paradise to the world. A prophecy that the writers establish head on. This is an unusual circumstance because right here is where Castiel’s solo arc apart from the Sam & Dean takes shape. The journey of becoming a first time parent and guardian. Its a new kind of independence that for the first time has nothing to do with his friends or his family members/colleagues in the sky. Its his own personal mission that he willingly accepts, the second he connects with Jack from inside Kelly. Castiel immediately falls in love with him, before they even see each other; and adopts the boy devoting himself to keeping him safe. Making a promise to Kelly that would later become a vital plot-point in the seasons to come.  
Castiel literally risks everything (Heaven and Earth) to ensure Jack’s birth and ends up dead by 12x23′s startling conclusion. Leaving the newborn infant Nephilim alone in the care of the Winchesters going into season 13; scared, confused and aged into a seemingly 18 year old boy for his own protection. And Alexander Calvert who is a fantastic addition to the cast really brings something wonderful to this role; he’s like a breath of fresh air and a bright light in the middle of a dark room. Jack’s naïve, innocent and curious about his surroundings but also as Castiel once put it “remarkably intuitive”. Right when he’s introduced his arc is intentionally paralleled with Castiel’s. Their alien-fish-out-of-water beginning is practically identical as is their adorable stoic facial expressions. Like father like son. And this helps because while the angel is currently dead in the beginning of season 13, there’s an empty void he’s left behind. So Jack is kind of his temporary stand-in. Odd enough this type of switcharoo would’ve been considered very controversial but it’s handled quite well. Alex is so likable and charming I almost wish Supernatural had introduced him sooner. I mean I really thought I was looking at Castiel’s actual mini-me and not the son of Satan. But I digress Jack’s story in the first half of this season is pretty much about discovery and reuniting with Castiel. He’s a baby so everything is new to him but he’s also one of the most powerful beings in the universe destined for greatness which makes the Winchesters very nervous.
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Jack remembers choosing Castiel as his dad which is why he already feels strongly connected to him. Its a bond so powerful that it actually resurrects Castiel out of the Empty the first time. Something Chuck himself was unable to do (that was until the mess that is 15x19). When they’re finally reunited the payoff comes so naturally. Misha and Alex have such a phenomenal onscreen chemistry starting with that first hug; they really play off one another so well that it doesn’t feel like two angels interacting but a genuine father and son duo. So much of what makes Jack and Castiel’s relationship so relatable, deep and endearing is because of what the actors bring to it. But they’re not just a fascinating relationship, they’re compelling on their own too. Both trying to find their way in the world and within the Winchesters’ lives. Death is no stranger to either of them (tragic being that Jack is only a toddler). They’ve each experienced their own personal pain, traumas, life lessons, mistakes and decisions. The biggest for Castiel would be his deal with the Empty to save Jack in 14x08. While for Jack it was the consequences of said deal that would lose his soul causing him to accidently kill Sam and Dean’s mom in 14x18 as a result (something that Jack struggles with immensely to the brink of depression from so much guilt and regret that he’d rather die). Repercussions that would follow into the shows final season. What’s interesting about this deal though is that Castiel made it on parental instinct alone not as a promise to Kelly. He chose to sacrifice himself for the sake of his son as a selfless act of love and kept it a secret from Sam & Dean until his death in 15x18. That’s the extent how much this child meant to him. The other great thing about their family dynamic is that it parallels nicely with the Winchesters. Castiel and Jack share this unconditional love that can never be broken. its even greater than their ties to the Winchesters themselves just as Sam & Dean’s love for each other is greater than any of their other relationships. They would do anything for each other. Castiel would go to the ends of the earth for the little nougat baby because that’s his son.  
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Each time these characters were faced with danger or died, Castiel and Jack were overcome with extreme devastation and distress. That said its not just pain that binds these two its happiness. Jack is the best thing that ever happened to Castiel. Literally becoming a father to that child saved him. It brought him back to life, restored his faith and gave him a sense of self-worth and hope he’d long since abandoned. And for Jack, Castiel is the best dad he’ll ever have! He gave this baby comfort, wisdom, nurturing, strength. Was always there when he needed him whether it was to talk or to have his back. No other person in Jack’s life has ever made such an important impact nor made him feel more safe and loved than Castiel. Even when Jack had done such a horrible thing to Mary alienating himself from his family; it was Castiel’s unyielding devotion to Jack that ended up being his salvation. This was huge because once again he’d chosen over the Winchesters proving that no matter what (whether it be the world ending) his son comes first. So when Castiel’s pact with the Empty finally comes due in 15x18 you’d think it’d have an earth-shattering affect on Jack in 15x19. I mean for the first bit it does...until he becomes God. Then its like to hell with that relationship. Castiel is a complete afterthought to Jack and the rest of TFW in this episode. JACK DOESN’T EVEN GET TO GRIEVE HIM PROPERLY. And he just lost his dad because of a deal he’d made a year ago for him. A DEAL JACK HAS BEEN FUCKING DREADING WHILE HE WAS SOULLESS MIND YOU. And when he finally has the power to bring him back, he doesn’t? Jack just walks around with a conceited smirk on his face, bids Sam and Dean adieu and fucks off. I mean who gives a shit right, its only your dad that you love more than anything. This was extremely OOC given that time in 14x14 Jack nearly lost his shit when Castiel got infected with gorgon poison; the anti-venom wasn’t working so Jack resorts to using his powers putting his soul at risk.
I mean if he was so limited to helping Castiel in the Empty AT LEAST FREAKING CLARIFIY THIS TO THE AUDIENCE. This is not about shipping a certain pairing btw. Jack becoming God is not the issue its his characterization after the fact. His first instinct would’ve been to save his dad above getting in touch with the Earth. Yes we knew this transformation was coming it was foreshowed way back in Season 12. Does that justify bad writing or character assassination?? HELL NO.
This is what I’m talking about, episode 15x19 deliberately butchers these characters and their relationships. It shat all over them. No one is behaving like themselves. The pacing is wonky and inconstant. The script feels like it underwent several rewrites and I swear there were scenes cut out. The acting is off too and maybe the pandemic could be blamed for these things but it ultimately falls on the writer. Buckleming screwed up by showing us they don’t know who the hell these characters are, their motivations nor do they give a rat’s ass. And its noticeable on screen. I’ve known better fanfiction writers for SPN than these guys. It’s like they all came back to work but just didn’t care to put the effort into it. That’s why people like me are upset and we have every freaking right to be. Some of us have been with this series for the entire 15 year run. I at least expect these characters to be handled better and for things to make sense. 15x19 doesn’t and its not satisfying its just a cruel joke. The writers and Dabb should be embarrassed to have put this out there thinking we’d just swallow it and shut up. But far as I’m concerned the only thing this episode serves is to disrespect and ruin everybody while angering long-time fans.
MICHAEL. ADAM MILLIGAN. JACK KLINE AND CASTIEL DESERVED BETTER. And that’s the tea.
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dumdumsun · 3 years ago
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Of Starlight
A/N: Enjoy ❤️
Warnings: none that I’m aware of
Word Count: 2912
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Chapter 18: What Would Have Happened
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It happened so quickly. One minute, Hazel had shown up to the mansion with the desire to help the family with the prevention of the apocalypse, then next minute, Five was watching Diego and Hazel fight before him for almost a full forty five seconds. Punches and kicks were thrown, blood was drawn, but Five decided to step in when Diego clamped his teeth down on Hazel’s ear. Setting his margarita down on the bar, Five blinked behind his brother with a glass vase before smashing it down on his head, the vigilante collapsing to the ground, unconscious. “I draw the line at biting.” He remarked as he made his way back over to the bar. He glanced over at Hazel, who was groaning and nursing his ear. “Hazel, whatever you came here to say, I suggest you make it quick, before he comes ‘round.”
“I left my partner, quit the Commission, came to volunteer.”
“For what?” Five returned to his seat at the bar, picking up his drink.
“To help stop the apocalypse.” Hazel swiped glass off of his shoulder. The man earned a chuckle from the boy as he sipped on his drink. Hazel frowned. “What on earth could be so funny to you right now?”
“Before I answer that, why do you wanna help us?”
Hazel took a deep breath and straightened his posture. “Let’s just say I have a vested interest in a doughnut shop.” Whatever that meant. Five smiled as he took his straw out of his mouth.
“Well, I hate to break it to you, pal, but you’re a day late and a dollar short. The fact that you’re here right now means, without a shadow of a doubt, the apocalypse is over.”
“Really? How do you know?”
“The mark is dead. Found him this morning,” Five inhaled as he thought over (Y/N)’s words of suspicion. “You were the last known unknown left in the equation.”
Hazel let out an airy chuckle, slightly shaking his head. “Shit… Really?”
“Mmhm,” Five nodded and turned around in his seat. “And if you’re out, then Hellrider ain’t riding.”
Throwing his head back, Hazel inhaled deeply, raising his fists in the air. “Oh! Alright!” He grinned. Letting out a relieved laugh, he stepped away from Diego and joined Five at the bar. Picking up the blender, he gulped down what was left of the margarita, Five chuckling and turning his head forward. When Hazel emptied the blender, he set it back in place, exhaling in content. “So now what?”
“You know, to be honest, I don’t know. I’ve been chasing this thing for so long, I…,” He and Hazel turned to each other. “I never really thought about the day after… I don’t know. What about you?”
“I’m done with all of this madness,” Hazel shook his head. “Time to start over. You should do the same.”
“That’s easier said than done…”
“It doesn’t have to be hard. I mean, think about it like this. If you never time traveled, you never got caught up with The Handler, what would have happened?”
Five glanced over his shoulder, at the unconscious Diego, before turning back to Hazel. “I guess I would have grown up to be an emotionally stunted man-child like everybody else around here,” He nodded, Hazel softly chuckling. “But after that… I guess I would have married the love of my life.”
Hazel raised his brows and leaned back a bit. “Really? I would’ve never guessed a cold-hearted killer would have a soft spot. Especially for a girl.”
“Yeah, well… neither did I. But there’s nothing else I’d rather do right now…”
“Well, there you go. Now you can grow up and get married,” Rising from his seat, Hazel nodded at the boy. “Good luck.” As he began to leave, Five glanced over at Delores. This was the time to make things right. The boy called out to Hazel as he turned toward him.
“One more thing before you go.”
“Shoot.”
“Which one of you was the triggerman for Detective Patch?”
“Triggerwoman.” Hazel blinked. Five sighed through his nose.
“Huh. That’s too bad… That gun could’ve cleared my brother’s name.”
Hazel inhaled as he reached into his pockets. “Well, today’s your lucky day, amigo,” He took out two guns and walked up to Five, setting them down on the bar. “Take ‘em both. I’m done with this life.”
Five gave him a ghost of a smile of gratitude as he watched him leave the parlor. And with that, another weight had been lifted from his child-like shoulders. Turning back to Delores, Five deeply sighed. “Now it’s… Now it’s figuring out what (Y/N) wants…”
“Diego?!” As if on cue, the girl’s voice rang throughout the room. He looked over his shoulder to see her crouching beside their brother, placing a hand on his head, (e/c) eyes full of concern.
“He’s fine.” Five spoke up. Her head snapped up to him.
“He is?”
“I just knocked him out. Did what I had to do.”
“Oh, well, then…” She stood with a shrug, moving to his side. Sitting down in the seat Hazel once occupied, she placed a hand on his back. “How’re you doing, bub?”
The nickname sent a rush of heat to Five’s face and ears. He hoped to god it wasn’t noticeable. “Honestly, I’m a little lost, Starlight… I didn’t have a plan after this.”
“Well, then, what do you wanna do?” She held his free hand in hers, raising it to her lips. “Now that you’ve got loads of freetime.”
“I was hoping you’d help me with that,” He leaned closer, gently touching foreheads with her. “Now that I have no idea what the future holds for us… I just want to have one with you.”
“I’ve cried enough these past eight days, Five,” (Y/N) sniffled with a grin on her face. “Don’t make me do it again.” They both chuckled quietly, hands tightly clasped together. They knew this wasn’t a life or death situation, but they’d been so used to losing each other that every moment of peace felt like nothing but the calm before the horrible, horrible storm. (Y/N) wrapped her arms around her love in a warm hug. Not even hesitating, he returned it, gently rubbing her shoulder. “You mean it? You want a future with me?”
“I mean it with every pubescent bone in my body.”
“Ew…” She laughed, the sound alone tugging at his heart. He then felt the warmth of her lips pressed against the corner of his mouth. He swore his heart exploded right then and there. When she pulled away, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t formulate a single sentence in his mind. It hadn’t even been a real kiss and yet it had rendered him speechless, nonetheless. She smirked in amusement at his current state. “Five, you’re staring.”
“I’m well aware.” He breathed. She giggled and circled around him to leave the room, their eyes never breaking contact as their fingers lingered against each other. When they had finally let go, both their hands twitched, itching for that contact again. (Y/N) placed her fingers against her lips as she turned away and left the parlor to head upstairs. She had planned to go check on her children again. It had felt like months since she’d last seen them. Now that the end of all life on earth had been stopped, she knew she had to make things right and explain everything to them. No matter how crazy she sounded. She owed them that much.
She passed by Allison’s room, but stopped when she saw movement from the small crack in the door. Slowly opening the door wider, she gasped at the sight of Allison, now in different clothing, walking around her room. The woman turned towards the door, a tearful smile stretching across her face. “You’re awake…” The girl teared up as the two ran to each other, engulfing one another in a hug. Allison sniffled and kissed the top of her sister’s head. “Oh, god, you’re okay, Ally, you’re okay…” She repeated, more to herself than to Allison. When they pulled away, they sat themselves on the bed. The Rumor reached over to her notepad and began to write something down. (Y/N) leaned over and rested her elbows on her knees, waiting patiently for her sister with a small smile on her face. The smile faltered when Allison turned the notepad to her.
VANYA KNOWS
“She knows?” (Y/N) frowned. “She knows what?” Her gaze followed Allison’s writing.
WHAT WE DID
“Allison, I’m not understanding.” She shook her head. Allison sighed in frustration and hastily scribbled down her response.
THE RUMOR
“The rumor? Like… when we were little?” She asked, Allison nodding. “Is that why she did this? She found out about… but I don’t understand. What did the…”
“I heard a rumor… you think you’re just ordinary.”
“Number Eight, summon a clone. Tell it to make sure Number Seven does not leave her room. No matter what.”
Her face formed into horrified shock. “So, Vanya has powers,” The nod of confirmation from Allison had the girl running her hands down her face. “Jesus Christ… and we were both in on it…” The two sat in silence. Both in fear. Both in shame. Shameful of the pain they’d caused their sister, of blindly following through with their father’s plans without a single word of protest. (Y/N) turned her attention to the sound of the marker against the paper.
ITS MY FAU-
“No,” (Y/N) held Allison’s wrist, forcing her to halt her writing. “It’s my fault as much as it is yours. We were both there… I take this blame with you. Okay, Ally? You don’t have to make yourself feel like shit all the time,” The scoff she got from Allison made (Y/N) frown. “Allison, tell me one good thing you think you’ve done.” Silence followed. Allison stared down at her knees for what seemed like forever before shaking her head with a shrug.
“Well, I’ve got a list. Let’s see… You promote my work in your interviews… You gave birth to my favorite niece,” The woman silently giggled at that. “You were my maid of honor… You stay so fucking strong despite the shit thrown at you constantly,” She reached over and held her sister’s hand. “You’re learning, Ally. We all are. No one said we had to be perfect… We do shitty things and then we learn from them. Yes, part of the process is feeling like shit, but it isn’t the end. I just want you to know… you’re one of the best things to ever happen to me. If you ever feel like a piece-of-shit-sister… know that I think otherwise. Vanya doesn’t hate you… I’m sure after we properly apologize, she’ll understand, right? She just found out that everything she was ever told was a lie… and the source of it. She’s learning, too. We just need to be patient with her. No one really ever was…”
Allison smiled down at her notepad and scribbled something down before holding it up.
PRETTY SMART FOR A KID
“Piss off, Allison.” (Y/N) laughed.
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After leaving Allison to her own devices, (Y/N) slipped into her bedroom and swiped her car keys off her bedside table. She whistled a tune and spun the keys on her finger as she walked towards the stairs. Hearing rustling, she halted when she saw Five in his own room. She walked inside and gently knocked on the door. He looked up from the duffle bag he had just unzipped and smiled tightly. “Hey, Starlight.”
“Hey, bub,” She watched him with a raised brow. “What’re you doing?”
“Uh, well… I figured if I’m going to move on and live as much of a normal life as I can… I’ve gotta let go of the past.” He motioned towards Delores, who sat in her usual chair. (Y/N)’s mouth fell open in shock.
“Seriously? Five, you’re returning Delores?”
“It won’t be easy, I admit,” He grunted. “But I… I have to do this.”
“Make things right,” She nodded, Five staring at her in slight confusion. “You could say I’m on my own journey with that…”
“We all might as well be,” He slowly picked up Delores, his green eyes holding so much care and fondness for the mannequin. He hesitated as he so very gently placed her in the duffle bag. Sighing, he turned his head to (Y/N). “Would you like to say any last words to her, (Y/N)?”
“Oh, uh… Sure,” The girl cleared her throat and slowly walked to Five’s side. He stepped back a little to give her space. Her eyes darted around the room. From Five, to his posters, to the window, before finally landing on Delores. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Delores… um, well, we didn’t talk all that much, but… I think if Five likes you so much, you must be pretty great. I, uh… actually wanna thank you… for taking care of him. He went through hell and my worst fear was that he’d do it alone… but you came in and did what I couldn’t. And I’ll be eternally grateful for that. I wish you luck in life, Delores.” Standing up straight, she turned to Five, who nodded in satisfaction.
“Beautifully said. Now,” He walked closer and zipped up the duffle bag. “I’ll only be a little while.”
“Oh, wait,” (Y/N) gently pressed her hand to his chest to stop him. “I can drive you there.”
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(Y/N)’s car parked in front of the department store Five had directed her to. Very slowly, the boy removed his seatbelt and turned to the backseat, where the duffle bag sat. He let out a breath and slowly reached back for it. “I don’t know, Starlight… If I can…”
“I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want, Five… But if you truly want to move on and have… that future… This is kinda necessary. I know you can do this, bub. You have more than just Delores now. You’ve got our siblings, you’ve got me.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. Five hummed and grabbed hold of the duffle bag, dragging it into his lap. His finger gently ran over the fabric as he shut his eyes.
“I know…”
Seeing the somber look in his eyes once they opened, she tilted her head and smiled. “Make sure they get her a new outfit. She’d look beautiful in red.”
Five chuckled and shook his head, opening his door to leave. “I’ll be back.” He whispered.
“And I’ll be right here.” She smiled. He returned the expression before getting out and closing the door, swinging the bag onto his back as he strode inside the store. (Y/N) leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, a distant vision she’d had years ago resurfacing her memories.
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The clone stood a few feet away from Five, who sat on the hood of an abandoned car with Delores by his side. The boy sighed and stared up at the star-painted sky. He threw his arm around the mannequin’s “shoulder” and leaned into her. “These stars remind me of (Y/N)... Who is she? Oh, just… a girl…” The clone stalked closer to the car in silence. “What? No, Delores, she’s… Well, she’s dead now. I just called her Starlight because… that’s what she was to me. In an endless sea of darkness, she shone in all her glory. She didn’t make the darkness go away, but she sure made it more bearable to live with… Yeah,” He bitterly chuckled. “Yeah, I was in love with her… But it doesn’t matter. She’s… She’s gone now,” He turned his head to face Delores, his eyes softening. “But at least I have you…”
The clone’s foot came into contact with a nearby scrap of metal, the screeching of it sliding against the ground alerting Five. He jumped up and turned to the clone in anger. “Go away!” He tried waving it off. When it didn’t respond, he hopped off the car and stormed up to it. “I said go away! All you ever do is stand there and look like her! You don’t talk like her or smile like her o-or laugh like her! You just sit there and take up space! Just get the hell away from me!” He shouted, not daring to get any closer, for he knew he’d only get shoved back. The clone only squinted its eyes at Five, the boy sighing in exasperation and stomping back to the car. It watched as he sat atop the hood, burying his face into his hands.
“What the hell am I gonna do with it, Delores…?”
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The girl snapped her eyes open when she heard the car door opening. Turning to her right, she was greeted with the sight of Five. Alone. As he climbed into his seat and shut the door, she grinned brightly at him. She reached her hand over and placed it over his. “I’m so proud of you…” She whispered. The boy only nodded, eyes trained on his knees. (Y/N) tilted her head and hummed in a soothing manner. She considered her next decision for about a solid two minutes before starting the car up again.
“Do you want to meet Michael and Jada?”
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hopeamarsu · 3 years ago
Text
Of potions and myths - Chapter 8
William “Ironhead” Miller x f!reader
Word count 2,8k
Warnings: Some angst, but it’s mostly sappy and fluffy. 
A/N: This is it, the final chapter. I’m getting a little emotional over this, this is my baby and I can’t believe it’s finished. It’s done, complete, and OMG. I can’t believe I did it! Wow. 
Thank you so much for sticking with me on this ride, I can’t thank you enough ❤️ I hope you enjoy this morning with our bonded couple. 
Chapter 7 - Story masterlist
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The morning light sweeps across Will’s bedroom and you stir from your slumber as the rays tickle your eyes and nose. It takes a moment to orient yourself, but as you wake up a little more, you feel Will’s strong arm around your middle, keeping you tight against him, the other hand under your pillow and last night comes back in a rush. You burrow into his arms a little more with a smile, feeling his hot breath on your neck and relishing in his warm embrace around you. You feel well-rested and the thought alone makes you giddy. 
When the call with his uncle was finished, he’d swept you up from the couch, kissed you soundly and told you about the pull he felt, how it had changed in between you. There hadn’t really been a discussion on what it meant as you’d taken the celebration back to the bedroom and he’d made you cum hard twice until he’d rendered you boneless once again. After a short cleanup, you had settled under the blankets and into his arms, falling asleep tangled up together. 
Now, as you lay in his arms, you turn the words from last night in your mind. The pull was still there? But how come you didn’t feel it, only he did? It’s a little concerning, though it might only be because he is a wolf and you are not, but you don’t like it. Worry gnaws in your stomach as you keep wondering how and why it’s different for you now when it wasn’t before. Were you not enough? Was your mundane status not what the bond wanted after all? 
“Mmmm, y’think too hard, I can hear you from here,” Will mumbles, kissing your neck. “I thought I’d worn you out last night.” He trails a series of kisses to where he reaches, basking in the combined scents of you both and the heavy aroma of sex still lingering in the air. One of his hand trails down to your naked thigh and he squeezes the flesh gently. He nips gently at your shoulder, a low purr in his chest as his wolf rejoices in the connection you now share. 
“You did, I don’t think I’ve slept this good in a long while,” you reply, trying to keep your voice light and airy, but failing miserably. He props himself up quickly, all alert now, and holds your shoulder to push you under him. His eyes flash somewhere between red and blue, almost purple as they sweep your face and his nostrils flare as Will takes in the shift in your posture.  
“Hey. Talk to me sweetheart. What’s on your mind?”
You turn your head sideways, not wanting to look at him and his inquisitive eyes. You don’t want to tell him, to ruin the mood, but also at the same time you want to share, want to hear him tell you again that all is going to be fine. 
The emotional turmoil of the past week and now takes its toll and you can feel hot tears gathering in your eyes and you close them in effort to make them not drop. This is a happy moment, don’t ruin it, you remind yourself over and over again. It’s not a big deal, the elders surely have an explanation for this. And you do feel him, the touch is there! It’s nothing big, just tell him all is well. 
“Baby, please. Look at me,” Will pleads with you, watching as you shake your head minutely, mouth in a thin line and eyes scrunched shut. He’s getting more worried by the second and gathers you as close as he can, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck. 
“Please sweetheart, don’t push this away. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together.” Please don’t push us away, he thinks as he kisses your scar, hoping it will soothe you but it only makes your head shake harder. 
“Are you in pain? You’re worrying me right now.” He takes an alarmed look at you, shuffling back a little with eyes running across your body to see if something has happened during the night. A worrisome thought comes to his mind that maybe he hurt you last night, not enough prep or care taken in the frenzy. He itches to run his hands all over your body to make sure nothing is there.
“No, no… I’m okay, just. I think a lot is catching up with me now.” Your voice is raspy as you finally speak. You don’t look at him, opting to keep your eyes closed, a point that is not missed by the man in bed with you. Will lowers his voice a little, something hesitant creeping into his tone as he speaks. 
“Do you - ummmm - do you regret... what happened last night?”
He doesn’t want to ask it, he doesn’t want to hear the words if this is what has you upset. But he’s trying, he wants to make this work and this bond flourish and if asking things that make him uncomfortable to voice is it, it’s a price he’s willing to pay. You shoot him a look with wide, panicked eyes and you place your hand on his cheek, stroking the stubble gently. 
“Will, no, of course not! Last night was amazing, beyond anything I’d ever hoped for. I’m just… I guess I took the loss of the connection harder than I thought I would.” 
He breathes deep from his nose, his shoulders sagging in relief. For a moment he thought the worst, the old wounds and fears rearing their ugly heads and Will gathers you back into his arms, squeezing tight. 
Taking a moment to ground himself on you, he closes his eyes and draws in your scent, blissfully mixed with his. The scent of home. He reminds himself that he’ll need to open up about his own scars eventually too, but this is far too important to dismiss. He wants to help you in any way he can and if he can help it, he’ll take all of your worry and pain away.   
“Do you want to go back to the elders? Or maybe Frankie’s abuela could help, she’s not in the council but she used to be. She knows a lot and has a good sense of the spirit world. I could invite her over and you could talk. Or perhaps you would like to consult your colleagues?” 
He’s spouting off ideas, feeling somewhat helpless. He keeps the more ludicrous ideas to himself now, his agitated mind sprouting off ideas that range from turning you into a wolf (something Will has never done in his life) to running away to live in Norway, far away from any of this but if you want them, he’ll give them to you. 
“Will, I’m not…”
“Just say the word sweetheart, whatever you want to do.” 
You are about to answer him, when a loud knock on the front door interrupts and Will lets out a low growl. The knock is soon followed by another and another and then Benny’s voice booms from the door. 
“Come open the door, brother! And you better be decent, I’m not watching your bare ass this early in the morning William!”  He growls again, this time louder. You cover your mouth with your hand, trying not to make a sound. 
“I can hear you growling in there! Come open the door. The boys and I, we brought breakfast and we need to brainstorm how you are going to ask your lovely mate to MOVE IN WITH YOU AFTER THE BONDING!” That little shit. Will leaps out of bed, huffing and forgoing his shirt as he stomps towards the front door. 
He wretches it open, eyes flashing in anger as he glares at the three men on his doorstep, shit-eating grins on their faces. Benny winks and shoulders his way in, followed by Frankie and Santi, the latter clapping Will in the back as he squeezes past. The blond drags a hand across his face before closing the door with a sigh and follows his brothers to the kitchen, where Benny has commandeered the space. 
He moves around the space like he owns it, picking up items to use for breakfast while Frankie sweeps up the glass shards and Santi gets the coffee running. It’s a well-oiled machine, each of them anticipating the others move but this time Will opts to stay out of it, flicking his eyes between the closed bedroom door and his brothers. He longs to join you back in bed, ease up your worries over the connection and he needs to figure out something fast so he can get the boys out of the house.
But all his plans go out the window as you open the bedroom door and step out, bare feet padding on his floor and his flannel tucked around your body. You’ve dug out some college pants and a tank top to fit under the flannel and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look more beautiful. All three heads pop up as they register the footsteps and Will smirks a little as he thinks of what goes on in their heads as you reach him and lean up for a kiss.
He tastes his toothpaste on your mouth and a little possessive but happy sound leaves his lips as he accepts the offered lips on his own. 
“So, no planning needed then, huh?” Santi quips, picking up a fifth cup from the cupboard. He doesn’t sound surprised, more like that he was expecting this. “I saw you last night as you hurried past, not exactly subtle behavior,” He winks at Benny, who has stopped peeling the avocados. 
“And you didn’t tell us?” Benny gestures at himself and Frankie with the peeling knife. The older man snorts. “He didn’t tell you, but I got a text full of emoji peaches and eggplants with the words Will and mate sprinkled in.” The dry tone of Frankie’s voice makes Will snort and he watches amused at his little brother pointing an accusing finger at the third man. 
“The fuck Pope?!” 
“Hey, you would’ve run your mouth and brought the whole council here had I told you. These two needed a night alone, without anyone hovering over them with research or myths or potions or pressure.” He looks at Benny, who has to shrug, agreeing with the statement.
“But you could’ve told me this morning…”
“Where’s the fun in that? And besides, this had the added bonus of embarrassing Ironhead when you yelled that comment, so I’m going to take my win!” Santi cackles and tries to hide behind Frankie as Benny suddenly gets the urge to throw something in his direction.
Will grips your side softly, steering you to the side, out of view. 
“Please excuse those assholes…” He murmurs, turning you so you are face to face and tips your face up from your chin so he can look into your eyes.” Are you okay?” He wants to ask more, but mindful of the men currently wreaking havoc in his kitchen, he keeps his words brief. “Do you want to talk in private?”
“I’m fine Will, really. It just hit me hard, but we’ll figure it out. I’m alright, I promise. We’ll consult the elders later, okay?” Your words feel like a balm on his heart.
“As long as you’re sure, sweetheart.” He rubs your arm before honing in on your bare shoulder peeking from under his flannel and this time he follows his instincts and wraps his arms around you and noses the flesh. It works well for him to hide his face as he speaks the next words, feeling both calm and timid at the same time. This was definitely not the way he thought about doing this but his brothers forced his hand. 
“I know you heard them yelling, so I guess there’s no point in hiding this.”
“Yes.” You answer him before he can even get the question out. He’s right, you did hear Benny yelling earlier (the whole street heard) and while it still feels crazy and too soon and out of this world, you know it’s what you want. What you desire. “I’ll move in with you, if that was your question.” 
Elated, Will sweeps down to claim your lips into a longer, heavier, more passionate kiss. He grips your hips as he draws you in and slips his tongue into your eager mouth. “Let me, umhmm, get rid of, mmmmm, these idiots and, uhnmmh…” He tries to whisper between kisses, but not a lot comes out. You finally regain your senses and end the kiss, small pants leaving your lips. 
You go to speak but Will shakes his head and kisses you hard again. “Just a moment, I want a second to kiss my mate good morning. My beautiful, gorgeous mate who is all mine,” He grins against your lips, relishing in the idea that you are his, he is yours and the bond is strong between you. All mine and I’m all yours, he thinks as he forgets the world and loses himself within your warm lips. 
Before he can turn it into a full-blown make-out session, you distance your lips from his, echoing your movements from before. You press your foreheads together briefly before straightening your spine. “Behave, mate,” you tease him and watch surprised at his unconsciously preening form over the word, tucking the information for later use. 
Will nearly whines at the loss of you, but your finger on his lips stops any of that and he nibbles on the digit, hoping you’ll entertain his idea of breakfast in bed, for two only, but you have other plans. “They are your brothers and considering our newly-bonded status, I would love to get to know your pack, your family, a little better.” 
“Our pack, our family.” 
Your eyes might be a little misty and your smile is splitting your face at his words, but sappy as they might be, it feels so right to hear the words from his mouth. You reach up to cup his face between your hands and you press a hard kiss into his plush lips. 
“Then let's go and tell them the good news.”  
You take his hand into yours and you return to the kitchen, snorting as something green hangs from Santi’s cheek. Frankie is washing his ballcap under the spray and his curls wild around his head as he glares at Benny, who looks mighty proud of his ability to swing guacamole ammo around the room. 
Will shakes his head in that exparated love in his eyes one can only have for family and you know that despite what the elders might have to say about the missing connection, or your bond or whatever, this is now your home. Even if the pull never comes back for you, this feels right and that’s all that matters. Despite the worries you had in the morning, they seem to evaporate as you work it out in your mind. You love this man and he loves you, he accepts you into his family. That’s all there really is to it, your mind whispers to you as calmness settles on your heart. 
You all sit down around the table and only slightly burnt toast is passed around. Once the plates are full and overflowing, Will tells them the good news. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and kisses your forehead and whoops of joy fill the air.
“So it really worked, huh? You are bonded now?” Santi asks, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Yeah, we are. We’re mates now.” Will nods and steals another small kiss from you, Benny groaning that it looks gross when it’s his big brother. This makes Frankie smack the younger man and grin in your direction. The tiny nod of approval from him goes unnoticed by all but you and you wink back at him.  
The boys gently rib at their brother while congratulating you and asking all the questions you don’t know all the answers to but it’s okay. Easy conversation fills the air as the men begin to plan moving all your things into this house later that afternoon and you lean into your mate’s embrace and smile. 
Whatever might come next, potion or myth, you know you have this and it makes your heart soar. 
It might be the first time a love potion actually led to love.
*
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mythicamagic · 3 years ago
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Sesskag Week: Day 2 ‘Black’
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Title: Under the Nails
Summary: After 500 years, Sesshoumaru comes looking for the miko Kagome in her era, wondering why she never returned to the past. What he finds plunges him into bleak despair...and causes Tenseiga to stir. Sesskag Week Day 2 - Black.
Rated T
Words: 2,600
Read on: Ao3, fanfiction.net or Dokuga
AN: For Sesskag Week Day 2 - Black (Mourning & Misfortune) a lotta angst in this one so buckle up.
Under the Nails
Heaviness weighed his steps down like his pockets were laden with stones, heart steeled, eyes on the top of Higurashi Shrine's steps.
Sesshoumaru forced his hands to remain loose at his sides, fighting the urge to rip off his glamour and fly. Soar above the concrete straight to their door.
But Sesshoumaru remained polite and wretchedly slow, human in appearance only. He dutifully climbed the stairs, walking with measured, frustrating steps.
Adjusting his tie upon reaching the Higurashi's door, he knocked, shifting.
Kagome's home looked just as it had many years ago- when he'd first located her again. He'd glimpsed her 3-year-old self, before turning away, satisfied that after 500 years of waiting, he had finally reached her era.
He could finally gain the answers he'd sought for so long.
Curious though, that her scent did not reach his nose. Various stale shades of it clung to a few things outside, but it did not feel vibrant, recent.
When her mother opened the door, brown eyes glassy and vacant, deep stress lines beneath them and grief clinging to her like a second skin, Sesshoumaru knew.
He knew it as instinctively as drawing breath.
No.
"...Don't tell me," Mrs Higurashi put a hand to her mouth, gaze flickering over his face searchingly. "You're not Sesshoumaru, are you?"
The tears filling her eyes worsened the ocean roar in his ears.
He could not answer, expression cracking open.
She quickly took his hand in a tight grip, squeezing it. "I'm so sorry. She talked about you- I-I'm probably not making much sense-"
"Where is she?" the question fell softly from his lips, not a demand like he'd initially wanted. His strength fled, instincts snarling, but limping, wounded. They detested everything her mood signalled, causing his heart to shrivel.
Watery brown eyes slid away, squeezing shut. She couldn't look at him when answering. "She's dead. I-it happened two weeks ago," her words trembled. "I'm so sorry."
Why are you sorry? It is not as though you killed her, Sesshoumaru thought dazedly.
"Two weeks?" he repeated numbly, voice a pale rasp.
He'd missed her. Miscalculated.
Kagome had returned to the Feudal Era at 18. She'd tried and failed to sustain a romance with Inuyasha, living as a village miko for a while before travelling. That was how they'd come to be unlikely companions. A demon lord and his miko. By the end of the year, they'd been lovers. At the end of another- a date had been set for their wedding and subsequent mating.
With an easy smile, Kagome left down the Bone Eater's Well just one week prior until they were to be wed, wanting the reassurance of her mother's arms since her family could not join them.
And she'd never returned.
Inuyasha couldn't cross through, as the magic had seemingly run dry once more. They'd waited many, many, many years, hoping it would grant access again. Fate would not permit it.
Sesshoumaru sank to his knees in the threshold of the doorway. "I missed her by two weeks...after waiting 500 years," he chuckled without humour, the backs of his eyes stinging. A gut-punch of emotion rendered him paper-thin. The roar in his ears became a drawling howl of despair. This couldn't be.
Mrs Higurashi knelt with him, sliding her arms around his shoulders and hugging him close. The demon lord remained stiff and unyielding, reeling with bitter shock. He stared ahead sightlessly, before jerking in her arms. He suddenly gripped her tight, pulling away to look her straight in the eye.
"Mrs Higurashi, the funeral-"
"We've already had it," she said gently.
Sharp teeth flashed in a silent snarl, desperation clawing at his tongue. "Not that. Tell me-" he choked out, blunt nails elongating into claws, biting into her clothing.
"Tell me, was Kagome cremated or buried?"
---
He hadn't thought he would have cause to use it again. Kagome getting mixed up in a car accident much like her father before her had certainly changed his assumptions.
Sesshoumaru's throat burned as he walked by some lonely graves.
Approaching one headstone situated closely beside another in the graveyard, Sesshoumaru spared the second a glance.
"It is far too early for her to be joining you," he rumbled, turning away from Mr Higurashi.
Sunset highlighted sparse, lonely surroundings upon the quiet hill in a fiery orange glow, a red plume painting across the sky.
Sesshoumaru felt his black heart clenching as he knelt before the characters of Kagome Higurashi's name, elongating his fingers into talons. He thrust them into the earth, beginning to dig.
He could've transformed, it would've made the process easier, but a part of him wished for penance after failing her. He'd failed his prospective mate. She never should've died. If he'd just gotten there sooner-
A claw chipped, but Sesshoumaru continued. His hands became caked in dirt, powerful arms moving, muscles coiling to discard the clumps of earth quicker and quicker. He began to sink deeper, willingly descending into the same grave his beloved rested within.
By the time the ground loomed above Sesshoumaru's head on all sides- the sky a rectangular shape above, his clothes had become ruined with mud, brown patches covering his fine suit that he'd worn for the occasion, some dirt marring his sweat coated forehead and cheek.
'Thud!'
Sesshoumaru paused, knuckles having connected with something sturdy.
Panting, moisture stung his eyes. Wiping pebbling dirt away, Sesshoumaru unearthed the sleek brown casket.
"Thank you," he'd whispered into Mrs Higurashi's shoulder, clutching her so tight her bones protested. "Thank you for not cremating her."
Apparently her husband had been foreign, so it felt only right to leave Kagome in the earth, resting beside her Father's grave in the same manner he'd been buried.
Straddling smooth wood, Sesshoumaru flexed his dirt-laden nails, swiping at the secures. Once they were broken off, he stood, grasping one side.
Bracing himself, Sesshoumaru willed his stomach to hold. He tried to summon his old ironclad nerves. His thick skin. The warlord who had seen and smelled plenty of bodies.
Sesshoumaru cracked open the casket, immediately hit with a foul odour.
Choking, he opened it a little further, eyes burning.
The sight of her would be burned into the backs of his retinas forever, and Sesshoumaru knew he shouldn't have looked. Shouldn't have tortured himself thus, but he'd also needed to.
This was the cost of failure. Never let it happen again.
His stomach buckled, and Sesshoumaru clamped a hand over his mouth, shuddering violently. He swallowed a gag, clenching his jaw.
Yanking the casket cover from its hinges, Sesshoumaru tossed it high out of the grave, ripping Tenseiga out of its sheath at his hip while standing over her decaying body.
Letting his glamour melt from his features, golden eyes blazed, silver hair hanging limp and dishevelled. Youki burst into the blade, forcing it to awaken from its centuries-long sleep.
"Kagome," he rasped. "Revive Kagome," he commanded, the blade shining with a bright blue light.
His vision relaxed in order to see the spirits, but alarm clutched his heart.
The pallbearers were nowhere in sight. They'd long since made off with her soul, leaving behind a trail of chains.
With a deafening snarl that tore at his windpipe, Sesshoumaru thrust his free hand down, grasping a chain and pulling with all his might.
Something heavy out of sight made the chain yank taunt- filling him with hazy relief as he dared to hope he wasn't too late.
Clutching one side of Tenseiga's blade between his teeth, Sesshoumaru grasped the chains with both hands, reeling them back in toward him.
He could not see whatever it was he dragged back, the light Tenseiga cast into the spiritual plain only allowing him to see where the chains disappeared to a few feet in front of him.
A good length of slack metal chains had coiled at his feet by the time an outline was dragged into his vision. Kagome's soul still retained her body's appearance, lashes shut. It had a ghostly white glow, motionless. Chains wrapped around her midsection and torso. He quickly dragged her in closer.
Angry pallbearers yelled at Sesshoumaru, clutching onto her sides and hissing. They tried tugging her back in the opposite direction.
With a bellowing snarl, he savagely decapitated them with a swing from Tenseiga.
"I have not come this far only to be stopped by the likes of you," he sneered. Shifted down, Sesshoumaru wrapped an arm gently around her soul, only able to feel a very light sensation. His throat ignited with a harsh burn, eyes pricking, chest tight as he placed it back inside her body, pulling the chains away.
Tenseiga's blue glow faded. Kagome's body healed, the effects and smell of decomposition fading away until she lay as though asleep, flesh unblemished.
Silence deafened the grave.
Sesshoumaru panted softly, heart hammering. His entire being flared with an all-consuming buzz, an unanswered cry. His skin thrummed, hungry for her touch. He needed to hear her voice- he hadn't heard its playful, teasing lift in so long. If she wanted to sing badly or argue with him again, that was fine. He didn't care. Anything was better than this silence.
And why wasn't she opening her eyes? She'd had such lovely, captivating blue eyes.
"Miko," he gritted out, kneeling over her. "Kagome. Kagome…" her name fell from his lips like a mantra. He dropped the sword, gathering her into his arms, dipping his face into curling black hair. She felt so cold. Why was she cold?
Kagome had always been warm, glowing so bright and strong. His priestess had carried the force of a thousand suns in her palms when reiki had exploded from them. And at night… her breath had been hot and ragged on his neck as she'd careened them over the edge, moving atop his lap with fervour.
Sesshoumaru bent into her, arching her back and gripping her so tight he feared she may break.
"Please," he choked out, her hair becoming damp. He'd scarcely begged for anything before, but he prayed in that moment, the fabric of his soul screaming.
He felt it when her chest expanded.
Kagome drew a terrible, choking breath, gasping loudly like she'd been deprived of oxygen. Sesshoumaru immediately pulled away, eyes widening as she fell into a coughing fit, shuddering against him.
Her eyes squeezed shut, a hand lifting to massage the base of her throat.
"Ah… crap, what the heck? When was the last time I drank something?"
Blue eyes pried open to blink up at him, halting his breath.
Recognition softened her features. "Oh, hey you," she smiled, before blinking, gaze straying over his features. "Have you been crying? Why are you covered in dirt?"
Her attention threatened to stray to their surroundings but Sesshoumaru clamped his hands onto the sides of her face, colliding their mouths together.
He poured five hundred years of repressed feeling into that kiss, hand curling in dark hair to cradle the back of her neck. Kagome squeaked but accepted the feverish kisses, tongue meeting his and brushing.
"Wait-" she managed out between kisses. "I- how are you here?" her hands smoothed over his shoulders, touching his shirt. "Did you come through the well?"
Sesshoumaru gathered her close, standing from the casket. Kagome grew stiff in his arms.
"That's a...casket. This is a-" she broke off, breathing becoming thin. "Oh God- oh fuck- what the fuck?!"
Leaping out from the grave, Sesshoumaru landed on soft grass, collapsing to his knees and cradling Kagome on his lap, rocking slightly. He wasn't certain if the motion was to comfort her or himself. She made awful, wailing noises, choking on broken sobs. However after a little while, she swallowed the cries enough to cup his face.
"What- what happened?" she choked out. "You're here."
"I'm here."
He tried his best to explain everything- her departure and subsequent lack of return to the past. The rest were things Mrs Higurashi told him, such as her collision with another vehicle and few hours spent in the hospital unconscious before damaged organs finally failed her.
"I-I remember coming home and driving but nothing else," Kagome gripped him tight. "The Bone Eaters Well...is shut? I can't go through it to see my friends again?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"And you waited all this time," she mumbled, shuddering. "Alone."
"The kit and Inuyasha still live," Sesshoumaru felt her stiffen, stroking her head. "Inuyasha mated a full demon, extending his lifespan, while the kit is enjoying his bachelorhood right now."
Kagome closed her eyes, letting out a shuddering exhale. "That's something at least. I'm glad they're alive."
Too much to absorb all at once. Sesshoumaru no longer wished to discuss such things while beside her grave. He stood while lifting her in his arms, leaving the grave. Kagome glanced over his shoulder, panic and deep, static despair roaming around her scent.
"I was...buried. In there," she said softly, resting her clammy forehead against his neck. "T-thank you," she quivered, "thank you for coming to get me. I'm nowhere near ready to die yet."
"It was this one's failure that resulted in your death in the first place, miko. Do not thank me for attempting to right a wrong that should never have happened."
"What are you talking about?" Kagome's thumb brushed the shell of his pointed ear, reminding him to don the glamour before they left the graveyard. "It was no one's fault, Sesshoumaru. So you got the time wrong- big deal. Calendars change and it would've been hard to take different leap years into account. Besides, I should've been a more careful driver if we're gonna start laying blame," she offered a weak smile, which dropped when he did not respond.
Kagome leaned up within his arms, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. "Hey," she gently gained his attention, pressing another there, and then another.
Sesshoumaru returned her kisses softly, before tightening his grip, crushing her body against his. His mouth became an urgent pressure against hers, stealing her breath with ardent brushes of his tongue. He cradled her close possessively, trembling.
When they finally pulled away, a little breathless, Kagome rested her forehead against his. "After we see my family, let's go to your place. I don't want to wait any longer than I have to."
He blinked, tilting his head slightly. "For what?"
"To mate you, duh," she smiled, running a reverent thumb beneath his eye, lingering over the tired lines there. "You've waited 500 years after all."
"Kagome, you just awoke from death, and yet you are already planning on dragging me into the bedroom?" surprised exasperation lightened his worn expression, a film covering his eyes. Fondness. Love. Relief to be talking with her again. His strange, painfully unique human woman.
Kagome peppered butterfly kisses over his face, running them down his neck and feeling him purr against her in a way that belied how truly touch starved he was. But she could sense it. See it, from how he leaned slightly into the brush of her lips.
"Let's just say, I could really use a warm body against mine right now," she murmured, everything she didn't want to say left lingering in the air.
The phantom sensation of being locked beneath the ground would remain for a while; long after Sesshoumaru washed the dirt from Kagome's grave out from under his nails.
As they left the gravesite behind, they clung viciously tight to each other, never once looking back.
End
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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago
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Now I want the story where NMJ is half war god and NHS is half fox spirit, thank you so much xD
based on this tumblr post and Lao Nie’s decision to refer to WRH as A-Han in this one ficlet
on ao3
Nie Zonghui had long ago suspected that his Sect Leader was a madman, but he didn’t really know it for certain until the first time he lost the man while on a bodyguarding mission – his first, and a great honor. 
Supposedly.
“It’s all right,” his father said, looking long-suffering, when he reported back in distress. “He’s an adult, our sect leader, and this is a small city with no major threats in the middle of some idiosyncratic festival celebration for some goddess or another. How much damage can he really do before he sobers up?”
Nie Zonghui stared at his father, then turned to his mother, who was also staring at her husband with an expression of sincere incredulity.
“Lots,” she supplied. “Lots and lots and lots, and that’s assuming he doesn’t get himself killed in the meantime. Why would you even say that?”
“He’s our sect leader, have some respect.”
“I respect the boss bull of the herd, too, but it doesn’t mean I let it go wandering around the fields wherever it pleases!” She shook her head, snorting in a manner not entirely unlike a bull herself. “Well, if we’re very lucky, maybe our cousin will knock up a cow while he’s out and about rather than just breaking things. We could use a direct heir already; he’s not getting any younger.”
“We could use him being properly married is what we could use. I don’t understand why he’s so resistant – ah, Zonghui, you’re still here? Go gather some cultivators and go look for him, but don’t kick up any fuss, and worry too much if you can’t find him at once. He’ll be back to business soon enough.”
He was, if by “soon enough” one meant “after nearly ten days” and by “back to business” one meant “still drunk off his ass and waxing rhapsodic about some girl he met and possibly married”.
“Yes, yes, I’m sure the sun shines out of her ass,” Nie Zonghui’s father said, his face stormy. “You still could’ve told us where you went. Look what you did to poor Zonghui, he’s been wearing down his heels pacing in worry over you!”
“Oh, heels, yes, did I mention that my gorgeous goddess had amazing legs, too?” their sect leader asked with a soppy smile and stars in his eyes, totally uninterested in any of their petty complaints. “She could kill a man with them – oh, but I would die a happy man between those thighs…!”
“Zonghui, go guard the outside door,” his mother told him. “Also, tell his younger sister that she might need to be sect leader sooner than she’d hoped, because I’m going to murder this fucking –”
-
Nie Zonghui was there, too, when ten months later his new little baby cousin was (metaphorically) ditched on their doorstep.
The entire thing was entirely too dramatic for his taste, and yes, he was aware that as a person who chose to dual wield sabers he had very little room to criticize others for being overly dramatic, however correct he might be.
They had been fighting bandits – barely disguised mercenaries, really, probably paid off by the Wen sect to harass them – in what had turned into a particularly bad situation. Three separate regiments had joined together to take advantage of a terrible thunderstorm and ambush them at all once and them with their backs against a raging river, swollen with rain to the precipice of flooding, with no way to retreat except by fleeing on their sabers, abandoning the common people they were protecting and losing all face. 
The sect leader had been raging on the battlefield, saber in hand, but even he had seen that they would need to shortly choose between death and dishonor; Nie Zonghui, close by his side, had seen how his face was split with a terrible scowl as he wracked his brain for more options.
Then there had been a terrible roar of thunder, and then a flash of light that had blinded them all.
Nie Zonghui had immediately noted the anomality of it, thunder first and lightning second, and wondered it if it was some sort of array working against them, especially when the light had not faded away but grown brighter, causing searing pain in his eyes that made him fall and clutch at his face. But he was a good soldier, loyal and true, and he forced his eyes open to squint into the night, looking to see he did not know what.
Through his sun-blindness, he vaguely thought he could see a silhouette not unlike that of a woman, ten feet tall and radiant as the sun, wearing a dress of nine colors and carrying a guandao in her hand that seemed to reach the clouds, but when he blinked again he saw nothing at all.
Or, well, he did see something: all of their enemies were headless, no matter where on the battlefield they were, their bodies dropping like a loosened string of coins where they had been standing and splattering anyone they were fighting with blood as they gawped at the sudden corpses.
Also, the sect leader was suddenly holding something in his arms when he hadn’t been before.
“What’s that?” Nie Zonghui asked, and the sect leader turned towards him. Nie Zonghui squinted, and suddenly wondered if this entire battle had been a very bad dream. “…is that a baby?”
“Yes,” the sect leader said, grinning broadly. “He’s my son!”
“He’s your what,” Nie Zonghui said.
“My son! I didn’t know about him, of course – apparently he came as something of a surprise to her as well – but anyway she thought that it would be more appropriate for me to raise him, all things considered. A baby doesn’t quite fit her lifestyle. What do you think of ‘Mingjue’ as a courtesy name? Good, yes?”
Nie Zonghui suddenly understood why his parents were always cursing all the time.
-
“I don’t see why I need another wife,” the sect leader said. “I already have a son.”
“Don’t you want to give said son a mother?” Nie Zonghui’s mother asked, her arms crossed. “One that isn’t the Dark Lady of the Nine Heavens, the war goddess you somehow managed to knock up without getting killed?”
“She never specified that she was –”
“Someone needs to be Nie-furen,” the sect leader’s younger sister interrupted, “because I am sick and tired of doing the job, and it’s a little difficult to ask a goddess to do it. So you are going to find yourself another one that’s a little closer to the ground this time, you understand me?”
The sect leader nodded and agreed, which was universally agreed upon to be the only appropriate reaction when his beloved meimei said something in that particular tone of voice.
(He did, after a suitable period of time, state that he wanted to make clear that there was no actual evidence that he had knocked up Jiutian Xuannü and that it was quite plausible that the mother of his heir was nothing more than a rogue cultivator of particular strength and possibility even immortality. If Baosan Sanren had managed it, why not someone else?)
At any rate, they brought him several pictures of women that might fit the bill and who would not be too offended at being asked to be a secondary wife – their sect leader swore up and down that he had performed bows with the mother of his first son, rendering him legitimate, and anyway no one was in the mood to see if the maybe-a-goddess would take offense to someone calling her child a bastard – but none seemed to catch their sect leader’s interest.
“Consider visiting a few brothels,” Nie Zonghui’s great-uncle suggested. “Anything to get you back in the habit of thinking about women of a less divine nature – though of course we’d prefer that she be literate.”
The sect leader scowled and stalked off to go night-hunting instead.
“I don’t like brothels,” he said to Nie Zonghui as they made their way through an especially deserted mountain valley in search of something that had murdered all the local mensfolk in the surrounding villages with especial viciousness. “Surely there’s an option in between.”
Nie Zonghui preferred his sabers to either men or women, but he obediently wracked his brain to think of where people in stories and famous songs found their wives. “Innkeeper’s daughters?” he finally suggested.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the sect leader scoffed, but the very next day, he decided to break his usual habit of staying out in the wild no matter the weather in favor of taking shelter from the encroaching storm in a small inn right at the base of an especially lonesome and nasty-looking cliff.
“We’re always happy to have guests,” the innkeeper said with a somewhat sinister smile – he was pale as a ghost in the guttering candlelight, and his lips looked very red. “My daughter will show you to your rooms.”
The daughter in question was inhumanly beautiful: small and graceful, with a fox’s face and dark hair that fell to her knees.
“Wow,” the sect leader said, staring at her. “You know, I think you could kill me with those nails of yours.”
Nie Zonghui took a look and agreed with the sentiment, seeing that her nails were as long as claws and looked just as sharp, but apparently he and the sect leader had somewhat different interpretations of this sequence of events and plans on how to address it.
Namely, Nie Zonghui pointed out that the lady was obviously some sort of yao or maybe a gui and that she was probably the one seducing the local mensfolk, draining their yang energy and then slaughtering them, and therefore that it was undoubtedly their duty as cultivators – and cultivators of the Nie sect in particular – to put an end to her vile deeds through the swift application of their sabers. Furthermore, he explained, they should take care never to allow themselves to be alone with her in the process, lest she seek to entrance them with her seductive magics and lure them to their undoubtedly violent deaths.
The sect leader’s rebuttal to this line of logic was limited to “I’m the sect leader and if I want to bang the probably-a-ghost, I’m going to bang the ghost and there’s nothing you can do to stop me”.
Amazingly enough, the sect leader did not end up dead the next day – the innkeeper looked just as surprised as Nie Zonghui felt – and instead announced, very happily, that he was planning on marrying her.
“You what,” the innkeeper said, staring at his very smug-looking ‘daughter’. In light of dawn, she was wearing a dress of many colors with a foxfur ruff, and her beauty was almost painful to behold.
“You why,” Nie Zonghui moaned.
“You shut up,” the sect leader told him. “I’ll have you know that my lady here is very clever, literate and well-learned, and she doesn’t at all mind being the second wife. Weren’t you one of the ones on my case about getting a Nie-furen to help managing things back home?”
“I didn’t think we needed to specify that the person in question didn’t murder a lot of people!”
“Isn’t his first wife supposedly a war goddess?” the lady inquired, her clever eyes dancing in amusement.
“Well…yes…”
“Also, all those men deserved it,” she said. After a brief pause, she added, “In my opinion as a totally unrelated observer, of course.”
“See?” the sect leader said, putting his arm around her waist. “No problem. Anyway, she’ll stick to killing bad people from now on, it’s fine.”
The lady smiled. There were many teeth in that smile, and they were very sharp.
“If she doesn’t, I’ll have my first wife discipline her,” the sect leader added and her smile abruptly disappeared.
Nie Zonghui coughed into his hand, but reluctantly admitted that maybe this wouldn’t turn out to be as bad as all that.
-
“Huaisang is a lovely name,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, being the best of them at diplomacy when she put her mind to it, although admittedly it was something she did only very rarely. “I think we were just expecting something a little different, that’s all.”
“Possibly something a little more fox related,” Nie Zonghui’s father said.
“Please,” the sect leader’s second wife said. “That would be gauche.”
They looked at her.
“…all of my suggestions along those lines got rejected,” she admitted, and glared at the small shrine in the corner as if it had personally wronged her. In this context, it very well might have.
“Is there anything we should keep an eye out for?” Nie Zonghui said, watching his little cousin carry around his even littler cousin under his arm as if he were a sack of potatoes and not a baby that hadn’t yet had its first month celebration. He would have interfered but for the fact that little Nie Huaisang seemed to be notably more in control of his various limbs than the usual infant. “A tail, for instance?”
“Oh, no,” the second lady said. “Nothing like that.”
“Great,” Nie Zonghui said. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“It’s very rare for fox children to achieve a grand plot worthy of a tail in their first lifetime.” A pause. “From what I understand, that is.”
“Great,” Nie Zonghui said. “…great.”
“You’ll take good care of him when I’m gone, won’t you?” she asked, and when they all looked at her, smiled. “Not for another year or two, don’t worry, but I really can’t stay here that long. Sometimes, a girl’s got urges she has to take care of.”
“The sort of urges where we’d need to hunt down a mysteriously appearing fox yao for having murdered a lot of people?”
“I already promised to stop killing people,” she said sulkily. “Although I do think I made some plausible arguments in favor of a little bit of entirely justified murder in connection with the Jin sect and maybe the Lan sect and, oh, the Jiang sect –”
“Please don’t.”
“It’s not my fault your Great Sects are all headed by men who wrong women.”
“You’re not wrong,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, and Nie Zonghui’s father looked alarmed. “But still, don’t.”
“You’re such spoilsports. But no, as it happens, it’s getting to that time when I need to return home for a while to pay my respects to the older generation.”
“How often does that happen?” Nie Zonghui’s father asked. “Once a century?”
“A gentleman shouldn’t ask a lady her age,” she sniffed. “At any rate, my family home is rather far away and they’re fairly insular, so I’ll probably be gone for at least a decade or so. I’d take the baby with me, but, well, you know, long travel and all. He’s better off sticking with his father.”
“All right,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said. “We understand, and we’ll help take care of him as best we can.”
“I’m glad.”
“We have only one thing to ask of you in return.”
Their second lady arched her delicate eyebrows.
Nie Zonghui’s mother smiled. “You be the one to tell your sister-in-law that you’re leaving your post.”
“…you know, on second thought, maybe I can push my departure out a few more years…”
-
“Before you say anything, I want to be clear right now that I don’t need a third wife,” their sect leader said. “I’m fine.”
“Sect Leader,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, not unaffectionately. “You’re not allowed a third wife.”
“And therefore – wait, really?” he asked, a little skeptically. “You’re not concerned about me?”
“Oh, we’re very concerned about you,” Nie Zonghui’s father said. “But not in that specific respect. Some celibacy would probably be good for you, at least in terms of increasing your life expectancy.”
“…my sister is lying in wait with a cleaver to make sure she doesn’t have to take on the duties of Nie-furen again, isn’t she.”
“I’m not discounting that possibility, but don’t worry about it, it’s fine, we’ll talk to her. The Lan sect haven’t had a proper hostess in years either, we can just say we’re following their example.”
The sect leader eyed his cousins beadily. “They haven’t had a proper sect leader in years, either.”
“No, you don’t say,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said dryly. “What a coincidence -”
“You have two fine sons,” Nie Zonghui’s father said hastily. “That seems like enough, really.”
“You don’t think they need a mother…?”
“Sect Leader,” Nie Zonghui interjected politely. “While we admit that it may be within your capabilities to be able to find a mother willing to deal with one step-son who has been waiving around a saber taller than he is since he learned to walk and has a penchant for the unyielding, unmerciful and very violent application of the norms of divine justice –”
Nie Mingjue’s presence bolstered the spirit of good men, while his gaze seemed to make evildoers itch. He was the most earnestly good person Nie Zonghui had ever met, and also one of the most stiff and unbending in respect to what he believed should and should not be done.
Unfortunate that his standards didn’t seem to match up to the needs of either human law or diplomacy…
“– as well as another who can scheme circles around anyone and persuade them of anything as long as he puts his mind to it and only doesn’t because he’s too busy lazing around in the sun to bother –”
Nie Huaisang liked to file his nails down to something that looked quite normal, but they grew sharp quickly enough if he wasn’t paying attention, and he had a penchant for pranks. There was nothing quite as unnerving as running into a sudden and unexpected ambush and then suddenly hearing the shrill peal of a fox’s laughter, hidden behind a scholarly fan.
“– but all things considered, we’d really rather you - didn’t.”
His mother and father nodded fervently.
“Good,” the sect leader said, though he still looked suspiciously at them as if he thought they were hiding something. “Good. As long as we’re agreed.”
-
Nie Zonghui walked in on his sect leader pinning the Wen sect leader to a wall, murmuring something in a low voice with a very particular smile on his face, and then he turned around and walked right back out again.
The sect leader of the Wen sect might appear beautiful and young, but he was at least a generation older than the Nie sect leader. Not that that had stopped the latter from relying on their respective positions to refer to him in startlingly intimate terms – my dear A-Han, the sect leader would say with a touch of wickedness that reminded one of his second son and the tiger gall bravery of his first – and while at first the Wen sect leader had taken it as a challenge to his authority, an act of brash insolence, it appeared that they had progressed beyond that.
That the Wen sect leader already had three wives and two concubines apparently didn’t present any obstacles either – except perhaps in what those poor women might have to endure from their husband when he returned from the wretched teasing he was enduring. Nie Zonghui felt a bit of pity for them.
Shortly thereafter, he felt a bit of pity for himself. The Wen sect had long dreamed of dominating the cultivation world and sought to increase their influence with the other sects through underhanded means, with the Nie sect opposing them at every turn. Even if war was not on the immediate horizon, the wise could smell its distant approach in the air - the best estimates said that it would take another decade or two to arrive, unless the Nie sect leader took an especially hard stance.
It appeared, however, that the Nie sect leader had chosen to take a different sort of…hard stance.
Ugh.
Maybe Nie Zonghui could conspire to throw his sect leader into a cage with a live tiger in heat next time he felt in the mood. It’d probably be less dangerous.
Nie Zonghui had assumed that the first person to talk to him about what he had seen would be his sect leader, even if it was only to remind him of the general rule that the sect leader had ultimate power and therefore could exercise his own bad judgment in deciding to fuck whoever he wished, but instead it was the Wen sect leader that found him later that afternoon.
A flush had yet to fully fade from his cheeks, and Nie Zonghui raised his eyes to the ceiling to avoid looking directly at the man in front of him. 
He did not want to know. Others might, given that no one had ever complained about the looks of either party, but he himself had realized long ago that he had no interest in matters of the flesh under any circumstances; he was very content with that conclusion.
“Is there some service this one can provide to Sect Leader Wen?” he asked politely, and it was only when the sect leader flushed again that he realized belatedly that his words could be misconstrued. After all, his own sect leader had probably already made a similar offer regarding the provision of services…
“Your sect leader has a sister, doesn’t he?” the other man asked, his voice tight and his hands in even tighter fists. “I’m not misremembering that?”
“He does,” Nie Zonghui responded honestly, and not without sympathy for the Wen sect leader’s position. He was given to understand that making certain belated discoveries regarding one’s own preferences could be highly disconcerting, particularly later in life. “But she’s rather different in kind than what you may be thinking, so it won’t work out that way. It wouldn’t work even if she wasn’t already married, which she is.”
After a moment of thought, he added, “Also, consider your predecessors.”
The Wen sect leader’s eyes narrowed.
-
Really, it was the sect leader’s own damn fault that he got himself murdered.
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edendaphne · 4 years ago
Text
“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 20
>>Click here to read on Ao3<<
>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<
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CHAPTER 20: PRESTISSIMO
 Music glossary:
 Prestissimo - "Extremely quickly”; to be played as fast as possible
* Fun tidbit:  The name “Gaspard” means "bringer of treasure" *
–––––
(Mood Music: “Dead Things” - Philip Glass)
Adrien cursed into his gag, feebly squirming on the back seat of the car he’d been dragged into. The windows were heavily tinted, so there was no chance that anyone would be able to see him. Not that that mattered right now anyway, as he couldn’t even sit up at the moment. In fact, he couldn’t feel any of his appendages due to whatever drug his bodyguard (or... whoever he was) had injected into him.
One thing was certain: since neither of these men was the real Gaspard, they must be akumas, and his father had used their likeness to trick him.
Damn it. Why had he left his guard down back there? He should’ve known not to trust anyone. And now thanks to his idiocy, Marinette had gotten dragged into this giant mess, and he had no idea where “Fake-Gaspard #2” had taken her. He’d never forgive himself if anything happened to her. He seethed silently, consumed by fear and anger, both simultaneously raging for control.
He could feel Plagg behind him trying to fiddle with the zip ties that bound his arms together; but it wasn’t as simple as merely unlocking a safe or a door. Having Plagg with him was his only ace in the hole, so he had to remain hidden. Adrien had to plan his escape carefully for when the effects of the drug had worn off enough. Even if Plagg wasn’t able to remove the ties, he could still unlock the car door, so Adrien could roll out and... hopefully not be crushed to death by traffic. He let out a muffled grumble.
Okay... maybe that wasn’t the best idea.
He had to do something soon though; there wasn’t much time left before they arrived back at the Agreste mansion, and the only feeling he’d regained was in his hands and feet. He supposed he should consider himself lucky. If the dosage had been any higher, it could’ve interfered with his lungs, or worse.
Not that Father would care, he huffed impassively. If anything, it would get him out of the picture permanently, and he’d no longer be an inconvenience to Hawkmoth’s schemes.
Adrien’s thoughts drifted back to Marinette; worry and anxiety about what had happened to his beloved roommate clouded his mind, interfering with his concentration. He replayed her scuffle with the bodyguards over and over in his head, the overwhelming feelings of guilt and shame causing his entire being to ache in agony and self-loathing. This was all his fault. He was pathetic. Degraded from superhero to hostage with no one but himself to blame.
If Gabriel locked him away, would he ever find out what happened to her? Memories of being locked in a small, almost completely barren room for days at a time as punishment for misbehavior flashed in his mind, causing his insides to churn and his hands to get clammy. He fought the panic that threatened to boil over within him and firmly shoved the memories away. He needed his wits about him at the moment, and getting sucked into a spiral of panic would prevent him from being able to think logically.
His thoughts were interrupted as the car screeched to a halt, and had his Not-Bodyguards not partially strapped him into the lap seatbelts, he would’ve been thrown onto the floor from the momentum. He managed to turn his head and shake it slightly to try to get the hair out of his eyes, letting out a small grunt of puzzlement. What was happening??
His confusion didn’t last long.
An enormous force hurtled down from the sky onto the hood of the car, squashing it like an empty aluminum can, crushing the engine and rendering it useless. Once the dust and debris settled, Adrien peeked as high as he could, trying to catch a glimpse of what had landed on the car. Despite his meager view from the back seat, coupled with his blurry eyesight (as he’d lost his eyeglasses sometime during the scuffle), he could still make out the unmistakable red boots and black leggings that stood on top of the broken metal.
A million questions swirled around in his head in a jumbled tornado of confusion and elation. He tried calling out her name, having completely forgotten that he couldn’t, and he doubled his efforts trying to squirm out of his bindings so he could get her attention.
His endeavors were cut short though. Despite his impaired vision, he saw the distinct glowing masks form in front of the men’s faces.
I knew it!! he thought, glaring at them with distaste.
They rushed out of the car without a word, and he couldn’t help but utterly loathe the thought of Ladybug fighting both of them by herself, despite her partner being mere feet away, albeit totally useless.
God, I hate being a damsel in distress, he frowned. I hope she’s gonna be okay.
In a vicious display of skill that shocked onlookers, barely a minute later Ladybug had the two men strung up with her yo-yo from a street light. They hung several feet above the ground, expressions slightly miffed but otherwise still rather blank, which, for an akuma, was unusual to say the least.
“Ugh, not in here either,” Ladybug remarked crossly, discarding a broken watch onto the floor, joining the plethora of other torn items and belongings scattered all around them. “Where the hell is it?!” she grumbled after tearing a shoe in half and still not seeing any blackened butterflies.
She frowned, twisting her mouth in annoyance. If I keep going like this, they’ll end flashing all of Paris, she thought. Best to turn them over to the authorities and continue this search at the police station. She needed to check on Adrien anyway.
Right on cue, the police arrived and secured the area. After making sure the police had a handle on the situation, Ladybug rushed to the busted car to retrieve Adrien.
She jerked the car door open––or rather, tried to– accidentally yanking the entire door handle off and warping the metal of the door itself. She cursed in irritation, deciding to bypass the door altogether, and leaped onto the top of the car. With a strained heave, she peeled off the entire roof like a can opener, all the while muttering a colorful string of expletives Adrien had never heard his mild-mannered, even-tempered partner say before.
She dropped down next to him onto the back seat, releasing the seatbelts and assisting Adrien into a seated position. She reached up to touch his face, apologizing sheepishly before carefully peeling off the tape that covered his mouth.
Despite the gag being gone, Adrien remained speechless, staring at Ladybug with an intensity she’d never seen coming from him before. With a small, flustered stutter, she summoned a Lucky Charm. A pair of small, polka-dotted scissors landed onto the palm of her hand. She made quick work of his bindings and briefly inspected the red marks on his skin to make sure he was unharmed.
Adrien threw his arms around her, bringing her into a bone crushing hug, his entire body shaking like a leaf.
“Oh, Adrien,” she whispered, her voice still a bit raspy, and squeezed back firmly. “I’m so glad I found you. I was so scared.”
He didn’t reply, as he was near-hyperventilating, but his grip around her shoulders tightened and he buried his head into her neck, seeking comfort.
A few moments later, Ladybug gently lifted Adrien out of the car, careful not to touch the jagged metal edges. She hopped down to the ground and gingerly sat him on a nearby bench. He wobbled unsteadily, but managed to stay upright as she examined him.
“How are you feeling? Can you tell me what happened?” she asked, seemingly snapping him out of a haze.
Without a word, his head whipped up and his eyes developed a determined glint. He shot up to his feet– or, at least, he attempted to– barely managing to take a single wobbly step before crumpling onto the ground.
“Adrien!!” Ladybug called out as she halfway caught him. “Are you injured?! What’s happened to your legs?”
“Paralyzing drug,” Adrien slurred. “I’ll be fine,” he continued as he clumsily broke away from her hold, successfully taking a couple of shaky steps forward.
Ladybug exclaimed, horrified, “They drugged you?! What did they want?” She stepped in front of him, placing her hands gently on his chest, halting his attempt to flee. “Where are you going?? You’re in no condition to be running around right now, we need to take you to a hospital!”
Adrien shook his head, his tone becoming increasingly desperate, his pace becoming faster and more frantic as he stumbled ahead. “No no, please, I need to go look for her!”
“What’s wrong?” Ladybug asked, perplexed. “Look for who?” she said as she rushed beside him.
“I have to go back!” he pleaded. “I have to make sure she’s okay! She could be in danger, I need to find her!”
At this point, they’d reached a grassy portion of an adjacent park, and the uneven ground caused him to trip over himself. He cried out as he fell on top of Ladybug, who had surged forward to catch him.
“Please…” he looked down at her, barely able to hold himself up with his arms in their weakened state. “I have to find Marinette. She got hurt trying to save me,” he uttered quietly, his voice quivering and eyes glossy. “If anything happened to her, I don’t think I could–” his voice cracked, unable to continue. He inhaled slowly, then uttered with a trembling voice, “Please, I need to go back. She’s really important to me, I can’t go anywhere else until I know she’s alright.”
Ladybug’s face softened, touched by his concern. “She’s fine!” she blurted out. “Marinette’s fine!”
Adrien gave her a puzzled look. “What?? But how do you know?”
She attempted to give him a reassuring smile, trying her hardest to avoid looking like a demented clown. Think, you knucklehead, think!! Ladybug screamed inwardly in a panic.
“Uhh, she’s the one who contacted me!” she lied, then lowered her voice, as if she were letting him in on some forbidden knowledge. “She’s been secretly helping me and Chat Noir, so I gave her a way to contact me privately in case of emergency. But of course, this has to remain a secret; so please don’t tell anyone.” She helped him to a sitting position on the ground and added, “Can I trust you with this?”
Adrien’s face and posture relaxed, his eyebrows upturned with both amazement and affection. “Always,” he breathed out softly. “You can count on me, always,” he murmured, a kind smile etched on his handsome face as he reached for her hand and squeezed.
Ladybug smiled fondly in return, remembering why it had been so easy to fall in love with him several years ago. He was truly a selfless and sweet person at heart.
He lifted his hand up to her face, rubbing his thumb across a cut on her lower lip and wiping away a spot of blood which, unbeknownst to him, she’d gotten as Marinette. Her breath hitched, face suddenly feeling rather warm.
“It seems like we always meet under less than ideal circumstances,” Adrien chuckled softly. “Fate has a cruel sense of humor sometimes. I’m sorry.”
Ladybug’s stomach tingled, a sense of familiarity descending on her yet again. She must have been staring because Adrien swiftly withdrew his hand with a quick apology, muttering sheepishly how he’d never been very good at recognizing the need for personal space.
Not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable, Ladybug forced herself to pretend to have a functioning brain and smiled politely, helping him to stand and letting him use her as a support. “It’s okay, no worries!” she added amiably. “Would you let me take you back to the school? My yo-yo’s better than a taxi, or so I hear.”
He grinned widely, then nodded. “Yeah. I’d appreciate it.”
Ladybug picked him up, acutely aware that crowds were beginning to gather around the area. As she was about to take off with Adrien, she heard one of the cops call out her name.
“What is it, Officer Raincomprix? Do you have the situation under control? I’m taking Adrien back to the school to get him checked out by a medical professional. You can get a statement from him there, away from the public and from–” she added, an annoyed crinkle forming on her forehead “–from all the reporters. Be on the lookout for any possible akuma.”
Officer Roger Raincomprix’s face was one of pure bewilderment. “Uh– well, ma’am, something’s happened. I’m not sure how to explain. You’d better come take a look for yourself.”
Ladybug and Adrien exchanged puzzled glances, then she nodded as she and Adrien made their way to where she’d detained the kidnappers.
Upon arriving back at the scene of the battle, Ladybug gasped, almost dropping Adrien in shock, with a look on her face like she’d just witnessed an alien invasion.
“WHERE ARE THEY?!” she shrieked. “How did they escape?!?”
“We’re not sure,” Officer Roger stated. “Somebody caught it on camera, maybe you can get some clues from the video.” He called over one of the cameramen from a local news crew. “Rewind it, please,” he instructed him.
Ladybug and Adrien stared at the tiny screen in awe. The two men had been released from the lamppost and were being walked towards the police car in handcuffs. Once they’d almost reached the vehicle, they halted mid-step, then fell to the ground, faces twisting in agony, and they let out a bloodcurdling wail, like their insides were being ripped apart. A cloud of dark, indigo smoke engulfed them, obscuring them completely; and when it cleared, there was nothing.
Ladybug gaped in total confusion. “So they just… disappeared??” she cried. “Vanished without a trace??”
The officer shook his head. “Not entirely. These were left behind,” he added, presenting two small, white feathers.
Ladybug accepted them, even more confused than before. “And you’re absolutely certain you saw no akumas leave their bodies?”
Roger nodded. “Positive. There was nothing else. We’re searching the area for clues; we’ll let you know if we find anything.”
Ladybug exhaled sharply, feeling like she’d been thrown into a freezing lake, the tiny hairs at the back of her neck standing on end. What in the world was happening??
(Mood Music: Ballet from “Orpheus and Eurydice" - Christoph Gluck)
By the time Ladybug had gotten Adrien situated at the school nurse’s, the effects of whatever neuromuscular drug he’d been injected with had waned somewhat, and he’d regained most of the feeling and mobility in his limbs. Since he waved off the need to actually lie down in one of the beds, she helped him sink into a small sofa, adjusting the pillows, fussing over him, asking if he needed a blanket or something to drink. All the while, he kept trying to reassure her that he was fine (although his face did look a bit flushed during this exchange, which didn’t ease her apprehensions).
As the nurse examined his vitals and gave him a quick check-up, Ladybug’s thoughts slowly shifted from doting concern to one of regret and guilt. This was all her fault. She should have listened to Tikki and transformed instead of rushing in headfirst without knowing the full situation.
Her earrings rang out their second beep, reminding her that her time was beginning to run short. She knew she needed to part ways, but a pressing question rooted her to the spot. She couldn’t leave just yet. Not until she knew.
Adrien must’ve sensed her discomfort; as soon as the nurse excused herself to fill out a health report and speak to the police, he touched her arm and asked quietly, “Is everything okay?” He motioned for her to sit next to him, patting the cushion with a friendly gesture.
She complied, trying to appear as calm as possible as she took a seat. “Well, it’s about… earlier,” she began hesitantly, then lowered her head to whisper, “Do you think this had anything to do with those photos of us from a few months back, when we went to the movies together? Maybe the pictures got leaked after all, and the wrong people got ahold of them. I can’t help but feel like that’s why you were targeted.”
Adrien’s eyes popped wide open as he jerked his head up. “Oh, no!! No, it wasn’t!” Adrien replied, arms waving in emphatic denial. He tried to calm his voice again as he continued to insist, “Believe me, it’s not connected to that at all!”
“What?? B-but how are you sure? You can be honest with me; you don’t have to downplay it for my sake,” she insisted. “I accept all responsibility for everything that happened that evening. I should’ve known it was too dangerous and that it would put you at risk. I just want to fix things and make sure what happened today won’t ever happen again.”
“The timing was just a coincidence, I promise,” Adrien assured her, reaching forward and giving her shoulder a squeeze. “This has nothing to do with you... and everything to do with my father,” he added darkly.
Ladybug’s jaw dropped as a realization dawned on her. “Oh no, your father… he’s going to be so upset!! The police have probably already notified him, he must be worried sick!” Ladybug groaned in dismay, her head dropping into her hands, entirely missing the way Adrien’s eyes rolled sardonically. “Would it help if I escorted you to your home myself? Just to make absolutely sure that you arrive home safely? It’s no trouble, really! I’d just need to go recharge real quick and–”
Adrien looked like he’d just been set on fire. “NO!!!’ he cut her off, unable to keep the terror out of his voice. “Please, don’t!!”
Ladybug recoiled back like she’d been slapped in the face, utterly bewildered at his response. Adrien’s hands began to tremble, and he gripped the fabric of his pants to try to keep them still.
“Uhh, what I meant to say was, ‘no thank you, that won’t be necessary.’ M-my Father is, uhh... very particular. Fastidious, really. Someone will drive me back.” He grimaced as if his words tasted bitter, then he exhaled, seeming to compose himself. “I appreciate the offer, it’s very kind of you. But there’s really no need.”
“I… b-but…” she stammered, twiddling with the hem of her skirt, unconvinced. “Are you absolutely, positively sure you’ll be alright?”
Adrien nodded. “I’ll be fine. Trust me.”
Ladybug let out a deep sigh. “Well… alright. Sorry I kept pushing, it’s just…” She bit her lip, trying not to think about the chillingly blank stares of the impostor bodyguards. “It’s just that those men were no ordinary akumas. Actually, I don’t even know if they were ever really human in the first place. Or akumas. Something is very wrong here. I don’t like it.”
She felt Adrien shuffle nervously beside her, and her posture straightened like she’d been smacked with a rod, her head whipping up to meet Adrien’s concerned eyes again.
“Oh goodness, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t be blabbing all this stuff to you, especially after what you’ve just been through. You’re safe now and I’ll make sure it stays that way, alright? I swear it! So, please try not to worry about it. I’ll discuss this incident with Chat Noir and see if he knows anything about this weird phenomenon, okay? We’ll protect you.” She grinned and took his hands into hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.
An odd look crossed his face, but it shifted into a cordial smile before she could think much of it. “Right. Thanks, Ladybug. I’m sorry you had to get dragged into this.”
Ladybug sputtered, “Not at all! Please don’t be sorry! It’s my job! I was happy to do so! W-well, I mean– not happy you almost got– I mean, obviously not that, but happy that you... that I—“ she stopped her ramblings with a loud, embarrassed facepalm. “Ow. Anyway, you know what I mean,” she finished with a self-deprecating grin.
Adrien was about to reply when the door to the infirmary swung open, crashing into the adjacent wall with a loud bang.
“ADRIEN!!! BRO, ARE YOU OKAY??!�� a despondent-sounding Nino rushed to his side, throwing his arms around him without even noticing Ladybug’s presence, a concerned Alya following closely behind.
Adrien hugged him back, touched at his concern. “Nino!! Boy, am I glad to see you! I’m fine, really!”
“You’re not hurt?? You’re really okay?!”
“Of course! I’m fine now, all thanks to Ladybug and Mar— wait…” His head whipped around the room, squinting his eyes as he searched (the action reminding Ladybug that Adrien’s glasses were still missing). “Where’s Marinette? She’s not with you guys?”
Ladybug let out an odd squeak, then tried covering it up with a cough.
Alya shook her head. “I tried calling her, but there’s been no answer. But someone pulled the fire alarm and called the cops, so maybe that was her? I was able to squeeze some info out of one of the officers. He said a young woman called and claimed she saw Adrien Agreste get taken away in a vehicle against his will. He mentioned that she sounded out of breath, almost like she was running or chasing after them. If that doesn’t sound like Marinette, then I don’t know what does.”
Adrien bit the side of his cheek, brows upturned in concern. “She saw us and tried fighting the assailants. She could be injured, I have to go find her,” he said as he stood up, still wobbly but able to do it unassisted.
“NO!!” Ladybug yelped, leaping off the sofa like it was made of hot coals, and they all looked up at her. “I mean, you shouldn’t push yourself. D-don’t worry, I’m sure she’s on her way! You should stay here so she knows where to find you! No sense in having you both running around and potentially missing each other, right?”
Adrien crossed his arms, not quite convinced, but deciding to follow her instructions. “Well… I-I guess. We should try her cell phone again.”
Ladybug continued, words dribbling out like a broken faucet, “Anyhoo, my earrings are about to beep again, so I’d better get going! But you all know how to get a hold of me if anything happens, right guys? Right?? Right... Anyway, bug out!!”
And with that, Ladybug scampered away like a white rabbit late for a tea party.
A few minutes later (the entirety of which Adrien spent answering Nino and Alya’s worried queries as well as filling out a police report) a rather rumpled-looking Marinette quietly entered the room, not wanting to interrupt.
She didn’t stay undetected for long, however. Upon seeing her, Adrien’s features morphed from surprise into joy, followed by relief, then concern. He’d never seen her look quite so… tired .
He must’ve uttered her name out loud because she approached them sheepishly. “Umm… hi. S-sorry, it took me a little while to walk back to the school and my phone ran out of battery on the way. Are you oka––”
Adrien sprung off his seat and shuffled towards her, halfway dragging his still-sluggish legs. He threw his arms around her, clutching her as tight as he could, as if she might disappear again at any second.
“Marinette, thank God,” he cooed, gently cradling the back of her head. “I don’t know how to thank you. If it hadn’t been for you, I would’ve been–”
“You would’ve done the same for me,” she said as she embraced him with matching fervor. “I’m just glad you’re okay now.”
They felt a large thwump as someone wrapped their arms around them, followed by another set of arms joining the pile.
“This most definitely calls for a group hug,” Nino said, squeezing hard.
“Especially after what Adrien told us happened,” Alya added. “Girl, you are so brave! I’m so proud of you!! Ladybug and Chat Noir better watch out or you’ll be stealing their jobs soon!” Adrien heard Marinette let out an amused snort as he and Nino chimed in in agreement.
Now that the danger had passed and the adrenaline had subsided, a moment of calm was exactly what they needed.
As the group pulled apart and he was able to get a better look at her, it was then that Adrien noticed how truly beaten up Marinette appeared, physically. Her hair was out of place, her clothes torn in a few spots, her usual hair accessory was missing, and she was covered in grime, cuts, and bruises.
“Oh, Mari…” he whispered sadly as he slowly turned her head by the chin, gently thumbing a large cut on her lips and ghosting the tips of his fingers over a darkening black eye, moving her hair out of the way.
Marinette then realized that, in the midst of all the commotion, Ladybug had forgotten to use her Miraculous Cure.
Damn it! Screwed up yet another thing today.
She wondered if she could summon another Lucky Charm later today and try to fix things then . She’d never tried using a Lucky Charm outside of battle once the danger had already passed. Would it even work?
Marinette winced. “That bad, eh? Do I have to wear a paper bag over my head for a few days to avoid frightening the children of Paris?” she joked. She instinctively stuck out her tongue to search for the cut on her lip, then flinched when the wetness of her saliva made it sting.
Adrien frowned. “Nonsense. Here,” he said, leading her by the hand back to the sofa. After she sat down, he began gathering some of the first aid materials that the nurse had left on the countertop, then rummaged through the drawers and cupboards for more.
Marinette let out a flustered squeak as he brought the supplies over and pulled up a chair, sitting across from her.
“Oh! Don’t worry about it, it’s totally not necessary,” she said, holding her hands up. “I can take care of it later, it’s no big deal, you should really get some rest–”
Adrien leaned forward in his seat, reaching for her hand. “Please. Let me do this.” he murmured, insistent. “It’s the least I can do.”
Marinette could feel her face getting flushed from all the attention, but didn’t want to argue with him. He was clearly blaming himself for what had happened, and maybe this would be a way to help him feel better, even though it wasn’t his fault whatsoever. She shyly tucked some hair behind her ear, then nodded in consent.
As Adrien treated Marinette’s wounds, they overheard Principal Damocles and Madame Bustier conversing as they walked down the hallway outside of the nurse’s office.
“—And now there isn’t even anyone left behind for Monsieur Agreste to press charges, since the police claim that the perpetrators disappeared into thin air!” Mr. Damocles lamented as he paused in front of the slightly ajar infirmary door. “It’s not like he can sue Ladybug or the authorities for their negligence in capturing the culprits. Or, come to think of it, maybe he can! He is friends with the mayor, after all,” he pondered, continuing his musings. “Regardless, the blame will surely fall upon us!”
“Perhaps this isn’t the time to worry about that, Principal Damocles,” Mme Bustier spoke in a more hushed tone. “Surely M. Agreste must be feeling absolutely distraught after what nearly happened to his son. He’s such a caring and devoted father, always worrying about Adrien’s well-being, especially since his wife’s disappearance. His son is all he has left. We should try to be more considerate.”
“Hmm, yes, I suppose you are correct. Perhaps if we send him a basket of fruit to show our condolences about this incident, he’ll let the whole thing slide and we can avoid a lawsuit.”
“Sir…” Caline Bustier let out a troubled sigh as the two continued down the hallway.
The room was quiet again and Marinette had to work really hard to suppress an irritated groan, as her acting skills were put to the ultimate test of avoiding outwardly cringing at her principal’s misdirected priorities.
Her attention turned back towards Adrien, and at this point she realized that his actions had halted. His arm hovered in mid-air holding a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic, glassy eyes staring blankly at the ground. He looked rather pale, almost like he’d seen a ghost, and his face was downcast, yet somehow still unreadable. She supposed that years of concealing his emotions came naturally for him as well.
Marinette knew that Adrien’s relationship with his father was rather strained, particularly over the past year, with him becoming more and more strict and Adrien having to deal with increasing pressure to maintain a near-impossible standard of conduct. But judging by Adrien’s dramatic shift in mood, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to it than that.
She reached forward, lightly touching his opposite forearm to get his attention. His gaze whipped up to meet hers, his eyes revealing an ocean of sorrow. But he cleared his throat and gave her a small smile, that perfect default smile, the one that she hated seeing on him. Then he resumed tending to her various wounds, briefly apologizing for getting distracted.
She noticed in her peripheral vision a miffed-looking Nino pulling Alya to the other side of the room, speaking in hushed tones. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it sounded like they were disagreeing about something.
“–You can’t just go around making those kinds of accusations!” Alya hissed, almost too quiet for Marinette to hear. “It’s literally the worst time for that!”
“I won’t!” Nino whispered back. “... For now. But it doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop suspecting him. I’m telling you, he’s not a good dude! If he’s such a ‘perfect’ father, why isn’t he here right now?! After what just happened?” His posture drooped and he crossed his arms. “I just… I’m worried about Adrien, babe. What if he’s not actually okay?” he asked with a slight quiver in his voice.
“Oh, Nino…” Alya’s face softened as she brought him into a tight embrace. “Everything’s gonna be fine, hon. Don’t worry.”
She glanced over and made eye contact with Marinette, giving her a small smile; then she and Nino walked off together to a more secluded area to continue their private conversation.
Adrien finished wrapping up a nasty-looking gash on her shin, which had bled through her pants leg. He’d rolled up the fabric to treat the wound, and was now rolling it back down.
“Thank you, Adrien,” she said quietly. “I should get going, my parents are probably worried; they usually keep the news radio turned on in the bakery, so they’ve probably already heard about what happened.”
Adrien stood when she did. Always a gentleman, she thought with a smile.
“Will you be alright? Can I walk you home?” he asked.
Marinette spluttered incredulously. “You’re asking me if I’m alright?! After all that you just went through??”
He shrugged slightly, giving her a tiny, contrite smile. “Well… you went through it with me. And, as amazing as you are, you’re not unbreakable. I just wanna be there for you like you were for me today. And like every time you’ve been there whenever I needed someone.”
Marinette’s heart thumped loudly in her chest, touched by his concern and gratitude. He spoke so sincerely, and she could sense that many things were left unspoken, and there was a weight behind his words that she couldn’t decipher. “What about your car ride?”
“I…” he faltered slightly. “I’ll tell them to pick me up from your place. No biggie.”
“Well… if you’re sure. The company would be nice,” she relented.
“Great!” he said cheerfully, offering his arm. “You can be my seeing-eye mouse.”
“A what? A seeing-eye mouse?” she giggled. “Actually, that reminds me–” she paused, opening her purse and rummaging through it.
Adrien’s eyes grew wide as she conjured up his missing eyeglasses from within.
“I went looking for them before coming to find you. It was lucky that they were still there, in the locker room. One of the lenses has a small scratch, but they should still work fine until you can buy a new pair.”
Adrien let out a small, incredulous laugh, then put on his glasses. “I can’t believe you went back for them. You’re a lifesaver, Marinette; in so many ways. Thank you.”
Marinette’s face warmed at the compliment, despite trying hard to smolder the remainders of a flame that was once there. She cleared her throat and teased, “Can I still be your seeing-eye dog?”
“You mean, my ‘seeing-eye mouse’!”
She raised an amused eyebrow. “Why a mouse?”
“You’d be a mouse ‘cause you’re little and cute!”
Marinette blew a raspberry as she giggled. “You’re such a dork! Alright, I’ll do it, but you’d better be there when I need someone to fetch something from the top shelves!”
Adrien chuckled and gave her a wink. “That’s a promise.”
–––––
As some of you correctly guessed: YES! The peacock miraculous was used to create sentimonsters in the image of Adrien's old bodyguard to deceive him and take him back to Gabriel.
There's some plot decisions I have to make (whether to follow my original outline of what comes next or if I need to tweak some things to improve the flow of the story), so it's back to "normal" updates again, but I'll do my best to update a bit more consistently :)
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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years ago
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innocence - 28
PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader
WARNINGS: angst
A/N: its angst season again!!
NEXT CHAPTER
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Bucky looked around like a crazed maniac, looking for anyone, just anyone who could be responsible for the letter he was holding in his hands. His blood seemed to freeze in his veins just like they used to when they held him hostage in the Russian base. Those words were tattooed in his retina, as it dawned on him he had once again to keep her safe. His ears started ringing like they always did when they used to trigger him, the ring itself replacing any other environment sound, becoming so loud it fully overcame over his senses, rendering him particularly useless. Not that he was of use lately.
     - Bucky? - Y/N’s sister, Claire, called out to him. Almost mechanically, he stuffed the letter in his back pocket. - Are you okay? You look a bit shocked. Any naughty Christmas post cards?
     - Just a bit ... cold.
     - Yeah, Y/N said you were not very comfortable with it. Sorry about that, I was just trying to keep you away from Aunt Petunia. She’s too much.
     - Thanks, Claire. Hm ... do you have any landline? I need to make a call to the US and my plan is running out. 
     - Yeah, no worries. There’s one in the hall by Y/N’s bedroom. - she gave him a warm smile which was reminiscent of Y/N yet did little to nothing to calm him down. He handed her the rest of the mail before climbing up the stairs to the same hall which had doors on each side. Yet, despite it looking like a maze all he cared about was that small telephone on the table. 
Her picked the phone, leaning it against his ear as the rolled the dial to Steve’s number, the letter firmly mashed in his fist as he wanted nothing more than to burn it in the big fire place but he couldn’t. All he could think of was whoever had broken into Y/N’s flat back had followed them to London and once again he had been incapable of protecting her. He had let whoever was sending her those nasty messages, get to her in one of her most safe places. The other line rang like the passage of long times, until he heard the voice which had become synonymous with freedom and America together.
    - Steve Rogers.
    - Steve, they did it it again. - he snapped before he could even tell who it was on the phone. Yet, if his oldest friend couldn’t figure out his voice after so many years then maybe he needed new friends.
    - Buck?
    - Someone left a letter on her mail box calling her a whore again. You and Natasha were on it trying to figure out who did it in New York. - he continued on like an out of control mess. 
    - Buck, calm down. Was the handwriting similar? Maybe it’s a prank.
    - There’s no handwriting just magazine cut outs and it’s not a prank. 
Y/N stepped out of the car, walking over to the luggage holder to help her father take the shopping bags out while her mother walked up to the door to unlock it before they could climb up the stairs. Her father opened the truck of the small red car which they had had since she was a baby. She still remembered her father picking her up from ballet practice, the red colour bright through the cloudy skies. It always felt so safe to enter through those doors, almost if there was no harm whenever she was inside the old metal vehicle. Things were so simple back then and evil was so hardly defined and bordered away from her. She had had a good childhood, good parents, good family so why was she so scared whenever she was in New York? Why was she so intrinsically insecure and meek?
   - So, beanie, you and James. Does he treat you well? - he asked as he handed her some bags and christmas boxes.
   - He’s just perfect, dad. 
   - Then what is it? 
   - What do you mean? - she looked over her shoulder.
   -  Well, you’re my daughter, you’ve been my daughter for over 5 years now and I like to think I know you better than you think. What’s wrong, Y/N?
   - I’m just homesick, dad. - she faked a smile, pushing her hat further down her head, trying to fiddle with something else. - New York is different from here and well, stardom is different from here. It has nothing to do with Bucky. 
   - He makes you happy?
   - He does. 
    - Then I’m happy for you, beanie. - her father kissed the top of her head, carrying half the shopping bags and gifts onto the home while Y/N stood back looking at the neighbourhood she’d grown up in. It wasn’t perfect, no place in the world is perfect but it had a much more emotional connection to her than her place in SoHo. Of course, maybe it was just her own rose coloured glasses of being away from such a structured, planned 3 year ahead career. 
She smiled softly at the houses in exposed brick shades and the coloured blue and red doors with big gold number. Rows and rows of houses which seemed never ending when she was younger yet now seemed so quickly fading from view. Nothing is everlasting and she remembered so well thinking everything was but maybe it was for the best. Good things end to give way to better ones and bad things end become they no longer suit you.
Y/N looked over her shoulder one last time before entering the house. She put the bags near the other ones neatly stacked by the staircase before pulling her coat and jacket off. The house was always filled with noise, it was never quiet. Always abundant with laughter or discussions about the silly topics. This time, they were discussing some weird plot on the television. However, Bucky was nowhere to be seen. 
   -  Did you not invite Bucky? - she crossed her arms, giving her siblings the dirtiest look she could muster. - Guys, I asked you to include him.
   -  We did but your boyfriend has been on an international call for the last hour. It’s gonna add up. - Colin retorted.
   - I’m gonna go check on him. - she reminded herself to tell Colin off for that backhanded comment but she was much more preoccupied with Bucky. Sure, he did enjoy his loneliness but Y/N didn’t want him to feel alienated. She did not want him to feel lonely or like a stranger in her home. Climbing up the stairwell, she noticed him at the end of the hall, old telephone she used to toy around with when she was a kid pretending to call her family yet, unlike her past childhood self, Bucky had the phone firmly pressed against his ears, lips tight, one hand holding himself against the table. 
She noticed his indisposition, his muscles so tight she wondered how come he hadn’t had a cramp and like any empath she approached him with her characteristic sunny attitude, wrapping her arms around his waist, putting herself on her tip toes to kiss him. Bucky, however, moved his head to the side, mumbling something over on the phone in Russian, switching languages as if he did not want her to hear his conversation. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach, her overthinking nature picking at her brain as she leaned her head against his shoulder. Bucky turned around slightly to kiss her on top of her head like one does to a child or a friend. 
    - I’m on a call now, princess. - he held her arm up to wrap it from his waist.
    - Okay. I’ll just go ... go have a shower.
She delayed her exit, almost waiting for him to kiss her like he always did whenever she left. However, Bucky quickly returned to his call, in Russian, and she got the message loud and clear. She tried not to think much about it, after all Bucky was still related to the Avengers and despite being his girlfriend, she was not expect to be into that sort of information. She tried to convince herself of that fact as she stepped onto the cold porcelain of her shower floor. The water fell from her head onto her shoulder as she scrubbed the dirt off her body, constantly telling her inner anxiety, Bucky was merely busy. If she were busy she wouldn’t have liked her partner being clingy. He was busy. 
She turned off the shower, wrapping herself in the fluffy bathrobe she probably had had since she was 18, hair still damp as she slide her feet into fluffy slippers and walked into her bedroom. Bucky was sat in her bed, laptop on his lap as he typed the keyboard so harshly one would think he’d break the keys. She smiled to herself as she took the side near him, head laying on top his cozy black jumper, probably dampening the fabric but Bucky didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he didn’t even seen to mind her presence, merely ignoring it. She looked up at him, moving to kiss his jaw with an innocence type of request which was anything but innocent. 
  - Buck. - she said in a sing song type of voice, almost like a mermaid calling out for a sailor. - Why don’t we finish what we started in the airplane?
  - Not today, princess. - he kissed the top of her head once again. - I’m not in the mood for it.
  - Oh ... hum ... okay. - she almost retracted back into her shell at those words. Had she done something this morning? Something to upset him? Maybe he didn’t enjoy her leaving him alone with her family. - Do you wanna go out for dinner?
  - I don’t think it’s wise, princess. They might ... pap us or someth’ng. 
Did he not want to be papped with her? Maybe he was still upset over the pap photos she had willingly given away. She didn’t know and she didn’t want to know. Instead, she decided to turn around in the bed, still naked under her bathroom and stare at the wall until she felt sleep weigh on her eyelids. Bucky, on the other side, had his wild eyes glued to the screen, watching the security tape of her apartment over and over again. It had been cut, he knew it had from the time changing sharply, however, he couldn’t see anything which would be of any aid. All he knew was that not only had he failed his job as an Avenger, he failed his job as her bodyguard and failed to protect her like any boyfriend would do. Would it be in a club he could’ve just punched the daylights out of whoever dared to call her that but right now he couldn’t. He didn’t know how to make it stop. 
Bucky closed the laptop, putting it on the floor as he looked through his mind about who could want to hurt her, who cold do anything to want her to suffer. He could no figure it out and all he wanted was to figure it out. He leaned against the bars of her bedpost, looking over to his side to see her sleeping on her side, hand under her face and hair drying in front of his face. He carefully pushed the hair away from her face, tucking her into her large duvet before kissing her cheekbone. He couldn’t bring it upon himself to say anything, to tell her the letter came in. Bucky still remembered how she had reacted last time and he did not want it to happen again, he did not want her to feel unsafe in her own home. Instead, he let himself fast asleep next to her.
The morning woke Y/N up, the strange brightness of a sunny winter day hurting her eyes. She groaned, raising her torso from the bed, eyes blurry as she opened them. Rubbing the sleep off her eyes she extended her arm to notice Bucky’s spot was empty. She furrowed her brows, jumping off bed and walking outside and down the stairs onto the living room where most of her siblings and their partners were.
    - Wow, Y/N. Clothes under the bathrobe, much? - Eloise teased. 
    - Where’s Bucky? - she ignored her sister.
    - He went out. - Claire added, handing her a cup of tea. - Said he had to grab some stuff. 
    - Oh ... okay. He didn’t say anything.
    - He probably didn’t want to wake you up. - Claire patted her shoulder, kind smile on her lips. 
     - Or maybe he’s cheating on you. - Colin added, only to be slapped over the head by Eloise. - Hey, what was that for? I was joking.
     - He’s not cheating on you. - Claire reassured her. - Colin is just being an ass. 
     - What? I was joking!  
     - Not with Y/N, you idiot. - Eloise muttered under her breathe. - Maybe you should go put your clothes on, Y/N. Bucky is probably just Christmas gift shopping.
     - Or maybe he got lost? He is like 200 years old. Did you give him a pager? He might be lost in Piccadilly Circus or maybe he can’t get out the underground. 
     - Fuck off, Colin. - Y/N snapped at him before returning up to her bedroom.
He knew her brother was just trying to get under her skin. Bucky was not cheating on her, when did he even have time to find someone in London to cheat her with? Maybe he had some contacts in London from when he used to come to missions with the Avengers. Maybe he had someone in London for him. No. No, Bucky did not. Bucky wouldn’t cheat on her, Bucky liked her but he was acting out of style to him. She sat on her bed, hand in the middle of her legs as she tried to stop herself from overthinking things that were absolutely ridiculous. Since she was no good at doing such thing, she called the only person who normally could push her back to reality. 
    - Chuck? I have a problem. 
    - Jesus, Y/N. Have you forgotten time zones? - Chuck groaned on the other side of the line. - You better be dying.
    - Bucky is acting weird. 
    - Bucky always acts weird. What’s your point?
    - I don’t know, Chuck. It feels weird. I even tried ... initiating IT and he said no. Do you think he’s not attracted to me anymore? He didn’t even want to kiss me
    - Maybe he was not in the mood, Y/N. Also, why are you so freaked out about saying sex? Are you sexually repressed? Did you try to initiate some kinky sex with Bucky and maybe his old man penis wasn’t okay with it?
    - Can we not discuss my boyfriend’s penis, please?
    - What? He’s old, maybe it hasn’t been getting up. Did you ask him? Maybe he forgot to pack Viagra and he’s ashamed. 
    - Chuck. It is not that.
    - I don’t know, Y/N. Maybe spice it up. Dress up like Princess Leia in Empire Strikes Back. Every man is into it.
    - Bucky hasn’t seen Star Wars.
    - I don’t know what was sexually appealing in the 40s, Y/N. Don’t you have that lingerie set they made you wear for Rocky Horror? Use that. Maybe he really just wasn’t in the mood.
    - Okay ... yeah. Uhm, maybe it will work. 
    - Great. Now, I need to sleep because it is too late and there’s a girl in my bed and I don’t want her to think I have you on the side.
    - Oh, is she a nice girl?
    - Y/N ever since you lost your virginity you get very boring when you don’t get a dick appointment. Go on and do it with Bucky and we’ll talk later.
    - Okay, thank you.
    - Bye, bye. 
Y/N stared at herself in the mirror. She never really saw herself a sexual being or a sexual girl at all. After all, she was the one who got told by three guys at her university freshers party she had the sexual charisma of a toaster. Now the metaphor did not make any sense but all she knew was that it probably did not make any sense. It wasn’t that she wasn’t comfortable with her own sexuality, she just didn’t think about it outside of work. Maybe Bucky was used to girls who put a bit more effort and wasn’t very attracted to her very old bathrobe and her Marks and Spencers cotton underwear. She shrugged it off, opening her wardrobe to skim through some of the costumes she had worn until she found the white lacy set. It was better than her regular cotton underwear. She put her robe back on looking at herself in the mirror as she gave herself a pep talk. He’s not cheating on her. She knows he would never do that.
She sat down in her bed, going over some scripts sent over by the agency until midday when Bucky came into the bedroom, on the phone with someone else, still speaking Russian. She waited for him to finish his call before she walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. 
    - Sorry for not telling you, Y/N. I had to make some calls with the team.
    - It’s okay. - she smiled at him. - I was just thinking maybe ... maybe we could have some us time. My parents went to do the groceries and my siblings won’t bother us, besides I have something I want to show you.
    - Sorry, not in the mood. I need to call Steve. - he took his jacket off, putting it on the edge of her bed. - It’s urgent, princess.
    - Oh, okay. 
    - Can I use the landline? Pretty sure I still haven’t figured out  how to make international calls. 
    - Yeah. - he kissed the top of her head once more. 
She sat on her bed defeated. Her mind going through everything she could’ve possibly done wrong the morning she left with her parents. Maybe he really wasn’t in the mood, however he did seem pretty eager that morning. She sighed. Damned Colin and his stupid backside comment. She sighed, rolling in her bed, the movement making his jacket fall to the ground. Great Y/N, now you’re wrinkling his clothes. She got up from her bed to grab the jacket for a letter to fall on the ground. She looked to the side, leaning down to pick the letter only to drop it once she saw the writing. You cannot hide, whore.  She grabbed it from the ground before storming out to the hall, pulling the cable out the wall, effectively stopping Bucky’s call.
   - When were you gonna tell me?
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heliotropehotch · 4 years ago
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dumbass - a.h. x reader
A/N: ty to @bucksgoat​ and pinterest for the idea for this fic
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words: 1663
author: abby
warnings: gunshot wounds, breakups, mention of death (haley, its very brief) (ends in fluff!)
“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Garcia asked, panicked, opening her office door for her best friend. 
“I can’t keep pretending like I’m not in pain,” she leaned against the door, sliding town to the floor. “I can’t keep pretending it didn’t hurt.”
“What did he even say to you?” Y/N shook her head, tears clouding her vision. 
“I thought if I acted like it didn’t matter, then it wouldn’t. But I was wrong. In the back of my head all day, I’ve just been thinking about what happened and what I could’ve done differently and it’s eating me alive, not being able to understand what was so horrible about me that he didn’t want me anymore,” she cried pulling her knees into her chest. “Penny, he took my lungs from my chest and now I’m suffocating.”
“Have you told any of this to Hotch?” she knelt down, putting a hand on Y/N’s knee. “Maybe if you just talked it out, he could explain-”
“I don’t know if I can handle that,” she sighed. “I can’t handle him looking me in the eyes and telling me I’m not good enough. God, you should’ve seen the look on his face; he was disgusted with me, repulsed.”
“Y/N, Hotch-” she began before being interrupted by a loud banging on the door. 
“Garcia,” his unmistakable voice rang out. “We’ve got a case, meet in the briefing room in 15.”
Y/N sighed, untensing her body as the familiar gait of his walk faded away, she looked again at her best friend, with soft, sad eyes. 
“You’re leaving, aren’t you,” Garcia’s eyes welled up. You gave her a sad smile.
“I’m headed to Strauss’s now to ask for a transfer. This’ll be my last case I think,” she stood up, dusting off the back of her suit pants. “I love you, Pen. Don’t cry okay? I’ll still come visit you.”
She walked out the office, head high as she traveled to Strauss’s lion’s den. Meanwhile, Penelope Garcia stormed to the briefing room, with a head full of anger and tears. Morgan’s eyes went wide from the window of the briefing room. “Uh Hotch?” he pointed at the bright woman whose face might actually blow. “I think you’ve got a storm coming.”
Aaron looked up from shuffling files in his hands, eyebrows in their constant furrow, the door swung open, causing a look of shock to grace his features. 
“Babygirl,” Morgan tried to calm her, but she blatantly ignored his words.
“Hotch, sir,” she began with steady breathing. “You need to do something.”
“Garcia, it’s really not any of your business,” he sighed. 
“See that’s where you’re wrong,” he raised his eyebrows. “Don’t give me that look. It became my business once you became the reason why my best friend is transferring.”
“She’s what?” he asked softly in disbelief.
“Whoa, babygirl,” Morgan once again tried to intervene. “What are you talking about?”
She ignored him again. “I thought I knew why you did it but obviously not. What did you even say to her?”
Hotch looked down, ashamed. “Does it matter? If she hates me, then I’m not hurting her.”
“That’s the point!” Garcia all but shouted. “She doesn’t hate you. She absolutely and completely loves you. What she hates is herself,” she muttered the last part out.
“Wait she’s-”
“She’s questioning what the hell is wrong with her, is what she’s doing,” Garcia stood straight. “Sir, you have my complete and total respect one hundred percent of the time and what I say, I mean with that respect still here, but you were a total dumbass.”
Before he could see anything, the familiar clack of Y/N’s heels headed up the stairs. With a final look, Penny moved to sit down next to Morgan, who was still looking at her like she had grown a third eye. 
“Sorry I’m late,” she said sheepishly, barely loud enough for Hotch to hear it. She sat down next to Garcia, who’s hand immediately found hers in a comforting grasp. She noticed the eyes of her teammates on her, but refused to look at Hotch’s face. If she had, she would’ve seen guilt and worry. “What? Do I have something on my face?” she quickly swept under her eyes for stray tears. 
Hotch cleared his throat, distracting the team long enough to begin the briefing.
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In West Virginia, in the Monongahela National Forest, a man had been capturing and killing people for sport. Both men and women in their early thirties had been picked up from the side of the road as hitchhikers and then taken to a small cabin to be literally slaughtered like animals. 
Now, at the residence, the team had the location surrounded, vest doting each of the members. Y/N entered the cabin, her gun drawn and focus centered on finding the unsub, with Hotch, Morgan, and Emily behind her. She found herself in a musty office, covered in old newspapers and various taxidermied animals hung on the walls.
In a recliner, sat an older man (as they had profiled) rifle drawn and aimed at her. The latest victim, Amy Townsend, was tied across the large wooden desk. 
“Richard,” Y/N said calmly. “I need you to put down your gun.”
“Not a chance in hell, sweetheart,” she grimaced at the nickname, as his arms tense and focused on his aim. 
“Your father used to take you hunting, didn’t he?” she asked, lowering her weapon. “He taught you everything you know.”
“And what of it?” he barked out. 
“I’m not here to hurt you,” she said calmly. “Not like he did.”
“You don’t know anything!” he shouted. The creak of a floorboard behind you signified someone else’s presence entering the room. Morgan attempted to make his way around to Amy. Richard’s eyes followed him.
“Hey, look at me,” Y/N redirected. “He’s just here to help her.”
“Bullshit.”
“We’re not going to hurt you Richard. Not if you just lower the gun and come with me. We just want to help.”
“Where were you to help when I was growing up?” he scoffed. “Where were you when my mamma had passed out from the pain?” he shouted, finger tightening against the trigger of the rifle. “Nah, I’m done with you. I’m done with liars.”
“Richard, don’t-” her voice was cut off by the blast of the gun hitting her shoulder. Morgan shot off a round, rendering the unsub. 
“Medic!” he shouted, running over to her as Emily rounded the corner and darted to Amy to help her. “Y/N, stay with me. Hotch! Where the fuck is the medic?”
“Morgan,” she got out, limply putting a hand against the one’s holding pressure on the wound. 
“Hey hey,” he hushed, wiping a stray tear from her eye. A gurney and EMTs began to crowd you. “It’s okay. Medic’s are here, we’re gonna take care of you.”
“Morgan, where’s Y/N-” Hotch’s words tied at the end of his tongue, finding her bloodied and weak form, eyes beginning to close. “Y/N?” 
To the best of her abilities, she turned to look at the man who had recently torn her heart out. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. And then her vision faded to black.
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The rhythmic steady beeping of machines was the first thing she became aware of. Secondly, the sore, scratchy feeling in her throat. Then the warm fingers tightly wrapped around her own. 
A dark-haired head laid against the bed over folded arms. It wasn’t hard to imagine whose. With a grimace, she pulled her hand from his, causing him to sit up straight in his seat. Tired eyes met hers for the first time in what had felt like weeks. 
“You’re awake.” he noted softly, as she took in his face. Tired eyes, dark circles, worry lines ever so more prominent. 
“You’re still here,” her hoarse voice said. “Why?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, confused. “I had to make sure you were okay.”
“Sir,” the formality made him cringe. “Where is the rest of the team?”
“Out in the waiting room,” he sighed, moving closer to her. He didn’t ignore the way her body tensed. “Y/N we should talk.”
“Now?” she chuckled sadly. “I’ve only just woken up and you want to do this now?”
“Don’t transfer.”
Her eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “How did you-” she stopped herself. “I’m gonna kill Garcia.”
“I never meant to hurt you,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I love you, sweetheart.”
“Then what exactly did you mean to do?” she asked, angry now. “Because packing up your things and saying ‘we’re not right for each other’ definitely hurt, Aaron.”
“I thought I was protecting you,” he sighed again. 
“Protecting me? From what?” his eyes were sad as they searched hers for the right words to say. “Oh my fucking god.”
“Y/N-” 
“From yourself?” she sighed, reaching for water. “You’re a fucking idiot.”
“I know that. I’m sorry,” his voice shook as he looked to the ground ashamed. 
“Aaron,” she said softly, putting a hand on her cheek. “I’m not her.”
His eyes searched yours once again, tearing up. “I almost lost you today. I thought maybe if I could let you go, I could keep you away from all the danger I bring with me.”
“That’s not your decision to make,” she said softly.
“What?”
“Aaron,” she smiled. “I chose this danger long before I chose you. You were just a bonus addition.”
He chuckled, kissing the palm of her hand. “Please forgive me, love.”
“I forgave you the moment you left,” she hummed. “But if you ever even think about doing that shit again, I’ll have Garcia personally beat you up.”
He chuckled again, “Understood. What about Strauss?”
“Strauss,” her confusion was evident once more, before chuckling herself. “I hadn’t even gotten a chance to talk to her yet. Guess I’ll have to deal with your dumbass just a bit longer.”
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lettrespromises · 4 years ago
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#LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification. ──➤ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋!
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─➤ @theastroooooworld​ 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 : ❝oi oi oi nikki ♡! i hope you are well as always. can i have hc's for Tanaka, Ushijima and Bokuto (separately) ? how would they behave with their childhood best friend who supports them since their beginning in volleyball but with whom they gradually fall in love ? thanks !!je t'aime tant, prends soin de toi et des tiens 🧡🌅❞ ─➤ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 : ❝my dearest cam,  forgive me for the terrible, terrible sense of never being on time but i’ve heard this letter comes at the right time (hopefully this letter will help a tiny bit while you’re healing.) je t’aime fort fort, prends soin de toi (et de ton tibia et de tes cervicales) et des tiens! sealed with a magic kiss to blow your pain away,  nikki.❞
──➤ 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 : Tanaka, Bokuto and Ushijima gradually fall in love with their childhood best friend. ─➤ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : mentions of a nose bleeding.
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──➤ Tanaka Ryuunosuke sent you a letter, would you like to read it?
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Despite his flamboyant sense of worship for Kiyoko, Tanaka does not know how to handle emotions, romantic ones, that is. Sure, he (alongside with Nishinoya) are willing to kiss each centimeter of concrete blessed by Kiyoko’s footsteps, but despite his burning passion, Tanaka is rendered into a stuttering mess when the attention is focused on him.
He has hidden and sometimes projected his blooming crushes for other people onto proves of love for Kiyoko, and in that sense, knowing he could solely focus his attention on her brought him a sense of security because he is so scared of the unknown, especially romantically-wise.
Hence why, whenever he would find himself appreciating someone who wasn’t Kiyoko a bit too much to his own liking, he would bury that feeling deep down and instead transform these hushed sentiments into demonstrations of love for his one and only goddess. 
However.
Sometimes, feelings tend to be a bit stronger when they are mixed with nostalgia, that is, childhood nostalgia. Truth be told, you, Tanaka and Noya were always found together... And often in the worst scenarios (just like that one time you and Ryuu were waiting for Nishinoya and you had to help Tanaka contain all the blood leaking from his nose at the sight of the bombshell accompanying Nishinoya’s grandfather.) 
Surely enough, Tanaka had always seen you like the equivalent of Nishinoya, meaning that he would confess every little secret locked in the back of his mind, even those including Kiyoko. 
Your presence was comforting, and he always considered you extra fuel to animate his fire whenever you would watch him during practice (and you were the first to throw an empty bottle straight to his head whenever he would throw his shirt off after scoring an impressive bottle.)
But in a very, very dramatic way, Kiyoko found herself become gradually set free of Tanaka’s romantic antics and devotion which led her to question the cause of all of this— despite her dislike for any kind of grandiose display of devotion, the fact Tanaka had started to stop giving her attention was a huge red flag regarding his state.
She hesitated to go talk to Nishinoya, but she was expecting to be met with no serious answer, and instead, just watch him drool during several minutes. 
She, thus, went to the next best person who would be able to comprehend this sudden switch in attitude: you, and your lifelong experience regarding Tanaka.
You were undoubtedly quizzical, but things took another turn when Tanaka himself showed up around the corner of the gym, and an uncharacteristic blush crept on his cheeks, Kiyoko took it as a clue to leave you alone.
“Is there anything you wanted to tell me, Ryuu? Are you sick or anything? You haven’t been, you know, following Ki—“
“I like you a whole lot. A lot. Like, a lot.” He confessed, his body was rigid but his eyes testified of all the love he had for you.
You couldn’t help but allow a soft giggle to break free from your lips, “does that mean you’re going to be worshipping me now?”
And as soon as the words died on your lips, his dropped on one knee, and delicately reached for your hand which he enveloped with his palms and soon smothered with love-infused pecks. “Anything for you, my beautiful divinity. I’ve been waiting for this day since we were kids, now I got to worship you everyday, the sunshine of my life.”
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──➤ Bokuto Koutarou sent you a letter, would you like to read it?
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Before Akaashi came in the picture, you’ve always been his pilar, his rock, his pivot, his safe person. Bokuto soon learned to identify you as the person he could go to if anything were to happen.
You knew firsthand how to handle his emo mode since you were kids, and as a child, Bokuto would make himself appear look sad on purpose just so you could focus your attention on him and smoother him with love and kind touches.
Years later, this side of his personality never faded away, but never did your calming antics, nor did you stop always keeping an eye out on him during practice.
Bokuto expressively asked you to be the manager of the team, he said it was to “give you the best seats in the house to admire the way of the ace”, but truthfully, you were the fuel to the fire burning like an inexorable inferno within him.
You and Akaashi completed one another perfectly to find a balance for Bokuto, but at times, when Bokuto would find himself being overwhelmed by sad thoughts on the court, Akaashi would always suggest him to look at you, sitting on the benches.
It had become a ritual, each time Bokuto felt nervous or tortured by his own emotions, his shining golden orbs would find your frame, and a smile on your end was enough to make him feel at peace again. And that, ever since Bokuto started playing volleyball.
One day, during training, Bokuto had ententered a severe streak of shots, and each time the ball slammed the ground loudly in victory, his eyes darted on your form to study your reaction. He started doing anything to impress you since that day, even the silliest things like carry all the water bottles for you until (inevitably) tripping on the ground.
But striking for your attention and validation over and over again also meant that his emo modes were going to be even more intense too.
As his palm slapped the surface of the ball into a diagonal strike, his body shifted in a straight position, thus transforming the shot into a straight line.
The whines of protest were already leaving his lips, and soon enough his entire body language testified of how his emotions got the best of him: his shoulders were slumped, the tips of his hair faced down, his brows were weakly furrowed. It was a crisis situation.
“Agaaaashehhh! Can you get me Y/N, pleaaaase? I feel like I’m gonna melt and freeze at the same time.” Bokuto pleaded, his golden orbs were glossy under the gathering of the salty pearls in the corner of his eyes.
Without wasting more time, Akaashi jogged to you, and quickly explained the situation with a hint of worry in his tone which was unsual for him.
Your palm brushed Bokuto’s back in a soothing manner, only to find yourself prisoner of his embrace as his forelimbs found shelter on the small of your back, the tip of his nose nestled in the crook of your neck.
“Y/NNNN, I can’t even do diagonal shots anymore... It’s, like, my body goes for diagonal but I keep on hitting straight lines, I feel so dumb and useless...” His words were accompanied by whines of discontent, clearly indicating that this emo situation was more alarming than the others.
Your palm rubbed invisible shapes on his back in a soothing manner, humming at his confessions, “I can’t do anything right, can’t hit diagonal shots, can’t be a good captain, can’t even confess to you that I’ve loved you since day one.”
An angel passed.
“Kou, did— were you serious?”
“Does that mean you don’t like me? ‘S fine, I swear.” He now had his state focused on you, eyes as glossy as ever, and it took you all the strength in the world not to soothe his pain away by smothering him with kisses.
“I like you too, Kou, as big as the sky.” You offered him a genuine smile, your palms having moved to cup his palms while your thumbs were brushing the skin of his cheeks.
The tips of his hair immediately quirked up, and his signature grin throned once more amongst his facial features : “Wooooah! As big as the sky? That’s so big, sunshine! Guess what? I love you as big as the court!”
Another giggle found its way past your lips, soon quieted by the way your planted a peck on his cheek, “That’s a lot, Kou, more than I could’ve ever hoped for.”
And as Bokuto cradles you in his embraces, he excitedly stares at Akaashi who has a hint of a smile on his face, jumping a bit over the excitement.
“Kou, I know you’re happy and all but it’s hard to keep up with your hug if you’re jumping all over the place.”
“My bad, sunshine, you just make me so happy, ya know?”
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──➤ Ushijima Wakatoshi sent you a letter, would you like to read it?
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Now, I have already stated that Ushijima is not emotionless, rather he decides whether or not something or someone is worthy of the reveal of his emotions. And only three things fit on this list: Tendou, volleyball and yourself.
You actually met Ushijima as a child at an art discovery class for children. Ushijima had isolated himself from the rest of the children because the remarks of his mother were still ringing loud and clear in his head, but when you approached him and complimented how unique of an approach his left hand offered, he was over the moon (not that he showed it though.)
Much like Bokuto, Toshi is the kind of person to associate someone as his safe person, someone he can go to if needed, or at least feel their presence for reassurance. Needless to say, you are this person to Wakatoshi, always have been since the first doodles you’ve shared together.
In his case, Tendou actually pushed you to be the manager of the team, remarking that your presence would probably motivate Ushijima even more and make him more grounded if he had someone to hold on to during games.
To this day, you’ve always stayed late after practice and watched over Wakatoshi, spike after spike, serve after serve, until his fingers were bleeding and the moonshine outshone the neons of the gym.
You always carried medical tape with you, because you knew he was always bound to push behind his limits, only because he knew that you’d always be there for him, which happened to be true.
Now, now. Wakatoshi does know what feelings are, he knows how to recognize them kinesthetisically and tends to do mental notes of how people manifest their own emotions. Thus, he starts to notice the way his stomach creates knots whenever you’re in the same vicinity.
After training, Tendou finds him reading ads in the latest Jump edition, but Ushijima is quick to interrogate him : “Ah, an ad for plant medicine. Do you reckon this would help my stomach ache, Tendou?”
Tendou blinks once, then twice “Mhm, ‘depends on what kind of stomach ache we’re talking about here, Wakatoshi-kun.”
“It‘s odd. It’s not so much painful but it always happens when Y/N is near me.”
Tendou wipes an inexistent tear away in a dramatic manner, “Toshi-kun, you’re not sick at all, you’re in love.”
Since this sudden realization, Wakatoshi tends to avoid you because he believes that despite the sweet nature of this feeling, this stomach ache is taking a bit too much space to his liking.
He realizes soon, however, that the longer he waits, the worse it becomes.
After practice, and in an ever so natural manner, Ushijima grabs your wrist, and sends a glare to the rest of the team in order to silently tell them to leave the gym now that practice is over.
“Y/N, I’m sorry for taking some of your time so suddenly, I hope I did not startle you.” His grip on your wrist fades away slowly, and you offer him a hint of a smile.
“Don’t worry, Toshi, you’re all good.”
“I requested your presence because it seems I have developed feelings for you.”
A vivid blush colors the apples of your cheeks, your mouth is set agape for a few agonizing seconds: “You think or you know?”
“I don’t know.” He replies, and there’s a hint of disappointment in himself at the lack of retrospection on his end.
“Well, let me help you then.” Your palm is now enveloping his cheek in a loving hold, whilst your lips plant a lingering kiss on his opposite cheek, leaving Wakatoshi at loss for words.
“I, um, I’m positive now. I truly have feelings for you.”
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strawberrysoup · 4 years ago
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Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 2
You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your  family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever.
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pairings: dark!Avengers x reader word length: 5k chapters: 2/? warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. Open the read more and CTRL + F, search “content warnings” to skip to detailed trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter.
hey read this: im desperately hoping this lives up to the standards the first chapter apparently set my dudes, fingers crossed i don’t lose any of you with this one 🤞🤞 also before we get started i just wanna let yall know i am very firmly set in my decisions for the designations and i do not apologize lmao 🤙 
You had been manhandled often enough in your life but fuck this time in particular. Even if you’d managed to pass as a beta for more than a decade, you weren’t strong and couldn’t stand your ground in the face of an alpha three times your size. Steve had sucked his fingers clean and easily hefted you up into his arms, following Bruce back into the cabin and down into the basement—you hadn’t been allowed to clean the basement, it was one of the off-limits areas that were noted in your many instructions. If a door is locked, leave it alone. No cleaning is necessary in the basement, garage, or third floor. Wash the linens with a scent free detergent. Make sure the refrigerator is properly scrubbed out.
He’d left you on a metal countertop with instructions to be good for Bruce. You weren’t sure what that entailed but as soon as the blond left the room, your mind started to race. There was no way you could get away from Steve, Sam you could potentially outrun, but Bruce? Being left alone with the beta was the best thing they could’ve done for you. You could get away from Bruce.
“Have you been to see a doctor recently?” His voice was gentle, intended to be soothing as he came to stand in front of you. "Any check-ups, clinic visits?”
You knew there was blood drying on your cracked lips, cutting a jarring path down your throat. The taste was still in your mouth, you’d gouged your tongue and it was still actively bleeding. With that in mind you made direct eye contact with the beta before letting the mouthful spill over your bottom lip and drip down your front, hoping the gore would help emphasize your opinions on the situation.
“Sweetheart, I know you’re upset—”
“Bruce, why is she bleeding?” It was like getting punched in the face by alpha pheromones the moment the door to the room opened again and a much younger alpha stepped through with a practically panicked expression.
Before you or Bruce could respond you’d been swept up in the alpha’s arms. He was a few years younger than you, early twenties probably and being manhandled by a fetus was particularly bothersome. His scent kept you still for a few seconds before you started squirming, making a beta-like snarl while he corralled your limbs.
“Here Pete, can you sit with her over here? We need a blood draw and full work up, her natural hormones have probably been devastated by the chemicals in the suppressants she was taking,” Bruce gestured for the alpha to carry you to a metal table, likely meant to be used for some sort of experiments if the rest of the room was anything to judge by. "All of her reproductive organs could’ve been affected, I’ll need to do a pelvic exam. We’ll run an STD panel and—”
“No! I don’t consent!” Your voice came out as a growl, the best one you could manage. "This is false imprisonment! Let go of me you fucking knothead! This is illegal!”
The alpha started to purr immediately and you found yourself rendered boneless under the onslaught. It was startling—you’d forgotten how it felt, how calm and safe it made you feel. Alpha purrs were meant to soothe and comfort, the tones perfectly adjusted to the omega ear. They also caused a completely involuntary reaction in omegas, the same as all other alpha sounds. You had no choice but to feel relaxed, the white noise of a purr jumbling your thoughts.
Bruce smiled down at you, hand running over the top of your head where it rested against the alpha’s chest. "It’s okay, you don’t have to be afraid. I won’t let anything happen to you, I just want to make sure you’re healthy.”
“Isn’t that better baby?” The alpha sat back on the table and pulled you to sit between his legs, tucked close to his chest. “And unless you have a guardian alpha, it’s not illegal. We’re doing our civic duty, taking care of an omega in unsafe conditions.”
The worst part was that you couldn’t fight it; you couldn’t find your way out of the calm static the purr filled your brain with. Even when Bruce started taking multiple vials of blood from your left arm, when he opened your mouth to check the damage to your tongue, when they started undressing you, you couldn’t fight. It was a hazy sort of half thought, that you wanted them to stop. It must’ve been apparent in your eyes, that you were trying to work your way out of the purr’s effects.
“Shhhh, sweetheart, you’re alright,” Bruce murmured quietly as his hands pressed the glands in your neck, fingers brushing gently against the scent gland in particular. "No swelling in your thyroid or mating nodes, that’s good. Suppressants can really cause problems in your hormone glands; the blood tests will tell us for sure but it looks like you might’ve dodged the worst of it if nothing’s enflamed. How long have you been on suppressants?”
Answering was the last thing on your mind, your eyes slowly roving over the room instead. It was some sort of lab set up, tons of machines and parts of machines, technology you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Bruce had been taking things from one particular cabinet that seemed to hold medical supplies, the rest of the place resembling a robotics factory or some kind of high-tech research and development lab. The doors had swished open automatically when Steve brought you in and when the new alpha came through. Who had automatic doors in a vacation home?
“Should I stop?” The alpha questioned the doctor, chest continuing to rumble. “I might be making her too calm I guess.”
“No, just keep doing what you’re doing Peter,” Bruce sighed slightly. "There’s too much coherence in her eyes as it is, I don’t know if the purr affects her as much as it should. I’m worried that if you weren’t enhanced it wouldn’t work at all. Look at me sweetie, can you focus on face?”
His hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your head carefully while watching your eyes. You couldn’t find the energy to focus on his face; you couldn’t imagine the purr affecting you more than it already was and dreaded the idea that it could be worse. What did enhanced mean? Like the superheroes you’d been hearing about? You didn’t keep up on current events, unless they were Omega's Rights related.
“I’m sure it’s a result of the beta chemicals dampening her omega instincts,” Peter shifted you slightly as Bruce exchanged his gloves for a new pair. "Once her body starts producing hormones on its own again she should revert back to common responses to alpha stimuli.”
“You’re probably right, we’ll know for sure once I get the blood results,” Bruce gestured for Peter to sit up more, bringing your limp body with him. “I’m going to do a breast exam and a pelvic exam and we’re done. There are some other tests I want to run but I don’t have the equipment on hand so they’ll have to wait until Tony manages to get here. Peter, can you help move her arms?”
You felt like you almost managed to swim through the purr, rage fueling you as hands manipulated your breasts. The exam itself was clinical, professional even—or it would’ve been if he hadn’t been cooing at you the whole time, how good you were being, how sweet you were, how pretty your breasts were. Peter had hummed in agreement along with the doctor, his nose trailing up and down your neck. Your hands clenched into fists and you could feel Peter’s grip on your wrists shift with the movement.
“Calm down, baby,” the alpha’s voice cooed gently against the side of your head, lips pressing into your hair as Bruce shifted away and went for the medical cabinet again. "This is important. Suppressants could’ve caused tons of problems, cancerous growths in sexual organs or secondary sex characteristics is very common.”
Death would be a reprieve. The same thought that crossed your mind any time you considered the potential effects of suppressants. A reprieve from the hiding, the exhaustion, living out of your car or a tent, eating garbage because it was all you could afford—from the constant threat of having your autonomy ripped from your hands.
You relaxed your fists until you felt his grip loosen again, even if only slightly. Your only chance would be to rely on surprise and your speed, there was no other way you’d be able to get away. Forcing your body to relax was a trial though, adrenaline was starting to course through you the more you became used to the effects of the purr. Your scent was still massively dampened by the suppressants, Peter likely wouldn’t be able to smell the shift from fear to anticipation. You bit down on the sluggishly bleeding wound on your tongue, reigniting both the pain and blood flow.
“Alright, last part, we’re almost done and then we’ll get you comfortable, okay?” Bruce was wearing new gloves again, a bottle in hand as he walked back over. "Have you had a pelvic exam before?”
You waited until he was close enough and performed what seemed to be your go to act of defiance: spitting blood directly in his face. He reared back with a short curse, Peter immediately releasing your wrists—his goal was likely to readjust you in his lap, to gain a better hold, but you were fast, faster than an alpha (always faster than alphas, it was all you had). You’d slipped from his lap and darted for the automatic doors before either of them could respond. Running through the woods naked was the lesser evil.
Steel bands. You should’ve noticed, the doors opened too soon for them to be reacting to your presence, you were so focused on getting through. But the moment you did, it felt like steel bands wrapped around your torso, pinning your arms.
The alpha’s scent was like Steve’s—the moment your brain registered it the world went hazy. You were floating, body going limp for a precious few seconds that the alpha used to sweep you into his arms and stalk further into the room. Your senses came back just in time for you to be deposited back into Peter’s lap on the table, a massive blond alpha coming into view for the first time. Your gaze was immediately stuck on his, the heterochromatic eyes nearly hypnotizing. Fighting the daze he put you in was overwhelming, especially when a wide smile split his lips and his cheeks dimpled. One massive hand reached out, almost engulfing the entire lower half of your face.
“Hello little love.” Were alphas always as insanely massive as this one and Steve, or had you just stumbled across literally your worst nightmare? “They told me you’re a flighty thing, I suppose I arrived just in time, hm? Are you going to spit blood in my face as well? It seems to be your calling card.”
The look on your face must’ve betrayed the fact that you were really, really considering it. You had a mouthful of blood and nowhere to put it but his face, honestly. Instead you used the fact that Peter was mostly propping you up to lean over the edge of the table and proceeded to open your mouth, spilling blood down onto the alpha’s shoes nice white shoes.
“I wouldn’t challenge her,” Bruce’s voice drew your attention to where he was using a towel to wipe blood off his glasses, a wry smile and affection clear on his face. "She’s putting a lot of effort into being belligerent.”
The blond alpha rumbled with a grin, thumb brushing across your cheekbone. "It’s been a stressful day for her, there’s nothing she can do that will cause any persisting damage anyway. Let her have her little rebellions.”
You wanted to be furious—what kind of asshole looked a person dead in the eyes and called their attempts to escape false imprisonment little rebellions?—but Peter seemed to have realized where your train of thought had gone because he started purring immediately. Your spine went boneless, laying you flat against his chest.
“Can you lean up against the wall with her?” Bruce directed the younger alpha to shift until both of your legs were dangling over the edge, Peter’s back to the wall the table sat against. “You’re going to need to hold her in place, even while you purr. Alright sweetie, let’s get this out of the way. Thor, will you hold her leg please?”
The sound you made was an accident. Desperation and humiliation were crawling up your spine with astounding speed, even with Peter’s purr going like a motorboat and the sound  was making it too hard to think through your instincts. Omega cries were a deliberate counterpart to the noises alphas made; whines and cries and hisses, perfectly pitched to make an alpha’s hindbrain stand at attention. The sound you made was a sharp, chirping whine—distress, distress, distress, help me, help me help m—
“Oh little love,” Thor’s voice had dropped several registers and he gently shuffled Bruce to the side so he could stand in front of you, slipping as close to the table as possible and tugging your legs to rest on either side of his hips and gently running his hands over your skin. “Let’s get you taken care of, you need rest.”
The pheromones he was putting out were meant to calm but you immediately opened your mouth, using the overwhelming scent of your own blood to drown them out. The alpha sighed and stepped aside again, taking your leg with him and spreading your thigh to rest over Peter’s leg with your foot planted on the table. A whine rose in your throat again but you locked it down, instead biting down on your tongue yet again. It was as grounding as it was painful, the tang of it souring your stomach.
It was your last coherent thought, that you were starting to feel nauseous from all of the blood you'd swallowed. Thor began to purr just after that and the sound was entirely devastating, bone deep and you went completely limp, your head falling to the side against Peter’s chest and your shoulders dropping. This is what acid felt like, you were pretty sure.
Your eyes lazily followed Bruce’s path as the doctor took his place between your legs again, lifting the other into a matching position. Some part of you was fully aware of how gut wrenching this was; completely naked and spread wide in front of two alphas and a beta, a situation you’d rather kill yourself than be in, but your brain couldn’t follow any emotional tethers while Thor purred. The doctor was speaking, you could feel his hands manipulating your vulva, but you couldn’t understand anything coming out of his mouth.
Peter’s hand came to your chin and tilted your head back until you could see him, smiling down at you. His mouth moved, your eyes almost able to track the movement of his lips enough to read them but your brain gave up halfway through. The two alphas were chuckling over something but you were distracted by the discomfort of something being inserted into your vagina. A sharp yip escaped your lips, your body still completely boneless as your eyes rolled down.
“It’s a speculum, sweetie, I’m sorry it’s uncomfortable,” it sounded like Bruce was talking underwater and you could almost feel his breath on your thigh, your mind irritatingly unable to think beyond the question 'who just keeps a fucking speculum lying around?' "Just a few more seconds while I get a pap smear.”
More discomfort came before the instrument was removed, another yip leading Peter to purr along side Thor. The rest of the exam was a blur, slippery fingers and pressure and foreign sensations. You could barely think, let alone realize that Bruce was finishing up the manual exam, when your eyes noticed movement behind them. You couldn’t really make out anything, nothing would focus, but you assumed it was Steve and Sam.
There were more voices but you couldn’t hear anything for an indeterminate amount of time. It wasn’t until Thor stopped purring again that you were able to start regaining your senses, as much as the continuous rumbling in Peter’s chest would allow. The difference between the sounds the two alphas produced was marked by your sudden ability to focus your eyes, to concentrate on voices, in the way your muscular control was slowly returning.
You were almost glad the young alpha was still purring—it meant that the spike of terror that tried to shoot through you was somewhat dulled, enough that it wouldn’t show in your scent. Sam and Steve had indeed come in, accompanied by a young woman with long auburn hair and porcelain skin, a beta from the scent. As soon as she made eye contact with you she smiled vibrantly, slipping forward and sneaking between your still spread thighs.
“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, long fingers stroking absently against your neck as she leaned in, forcing your back tighter against Peter’s chest. "Will you let me see your trauma my love?”
Some sort of red miasma filled your vision, a fog you quickly realized was coming from her hands—and realization slammed into you like a freight train. You seen that before, in passing. And then the recognition made you nauseous—Thor. You didn’t keep up with current events, but certain names you couldn’t miss. Thor, Tony Stark, Captain America. Your eyes flashed to the blond man standing towards the back of the room; Captain America, Steve Rogers.
Desperation shot through your body like you’d been tazed. Your foot shot out of Thor’s hold, the alpha hadn’t been putting any actual effort into holding you still since you’d been so dazed, and connected with the woman’s chest to send her reeling. Before anyone else could respond, your throat rasped for several seconds before a warbling shriek escaped. The four alphas in the vicinity reacted like they’d been shot; Thor and Steve both stumbled back, and Sam’s knees practically gave out, sending him careening into the wall. Behind you, Peter, far too close to the source, immediately went limp.
There were several distress calls an omega could make. Most of the time, they were whines or chirps, noises meant to draw attention from packmates. They were small, careful sounds—nothing loud enough to attract attention from a foreign alpha or delta. Omegas were quarry to be stolen, after all, which was precisely why they had one, singular method of defending themselves against their biggest biological threat and that was a shriek.
When in close proximity, the sound was loud enough and tuned just so to daze an alpha’s hindbrain. The evolutionary explanation was that a loud shriek meant that an omega being confronted by an aggressive alpha could both temporarily stun their attacker and summon assistance—alphas or deltas, far enough away that the negative effects were nullified but within proximity to hear that an omega was in danger. The assumption being, of course, that an omega who shrieked was in danger from a stranger, not a packmate.
It only worked for a very short time though, any alpha or delta in the area would immediately converge on the omega’s location and deal with the problem—it was the reason you hadn’t used it outside. There was no reason for the effects to last when it summoned immediate assistance, though, and that meant you needed to move. You slid off the table, bare feet slapping tile as you just barely managed to dodge Bruce’s grasp. The woman, the witch from the news, was on the floor clutching her sternum.
The stairs were a blur, so was the foyer and the driveway. You hesitated at your car for all of ten seconds before running for the forest; your keys were in the pocket of your jeans, back down in the basement. Abandoning all of your possessions hurt somewhere deep in your heart but there wasn’t any time for sentiment. You had to get away, quickly.
Luckily the woods had become your home a long time ago. You moved between the trees silently, feet so heavily calloused from constantly going barefoot that you didn’t even notice the twigs and sharp stones digging into your flesh. Your brain shot into overtime. You needed to steal clothes, then cash. You’d lived with nothing for years, you could do it again for however long you needed to. The only thing you really needed was suppressants; everything else was a luxury.
You assumed they were behind you, you’d been running for a good three minutes. The straight path meant they could follow you easier but the goal had to be the maximum distance possible rather than the most strategic pattern. Your only advantage was being fast and you had no choice but to rely on it, especially since your hindbrain was wailing with every step you took. The suppressants were the only reason you could do it at all, the trade off for quieting those damn instincts being a tolerable mildness of character that did not appreciate the constant, incessant shriek of your baser self while you were trying to focus. 
All you had to do was keep quiet until you could find one of the creeks running through the forest—so close to Lake Superior there was water everywhere. You would run through the creek in several different places, to mask your scent and make it difficult to follow. It wouldn’t be hard to find a hunting blind or shack, a hole in the ground was better than going back there. The moment your eyes caught on running water you dove into it, covering yourself with mud before jumping back up to continue running.  
Captain America was super fast and you’d bet the rest of them were similar if not the same and you needed more distance. Somewhere in the back of your mind, prey behavior was setting in. Natural selection had driven your existence, you were the result of thousands of years of evolution, and the life you’d lived meant you were far more adapted to being hunted than most omegas. You were vulnerable but not helpless and as you coated yourself in more mud from a different part of the creek, chemosensory instincts started rattling through you.  
They were coming. Your scent was inhibited by the suppressant’s and that made it harder for them to follow you but they were doing their best. Combined with the water and the mud, your scent was very difficult to pin down, even for a super soldier. You contemplated climbing a tree to hide, but the insane memory of how keen the noses of the pack following you were spurred you on. You kept running, covering yourself in mud two more times, before finding a tree with a massive tangle of roots at the bottom. Fighting whatever creature had made a home down there was worth it—it went deep, was heavily covered by underbrush and detritus from the trees, but most importantly it was surrounded by wild bergamot in full bloom.  
It smelled lovely, spicy and floral with a citrusy overtone. You crawled through the dirt, wiggling between the roots and carefully avoiding crushing any plants or branches that could give you away. Whatever lived in there was out, likely foraging, and you took the creature’s absence to your advantage and pressed as far back into the hole as possible.  
You weren’t tired, despite the long, exhausting day and the fucking trauma. Another small grace that adaption had provided was that once an omega began producing adrenaline, sleep became unnecessary—it was actually considered a very unenviable omega trait in the general population, but you’d found it’s uses worth the unpleasant side effects. Your heart would continue to race for the next several hours, your pupils wouldn’t return to normal for potentially days and your blood sugar had sky rocketed and that was going to be a nightmare for how ever long it lasted. 
The waiting was going to hurt—there was nothing to pass the time and you had to actively focus on not being terrified or your omega scent could seep through, oh, what was it now? Five coats of mud from the creek, a significant amount of bergamot, and fifteen years of whatever the fuck suppressants did to your scent over time.
It wasn’t ten minutes later that you heard them. Stealth wasn’t their objective, that was clear from the amount of noise they made. You could hear Steve and Peter calling your name, although you didn’t know how they knew it. Thor was speaking, his tone low but certainly not quiet. They weren’t even moving that fast, walking almost leisurely.
“She’ll need to bathe and eat. Clint and Natasha are finishing up in New York. Steve, have you heard from Tony or Bucky? Carol?”  
“Tony’s wrapping up, should be flying over pretty soon. Carol and Bucky were on their way up but I gave them a list of things to grab while they’re going through the bigger cities. Shouldn’t be too much longer for them either though.” 
Steve and Thor were different than Sam or Peter. You couldn’t pin down exactly what had set your teeth on edge, but the scent the two blond alphas gave off was different. Their pheromones were worse, more infectious. Eye contact with Steve had made your hindbrain beg to go to him, regardless of the rationality you could usually manage thanks to the suppressants. You could remember the feel of Thor’s hand on like it was seared into your skin instead, you wanted him to never not be touching you ever again—
If you could’ve slapped yourself without making noise you would’ve. The stupid omega in your brain, that dumb, easy cunt was going to get you killed. You sealed your lips, clenched your teeth and tucked your hands under your bent knees. Night was starting to fall to your benefit, the shadows were getting darker. You were so far back they would have to crouch down and crawl half way in to see you.
If you could keep your wits until they passed you could double back, trying to find your keys would be a wash but you could grab clothes from the back of your ancient Tahoe. You weren’t sure how long you’d been in the basement, but you didn’t think it was long enough for them to have gone through your things.
“Could she have gotten this far?” You held your breath as Sam stopped far too close to your hiding place for comfort.
“Omegas are fast and she seemed faster than most,” Bruce answered. “We’ll know for sure once her blood work comes back, but from her physiology I’d say she presents as a classical omega. She’s probably the first in her family in a long, long time. To have a scream that loud in this day and age? The omega gene must’ve been skipped so long that there was no chance for it to adapt to modern omega qualities.”
“There’ve been some studies suggesting that the classical omega attributes are making a come back in the general population,” Peter’s voice came from much farther away. "They haven’t been peer reviewed enough yet and they haven’t been replicated en masse because they don’t have enough subjects, alphas aren’t exactly thrilled to have their omegas studied, but—”
“The lack of data aside, I assume there’s a correlation between the alphas willing to allow their omegas to participate and the behavior of the omega in question. Do you think—”
“Focus, Bruce,” Steve’s voice was light with affection. "The point is that yes, she could’ve gotten this far or farther. The way she keeps running into the creek is messing up the footprints and—”
Their voices faded as they continued the same linear path you’d been running earlier. The fact that they didn’t even sound a little concerned that you could get away was both insulting and unnerving. You didn’t need alphas having that kind of confidence regarding your behavior—and why weren’t they moving any faster? The paranoia was immediate and overwhelming, what did they know about that you didn’t? Something they assumed would hinder you farther along in the woods? Something they were planning for when they found you? When.
You forced yourself to count slowly to six hundred, waiting what you hoped was a full ten minutes before silently crawling out of your hide. Their scents were everywhere, you could smell where Sam had been standing almost directly over the opening in the roots. They were still too close for comfort and you turned, running back through the forest. Your feet were starting to feel sore, usually you’d at least watch where you stepped but there just wasn’t time—you had to get away before they could enact their plans.
The clearing the cabin sat in was coming up and you forced yourself to slow as you approached the tree line, keeping a careful eye out for the beta woman. You couldn’t remember what her call sign was, something to do with witches, and you definitely didn’t want her using that red magic stuff on your head.
The extra seconds of waiting paid off, watching her pace the porch for a few moments before her phone rang. She answered, walking inside and closing the doors behind her. You didn’t wait an extra second, darting across the clearing to where you car was sitting in the driveway with the trunk popped. They must’ve started going through your things but stopped part of the way through.
You could see one of your go bags though, squished between your rolled up sleeping bag and tent. The straps of the bag squeaked with how hard you yanked it out, hesitating slightly—instinct told you to leave the sleeping bag, but you’d grown used to the luxury of it and leaving the stupid thing behind made you decidedly sad. You tossed the straps of the go bag over your shoulder and turned away, knowing it would slow you down and—
There was an Iron Man suit standing directly behind you, gauntlets rested on the hips and the head cocked to the side. You froze, as if staying still could prevent it from noticing you. Fuck, you hoped there wasn’t a man in there. A stupid thought, you considered as you stared silently, trying to decide if there was any way out. Hope was a joke at this point but you didn’t have anything else.
“Hi princess,” it was a distinctly human voice, if filtered. "Hope I didn’t miss too much of the fun.”
  content warning: nonconsensual medical procedures, general noncon touching/assault.
edited 7/9/21 - still on hiatus
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drmmyrs · 4 years ago
Text
Caught in the Act (Becca x MC)
My first smut fic you guys!! I’m very new in the tumblr/writing community so I’d really appreciate feedback/constructive criticism. Also, English is not my first language so forgive me for any grammatical errors. Hope you enjoy and if not, thanks for reading anyways :))
P.S. Should I do a part 2??
Pairing: Becca x MC (Emily)
Word Count: 2300
Warning: Smut and some swearing
A/N: In this scenario, Becca and MC didn’t hook up during freshman year.
You were just about to leave when James stopped you with a book in his hand. "Can you give this to Becca? She left it in class this morning." You placed the book in your bag and bid James goodbye.
***
When you arrived home, you remembered that Zack, Kaitlyn, and Chris will be out late tonight. "I wonder if Becca's home," you mumbled to yourself. You grabbed Becca's book from your bag and proceeded to walk to her room. As you near her room, you noticed that her door is slightly ajar. You heard a whisper of your name coming from behind the door, barely audible that you weren't sure if you heard it right. Curiosity got the best of you, and you slowly crept towards the opening, your eyes widening at the sight in front of you. Becca is lying in bed in her underwear with one hand under her brassiere and the other underneath her panties, her hips slightly hunched upwards. When she noticed you at the door, her eyes widened but before she could say anything, you shouted, "sorry!" as you darted to your room. As soon as the door is shut, you pressed your back against the door, heart beating out of your chest as you processed what you just saw.
***
Hours go by as you contemplated going out of your room to have dinner. After you had mustered enough courage, you crept towards the kitchen, hoping and praying that you won't run into Becca.
As you were about to eat, you heard faint footsteps coming down the stairs and a few seconds later, Becca comes into view. When your gazes met, she quickly looked away, seemingly frozen in place. She looked as if she was contemplating if she'd rather starve than face the embarrassment of the earlier encounter. As she started heading back upstairs, you lamely said, "wait! I made dinner and... uhh.... eat with me?"
Becca slowly turned around, her eyes still not meeting yours. After what felt like forever, Becca finally decided to join you. You both ate in incredibly uncomfortable silence which you tried to alleviate by making small talk. "So... how's your day?"
"It's... okay," Becca said awkwardly, stabbing at her food.
You winced at her response. The Becca you knew would have already made a sassy remark about some girl's mismatched outfit or how some creep had tried to ask her out or anything that had annoyed her really, which is, to say the least, a lot. Ever since her fall out with her father and friends, you became the primary receiving end of her rants and annoyances, which you don't mind at all, as long as you're not the source. In fact, your playful banter with the blonde is something you had grown to look forward to. However, the recent encounter might temporarily halt your daily ritual, and the thought didn't sit well with you. She shouldn't be embarrassed, really. It's normal. You do it too. Not that you'll ever say that.
As the silence that followed grew and became deafening, you scrambled to say something, anything. "You left a book in your class earlier, and James asked me to give it back. That's why I was..." you trailed off. Really? You couldn't think of anything better to say?
Thankfully, Becca said, "so, where are the dorks?" successfully changing the subject.
"Kaitlyn has practice, Chris is hanging out with the team, and Zack said he was sleeping over at Grant's tonight."
"Right."
"Do you wanna watch a movie later?" you blurted out. Maybe if you hung out and talked about other things you could both forget about what happened.
"... what?"
"A movie... there's this movie I wanna watch and... I mean only if you're not doing anything." You held your breath as you prepared for the impending rejection.
But then Becca said, "sure, why not."
After you finished cleaning up, Becca settled on the couch as you prepared the snacks. "Do you want some wine?" you called out.
"Uh-huh," Becca answered absentmindedly while scrolling on her phone.
You sat on the couch beside Becca, handing her a glass of wine, and pressed play. You tried to focus on the movie, but your mind kept drifting back to a certain sight much more captivating, a sight that left you hot and bothered ever since. It didn't help that beside you was Becca, wearing a tank top and a tight skirt that hugged her curves in all the right places. You've always known how hot Becca was but you've never allowed yourself to think of her that way. After all, fantasizing about someone who had clearly despised you would only end up badly. But seeing her touch herself, whispering your name... no, not your name. You must've misheard, right? Right. There's no way she thought of you like that.
You didn't realize how much you've been drinking until Becca grabbed the bottle from your hand and said, "quit hogging all the wine."
Halfway through the movie and bottle of wine, you and Becca became more comfortable, exchanging commentaries about the movie, the earlier event seemingly forgotten. Except that you haven't forgotten and, frankly, you didn't want to forget.
"So, you're saying that he's potentially the most intelligent being, right?"
"Yeah?"
"Doesn't look intelligent to me. I mean he could've just wiped out all the assholes and we'd be in fucking paradise. Not to mention, people were half as many before, and it wasn't really a better time then, was it. The number of people isn't the problem here nor the lack of resources."
You raised your eyebrow at Becca. You have never seen her so riled up at a superhero movie before. No, you haven't seen her so riled up at anything but America's Most Eligible before. "Okay then, Aristotle, what do you think the problem is?"
"It's the selfish, rich assholes being selfish, rich assholes, duh."
You couldn't help but laugh. "Like you weren't once a selfish, rich asshole."
"Once? Are you saying that now I'm a selfless, humble angel?" Becca mused, sporting a dazzling smile.
"No, I'm saying that now you're just an asshole. I'm definitely the selfless, humble angel." And then you both burst out laughing.
As your laughter died down, Becca scooted closer to you and rested her head on your shoulder, the sudden move of affection rendering you frozen. You didn't know what was more intoxicating, the alcohol or Becca's perfume. After a brief deliberation, you reciprocated the gesture by leaning your head on top of hers.
"So, tell me, if you had any superpowers, what would it be?" you asked.
"I'd like to be able to fly. When I was a kid, I'd see Lily flying and imagined I was flying beside her."
"Okay. Where will we go?"
"We?"
"You're not leaving me behind, are you?
"Of course I am. You'll just drag me down." You raised your head, shooting Becca a playful scowl.
Becca rolled her eyes. "Ugh, fine. You could be my sidekick."
You shifted closer to Becca as her head nuzzled against your neck. "What crimes would we be fighting?"
"Crimes of fashion, of course."
"Like you didn't commit one when you had those awful bangs," you teased.
"Careful, Emily. We're gonna be a thousand feet in the air. We wouldn't want someone to accidentally fall, would we?"
You chuckled. "Like you would do that."
"Oh, you don't think I can?"
"Come on, Becca. We both know you'd be lost without me."
After several beats of silence, Becca lifted her head to face you, her face serious all of a sudden. "You're right. I would be." The air in the room immediately shifted as she proceeded to caress your face, her touch sending your senses into overdrive. Her fingers trailed down to your lips, and your breath hitched from anticipation. "Becca, I-" Before you could finish, Becca pressed her lips against yours, muffling your next words. The kiss was slow and sweet at first but quickly became more fervent as you pulled her onto your lap with one of your hands at the small of her back and the other behind her head. Becca looped her legs around your waist as she ran her fingers through your hair, flicking her tongue against yours in a hot, open-mouthed kiss. When you pulled apart for air, you trailed kisses down to her neck and nipped gently, eliciting a moan from Becca. Becca then placed her hand under your shirt as she pulled her body closer to yours, the space between you two becoming nonexistent.
"Emily," Becca groaned, her voice a hoarse whisper. Becca saying your name is nothing new. In fact, you have heard her say it in anger, annoyance, disgust, tears (not your fault), laughter, more annoyance, but never in a million years have you expected to hear her say your name with so much want and desire; it was utter music to your ears. She was now grinding against your lap, her wetness seeping through the fabric of her panties matching your own wetness. You pulled her in for another kiss, roughly gripping her hips as she continued to grind against you.
"Should we move this to the bedroom?" you panted between kisses. Becca unhooked her legs from your waist and planted her knees on both sides of the couch, hastily removing her top and then helping you out of yours. I guess that's a no then. The thought of someone walking in on you ravishing each other naked both thrilling and terrifying, fueling your arousal.
You pulled Becca in for another kiss, your hand darting to the hook of her bra and expertly unclasping it in one swift motion. She attempted to do yours but you leaned hard against the couch, blocking her efforts, earning you a frown. "In a while, Becs. I just wanna see you first." 
Becca pulled back from you, giving you a better view of her body. You reached out and slowly pulled down the straps of her bra, your fingers grazing her skin as your eyes locked with hers in a heated gaze. As you finished removing her bra, your eyes were greeted by a breathtaking sight, knocking you speechless. Sitting on you is a freaking goddess.
Becca smirked down at you as if pleased by your reaction. "As much as I want for you to ogle me all night, I believe it's my turn."
She leaned towards you and practically ripped your bra off. She then took a moment to appraise your body as her lips curled into a smile. "I can't believe you've been hiding this from me."
"I didn't really have a reason to be naked around you, did I?"
She raised her mouth towards your ear and sultrily whispered, "Well, now you do. And I'm gonna enjoy every. single. inch," before sucking a sensitive part behind your ear, and you swore you came just a little bit then. Overcome with desire, you placed your hands underneath Becca's skirt, grabbing her perfectly sculpted ass as you hoisted her up further, making her yelp as she staggered upward, her hands now gripping the top of the backrest with her breasts directly in front of you. Having better access, you brought one of your hands to her front, only a thin fabric separating you from her.
"You're so wet, Becs," you murmured as you started rubbing against the drenched underwear.
"Ohhh... god... Emily," Becca whimpered, her hips moving against your fingers to gain more friction.
"Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it," you softly uttered as you brought your other hand to her breast, softly massaging it while your nose teased the hardened nipple on her other breast.
"Touch me. Fuck me... oh, please. Fuck me hard," Becca begged.
You swept Becca's panties to the side and inserted two fingers with ease, pumping them slowly, exploring her walls, her crevices, her depth, then gradually increasing the tempo as your mouth latched to her nipple, sucking greedily at the swollen tit.
"Ohhh fuck... yes... there... that's it.... ohhh that feels so good."
You slowed your fingers down a bit as you added a third finger, stretching her further, thumb pressed firmly against her clit. Becca was now gripping your hair tightly, pushing her breast further into your mouth as your tongue flicked vigorously against her nipple. Her other nipple was attended by your thumb and index finger, pinching and rolling roughly - the pain indistinguishable from pleasure.
Becca had now lost all inhibition to keep silent; her moans echoed throughout the house while she rode your fingers in wild abandonment. She was basically screaming as you quickened the thrusts, her body struggling to keep up with the pace.
"Emily... Oh god... I'm about to..."
You redoubled your efforts, wanting to give the blonde her release. After a few more thrusts, Becca exploded, crying out in pure, carnal pleasure as your pumps slowed down, riding the waves of her orgasm. After you finally withdrew your fingers, Becca collapsed to your lap, her head slumped on your shoulder as you held her in an embrace. You gently kissed the back of her head as you lovingly caressed her back. After a moment of recuperation, Becca finally lifted her head and gave you a long, sweet kiss. When you pulled apart from the kiss, your foreheads are touching and your eyes closed. You stayed like that for a while as you breathed in each other's presence. When Becca leaned back, her smile was mischievous, her gaze playful. "Now that that's over with, shall we move on to the main event?"
"Main event?" you asked, cocking your head in confusion.
"You didn't think you'd get away unpunished, did you?"
Read Part 2
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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years ago
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All-Nighter (Ethan x f!MC)
Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.9K Warning: Language and alluded sexual situations Premise: He’d do anything for her, even fly across the country on moment’s notice. 
A/N: If Ethan had gone to Vegas to spend a full night with MC. Crack and fluff. Sorry! 
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12:26 am
Ethan had never understood the appeal of Vegas. The city, crawling with gaudy exhibitionism, reckless gambling, and rowdy party-goers, had always seemed a tad tasteless to him. Even in his med school years when his cohort planned a trip to sin city, Ethan had preferred to find solace in an overpriced drink at a bar off the strip and not dancing against strangers in a stuffy nightclub. 
Now, he had been convinced (albeit too easily) to take a six hour flight to a city he would much rather avoid.
His phone pinged with a notification from her, reminding him of the adult rated texts that had inspired his impromptu trip. 
Miss you. Wish you could see me in this dress. 
Seconds after, a picture came in and Ethan almost dropped his phone on the concrete. 
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And finally, she sent one final, maddening addendum: Or out of it. 
It was lucky for Ethan that he was already in the same city as her, one an elevator ride away from ripping that tempting thing off of her. 
I'm outside, he texted back. 
More than anything, he wanted to give in to the burning need to just have her in his arms.
------------------  
12:48 am
As Ethan waited outside the casino she mentioned in a previous text, however, the flashing neon lights making it almost difficult to distinguish that it was nighttime, he held a different doctor in his arms. A very drunk Dr. Lahela had haphazardly collided with him only seconds earlier, throwing an arm around him after recognition hit. Ethan was still unsure if the gesture was out of comradery or to maintain his balance. 
“Ramseyyyy,” he called out with a suave ease that was admirable in his current state. 
Before Ethan could answer, Varma and Sienna Trinh appeared at his side. The former looked just as intoxicated as Lahela, though she was doing a much better job at maintaining her balance and dignity. Sienna, however, looked sober, or sober enough to figure out why Ethan was there for she threw him a knowing smirk. 
“Dr. Ramsey,” she greeted casually over the noise of the busy boulevard. “I forgot Edenbrook sent you here because of our contract with Panacea.”
It was a feeble excuse to explain his presence to the other two. It didn't matter because neither of them was listening anyway. Ethan doubted they ever questioned why he was there in the first place. 
Lahela's arm gripped him tighter as he swayed. “Dr. Ramsey, you have to come with us to the Sugar Factory. They have this drink called the fish bowl. It's exactly what it sounds like except full of candy.”
It sounded like a drink straight out of his nightmare. 
“Lahela, tell me why—” 
To his horror, the young surgeon's face lit up as he started singing. “Ain't nothing but a heartache.”
“Tell me why,” an equally drunk passerby added. 
“Ain't nothing but a mistake,” Lahela continued as others laughed and joined in. By the time they were finished, all three residents laughed hysterically while Ethan remained unmoved, silently wishing he had stayed in the blissful quiet of his apartment in Boston. 
He was reminded of why he had left the comfort of his home to venture into the wild five minutes after the group had departed for the aforementioned Sugar Factory. His eyes found her as soon as she stepped out into the street, clad in the sinfully short dress from her picture. The effect it had on Ethan felt like a punch.
Lilac spotted him too, her face alight with a combination of surprise and unrestrained elation. Before either of them could stop what was about to happen, she rushed into his arms. On instinct, he lifted her off her feet, their lips meeting in a kiss charged with promise. 
“Hi,” she greeted breathlessly when he carefully set her down. 
“Hi,” he returned, sounding just as affected. 
“I had to come out here to make sure you were really here. I can't believe you actually came,” she all but exclaimed, voice laced with giddy happiness. It made his stomach leap pleasantly, inspiring a foolish grin he didn't care to fight back anymore. 
“Me neither,” he confessed. 
“Well, I'm glad you did. I like this spontaneous Ethan Ramsey who flies across the country on a whim.”
That admission sent a thrill through his body. He realized he'd do anything to see that winsome smile each time, even if it meant dropping everything and rushing to her side hundreds of miles away. 
------------------
1:32 am 
“Eight, six, seven,” Lilac was saying over the roar of the fountains and the Celine Dion song. “Five, three, oh, nine.”
She waited for a hint of recognition, but as 
she had suspected, the drunken frat boy did not understand the reference. Instead, he tapped the number into his phone and flashed her a sloppy smirk. “I'll call you later.”
Ethan appeared at her side after he was gone, shaking his head at her with a smirk. 
“Your drink, Jenny,” he said, offering her a cup that looked to be more ice than drink. 
Lilac laughed as she accepted it, her body gravitating to his side at once. A rush of dizzying joy almost overpowered her every time she realized she didn't have to fight that instinct here. 
“Funny. That's the name I gave him too,” she said taking a sip. “He was insistent and drunk beyond comprehension. I thought it'd be easier to give him a fake number.”
“You gave him a song,” Ethan commented with a laugh. A rare, taunting grin illuminated his face, rendering him the handsomest man she had ever seen. “And you could've just told him you have a boyfriend.”
She arched an intrigued eyebrow, already moving into his embrace. “I have a boyfriend, do I?” 
Ethan's free arm encircled her, casting a glow of warmth over her body. It could have been the small amount of alcohol in her system or this newfound energy that crackled between them, still fizzing with longing but considerably lighter than in the past months. 
He nodded in mock seriousness. 
“And is he the jealous type?” 
Ethan genuinely scoffed at that, his fingers aimlessly caressing her bare back. It made her skin blaze where he touched her. “Jealous of what? A sweaty frat boy crass enough to hit on a beautiful but evidently uninterested woman? Believe me, there's nothing to be jealous about.”
“Case in point,” she laughed, raising herself to kiss his nose.   
Ethan laughed too and took advantage of their sudden proximity to press his lips against hers, their kiss sweet and just as dizzying as the many desperate, passionate ones they had shared. When they parted, that fiery, striking gaze of his remained locked on hers, making her thighs quiver. 
The song in the background reached its final notes as the jets of water disappeared into the dark pool glittering in front of the lavish hotel. The crowd began to disperse but Ethan and Lilac remained on the sidewalk, basking in a content lull, his arm securely around her and her cheek pressed against his chest. She knew without asking that he was enjoying this small allowance of being a real couple just as much as she was. 
At last, her eyes fell on the replica of the Eiffel Tower across the street. In the span of a second, she wondered what it would be like to be in front of the real one, safely wrapped in Ethan's arms.  
“I wonder how it compares to the real one,” she wondered out loud. 
“I've never seen it but I'd wager it's not a true representation.” 
For some reason, she found that surprising. “You've never been to Paris?” 
“I've been for work but my time was spent doing just that. I didn't venture out much into the city to sightsee. To be honest, I didn't understand the appeal.” 
The pause that followed suggested he wanted to add more but he remained silent. When Lilac pulled back from his embrace to look at him, she found those piercing blue eyes studying her intently. 
“I know what we should do for that date you teased in your texts,” she said when she finally found the words. 
It was Ethan's turn to arch his brow at her in interest. “I thought this was our date?” 
“Yes, but we're in Vegas. There's so much to do at this hour. And besides, you promised me all night in one of your texts.”
The crooked smile he gave her along with the wicked glint in his eye should have been illegal. He leaned in and whispered darkly, “That's not what I meant.”
Five words and she was all over him, kissing him in ways that were inappropriate even for Vegas. They broke apart and Ethan looked at her expectantly. 
“So what's this idea for our date?” he prompted when Lilac merely stared at him, lips still burning from his kiss. 
“Oh, right. I was thinking since we were both two giant nerds who powered through med school and never traveled—”
At this, Ethan shook his head, amused. 
“—we could each pick something to do here in Vegas that feels like traveling to somewhere remote.”
“But instead we'll be in a loud casino, surrounded by obnoxious crowds and exposed to secondhand smoke?” 
Lilac rolled her eyes which made him laugh. 
“Fine, I'll do it. But you pick first.”
---------------
2:17 am
As they glided through the clear waters, Ethan had to admit he could see the appeal in the faux gondola ride. Even if it was romantic, the critical part of him dwelled on the fact that the canals of Venice did not smell strongly of chlorine. He almost voiced the cynical observation out loud, before he remembered this was her idea and the last thing he wanted was to offend her. Although, he was certain Lilac would only laugh and playfully shove him. 
But Lilac was not taunting him, which should have been his first indication that something was off. She wasn't even marveling at the painted ceiling of the casino or making snide comments about the high end shops at the edge of the water and the people who shopped there. Instead, she pressed firmly against his side, her nails digging into his shirt. 
“Are you okay?” he murmured. 
Lilac plastered on the weakest attempt at a smile. Ethan only waited until she dropped the act and said, “Is it weird that the water is freaking me out?” 
Ethan considered that. “Are you afraid of open water?” 
Lilac shook her head. “No, or I would have never suggested this. But once we got in and started moving, the water just looked terrifying?” 
Ethan gave her reassuring smile. “We can get off if you want.”
Again, she shook her head with a brave determination that made his stomach flutter. She was entirely too adorable, even without trying. 
“No, I'll be fine,” she said through a steadying breath. “I'll just refrain from looking at the creepy water. And I'll try not to think about what we'll do if this thing flips over.”
“Rookie, the water is three feet deep. If we capsize we can just...get up on our feet.”
Lilac's eyes moved to meet his at the words. They stared at each other in the golden glow of their surroundings, their expressions unreadable. The silent seconds stretched until they both dissolved into hearty and borderline hysterical laughter. 
Ethan tried his best to sober up first, but when he was close to regaining his composure, he would meet her eye and then they'd both continue to laugh relentlessly. He was aware that they were drawing curious looks from the people observing from the bridges. Even the gondolier cast them a questioning look but said nothing. 
Ethan didn't care. 
It was the happiest he had felt in weeks, amidst everything that had happened. 
They finally sobered and Lilac sighed, much more at ease than before. When she settled against Ethan, it was with her hand softly pressed against his chest, directly over the heartbeat that pounded fiercely for her. 
------------
3:31 am
The plan had been to go dancing at the Egyptian themed casino, much to her companion's dismay. In the end, she won against his protest and Lilac was feeling particularly proud of herself for talking Ethan Ramsey into going to a nightclub. Then again, she hadn't missed how his eyes occasionally traveled along the expanse of her plunging neckline or how his fingers trailed along her exposed back whenever he held her. A lot of the credit was owed to the dress. 
Which is probably why they never made it to the nightclub. Instead, they hastily detoured to the penthouse suite the leeches at Panacea paid for, their hands and lips on one another for the majority of the journey there. 
Thirty minutes after ensuring they were truly alone, the miraculous dress lay pooled on her bedroom floor, completely forgotten. Meanwhile, Ethan moved against her in ways that made her scream out his name. As they both reached the peak, Lilac leaned in to whisper exactly what she wanted him to do. 
With a grunt, Ethan obeyed wholeheartedly. 
“Your turn,” she panted minutes later as she rolled off of him. 
“As you wish,” he said, the words interrupted as he too struggled to catch his breath. “Although you know I prefer it when you take the lead.”
She laughed. “No, your turn to pick a place to go next.”
Ethan flipped on his side, offering her the sexiest grin. God, she was really thinking about sleeping with him again, mere minutes after the first round. 
“I thought I picked this one,” he teased, his voice thick and heavy in ways that made her center pool with heat. 
“We both picked this one,” she argued before she kissed him. 
-------------
3:47 am
Ethan only pretended to consider their next destination. The truth was that he knew the answer since the moment she suggested it in front of the fountains. 
They only had to leave the bed, a feat that was more challenging than it sounded. 
Lilac, far more determined than Ethan, even got as far as slipping back into the lacy black underwear he had removed with his teeth earlier. The deliberately coy smile she sent his way when she realized he was staring, however, had his hands on her hips in seconds. 
“Fucking hell, Lilac,” he murmured against her mouth as he pulled her on top of him for the second time that hour. 
----------
4:59 am
After a third failed attempt to get out of bed, which resulted in both of them making good on the promises they made in their earlier texts, Lilac sat up in bed to look at him full on. She gave him what was supposed to be a stern, admonishing look, but she knew it was half hearted because he looked at her with such adoration that she broke a smile. 
“No more distracting me. You're not getting out of picking, Ramsey.”
Ethan's eyes remained fixed on hers in the darkness of the room, his expression betraying no hints of amusement. Outside, the sky began to glow with the first rays of orange and pink, the promise of the sun's arrival setting the inky blue sky ablaze. 
She frowned, noting the lines of exhaustion on his handsome face. “Are you tired? We can just stay if—” 
“We're already here,” he said quietly. “The place I pick.” 
“Bed?” she asked with a startled laugh. “Ethan Ramsey, you are almost a romantic.”
“Almost?” His mouth betrayed a hint of a smile. “I'm offended, Rookie. But no, as wonderful as we are in bed, that's not my choice.”
Ethan didn't elaborate, the small crease between his brows suggesting he was deep in thought. Every so often, his eyes flickered to hers, holding her gaze briefly before they moved away just as quickly.  
“I'm not—” he started, stopped, and tried again. “I'm not good at this kind of thing.”
A slight flush colored his angled cheekbones, so endearing that she couldn't help but kiss him. In all honesty, she wasn't any better at any of it either, only suggesting the date idea as a clichéd way for them to spend time together in a faraway city. It hadn’t been her proudest moment but had Googled ideas the moment he said he was outside. 
Nervous energy filled the room in their shared silence. 
“The only place in the world I give a damn about is by your side, Lilac,” he said at last, the words quiet but powerful enough to make her pulse clamor like bells. 
Ethan scratched the back of his head at her silence. “I was also hoping this goddamn penthouse had a balcony. I would've picked that as my date because of Miami and the first time we—” 
Lilac interrupted him with a kiss, the force of it over balancing Ethan and sending him into the pillows. She didn't care that their kiss was unceremonious and far from romantic. All she was aware of was the growing, urgent need to kiss this cheesy, romantic, brilliant man. He laughed against her lips, strong hands steadying her on top of him. 
“You're so much better at this than you give yourself credit for,” she informed him when they broke apart. 
“Good,” he said, lifting his head to kiss the curve of her neck. “I was worried there was finally something I didn't excel at.”
------------------
A/N: Meanwhile, her friends are still partying somewhere on the Strip, begging Bryce to quit drinking while he’s ahead. Those fish bowl drinks are no joke. 
Holy shit that was 3K of nothingness. If you made it this far, thank you! 
This was loosely based on my experience(s) going to Vegas, although I don’t remember most of it. Again, those fish bowl drinks will destroy you lol. 
Thank you to @aestheticartsx for your help with this mess!
P.S. Sorry about the dress in the pic not being the exact same one. I saw some that were close but the wrong color. Others were too crazy with that neckline. Ethan would’ve just dropped dead lol. 
___________
New Tags: (Hope I didn’t miss anyone!)
@openheart12 , @takeharryandgo , @ethandaddyramsey, @trappedinfandoms, @aestheticartsx, @aworldoffandoms, @paulfwesley, @myusualnerdyself,  @rookie-ramsey, @ohchoices, @colossalpainintheass, @enmchoices, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker, @choicesfanaf, @openheartthot, @octobereighth, @nazarihoe, @utterlyinevitable, @kites-in-our-skies, @maurine07, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @doilooklikeiknow, @snesdudes, @kingliam2019, @perriewinklenerdie, @cinnamonspongecake, @choicesstan1, @queencarb, @ethxnrxmsey, @missmiimiie, @jens-diamondchoices, @adamsdumortain, @mrsramseyy, @apphia12, @kalogh, @lucy-268, @binny1985, @queenbirbs, @honeyandsunfl0wers, @newcolonies, @lilyvalentine, @rigatonireid, @interobanginyourmom, @parkerattano, @custaroonie, @nikki-2406, @lilypills, @chasingrobbie, @nooruleman, @angela8756, @lonely-mxxnlight, @ruinedbypixels, @shadynaturehilariouscookie, @shadynaturehilariouscookie, @tsrookie, @mvalentine, @professorkingslay, @drakewalkerfantasy, @casey-v, @helloblueeyedcat, @mysticaurathings, @blossomanarchy, @thegreentwin, @togetherwearerapture, @rookieoh, @ramseysno1rookie, @rookiemarsswiftie, @natashajaniphil, @mysticalgalaxysstuff, @hatescapsicum, @choices-lurker, @kiara-36, @junehiratas, @danijimenezv, @macy-ray85, @adrex04, @canigetanawwjunk, @sanchita012, @overwhelminglyaquarius , @scorpiochick8, @skylarklyon, @starrystarrytrouble​
Interest in this fic:
@udishaman, @a-crepusculo, @khayy19, @mercury84choices, @jlynn12273, @fireycookie 
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refinedbuffoonery · 4 years ago
Text
Only Human
Post 5x05. Angst. Riley POV. It’s sad. 
*****
Only human. That’s what Jack was. 
As a kid, Riley thought he was invincible. Nothing bad could ever happen to him. And if it did, he could always find a way out. Like when Riley busted him for picking flowers from her yard to give to her mom on their first date, or when he charmed his way out of yet another speeding ticket. 
As an adult, Riley thought he was invincible. He and Mac pulled off crazy stunts Riley could barely wrap her head around, and they always came out alright. Whatever gods or forces of the universe were looking down on Jack Dalton clearly liked him and wanted him to stick around. 
It took the sight of a flag-covered casket for Riley to realize Jack Dalton was only human. 
The one man she thought would never truly leave her was gone. For good this time. 
And there was nothing she could do about it. 
Until there was. Until Mac received that postcard—that last piece of Jack—and suddenly they were flying to Croatia to crack his final clue. Until they were the ones hunting a not-actually-dead Kovac. Until they were the ones stuck in a trap laid by the same woman who murdered Jack. 
Riley would’ve snapped that blonde bitch’s neck if Mac hadn’t stopped her. 
Rotting in a cell for the rest of eternity was too good a fate for the person who cut Jack’s life short. 
Normally, Riley would’ve felt smart for catching a whole taped confession like that, but this time she just felt cold. Empty. No amount of justice would even begin to heal the Jack-shaped wound in her heart. 
The flight home seemed like it would never end. Riley didn’t even feel the burn of the whiskey Russ handed her as she knocked it back like a shot. If she had the energy to get up, she would’ve drank the rest of the bottle. 
Even Mac sitting beside her didn’t bring Riley any comfort. She wanted to scream at the universe until her voice was hoarse, cursing it for ripping the closest thing she ever had to a dad from her grasp. It seemed like just yesterday they made amends and he was her dad again. 
But it wasn’t. 
That was more than five years ago, and the few years Riley had with him were the best of her life. Even though half the time they spent together usually involved trying not to get killed. 
Riley couldn’t help but think that if she had been there, had been part of that task force, hunting Kovac with Jack, she would’ve connected the dots Jack missed and realized the rescue op was a trap. She could’ve kept him alive. 
Because as a team—Jack, Mac, and herself—they were invincible. But alone, they were only human. 
Since that first drive with Mac, Riley drove the GTO every day. She drove it to work, to the grocery store, to the gym. She even drove it just for the sake of driving it, wasting gas with no destination in mind. On those days, she usually found herself ordering a brisket sandwich at Jack’s favorite Texas barbeque restaurant. Most of the time, she was so numb her body revolted at the idea of food, but Riley forced herself to eat the damn sandwich anyway, since she had to enjoy it for both of them now. 
Driving Jack’s car was the closest thing to feeling like he was with her again. 
She even stole one of Jack’s Metallica t-shirts from Mac to sleep in, but the GTO was where Riley felt his presence best. 
Presence. Like all that was left of her invincible dad was a ghost, following her around quoting Bruce Willis movies and harassing her about leaving fingerprints on his car. 
Soldiers died all the time. So did agents. That was part of the job. But Riley never thought her agents would die. Not really. Not when they avoided death so well. And if they were to die, they’d all go at the same time, doing something incredibly stupid. If you go kaboom, I go kaboom. That was Jack’s promise. The whole team’s promise. 
“We were supposed to go kaboom together,” Riley whispered to herself, parking the GTO in Mac’s driveway. She blinked back the tears threatening to escape. 
Her eyes caught the old basketball hoop. Mac and Jack used to spend hours playing HORSE right in this very spot. Jack usually won. 
Mac had invited her over for dinner, but Riley couldn’t yet bring herself to go inside. A week had passed since Jack’s funeral, but since then, that first step into Mac’s house made Riley feel like she was permanently stuck at the wake, pressed against the wall and choking on tears as fate carved a gaping hole in her chest. Mac’s house—one of her favorite places in the whole world—was heavy with sorrow and guilt. 
No matter how many times Mac repeated that they shouldn’t feel guilty, the what-ifs still stuck around like shackles around Riley’s wrists and ankles. She knew Mac felt the same way, even though he hid it for her sake. 
Riley barely mustered the courage to go inside. 
She made it two steps in when her gaze locked on Mac, standing in the kitchen, a folded American flag in his hands. 
Riley thought of Jack's promise again. If you go kaboom, I go kaboom. And suddenly she was furious. Furious at Jack for walking into a trap alone. Furious at him for dying. Furious at the government—the same government she served—that sent a flag home in place of a man. Her hands shook. 
Every minute she wasn't crying, Riley was angry. She tried to direct it, use it to make sure that woman never saw the light of day again. Riley refused to even call the woman by her name. She murdered Jack. She shot Bozer. She used her power as an Interpol agent to run a terrorist organization. That bitch deserved every ounce of hatred Riley spewed at her. 
But sometimes Riley was just angry at everything, and she sat somewhere quiet and stewed so she didn't take it out on someone who didn't deserve it. Riley still owed Desi an apology after nearly ripping her friend’s head off when she tried to check up on Riley a few days ago. 
Mac finally looked up, his expression raw and broken. It pushed Riley over the edge. Her keys fell out of her hand, and Riley’s breathing stuttered. The all too familiar lump in her throat returned, rendering her unable to speak, and the tears she’d been holding back finally spilled over, twin hot streams running down her cheeks. 
Mac left the flag on the kitchen counter and strode to her, not stopping until his arms wrapped tightly around her. “I didn’t know what to do when I saw it either,” he murmured, clutching her to his chest like their lives depended on it. 
Riley sobbed. She’d cried so much in the last week she didn’t think her body could produce any more tears, but they just kept coming. She weakly returned Mac's hug. 
"The hole in my heart just keeps bleeding," Riley gasped. "And I don't know how to make it stop." 
"I don't know either," Mac said in a rare moment of honesty. He'd been keeping up a strong front for her sake, she knew. Because if they both let go, there wouldn't be anything stopping them from drinking themselves into oblivion and hurling spite at the world. 
A world that didn't deserve Jack Dalton. 
Riley didn't let herself think about the fact that Jack died for nothing. Well, not completely nothing, since his death led them to the clues he'd left behind just in case. Jack's death led to Kovac being put away for good. But that would never change the fact that Jack died alone, in a trap. 
Mac grunted softly. The sound pulled Riley out of her head enough to realize she'd dug her nails into Mac's back, hard enough to leave marks. 
"Sorry," she whispered, barely loud enough to hear. 
Mac whispered back. "It's alright, Riles." 
Riles. That was Jack's nickname for her, long before it was anyone else's. Mac had picked it up after a year or so, and even Desi sometimes called her that, but above all, it belonged to Jack. 
Her knees started to tremble, and Riley let Mac hold her up. Besides her mom, Mac was the only one she felt safe breaking down around. She didn't know why. She was just as close to Bozer as she was to Mac. Maybe it was because talking to Bozer still felt like sympathy and not just someone to be sad with. 
"How's your mom?" Mac asked softly. 
A new wave of tears, silent ones this time, rolled down Riley's cheeks. She’d spent the previous night with her mom. Riley finally told her about Jack, after receiving clearance to tell her mom everything. 
It was the hardest thing she'd ever done. 
"We cried a lot." Riley sniffed. "I didn't know telling her would be so hard." 
She knew it would suck, but finding the courage to squeak out "Jack's dead" was almost more than she could manage. 
"I could've gone with you," Mac offered. 
Riley appreciated the gesture. "Thanks, but I needed to do it on my own." She wasn’t even sure which way was up anymore, but she was sure of this. 
They stood there for a little while longer before Mac asked, “Are you hungry?” 
“No.” Riley’s stomach turned inside out at the thought of food. 
Mac’s hands got brave, roaming her body and feeling how thin she was after a week of barely eating. She could hardly manage one meal a day, much less three. Riley tensed at the intimacy of the gesture. His tone was firm. “We’re having tacos. You have to eat at least one.” 
“Okay.” She knew it was pointless to argue. Mac would force-feed her if he had to. 
Without thinking, she asked, "Can I sleep here tonight?" Realizing what she said, Riley quickly backtracked. "Or if you and Desi want your space I understand, and—" 
Mac cut her off. "No. You can always stay here, for as long as you want." After a moment, he added, voice strained, "I want you to stay." 
“Thank you,” she said weakly. Riley felt Mac’s strong façade starting to crack. She knew he couldn’t keep it up much longer, that he couldn’t hold her up forever. 
Maybe then they could just lean on each other. 
Jack may have left Riley and Mac behind, but at least he didn’t leave them alone. They had each other, and while they would never be able to fill the Jack-shaped hole in their lives, maybe each other would be enough to keep going. 
Because as it turns out, none of them were invincible, and Riley had to figure out how to staunch the wound before she bled out on the floor.
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iamtrebleclefstories · 4 years ago
Text
i knew you’d come back to me 
“Jo, look I know I’m probably the last person you wanna see right now and I don’t deserve for you to even hear me out, but all I’m asking for is a few minutes. Please.”
happy belated birthday @only-freakin-sunflowers​! hope you enjoy this fic that i love so very much <3
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"No way, I don't believe you!"
"It's true. I was fourteen years old and there were two of them."
"At the same time?" Jo raised her eyebrows in disbelief.
"Yup," Jackson took a swig of his beer and donned a smug grin on his face. "And I knew exactly what I was doing."
"And here I thought you were a soft pillow sex kind of guy. But a threesome for your first time?" Jo huffed a laugh. "I'm not going to lie. I'm impressed.”
"What about you? What was your first time like?" Jackson asked, sporting a carefree smile.
"Well, I was sixteen years old and it was in my car, so it sucked," Jo chuckled. "It was uncomfortable and with some guy who was four years older than me. So you'd think by that point, he'd know what he was doing, but the poor bastard didn't know shit. He did not care that it was my first time at all. As soon as he finished, I kicked him out and drove away."
"That's horrible," Jackson busted out in laughter. "I'm so sorry."
"Oh, the sad thing is that's not even the worst sex I'm had," Jo winced in self-pity. "I've had some pretty horrible sex throughout the years."
"Okay, that's enough about bad sex," Jackson leaned back against the couch. "What's the best sex you've ever had?"
"Alex," Jo responded easily. "Every time with Alex." She stared off into the corner of the loft and let her eyes wander to the drawer where Alex had kept her ring hidden after she'd rejected his proposal the first couple times. It was the same drawer she'd deposited the rings after she'd taken them off. “I’ve had great sex with other people. Hell, I’ve had great sex with you.” Jo paused and allowed her eyes to flit over to the bed that she and her ex-husband used to share. “But there’s just something about sleeping with the one person you love more than anyone. Every time with Alex was just a reminder that he was it for me. And I just wish I could turn back time and feel that again. Feel the love. Feel the closeness and safety. But I can’t. I won’t feel that way ever again.”
Jackson observed Jo silently for a few moments. He knew the few months had been difficult for her in many ways. He knew she wasn’t healed all the way yet, and quite possibly, might never heal completely. But hearing her speak only highlighted just how deeply affected she was by it all. In all honesty, it reminded him that he was also still healing from past wounds.
“I know how you feel. I felt that way with April,” Jackson sighed sadly. “And all I can think is that I really screwed it up there. I was so busy trying to convince myself that I didn’t need her to be happy, that I ended up losing her because I couldn’t make up my mind over what the hell I wanted, what I believed in, who I was… and now that I finally figured it out, she’s married to the same guy she left me for in the first place.”  
“How the hell did we get here?” Jo scrunched her face in confusion. “We’re hot people. Why are we moping around about our exes?”
“Because we both lost the loves of our lives,” Jackson deadpanned, earning a dry chuckle from Jo.
“Hey, you still have a chance though. April is around. She didn’t go anywhere. You see her all the time. And if history is any indicator, you two are a pair of magnets that always find some crazy way back to each other. It’s not too late,” Jo stood up from her spot from the couch. “I need something stronger to drink. You want some vodka?”
“I’m good. Another beer would be nice though,” Jackson looked lost in thought for a moment before speaking. “It is too late, Jo. If I could go back in time and change things, I would’ve gotten my crap together and gotten April back in an instant. But she’s married now.”
“You and I both know that doesn’t mean anything,” Jo spoke quietly. She finished pouring her drink and downed a shot of vodka, clearing her throat. “What’s taking Link so long? He said he was on his way with the pizza half an hour ago.”
“He probably was just leaving the house when he called and said he was on his way,” Jackson reached for the beer Jo held out to him. “Thanks. I remember those days, of being a new parent and all.”
“How’s Harriet by the way? It’s been so long since I’ve seen her, since you know, the pandemic,” Jo sat back down on the couch opposite Jackson.
“She’s doing great,” Jackson’s face pulled up into a grin. “She’s talking so much and getting into all sorts of trouble. She’s a big fan of Taylor Swift’s music, and always dances when she hears Lizzo. I haven’t seen her as much as I’d like to since I’ve been working in the hospital pretty much nonstop, but she’s good.”
“Last time I saw her, she was walking around with a piglet stuffed animal that she refused to let go of,” Jo chuckled.
“Yeah, April got her that,” Jackson grimaced. “We came to the agreement that Harriet would be raised Christian and get to spend two weeks every summer at the Kepner farm since she’ll be attending French preschool and start sitting in on the Fox Foundation board meetings once she turns fifteen. The joys of co-parenting.”
Jo let out a laugh, “Well, I think you’re doing a pretty good job.”
The pair was interrupted by a knock at the door, “That must be Link with the pizza.” Jo stood up and sauntered over towards the door, huffing in annoyance when the knocks grew more insistent. “I’m coming!”
“Jeez, you said you’d be here with the pizza almost an hour ago. What took you so long?” Jo spoke as she unlocked the door and slid it open only to freeze in her tracks. “Alex?”
“Jo.”
Convinced she was hallucinating, Jo slammed the door shut in his face. She stared at the door silently for a few seconds, leading Jackson to come up beside her, startling her as he put his hand on her shoulder. “Jo, who was that?”
“Jo, look I know I’m probably the last person you wanna see right now and I don’t deserve for you to even hear me out, but all I’m asking for is a few minutes. Please,” Alex knocked once again.
Jackson’s eyes grew wide as he realized whose voice was on the other side. He glanced at Jo who looked up at him with what seemed to be a scared expression on her face. Realizing that she wasn’t going to do anything Jackson spoke, “What do you want? Do you want me to get rid of him? Do you want to talk to him? You let me know what you need.”
Jo opened and closed her mouth a couple times, unsure of what to say. In the weeks since Alex had left, she had run every scenario in her mind, praying that there would be a moment where he’d come to his senses and show up at her door. She’d rehearsed what she’d say to him in the event of his return. But now, with only a sliding door separating them, Jo had been rendered speechless.
Shaking her head of the thoughts bombarding her brain, Jo wordlessly looked at Jackson in hopes that he would get the message and open the door she didn’t seem to have the strength to pull open herself. Jackson nodded once and took her place at the door, pulling it open to reveal Alex’s mouth open in surprise.
“Oh,” Alex closed his mouth and squared his jaw, looking down to the ground in an effort to camouflage the pained look that flashed on his face. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”
“No man, stay. I was just leaving anyway,” Jackson grabbed his coat from the rack by the door and gently clapped Alex on the back. “It’s good to see you.”
Jo reached out for Jackson and pulled him back inside. Her eyes widened frantically and her voice came out in a panicked whisper-yell, “What are you doing? You can’t leave. I can’t, Jackson.”
“Jo listen to me, yes you can,” Jackson placed his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently. “You know that talk we just had about what we’d do if we got another chance? Well, this is yours. I know he hurt you and put you through hell, and you don’t have to take him back, but I think you owe it to yourself to get closure. You need to heal and you can’t do that if you let him walk out that door without talking to him. You’ll spend the rest of your life wondering what he might’ve said and what you could’ve done differently. Trust me, I know. You can do this.”
Jo closed her eyes and took a deep breath, “You’re right. I can do this.”
They were interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, “I know, I’m late. I’m sorry it took so long. I was about to leave the house when Scout puked all over my clothes. I had to bathe him and myself. But I’m here now so—“
Link stopped dead in his tracks, pizza in hand and looked at the figure standing in the open doorway, “You son of a bitch. What the hell do you think you’re doing—“
“And that’s our cue to leave,” Jackson held an arm out and began to guide Link back down the steps. “We can eat the pizza in the car.”
“No. No, this isn’t okay. He can’t just waltz back in here and pretend like it’s all okay,” Link yelled angrily. “Do you know the kind of pain you put Jo through? You swore up and down to everyone that you would never hurt her. And now what? You’re trying to walk back into her life after ripping her heart out? Well, over my dead body.”
“Link, that’s enough,” Jo warned. “It’s fine. You can go.”
Link’s unhappy expression did not go unnoticed. He didn’t want to leave her here alone with Alex. He wanted to protect his sister. But it was becoming more obvious that Jo didn’t want him there. Link sighed, “Fine. But I’m not happy about this.”
“Come on man, let’s go,” Jackson motioned for Link to walk in front of him as they disappeared out the front door.
Finally alone, Jo walked back inside the house and downed another shot of vodka. She watched as Alex stood awkwardly outside, “Are you going to stand in the doorway all night or are you going to come inside?”
Alex hesitated before walking inside the house with a guilty look on his face. He didn’t think he’d ever be back there. The moment he’d sent those letters he thought that was it. He’s never set foot into the loft again, he’d never see Jo again, he’d never truly be home again. It was a tough pill to swallow, but he did it for his kids.
The plan was never to stay in Kansas and leave behind the only family he’d ever really known. It wasn’t in his plans to keep the kids a secret from Jo. It wasn’t in his plans to lie to Jo and tell her he was going to Iowa instead of the truth. It wasn’t in his plans to have the twins in the first place. It wasn’t in his plans to have kids with a woman who wasn’t Jo. But yet, here he was, standing near the door feeling like a stranger in his once home because he decided to make a mess out of a situation that could’ve been handled very differently.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d let me in,” Alex treaded lightly.
“Neither was I,” Jo answered honestly.
“So, you and Avery?” Alex’s bad attempt to see if she had moved on or not didn’t go unnoticed.
“Not that it’s any of your business anymore but, no. It’s just sex. Believe it or not, I am not emotionally healed enough for that. I don’t move on from a seven year long relationship like it didn’t mean anything to me,” Jo chewed on her lip. It was taking everything not to look at him. Not to lock eyes with him. Because Jo knew that the moment she spared him more than a glance, she’d be reduced to a puddle of tears. Whether they were sad tears, angry tears, or happy tears, she didn’t know. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” Alex took a couple steps closer to where Jo stood behind the kitchen table. He held his hands up in a show of harmlessness, trying not to startle or agitate her. “I—I don’t even know what to say.”
“Why don’t you start with why you’re here,” Jo crossed her arms in front of her. “Because last time I checked, you left me to go frolic around in Kansas with your ex wife and kids. Shouldn’t you be there with them? You know, there’s a pandemic outside. When was the last time you were tested?”
“I was tested two days ago and I drove here so I didn’t have any contact with anyone unless it was to buy food,” Alex replied easily.
“You drove all the way up here?” Jo’s voice inflected in surprise. “Why? You said you have everything you always wanted. Why would you leave that?”
“Because I miss you,” Alex sighed heavily. He looked up at the ceiling in an attempt to keep his composure. “And I know that it’s not fair to say that but I do. I miss you every damn second of the day. I can’t go more than a few minutes without thinking about you and regretting the decisions I made that led us here. The moment I dropped those letters in the mailbox at the post office, I wanted to take them back. I wanted to reach in and pull them out and run all the way back home and be here with you. But it was too late. What was done was done.”
Jo glared at him angrily, “What was done was done? That’s the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard. You could’ve answered my calls. You could’ve talked to me. You could’ve come home. You could’ve not sent me divorce papers in the mail without even giving me a choice in the matter. You could’ve explained the situation and I would’ve dropped everything to be with you. Why? Because we were married, Alex. We got married for better or worse and I never once thought that you’d be the one to break those vows. You had my full and complete trust. Ever since that first kiss you’ve held my heart in your hands. You know how hard that is for me. You know how hard it is for me to trust people. But you didn’t care. You treated my heart like it was collateral and made me feel like all those years—all the love we shared—wasn’t real. Because if you loved me, if you truly loved me the way you said you did, you would have never hurt me like that. That’s not love.”
“I did love you, I swear Jo. None of that was ever a lie. When I said I loved you, I meant it. Every single time. I still love you,” Alex’s eyes practically bore into Jo’s soul. “I love you. And I’m sorry I messed it up, I messed us up. We were great, perfect even. We were happy and in love and we wanted to start a family, but I was an idiot and I screwed it up. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make it up to you for doing that, but I’m here because I love you. I’m doing what I should’ve done the first time around. I came home and I’m talking to you and I’m giving you the choice that I took from you when this all happened months ago.
“Because I realized that I could have the best, sweetest, smartness kids on this farm in the middle of nowhere Kansas and a great job as the Chief of Surgery at a children’s hospital, but none of that will ever matter as long as I don’t have you. Because I’ve been miserable and I tried to act happy for my kids, but now we’re in the middle of a pandemic and I don’t even see my kids anymore. I’m at the hospital every day dreading having to go home to an empty, quiet apartment with generic white walls. I hate it there. Everything single thing about it. I’m a stranger to my own children and in the process of trying to be there for them, I lost the most important person in my life, you. And I don’t expect you to take me back, hell, I probably wouldn’t take me back. But I miss my best friend. I miss your smile and your laugh. I miss the way your nose scrunches up when you get upset. I miss that dog face you’d always make when you tried to get me to agree to something you knew I’d have trouble agreeing to. But it didn’t matter how much I hated the idea of whatever you had planned because the moment I saw that face, I couldn’t say no. I miss the sparkle in your eyes whenever you’d get excited about a really cool case or surgery. I know that I haven’t done anything to deserve your love or forgiveness, but I’m not going down without a fight. Not this time. So, you don’t have to decide anything right now, but I’ll be here, waiting for you to make your choice.”
About halfway through his speech, Jo lost her fight with her tears. Wiping her face quickly, she looked up at Alex with a devastating expression on her face, “I need time.”
“I know,” Alex nodded and brought his hand up to his face to wipe a few of his own tears off. “I’ll be here until you decide. I’m not leaving. Take as long as you need.”
+++
After their conversation, Alex walked out of the loft quietly, not indicating where he would be going for the night. Jo assumed it was Meredith’s. He always went to Meredith’s house when they went through rough times. But with Mer in the hospital because of covid, Jo wasn’t too sure if he’d end up there or not.
Shaking thoughts of Alex out of her head, Jo began getting ready for bed. She had just gotten out of the shower when her phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hey. You okay?” Link’s voice filtered through the speaker. “Do you need me to come and kick him out or beat his ass?”
Jo let out the slightest chuckle, “No. Everything is okay. You don’t need to come over.”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to take him back. Don’t you remember what he did to you?” Link's disdain and distrust for her once husband was evident in his tone. “You deserve better than that, Jo. You don’t deserve to be anyone’s second choice.”
Second choice. Now that was a concept that she’d struggled with long before she and Alex got married, let alone when they got divorced. Time and time again she felt like the second choice in Alex’s life, and time and time again he’d grovel his way back to her and she’d give him another chance to fix things. He would swear that nothing could ever come between them, until it did. Until it lodged itself in between their peaceful little happy bubble and shattered the edges of it as if it were the most fragile piece of glass. It was a cycle that she was caught in and it was getting very old.
“I don’t know,” she finally answered after some time. “I—I don’t know what I want or need right now other than just some time to figure out what exactly the hell it is I’m feeling. Because I can’t seem to form my thoughts into coherent sentences. But I do know that you threatening to knock him out and telling me that I deserve better isn’t helping.”
“I’m sorry,” Link apologized. “I’m just protective of you. I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
“I know. And thanks. It means a lot,” Jo paused. “Look, I’m exhausted and I’m going to go to sleep. I have to be at the hospital at five in the morning.”
“Yeah, okay. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Truthfully, Jo did not have to be at work that early. But she also didn’t think she could stand another minute on that call with Link. All she wanted to do was lie down and stare at the ceiling as she tried to make sense of her thoughts and feelings that were bubbling under the surface. Sighing heavily, Jo turned on her side and allowed herself to finally break down. It was too much. Alex returning was too much. She was just starting to fill the void he had left behind. Although she’d never get used to his absence, she’d started slowly but surely crawling out of her pit of despair and had maneuvered into a state of numbness, which wasn’t all that better from the intense depressive state she’d been in a couple months ago.
Eventually, sleep caught up with her and Jo was able to fall into a somewhat restful slumber. When she awoke in the morning, she’d forgotten for a split second that had ever left. She reached beside her to touch him only to find his once side of the bed empty. Standing up, Jo readied herself for the day and was about to walk out the door when Levi walked in.
“Uh… Jo. Did you know that your ex husband is sleeping in his car outside our building?” Levi asked as he pulled off his jacket.
“He’s what?”
“I just got back from the hospital and I was surprised because I saw a car in front. I went to go check it out because it looked like the car was on. Karev is in there, knocked out in the backseat,” Levi’s confused expression mirrored the one on Jo’s face.
“He stayed,” Jo whispered quietly.
“Huh?”
“Nothing,” Jo shook her head. “I’ve got to go to work. But check on him in a few hours and bring him some water or a sandwich.”
“Okay…” Levi looked at her strangely. “Do you wanna tell me what’s going on?”
“Honestly, I don’t really know what’s going on,” Jo let out a breath. “He came back and he said he loves me and apologized. He said he’s not gonna leave without a fight and he’ll wait until I’m ready to talk to him again.”
“Listen, I’m all for forgiveness and starting fresh, but Jo, he hurt you so bad. I care about you and I don’t want to see you back in that state. You still aren’t fully healed,” Levi spoke gently.
“I know,” Jo closed her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about this right now. I’m going to the hospital. Just, make sure you give him something to eat later. And let him in if he wants to shower or use the bathroom.”
“I will.”
+++
The following days consisted of more of the same. Every morning Jo would wake up to find Alex asleep in his car and every evening, she’d return to see him eating dinner either in or outside his car. She knew he entered the house while she was gone. She could tell by the presence of his toothbrush and toiletries in the bathroom. She could tell by the stray t-shirt hanging out near the corner of the loft.
It was the fourth night when Jo couldn’t stand to sit in the loft alone knowing he was outside anymore. At about seven o’clock, she grabbed her purse and jacket and walked out the door, passing by Alex who was wordlessly working on something on his laptop. He looked up at Jo striding across the parking lot, not taking his eyes off of her until she stood outside her car door. Climbing into her car, Jo drove off and ended up in the first place she could think of.
Jo walked up the steps and knocked on the door, waiting for the person on the other side to answer. After about a minute, the door opened to reveal Jackson.
“Hey. What’s up?” Jackson asked.
“I brought booze,” Jo held up a bottle of tequila.
“That bad, huh? Okay, come on in,” Jackson stepped aside to let her in. He observed her for a moment before speaking again. “Just letting you know, I have Harriet tonight. She’s sleeping in the bedroom.”
“That’s fine. We can be quiet,” Jo leaned forward and captured Jackson’s lips in a kiss. “I need this.”
They didn’t get very far when Jackson realized that something was wrong, “Hold on. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. It’s fine, just keep going,” Jo responded.
“I’m sorry, I can’t. You’re not here right now,” Jackson pulled away. “Your brain is in a million other places.”
“Did you think that maybe I’m here because my brain is in a million other places?” Jo huffed and sunk down onto the couch. “This, what we have here, is good. There are no feelings, no expectations, nothing messy. I just really need to have no feelings right now because I feel like I’m going to explode with the amount of feelings threatening to burst out of me.”
“Oh. So, that’s what this is about,” Jackson nodded his head in understanding.
“What?” Jo furrowed her brows.
“What happened between you two the other night?”
Jackson did not need to elaborate. Jo knew exactly which two people he was referring to. She just hated that they had gotten close enough that he could tell what was wrong with her. Jo hung her head in defeat, “He wants me back and told me that he still loves me.”
“Do you still love him?” Jackson took a seat beside her and waited for her response.
“Yes, Jackson. I’m always going to love him. We talked about this,” Jo huffed in annoyance.
Jackson shook his head, “No, I mean… right now, in this very moment he says he loves you. What do you say?”
“I love him, too. But I hate what he did to me,” Jo confessed quietly. “I love him… so much. So much that sometimes it feels like my heart is going to burst because it can’t contain the amount of love I have for him. I thought I lost the love of my life, Jackson. I grieved him. I grieved my relationship. I came to the conclusion that I would never experience love like that ever again. I treated it as if he’d died. And now he’s just back? He put me through hell just to come back and try to worm his way into my life again? If he doesn’t stay with Izzie and those kids, then what was the point of it all? What was the point of the pain and the tears? All of the hurt I experienced, the destruction of our relationship… it was all for nothing. And I don’t know if I can get past that… But I love him. I love him, Jackson and I just want to be able to love him the way I used to love him. I don’t want to love him from afar.”
Jackson looked at her for a moment, “What are you going to do? Are you going to take him back?”
“I don’t know,” Jo cradled her head in her hands. “I don’t know what I should do. I don’t know what’s right.”
“I don’t think there’s a right answer. And I don’t think you should rely on what other people would do in your situation when making your decision. Screw what everyone else thinks. Do what you think you can handle. Do what you want to do. Alex is giving you a choice, a choice that he took from you the first time around. And your choice can be to let him go, but don’t let everyone else’s opinions rob you from making that choice,” Jackson sat on the edge of the couch and waited for Jo to say something.
“He’s been sleeping in his car for the past five days and it’s killing me,” Jo let out a breath. She stood up and faced Jackson. “Thanks, for everything.”
Understanding the duality of her words, Jackson’s lips curved up into a smile, “You’re welcome.”
Jo had begun making her way out the door when Jackson called out to her.
“Hey, Jo!”
“Yeah?”
“You’re making the right decision.”
Finally feeling as though she was in control of her future, Jo smiled, “I know.”
+++
He wasn’t quite sure at what point he’d fallen asleep, but sometime around eleven o’clock, Alex woke up to the sound of the passenger door opening. He startled out of his sleep to find Jo climbing into the car, hair freshly washed, wearing a large t-shirt and sweatpants, a blanket in hand, and the most nonchalant expression on her face. Furrowing his brows in question, Alex watched as she silently sat down in the seat beside him.
Jo reclined the seat back and turned on her side to face Alex. She stared softly at his confused face and felt herself truly relax. After some moments of just staring at each other silently, Jo reached out her hand across the center console and grabbed Alex’s hand.
Jo watched as he let out a soft sob. Alex brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it lightly, not bothering to wipe the tears that were falling. Feeling her own tears make their way down her face, Jo exhaled and used her free hand to pull the blanket around her a little tighter. Once the tears were gone, Jo and Alex closed their eyes, reveling in the familiar closeness.
And for the first time in months, both of them slept soundly.
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