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elizabeethan · 3 years

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The Swan and her Handler

Emma Swan was cursed, and the only way to break it is with True Love's Kiss. Try breaking a curse with True Love's Kiss when you're a damn swan.

Yes, it's true, I've written a CS AU based on Walnut the Crane, a crane who fell in love with her handler. I'm ashamed at how idiotic this is. It’s by far the dumbest thing I've ever written in all my life. It’s nothing more than crack written in about an hour, un-betaed and barely edited. Sorry, and you’re welcome.

Rated T for language

~2000 words

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These damn idiots can’t get anything right. It was bad enough when Emma showed up on their doorstep with perfectly clear care instructions that were completely ignored, but now they keep trying to get her to reproduce as if she’s some kind of zoo animal.

Of course, given her current living situation, it does make at least a tiny bit of sense.

Ever since the curse, Emma has been stuck in a wildlife refuge and has been unable to get any of her stupid caretakers to figure out how to help her. She knows exactly what she needs, but unfortunately, no one here speaks swan and she can’t exactly hold a pen. Her care instructions were translated upon her transformation, so the one thing that could have helped her now looks like chicken-- er, swan scratch.

“She needs a mate,” one of the jack asses points out. “She’ll probably want to mate for life.”

True, she thinks, although, not with any of the stinky fluff balls you have sent my way.

First it was Neal. He tried to mate with her, so she killed him. Last week, they put Walsh in her enclosure, and she pecked at him violently until they took pity on him and sent him to the medical unit.

Although today seems different, because her newest caretaker has shown up, and she realizes that he just might be exactly what she’s been looking for.

Emma Swan, unfortunately very appropriately named, requires a mate who can break her curse, True Loves Kiss the only thing that can bring her back to her truest form as a human adult woman. And when the new dark haired, stunning eyed veterinarian comes strutting into her enclosure, she hurries towards him to get a closer look at his name tag.

He jumps away, making some comment about her being fiery , and she blushes, squawking at him as she tries to get closer. Killian , it reads, and if she had lips and not a bill, she would smile.

“We think she’s depressed,” the stupid one with the big eyes says. “She’s killed every mate we’ve tried to pair her with.”

Good, she thinks. I must have done more damage on Walsh than I initially thought.

“You’re just misunderstood, aren’t you, love?” the angel-man asks, making her squawk in agreement. She thinks she could make this quick, this man obviously understanding her horrible twist of fate, so she lunges for him once more, trying hard to kiss his hand and hoping beyond hope that it will transform her back into the woman she's supposed to be. No more feathers, she prays.

He exclaims again, jumping and complaining of his hand hurting as she pecks him, so she rolls her eyes and squawks angrily. “Alright, darling,” he says with his hands up, his smooth, accented voice making her heart flutter inside her chest. Her breast? She knows very little about swan anatomy, despite having been turned into one. “Perhaps she’s stressed about her environment. Have you tried giving her a dark, quiet place to nest?”

“Not yet,” the dumbass admits.

The handsome one, Killian, a name she could get used to rolling off of her tongue, steps away from her, so she hurriedly follows. “Perhaps here in this corner will do.”

I would love to spend time in a dark corner with you, she thinks, giving the man what she hopes is a salacious smirk. She watches appreciatively as he sits down, crossing his legs as he starts to fiddle with some sticks as if she would be interested in them. Rather than helping him to make a nest out of the twigs and leaves, she plops herself right in his lap, nestling herself into his crossed legs and gazing up at his beautiful features, earning a smile from him.

“There we are, love,” he says happily, clearly surprised that she chose to plant herself upon him, although he shouldn't be. Just look at him, for god’s sake. “Comfortable?”

She squawks loudly, making him cringe, then fluffs her feathers in an attempt to gussy herself up for him. If she’s going to earn True Love’s Kiss from this perfect specimen, she’s going to have to work for it. The man chuckles as he looks down at her-- is he gazing? -- and lifts his hand slowly, placing a finger gently upon the top of her head and petting back down her neck, sending a chill down her spine, at least she thinks it’s her spine. She pushes her head towards him again, demanding more attention in an effort to get him to fall for her. It shouldn’t take long; she’s very enchanting.

“She’s never been this calm,” the dumb one says, making her snap her head towards him with a glare, shouting at him in disapproval. Killian shushes her soothingly, his finger softly stroking along her stupid feathers once more and making her shut her eyes.

“She just needed a bit of attention, it seems.”

“We’d best be careful,” someone else says, the bookworm who always thinks she knows everything about swan science. Of course, she probably knows more than Swan Emma. “We wouldn’t want her to imprint on you ,” she seems to joke.

“That’s quite alright, isn’t it love?” he asks her, essentially giving her permission to fall in love with this handsome bastard.

He comes by a few times a week for the next several months, each time sitting with her in her tiny, dirty nest and not seeming to care that his pants get soiled. She’s always careful to do her business elsewhere, making sure that her prince can sit in comfort when he arrives. She gets angry with him when he brings someone new, a sickly looking male named Graham who she assures is not welcome, so Killian gives up trying to get her to mate with someone. For some reason, they're concerned about her procreating, but she can assure everyone that she will not be giving birth to a damn swan baby while she’s under this curse.

One day, when Killian visits near the end of his shift, he’s finally alone, leaving behind the dumb one and the book worm and giving her all of the attention she desires as his strong hand softly pets along her soft feathers. She can’t wait to get rid of these stupid feathers.

“You’re quite funny,” he remarks as the sun starts to set. “Unlike any swan I’ve ever met.”

She squawks at him-- I’m not a damn swan-- and he smiles. “Quire the personality. It always seems like you’re trying to communicate with me.”

Yes, you stupid handsome man, that’s exactly right! She tries to nod, lifting and dropping her head in quick succession and making the beauty laugh. She nudges her head against his hand in demand of more pets.

“What is it you want me to know, darling?” he asks gently, his voice soft and soothing and deep.

She groans, a sound that comes out like a pained cry, and his face shifts. “Are you alright, love?”

In pure frustration, Emma drops her head against the man’s chest, likely assaulting him with how badly she smells like bird shit, and he chuckles again, letting his hand run along her feathers some more. “There, there. I know life as a swan must be difficult. All you seem to want is for someone to listen.”

She looks up, hoping that her expression conveys her complete and utter irritation at the fact that he’s literally hitting the nail on the head and yet he has no idea.

“Such a personality,” he says again. “I’ve got to head home now, love. I’m looking forward to having Chinese for dinner. Perhaps I'll bring you an eggroll tomorrow, or is that insensitive?”

She squawks, half because she’s laughing, and half because she would quite literally kill another potential mate for an eggroll. Wanting to beg him not to go, she gives him her best sad face through her inability to emote, and nestles her head against his palm one more time.

“I’ll sneak you one, love,” he laughs, and as he does, he finally, finally , leans down towards her, and plants his stupid, dumb, lucious lips upon the top of her stinky bird head.

Cramps start to run through her whole stupid bird body, the same ones she felt when she was cursed on Halloween decades ago. He stands, not seeming to notice her pain and discomfort until he’s a few steps away, and he turns back around. “Swan, are you alright?” he asks, as if she could answer, and she shouts back at him wordlessly.

She praises whatever gods might be listening as she feels things start to change, her feathers shedding as her skin is exposed to the chilly fall air. The webbing between her toes retracts, her legs turning flesh colored rather than that horrifying orange. Her bill turns back into her nose and mouth, preparing her to smooch her savior rather than peck at him. Finally, she’s back!

“Bloody fucking hell,” Killian breathes as he stares on, Emma transforming back into her old self, laying in a heap on the ground as she brushes off the dirt and twigs and leaves.

“You did it,” she praises before clearing her throat, raw from misuse after all these years. She grins at him as she’s been wanting to since they met, and is met with a horrified, shocked look on his face. His jaw is gaping, his eyes wide as they catch the light of the setting sun. “I knew you would.”

“What the fuck?”

“You broke the curse,” she says happily, standing up and exposing her nude form to him, cursing the lack of feathers although she vowed she never would. Immediately, he removes his jacket, despite his shock still clearly running through him, and hands it to her.

“I did what now?”

“I was cursed. Why do you think I was such a miserable swan?”

He’s looking around, his mouth snapping shut and dropping open in succession as he tries to process the fact that there was a swan in the enclosure just a second ago, and now there’s a frankly beautiful, naked woman standing before him. “You were cursed,” he says doubtfully.

“Yes, I was. An evil witch cursed me on Halloween decades ago and I've been stuck in that infernal bird form ever since. All I needed was True Love’s Kiss to break it, but imaging trying to fall in love with someone as a damn bird.”

“So you… you fell in love… with me…?”

“Obviously,” she smiles, taking a step towards him on shaky legs, tripping and falling into his waiting arms as he catches her, careful not to grope her, although she isn’t sure she would mind. “And you broke the curse, so… Do I have to tell you what that means?”

“I-- I’m having a lot of trouble processing the fact that I've evidently been in love with a swan for months.”

“Well, my name is Emma Swan, so you can be in love with a Swan for the rest of your life, if you’d like.”

“Emma,” he murmurs, staring into her eyes and smiling when he seems to recognize her. She’s never been able to see herself in the mirror, because the book worm was worried she would attack it, but based on the way he’s staring, she would guess that the evil witch let her keep her eyes. “Do you know it just happens to be Halloween tonight?”

“Kismet,” she says softly, gazing up at him. He lifts his hand like he did while she was planted in his lap, and she’s finally able to feel his calloused finger along the skin of her cheek, then of her neck, just as he had done before.

“Aye,” he agrees. “The spirit of the holiday does make this whole thing a bit easier to accept.”

“Yeah,” she says dismissively. “Now take me home. I was promised an eggroll and I haven't eaten anything but grass and stale bread in almost thirty years.”

~~~~

Tagging (with apologies):

@courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @pirateprincessofpizza @captainswan21 @hookedmom @lostintheskyfaraway @undercaffinatednightmare @strangestarlighttree

#Captain Swan #Captain swan fanfic #cs fanfic #the swan and her handler #cs ff #the swan ff #cs crack #crack fic

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lilacmeadows · 3 years

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Made For You pt.3

I’m so sorry for the late post guys! I had the most hectic work load today. I’m taking too many goddamn classes this semester. ANYWAY here is my filthy part 3. I mean... they still haven’t fucked, but we’re getting there. I think this can be wrapped in a nice little 4 part bow, but I also kinda want 10 chapters of them together because I’m a slut for this dynamic. This is my FIRST TIME writing smut! So go easy on me. Thank you so much for reading! - Savvy

BUCKY X READER

Summary: Hydra had just finished training you to be the Winter Soldier’s perfect mate when the Avengers saved him. But what’s going to happen to you now that Hydra has deleted your old life and left you with nothing but a soldier that needs to learn to love himself before he can love someone else.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, explicit language, underage reader (nothing sexual happens underage), stockholm syndrome, mentions of family death, eventual dom/sub dynamics, mentions of captivity and kidnapping. violence- guns, mutual pining, SMUT, ORAL (m receiving), FLUFF, angst if you squint (must be 18+)

Word Count: 2300

It was a short ride to the compound, and y/n had a hard time keeping up with the fast walking team as they tried to explain little things along the way.

She hadn’t been outside in a decade. The grass was green and warm where it met her bare feet as she walked behind Sam and Steve. The rest of the team immediately left the quinjet, seeking the comfort of their showers and beds. Bucky was the last to leave, not feeling right about just disappearing from her, but keeping his distance.

Y/n was still so heartbroken. Hearing about her family’s death had really stung, and she knew if she dwelled on it, she’d cry about it for days. But all she really had time to be sad about was how cold her Soldat was towards her. It seemed very much like he didn’t want her around him.

Steve and Sam brought y/n inside the residential wing of the compound. They toured the common areas, kitchen, and showed her where everyone’s bedroom was. They finally got to a guest bedroom down the hall from Natasha, and left her to get cleaned up and comfortable.

Y/n looked around her new bedroom. It was barely decorated, but she had to admit, it was still much nicer than her room with the Men. She sat her yarn and needles down on a table and sat on the large bed. Her body instantly sank into it, the plush comforter conforming to her body in a way the single sheet never did on the twin bed she slept on.

But she couldn’t enjoy her new favorite place in the world for long because not 3 minutes later, she heard a soft knock at her door. She opened it, and much to her surprise, Bucky was standing there, with 2 pairs of sweatpants, and 3 t shirts in his arms.

“I figured you’d want some fresh clothes after you’re clean.” He said sheepishly, not making eye contact with her. “You can ask Nat about undergarments.”

That made her giggle the tiniest bit. “I’m not allowed to wear any undergarments.” But he should know that. She was trained to do things to please him, so wouldn’t he like her to not have on obstructing materials?

“Oh. Well, umm… you can now… If you want to. It’s up to you.” She could see the blush rise up his neck, coloring the bits of his face that weren’t blanketed by hair. She took in his attire. He obviously changed out of his tactical mission gear, in favor of the sweatpants he wore that looked almost identical to the ones in his arms. He also appeared to be freshly showered, his hair still damp, and if she looked close enough, she could see little wet patches on his shirt from where he didn’t dry himself completely.

“Are these your clothes?” She asked, taking the bundle from his arms and opening her door wider so he could enter her room.

“Yeah, Steve went a little overboard on the shopping when I first got here. They’ll be a little big, but the pants have a drawstring, so it should work for now. Until you get something better.” He stood awkwardly in the middle of his room.

Y/n didn’t know what possessed her to put the sweatpants up to her face and inhale deeply. She just felt a primal urge to know what he smelled like. Gunpowder, wood, and something naturally male- Bucky. She couldn’t stop the moan low in her throat.

Bucky watched her as she did that. He felt his pants tighten just at the thought of her in his clothes, and the way she just smelled his pants and let out that sound of satisfaction, made him want to take her right there.

“Thank you, sir.” Y/n replied. Fully engulfed in her embarrassment.

“Y/n, you really don’t need to call me that. I’m just Bucky.” He reminded her. Honestly, he loved when she called him Sir- the authority it gave him, but it made an unholy amount of blood flow directly to his cock and he couldn’t think as clearly. Especially when she looked up at him with those innocent eyes.

“Okay, Bucky.” She said, trying the name out on her tongue. He liked the way she said it. “If that makes you happy.” She risked a step closer to him.

“You need to do what makes you happy.” He took an equally measured step back, knowing he was close to giving in to her temptation.

“I’m working on it, Bucky. But I need your permission. I just wanna be good for you.” She said, quickly taking 3 more steps until she was about 6 inches from his face.

“This isn’t right, Y/n. You don’t know what you’re doing or why you’re doing it. Hydra wanted this. You don’t have to belong to me.” She craned her neck up to be closer to his lips, but he was determined to reason with her before he does something he can’t take back.

“But I want to belong to you. I thought about you every day for 10 years years, Bucky. And I hadn’t even seen you.” Bucky tilted his head down ever so slightly, their lips were just shy of touching. “Let me be good for you, Bucky. Let me make you happy.” She repeated.

“Okay.” Was all he said. He expected their lips to touch then, but she was already down in her knees. None of her videos showed passionate kissing. She wanted to please him in the way she read about in her studies.

On her knees, Y/n was able to see the thick outline of his erect cock very easily, and couldn’t stop the involuntary moan. Just as she did with his other sweatpants, Y/n pressed her face against the bulge and inhaled deeply. Between the smell that was just so him, and the warmth of his clothed cock rubbing on her face, she was starting to go feral for the man standing in front of her in complete shock.

Bucky hadn’t been with a woman since before the war, and they definitely weren’t like this. He watched as she was damn near purring while she rubbed her face on him. She reminded him of a kitten, the way she open-mouthed kissed the line of his cock through his sweatpants. Then she pulled them down, and he felt her wet tongue roll around the fat tip.

“Shit, Y/n, you don’t have to do this.”

“Do you want me to stop, Sir?” She said, taking another lick from base to tip.

“God no. Fuck.” he groaned as she started put his balls in her mouth and sucked, hard. “But if you keep working me like that this is definitely gonna stop.”

She moaned hearing him fall apart above him- finally fulfilling her destiny. Making her Soldat happy.

“Fuck, Babydoll, you’re so good at this. Where the fuck did you learn this?” He asked, more to himself than to her, seeing as she started bobbing and swiveling her head. He wanted to put his hands in her hair, but ultimately decided not too. If he was gonna let this happen, it had to be at her pace.

She had never seen a cock in person but she knew he must be above average, her tongue counting 3 thick veins running up the sides and bottom of it. Trying to remember everything she saw the women in the videos doing and all the descriptions she read in the erotic literature, she hollowed her mouth around him and flattened her tongue against the underside of his cock.

“Fucking hell, Babydoll you’re doing so well for me. Y/n, shit.” She felt his cock touch the back of her throat and gagged around the intrusion. Spit mixed with precum rolling down her chin. When she looked up at him, her big eyes meeting his, he lost it. She could feel his cock harden just a little bit more, and his balls tightened, right before he released his heavy load into her throat. She backed up a little so it wouldn’t go straight down, she wanted to feel him on her tongue and taste him. Once she was sure she got every drop, she sat back on her heels and looked up at him. She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue a little so he could see his cum sitting on it before she swallowed it all with a soft moan.

“Did I do good, Sir?” She said, still sitting in front of him, his cock softening in her face as she watched the anatomy work in fascination. She reached her hand out to touch it, really appreciating the feel and warmth of his skin. He groaned loudly at the overstimulation and the sound of her normally smooth voice, now rough from the number she did on him.

“Fuck, Y/n, you did so good, Babydoll. You’re such a good girl.”

And in that moment he felt like he could pass out. He wanted to vomit because he looked down at her face and saw the innocence still in her eyes. Good girl. He remembered saying those words to her before. So long ago. He saw a flash of a memory of rubbing a little girl’s head before knocking her out. Carrying her to her house and tucking her in her bed, before stroking her face one last time and leaving. He remembered how Hydra fried him so hard after that mission, they were afraid they killed him. She looked different, older, but it was the same eyes. Definitely her. And there that same girl was, on her knees for him, and just gave him the best blowjob of his life.

He tucked himself back into his sweatpants. Part of him wanted to run away. He was ashamed of himself. He knew that he should have turned her down and left before anything could happen. He took advantage of her. But he also knew that if he just left now with no explanation, he would be an even bigger asshole. Times like that made him miss the simplicity of not having control over his life.

“Y/n, you did such a good job for me.” He stood her up, pulling her in for a bone crushing hug. This confused her, because she never saw the aftermath in her videos. It was always brutal and then the woman was just left there. But he was so gentle with her as he tenderly stroked her hair and lowered his lips to hers for a kiss.

It was the absolute least he could do. He wanted to kiss her- he wanted to reciprocate and make her see stars, but his mind was racing. Debating if it was a good time to tell her about their previous encounter, wondering if she remembered him and was acting, or if she had no idea that he’s the reason she was kidnapped. And even though he didn’t kill them, the reason her family is dead. Selfishly, he decided that it would be best if he told her another time. He hadn’t experienced intimacy like this in so long, and Y/n’s lips felt amazing on his.

He finally broke the kiss to give her air, knowing she doesn’t have the lung capacity he has. “Do you want to have dinner with me?” He asked, not wanting to rush her into anything else. He knew he’d be going to hell for it, but he needed to be around her.

“I would love to, Sir.” She said with the biggest smile her face could muster. He swore he’d never get tired of seeing that smile. Feeling her tits press against his chest through the thin cotton layers of both of their clothes. Hearing how she moaned just a little when he stroked her jaw. He could feel his brain going fuzzy from just the intoxicating proximity of their embrace as they hugged, swaying slightly and exchanging sweet kisses in between longing looks.

“Call me, Bucky.” He gently reminded her. For his sake, really- his self control couldn’t handle her constant submissive nature. “I’m gonna let you take that shower, and in the meantime, I’ll go order some take out. Do you like chinese?” He asked, putting some distance between them, to prevent her from noticing how he was getting hard all over again and dropping to her knees for round two.

“Chinese people? I don’t know any, but I’m sure they’re lovely.” She replied, a little confused by his strange question.

Part of him liked that he wasn’t the most clueless person in the compound anymore. When it came to texting and pop culture, he was useless, but Y/n was held in captivity. She didn’t have takeout, or dinner dates, or freedom to shower with nobody watching her. He would be able to teach her those things, and he liked that. Someone needing him for more than violence. Someone to take care of.

“I’ll just go order the food. I’ll be back soon, Babydoll. There should be shampoo and conditioner in the shower with towels and all types of other stuff. Just look around a bit.” He said before he walked out of her room. She had never experienced moisture between her thighs like she was in that moment, so a shower was probably a good idea.

Part 4

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antiloreolympus · 3 years

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10 Anti LO Asks

1. you know whats also bad about the red eyes? not only do they look awful on persephone's pink color, they're not even a unique feature? like we've seen hades' eyes go red, we've seen eros' eyes go red, and ares' eyes are ALWAYS red, so even this idea its her "unique queenly trait" doesnt even hold up?? because we've seen it on other characters before?like at least the blue glowing eyes looked unique and even gave her a possessed, otherworldly look, something with the red eyes just dont have.

2. The faces in the latest ep (not fastpass).... Ew

3. I saw someone praise lore olympus art, specifically the ones where Apollo is playing his lyre and Daphne is covering her ears while her hair is split in two (yuck! Bad decision looks awful) so we can see Apollo, the one where she transforms into her hibernation state (weird perspective, chin and neck, I think, also what the hell was that supposed to be?) and the last one before cutting to Thanatos (which, I admit looks a little better that the other but I still got distracted Apollo's arm among other things).

Now, Rachel is a professional artist like 15-25 years older than me (I dunno her age) drawing one of the most liked webtoons.

I feel like I'm nitpicking or being too harsh or crazy because I think it is a little terrible and this person thinks it's amazing and I know art is subjective and all but like the difference of opinion is jarring. I am by no means a professional and my art leaves a lot to be desired and I guess I don't have incredibly high standards (or do I? I'm second guessing). Is it really that good?

Because I know that Smythe commits more than a few anatomy atrocities. I wanted to redraw a few panels two years ago and I noticed a few things that Don't Work Like That.

4. ok but that other anon is right. we shouldnt have to go off old tumblr asks or random tweets to understand what's going on and who the characters are. rachel doesnt realize you have to actually write whats going on, not putting the readers on a scavenger hunt trying to figure out what they're even reading.

5. im honestly surprised LO hasnt ruined more mother figures at this point. maybe maia will be next and depicted as neglectful and hermes is only the way he is because hes acting out to be noticed by her, maybe dione will slut shame aphrodite, who knows, the possibilities are endless when its about ruining every mother figure to prop persephone and hera up and to avoid giving the characters actual personalities that isnt dependent on mommy/daddy issues.

6. I hate the clothing choice for Daphne in run for your life. It felt like she was drawn in a sexualized manner when she shouldn’t have been because she was running away from a r*pist. Like she almost had a nip slip, we almost got her ass, it was like Rachel was trying to fit her butt and chest in a lot of the frames like some video game with the token woman character. Like if a different dress was choosen or how she made Daphne tie the dress, I just feel like Rachel can’t draw outside of pinup sexy that well. Like sexy is fine for sexy scenes but running away from a r*pist is not sexy. (I probably sounded really lame, but the way Rachel presents the story in a feminist way but can only draw one way in not even the same style is annoying)

7. Things I think would have been better for the story instead of focusing so much on HXP

-Expanding on Minthe’s and Hades beginning of their relationship (he couldn’t of fallen for her since she didn’t laugh at him and when she yelled at him said it’s not your fault but you have the hat I think that would have added to his character more to see him more than a 40 year old who hits on barely legal)

-Leto’s kidnapping of Demeter. Both we/are close with Hera, and probably know or each other or may have been friends. Like I wanna know how Leto kidnapped her but also how are they interacting since they probably know each other and Demeter probably had Hera’s back when Hera ended their friendship.

-Ares return to Aphrodite. We don’t get to see much of her character but we know this is something she’s wanted, but they way it was handled was so flat, We assume Aphrodite told Ares that his gf slept with his father to save their son but we don’t actual read any words between the couple. And then they’re living together. I wanna see how they actually interact and stay together like their better moments. Like how well did he settle in, did they talk about how long he left for or is he mad like come on that’s something interesting but I feel like RS can’t write outside of HXP

-the deal with Echo. Why do people think Echo could possibly be Hera’s gf if she’s her assistant. Yeah they do dirty work together BUT I didn’t get a wiff or sexual tension or anything. Was it that she was there with the doctor? It just seems like Hera is that CEO trope who has the assistant always by her now.

-a little more of Pysche and Aphrodite friendship. Like Pysche says Aphrodite is lonely (and we can assume a part of that is Ares) but also because she “doesn’t have many friends” so why not a solo scene of just the two of them being actual friends. Like what did Aphrodite say when she brought back a purple nymph that was gonna help them with their work.

-Hermes not talking about Persephone. I feel like that 99% of what his character is and then just a little bit of himbo.

-Maybe Thantos and Minthe started flirting/hooking up. We’re they friends first or flirts first? Was it after Hades and Minthe got into a fight or something else? What did Thantos like about Minthe and what does she like about him? Why did she stay with Hades with Thantos was there (it’s not like she wanted to be queen of the underworld) How did Thantoas and Thetis meet and become friends? Idk if I was seeing two guys and one of them actually liked my friend I might consider leaving Hades for him. But again hades did have the power to control everything in Minthe’s life (job, home, everything) I do like Daphne and Thantos But I feel like the transition could have been better if we knew more, but again RS can only focus on one thing and that’s HXP.

------FP Spoiler/Mention------

8. FP SPOILERS— I’m done. I’m really done. We called it. We FKN called it. They got married behind the readers back, Demeter didn’t respond to the question as she actively avoided it and time was up, Apollo is somehow involved in the trial- THIS WHOLE THING IS A MESS AND IM TIRED OF HOPING THAT IT GETS BETTER. Four FKN years of this??? I’m done with this Webtoon even though I’m FKN stuck in it. I’m so FKN done.

9. Fast Pass spoiler (kinda) OH MY GOD, I JUST REALIZED THE POMEGRANATE PIN IS JUST PASTED ON EVERY FRAME, NOT EVEN RE DRAWN FOR PERSPECTIVE, NO, JUST COPIED AND PASTED, REGARDLESS THE OUTFIT ANGLE AND LIGHTING, IT'S HILARIOUS!!!I mean, I knew the art was decaying, but this just made me laugh out loud of how bad it looked.

10. persephone’s pomegranate pin just looks like a giant fly that landed on her and won’t leave LMAO

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

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wazzupmrstark · 4 years

Text

instead of you [part three]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex

word count: 2.1k

series masterlist

“No sex?”

“Y/n!” Sam hissed through his teeth. “You think you could lower your fucking voice a little?” His tone was even, but his eyes betrayed the thinly veiled panic you were all too familiar with.

Pushing your best friend’s buttons was something you usually enjoyed, but in that moment you were feeling a similar sense of panic.

“Sorry, how was I supposed to react to you telling me I can’t sleep with anyone this summer?” you snapped in a whisper.

“How were you expecting to pull that off without making it look like you were cheating on me?” he countered.

“I- I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t thinking about it...”

Sam had been typing the list of “rules” for the summer in the notes app of his phone for the better half of an hour as you brainstormed together, and you had been on board with everything that it consisted of so far:

No gross pet names (babe, baby, and darling are acceptable)

No kissing with tongue

No telling embarrassing stories!! (yes that includes that one time i got a condom stuck in my nose and we had to go to the emergency room- that’s literally only funny to you)

4. Share a bed together for the whole trip

ACT LIKE WE’RE IN LOVE (@ y/n)

Spend at least an hour with family per day

Take “coupley” pictures together when my parents as- bc they WILL ask

Wear the matching shirts my mother made

Buy y/n all the alcohol she wants

It was a pretty decent list, all things considered, until he got to rule number ten.

“I mean it’s not like it’s going to be easy for me either,” Sam reasoned.

You rolled your eyes. “Am I supposed to thank you for your service or something? Applaud you for keeping it in your pants for two whole months?”

“You’re literally complaining about the exact same thing.”

“Yeah, but I’m only doing it to save your ass,” you huffed.

“Trust me, I’m well aware,” he said, sighing. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”

You gave him a soft smile. “You don’t have to keep apologizing. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

“You don’t want to be. You’ve mentioned that several times.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t love you.”

Sam smiled at that. “Thanks, I love you too.”

“Alright that’s enough sincerity between us for a lifetime,” you said and chuckled uneasily. “We can go back to being assholes to each other now.”

“Good, that took a lot out of me.”

You glared at him, but refrained from making a comment. “What’s next on the list then, lover boy?”

“Already breaking the first rule-”

“Fine, what’s next on the list, fuckface?” you asked with a smirk.

Sam clenched his jaw and scrolled on his phone. “Okay, number eleven, no flirting with my brothers.”

“Do you really need to write that one down?” You watched as he typed it out without acknowledging you. “Like isn’t that kind of implied? You know I don’t see Harry like that.”

“He’s not the one I’m worried about,” he muttered.

You raised your eyebrows expectantly, awaiting an explanation, but he offered none. Instead, he moved on to the next rule and left you sitting alone in your confusion.

The majority of the rest of the flight was spent bickering with Sam over the list, undoubtedly annoying the hell out of everyone seated around you. The other passengers finally got some reprieve from the sound of your hushed voices when Sam put his earbuds in to listen to music. You knew he was only doing it to tune you out because whenever he was really listening to something he always shared one of his earbuds with you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. If he was going to be like that then... god, this was going to be a long summer.

You shifted in your seat so that you could comfortably rest your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. Even though he was frustrated with you, you knew he wouldn’t push you away. It was just like that with you guys. He’d get over it by the time you landed.

When you opened your eyes again, Sam had fallen asleep too. He was slumped against you with his head resting on top of yours like something out of a movie. It struck you as ironic. To passers by you already looked like a couple. Game on.

Sam led the way through the busy airport terminal to baggage claim, apparently trusting you were right on his heels. But it was almost like he was trying to lose you with the way he was weaving through the crowd like a wanted fugitive. You could barely keep up. Some fake boyfriend he was.

You’d never seen your best friend like this before. Usually he was so calm and collected, the one who was always talking you off the ledge, but you could tell he was the one climbing stairs right now.

“Fuck, there’s no way this’ll work.”

It had been another one of those late nights in the library when Sam had thrown the stack of index cards onto the table in surrender and buried his face in his hands. You were both teetering on the edge of a caffeine crash. The words on the pages had started to blur together in a way that was almost illegible and neither of you could keep the important dates of your relationship straight.

“Yes it will,” you insisted as you gathered up the cards and handed them back to him. “We’re just burnt out. That’s why we keep getting things wrong.” He knit his eyebrows together in a way that told you he didn’t believe you, but didn’t say anything in return. You sighed and took a sip of your coffee, giving him a measured look over the lenses of your glasses. “It’s four am., Sam. We just need some sleep and then we’ll come back fresh tomorrow, you’ll see.”

He pushed his hair back from his forehead and nodded reluctantly. “Thanks for doing this with me... it’s, uh, really important to me.”

“I know.”

But you didn’t know why. Sam didn’t even study this hard for midterms, but here he was night after night with you mapping out every single detail of your fake relationship. A small part of you wondered if there was something more, something that he was keeping from you, but you pushed the thought down. You told each other everything...

As you watched him wait for your suitcases at the carousel, arms crossed, left foot tapping the tile impatiently, it dawned on you just how nervous he was. You wished there was something you could say to ease his mind, but the right words were escaping you. To be fair, you weren’t having any luck shaking your jitters either. You’d never been in a relationship long enough to meet your significant other’s parents. Somehow the fact that you weren’t even dating made it even more daunting. You desperately needed the Hollands to like you- for both you and Sam’s sakes.

“This one’s yours, right?” Sam asked and pointed to one of the bags he’d rolled over.

“Yeah, thanks for grabbing it.”

“Don’t mention it, babe.” You fought the urge to make a face- “you’re making a face.”

“Sorry, knee-jerk reaction. Still adjusting to hearing that.”

“Well adjust quicker because my brother will be here to pick us up any minute.”

“Wait, what?”

“How else did you think we were going to get home?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think about it.”

You followed Sam outside through the automatic doors to the car loop to wait for Harry. It was warm out, but there was a light breeze that lifted some of the heat from the pavement. The sun had set mere minutes ago, and dusk was lazily settling over the horizon. You were too close to the city to see any stars, but the moon glowed dimly behind the clouds, like a performer waiting in the wings.

Sam scrolled through Spotify as you both sat there, carefully balanced on your suitcases, and offered you one of his AirPods. You took it wordlessly and put it in your ear. The gesture was comforting, almost intimate, a reminder that nothing had changed between you. At least not yet.

He was playing something you hadn’t heard before, a classical piece. It sounded old and European which didn’t narrow it down at all. A glance at the title scrolling across his screen suggested that it was French, but he put his phone in his pocket and stood up before you could fully read it.

Before you could ask what was happening a black Audi pulled up to the curb, parked, and a boy who was... not Harry stepped out of it. It was then that you realized Sam had never specified which brother was picking you up.

You knew Sam had an older brother, but he didn’t talk about him much. You had just assumed they weren’t close, but as you watched them hug and laugh together you weren’t sure what to make of it.

“Y/n, this is Tom,” Sam said as he introduced you to his brother. “Tom, this is my girlfriend, y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.” You held out your hand and he shook it tentatively.

“Likewise,” he replied, sounding unconvinced. “Can I help you guys with your bags?”

“Um, sure. That’d be great.”

You handed over your suitcase and backpack to him and joined Sam back over on the sidewalk while Tom lifted the luggage into the trunk with surprising ease.

Tom was about Sam’s height, slender like Sam too, but far more athletically built. Even through his t-shirt you could see the distinct outline of muscles you hadn’t even known existed in the human anatomy- it was ridiculous. His smile was the same as Sam’s too, but what really gave him away as a Holland were the curls peeking out from under his baseball cap. They were impossible to miss.

“Do you want to sit in the front, love?” Sam asked, pulling you back into the moment.

“No thanks, you catch up with your brother. I’ll be fine in the back.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded. Tom didn’t seem too thrilled to meet you in the first place so sitting in the back seemed like the safer way to play it. Sam just shrugged and climbed into the passenger seat while you slid into the middle seat in the back.

“Did you tell mum we’re running a few minutes late?” Sam asked Tom once he’d merged onto the road.

“Yeah, she said she expects it from Heathrow anyway since they’re always so busy.”

“It was fucking packed, mate.”

“I know. Traffic was awful getting here. Everyone’s going on holiday.” Tom turned to glance at you, then back at his brother. “Are you guys hungry? Dinner should be ready when we get there.”

“When we get where?” you piped up in confusion, wondering who would’ve cooked at the boys’ flat.

“Mum’s and dad’s.”

You grabbed Sam by the shoulder. “Wait, we’re going straight to your parents’ house? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What do you mean? Why does it matter?”

You stared at him, eyes wide. “I can’t meet your parents like this!”

“Like what?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m wearing sweatpants!”

“And you look fine!” he argued. “Tom, tell her she looks fine.”

“Uh, you look fine.”

Why were men so fucking dense? You rolled your eyes and unbuckled your seatbelt. Your suitcase was just out of reach in the trunk so you hoisted yourself up over the seatback and grabbed one of the straps on the bag to pull it closer to you.

With your limited access it was hard to find what you were looking for, but you managed to randomly pull out a nice pair of jeans and a floral print blouse you’d thrifted last semester to change into.

Before either of the boys up front could register what was happening you pulled your t-shirt off over your head and started shimmying out of your sweats.

“What the fuck are you doing, y/n?” Sam hissed as the car swerved.

To be fair, you were just straight up taking your pants off in his brother’s car, but in your defense he’d really left you no choice.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You snapped and looked back up at him defiantly, catching Tom’s eye in the rearview mirror as you did.

“Keep your eyes on the fucking road, Tom.” Sam grumbled, shooting daggers back at you.

You blew him a kiss in return followed by the middle finger as you buttoned your jeans with your other hand.

Tom laughed and turned to his brother. “I like her.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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#instead of you #iou #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland self insert #tom holland best friends brother #tom holland series

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years

Text

Villian-Sicle | Part 2

I didn’t expect to get such a crazy response to the first part of this. Here’s part two! I’m always open to continuing this, I love hero/villain whump. Thanks for reading! I hope you like it.

Find part one here.

CW//Superhero whump, villain whumpee, environmental whump (kinda), hypothermia, hospital setting, death mention, delusions, torture mention, pet whump mention (but not really)

Taglist:

@whatwhumpcomments

Villain’s fingers burned.

It was quite paradoxical-- a caveat of the confusing structure of organs known as human anatomy. When cold got great enough, the nervous system somehow interpreted it as intense heat. Tricking itself into believing that warmth might finally be coming, maybe.

Villain knew that such a wish was hopeless. Warmth was a far off memory, as far as they were concerned.

They tucked their knees closer to their chest, pressing their forehead against them and shoving their hands in their pockets, for whatever minimal heat it would provide. As their teeth began to chatter, they gritted them together and closed their eyes. The shelf they leaned against dug into their spine.

“Take stock, and understand your situation.” The brief training they had been provided at their former place of employment sprung into their head, stupidly cheery voice and all. “A level head is more important than any weapon.”

Stupid voice, stupid seminar, stupid job, stupid heroes.

Villain did their best to take a deep breath-- though it did little but fill their lungs with frigid air.

Take stock. Understand your situation. Keep a level head.

The computer in the next room over chipperly reported that they had been in their current predicament for just over five minutes. Five minutes, thirteen seconds, twenty-two milliseconds, and six hundred eight-six nanoseconds, to be slightly more precise. That was the time that had passed since the Heroes had chased them into their own freezing cold tomb.

The moment replayed again in their mind; a series of panicked moments and thoughts, all kaidoscoping into a brilliant moment of word association. That was what had landed them here. Their own stupidity. Not that it wouldn’t have been a problem if the Heroes hadn’t chased them in the first place! Why did they even care about the Serum?! What was it to them?!

Why did Villain have to die for it?

They didn’t know exactly how long it would take for the cold to kill them. The computer beeped and spat out all the medical facts it could, but the fact stood that hypothermia affected everyone differently, dependent on a thousand different factors.

That wasn’t the real question. They knew that. They didn’t care if their last breath would be in five minutes or a hundred. All that mattered was that, in all probability, dying of cold would be quicker than dying at the hands of the Heroes.

In their pockets, they balled their fists. They didn’t notice they were crying until a tear dripped onto their neck, sending a horrid shiver through them.

It was just a stupid bottle. A stupid chemical. It was that fucking chain of atoms that had left them here--between a rock and a hard place. Between dying of cold and being tortured to death. Hell, both ways were torture! Everything was!

Why could nothing ever go right?!

With a coordination they didn’t realize they had, Villain shot to their feet (though it wasn’t exactly a graceful movement.) The tears brimming in their eyes didn’t help their vision, but they didn’t need to see. They didn’t need anything! What was the point, if they were just going to die?!

A sweeping hand aimed itself at one of the wall-high shelves, sending a line of bottles crashing to the ground and shattering in an explosion of glass snowflakes. Their contents spilled out on the tile, and whatever remained of their containers was quickly smashed under Villain’s shoe. They whipped around, attacking another shelf in the same way. Again, they reached for their next strike, but found only steel shelving. Another paradoxical burst of strength sent the whole shelf careening to the ground, sending a blizzard of shattered glass into the air.

Villain unballed their fists, panting, their lungs gasping in the frigid air. Their adrenaline rush finally wore off, sending them to the floor.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Leader’s words were cut off by a resounding crash.

They whipped around, sputtering out a last few unintelligible syllables as their attention focused on the steel door. Nerves glittered in their gaze as they clenched their jaw.

“Shit.” They muttered. “Medic?”

“Sounds like one of the shelves fell.”

“Dammit. I suppose they’re not quite sedated yet, then.”

“Cold isn’t the quickest.” Medic shook their head. “At this temperature, real hypothermia shouldn’t set in for about five more minutes.”

Leader sighed, turning back to the rest of the group. There weren’t many of them-- just Leader, Medic, Hero, and Counselor. The rest had been dispatched, on Leader’s orders, to the rest of the hospital, ensuring that none of Villain’s accomplishes had accompanied them. Regardless, the four of them would be more than enough to overwhelm Villain, when they came out.

“You’re saying they can only make it five more minutes in there?” Hero asked, their hands fidgeting at their sides. Small sparks of power appeared along their fingertips-- a surefire sign of their nerves.

“No.” Medic deadpanned. “In approximately five minutes, hypothermia will start to set in. It won’t be fatal for quite a while. I’d say we have an hour, at least.”

“Villain will give up before then.” Leader reassured. “I’ll...”

They swallowed and approached the steel door separating them from their captive. Captive? Was that the right word? Maybe. Villain had, in all truth, sealed themself in the cold storage. There was no lock on the outside. They could leave whenever they so chose. Right into the Heroes hands, of course, but still.

Leader hadn’t exactly expected Villain to stay in the room. They had expected them to turn around as soon as they entered, to keep up the chase. Yet, they hadn’t.

They had to give up soon. They were surrounded. They were stubborn as all get out, but they weren’t stupid. It was death by hypothermia, or surrender. The better of the two was pretty damn clear.

Taking a sharp breath in an attempt to raise their own confidence, Leader knocked on the door.

The response wasn’t verbal. Rather, it came in the form of a panicked yelp, and the scrambling of someone backing away.

Leader exhaled. They supposed that they would have to do the talking, here.

“Hello? Villain?”

A muffled swear came from the room. That was all the greeting they had really expected.

“You’re going to need to come out of there, before you’re in danger. You’re not equipped for those temperatures, you know that. No one is gonna hurt you.”

Leader nearly fell backwards at the sudden crash of an object against the other side of the door. It seemed that negotiations weren’t going to go very far, just yet. With a sigh, they turned back to their gathered team.

“Hero, go get some blankets. One of those electric ones, if you can. This isn’t looking good.”

“Pourquoi pas niquer le sérum si tu l’aimes ainsi.” Villain swore under their breath.

Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes and thirty two seconds and- and who gave a shit. They’d been stuck in this damn room for fifteen minutes.

The shivering had only started about three minutes ago. It was nothing like normal shivering-- that incurred when waiting for a bus in the cold. The tremors were far more violent than that, shaking their body. They felt their mind to be knocking around their head with the sheer force of it.

The chattering of their teeth had become normal to them, normal, though it was just as violent and just as uncontrollable.

Outside, their killers spoke in hushed voices. Villain wasn’t sure if they even wanted to know what they were talking about. Probably about how to torture them first. Knives, or fire, or electricity, wouldn’t that be ironic! Jokes on them, dammit! They wouldn’t get the chance. Nope, no, no chance for them... no chancy chancy.

Without thinking about it, or hardly even noticing, their blue-tinted fingertips fumbled at their jacket’s zipper, until they were finally able to undo it. They slipped the garment off, throwing it across the floor.

Much better.

Still, why did they feel so hot...?

“Will this be enough?” Hero appeared from around a corner, nearly giving Leader a heart attack with just how suddenly they appeared. In their arms was piled a heap of blankets. They were thin, just enough to keep a patient warm as they fell under anesthesia, but Hero must’ve had at least ten of them.

“I sure hope so.” Leader nodded, gesturing for them to put the pile down. As Hero did so, Leader turned back to Counselor and Medic.

Medic cleared their throat, continuing their throat from before Hero had scared everyone half to death with their appearance.

“Hypothermia is generally thought to occur in three stages. The first is the most mild-- consisting mainly of mild shivering and numbness of the peripheral digits. Stage two is when things start to get... dangerous. Shivering becomes violent, and the patient may be unable to perform finer motor functions. It’s at this stage that the cold begins to affect... mental capabilities. Irrational behavior is common. Hallucinations and delusional states aren’t unheard of. And stage three...”

They hesitated for a moment, until Leader raised an eyebrow.

“Shivering stops. The patient will generally fall into a coma before their heart gives out.”

“We can’t let that happen.” Counselor’s voice sounded as though they were on the verge of tears, which was a very real possibility. Still, the determination in their tone won out over any fear. “Can I talk to them?”

“Be my guest.” Leader nodded.

“Villain?”

The tone was quiet. Soft. Whimsical and moving and whisping like a... like a whisper.

Villain looked up. Their cell was tiny-- an eight foot by eight foot construction of corrugated steel. A chain hung limply from the ceiling, from which a light had once hung. That’d been removed, after Villain had made it explode upon their Trainer. Their cot had gone with it, leaving the room bare, with nothing but four walls, a floor, and a ceiling.

“Villain, I’m Counselor. I don’t know if we’ve really met. I know you’re scared, and I can’t blame you. But if you stay where you are right now, you could get really hurt. I know I can’t force you to come out, but... what are you worried about? You can talk to me. I won’t even tell any of the others, I promise.”

The door opened, flooding the room with light. Villain scrambled backwards, hitting a wall that wasn’t where it should be. The two figures that entered were blank-- their faces featureless, nothing but expanses of skin, lacking eyes or anything of the like. One clipped a leash to the ring hanging from Villain’s collar, while the other lifted them from under their armpits.

“Please no I don’t want to go please I’m still healing please I can’t go for that long again I’m still healing. I won’t be of any use please just give me a bit more time.”

That was what they had meant to say, at least. The words came out in a stream of nonsensical syllables.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t understand that. Do you speak English? Um... Voulez-vous un traducteur ? Un traductor ?”

Villain struggled to their feet, lacking any other choice with the tight grip the figure held upon their leash. The tiles clicked beneath their feet, which didn’t make much sense, as the floor of their cell was made of steel.

The figures led them outside of their cell, into the wider facility. Other figures hurried around, faces equally blank. Preparing for a mission, Villain could only assume.

Someone called out to the figures escorting them. They turned. They felt the grip on their leash loosen.

Their heartbeat drummed in their head at the realization. The facility was so busy. Everyone was so distracted... what other chance would they get?

Villain took the risk.

A quick jerk of their neck sent their leash flying from the figure’s hands. They turned to run, but found something blocking their way. They couldn’t see it, but they felt something in their hands...

“Yeah! Come on, Villain, that’s it. Just turn the lock. It’s gonna be okay, alright? Just turn the lock.”

Turn the lock. Turn the lock. Behind them, the figures were already shouting. For a moment, their fingers fumbled around at the contraption, before, at last, they did it. They turned the lock.

The door burst open, and a gust of freezing air with it. Counselor was practically thrown backwards with the sheer force of it, sending them stumbling.

Before Villain, three more of the faceless figures approached, seeming as though they had been in the middle of something. Within a moment, they had turned to them, grasping desperately in a flurry of hands.

With clumsy strikes, Villain did their best to bat them away, but found a pair of strong hands pushing them to their knees, and then onto their face.

Why was everything so white? No, the facility didn’t look like that. It was so bright. They blinked. Where were they? With an absentminded hand, they reached to their neck, feeling for their collar, only to find nothing but frigid skin.

Just as quickly, their hand was pulled behind their back, along with their other arm. The cuffs were soft, fabric, rather than the biting hold of metal. A moment later, more fabric was piled on top of them as a blanket was draped over their shoulders.

Where were they?

Again, they blinked, only to find the facility replaced with a bright, sterile hallway. Where had they gone. Had they gone unconscious? They tried to struggle, but found themself unable.

“It’s okay.” The voice sounded like it was coming from a million miles away. “You’re okay. The doctors are going to be here any second. Just hold on. Hold on. It’s going to be okay.”

It didn’t make sense, but right about now, nothing did. The screeching wheels of a rapidly approaching gurney were the last thing Villain heard as they collapsed into blackness.

#whump #whump prompt #whump trope #environmental whump #cold whump #hero villain whump

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

Text

Good Omens - A Historic Blunder (Rated NC17)

Summary: Crowley shows up in the Bastille to rescue Aziraphale, but for some reason, when he snaps his fingers, it doesn't only release Aziraphale from his chains, it switches their places. Miffed at all of Crowley's mean comments about his beautiful suit, Aziraphale doesn't just opt to free Crowley, but forces him to earn his way out of his chains by putting his smart mouth and sharp tongue to better use. (1999 words)

Notes: Written for the @coldomenszine - nsfw digital-only edition. Warning for bondage and oral.

Read on AO3.

“What in the …?" Crowley glares at the shackles clamped around his wrists and Aziraphale's gold brocade suit miraculously tailored to his body. His eyes dart over to Aziraphale, clothed in the burgundy coat he arrived in. "Why am I wearing your clothes? And your chains? How the Heaven did this happen?"

"I don't know," Aziraphale says, massaging his wrists, rubbed raw by the shackles he'd been locked in. Indeed, how did this happen? Just moments ago, between pleasant banter and derisive remarks in regard to Aziraphale's unfortunate clothing choices, Crowley had snapped his fingers, performing a demonic miracle to set Aziraphale free. Which he did, so, of course, well done him. But now Crowley is the one in chains ...

... while Aziraphale is dressed like a peasant.

"Are you losing your touch?"

"Very funny.” Crowley snaps his fingers again. And again. And again. But no matter what he does, he can’t break free.

Most of what he'd intended when he snapped his fingers happened. Aziraphale is unbound, and the guard who had been sent to fetch him standing paralyzed in the corner. Other than that, nothing else worked the way it was supposed to.

It's almost as if his spell backfired.

"Could this be a punishment from Hell for you rescuing me?" Aziraphale asks with genuine confusion. "You said your lot don't send rude notes. Could they have taken away your power instead?"

“Don’t know," Crowley says, examining his hands for answers. "Does seem like something they'd do.”

Aziraphale gasps. "Maybe they know you're here, and this was a test! Or maybe this isn't Hell's doing at all! Maybe this is Heaven's!" He looks up and around, trying to sense any Holy influence in their midst. If he finds any, he's going to be very put off, seeing as they made no move whatsoever to aid him.

"All interesting theories," Crowley agrees, giving the shackles a tug, checking their strength. "Theories I would love to discuss with you at length somewhere other than here. So why don't you get me out of this mess?"

Aziraphale tuts at Crowley's tone. He's every inch a demon of Hell, with demon manners, too. "What's the magic word?"

Crowley rolls his eyes. He considers not saying it out of spite, but what other option has he? "Please."

"Could you possibly say it nicer?"

Crowley fixes Aziraphale with the fire of his fierce, yellow eyes. "No."

"Fine." Aziraphale raises a hand to snap his fingers, but he hesitates.

"Wot?" Crowley shakes the chains to remind Aziraphale what he should be doing. "Wot's the matter?"

“I don't know."

"Wot do you mean you don't know?"

"It was nice of you to sweep in here and help me, but you're being mean to me."

"I'm being mean to you?"

"You made fun of my clothes!”

Crowley sputters like a car struggling to start. “You’re ... you're ... you're going to let me get discorporated because I made a comment about your outfit?”

“It was rude! I'll have you know that suit was a gift from Marie Antoinette herself!”

"Pfft. Fitting you'd be wearing it here then."

Aziraphale tsks in disgust. "Was that really necessary?"

Footsteps overhead, coupled with the sounds of cells opening and shrill cries for mercy, draw Crowley's attention away, make him swallow hard. "Okay, look, none of that matters right now! I got you out of your chains, yes? Tit for tat, angel. Bust me out!"

"Quite right, quite right. I could do that. Bust you out, as you say. But what’s in it for me?”

"Aside from you not losing your head?"

"Yes. Obviously. Aside from that."

“I’ll take you to lunch," Crowley offers.

Aziraphale shrugs. “Alas, I’ve already eaten.”

Crowley pulls a face. “That’s never mattered before!”

“Yes ..." Aziraphale grins "... but today it does.”

"Wot else could you possibly want?"

"What are you willing to give me?"

Crowley crosses his arms over his chest, fumbling with the cumbersome metal links so he can manage it. "I know you've got something on your mind, angel. So could you help me out? Give me a hint?"

"Well ..." Aziraphale rolls his eyes to the ceiling, stalling in the hopes Crowley might figure it out "... it's been terribly stressful here, locked up by myself, waiting to be executed ..." He busies himself picking nonexistent lint from Crowley's jacket, feigning nonchalance. He has no intention of letting Crowley lose his head. He's having a bit of fun with him.

But maybe he can finagle a little something more.

"So you're wanting something to relieve your stress, is that it?"

"Perhaps ..."

Crowley smirks. "The stress of being locked up or the stress of being an arsehole?"

Aziraphale huffs. “Remember, my dear, I can’t stop time the way you can so we don’t have a lot to play around with.”

“How much time are we talking about exactly?” Crowley asks, dropping to his knees. Aziraphale hides his triumphant grin behind a scowl when he sees the immaculate hem of his pants and the toes of his satin shoes come in contact with the grimy floor.

“There are guards strolling the halls, checking on prisoners several floors above us. There’s one a few floors down doing the same, coming up this way. So I’d say you have roughly twenty minutes.”

"Twenty minutes!?”

“Nineteen now.”

“Knowing the response time of your cock when faced with my tongue, I’d say that’s more time than I need.”

Aziraphale glowers. "Eighteen ..."

"Alright, alright! Help me out! Undo your trousers!"

"You're already down there. I'd say you're in a better position to undo them, don't you?"

"Bastard!" Crowley growls. He snaps his fingers, quadruple checking that it won't work. Wouldn't it be the dog's bollocks if his magic came back in time to shove Aziraphale's snarky attitude right back in his face?

But it doesn't.

Crowley unfastens the fall-front of Aziraphale's trousers, the rough metal of the shackles doing no favors for his wrists in this position, but that barely fazes him, focused on this particular task.

It's been ages since he's seen angel's cock.

He removes it from the confines of angel's trousers, holds it in his hand, and wonders - has it gotten bigger since? Has Aziraphale been putting extra effort into this part of his anatomy since the last time they were together?

Or is he doing this now for Crowley's benefit?

To make Crowley desire him?

Crowley opens wide, takes him in his mouth, but slowly. More slowly than usual. They might be pressed for time, but Crowley feels a need for vengeance. He's going to drag this out, use all of the eighteen - no, seventeen - minutes they have to frustrate the Hell out of Aziraphale.

Teach him a lesson he won't forget anytime soon.

Crowley's lips around Aziraphale's cock nearly discorporate Aziraphale in an instant. It's been too long since he's sampled this demon's pleasures - his warm mouth, his quick wit.

His exquisite company.

"That's is," Aziraphale moans as Crowley wraps his serpent tongue around him, then drags it down his length. "That definitely hits the spot."

Crowley pulls away. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. My knees are aching like Christ on the cross."

"Too soon, my dear," Aziraphale mutters, eyelids fluttering shut to block out sounds of clattering chains, guards coming ever closer, screams of prisoners dragged to their deaths, the ominous drop of the guillotine. "Too soon."

This is the way things have been between them for as long as Crowley can remember. These small indiscretions, stolen taboos, are all they're allowed. They never know when they will have time together, so they relish it whenever it comes along. As fun as it is riling angel up, Crowley can't help wishing he could do things up proper: in the quiet of his flat, on a bed of rose petals, with a bottle of champagne, a bowl of fresh cream, and all the time in the world to enjoy it.

“Crowley!" Aziraphale whines, hips bucking, desperation saturating every breath. "They're coming!"

"Are you?"

"This isn't the time for humor!"

"How much time do we have left?"

"We don't have any left!”

As if on cue, the guards Aziraphale has been sensing arrive, going on loudly about what could have happened to their companion (Marcel - the man stuck in the corner). They stop, do a double-take, then go bug-eyed when they spot Crowley, dressed like a member of the haut monde, on his knees in front of Aziraphale.

At first, they don't know what to make of it. They would chalk it up as a victory if not for the fact that, even dressed like one of them, they have no idea who Aziraphale is. And though they recognize the fancy suit Crowley is sporting, they have no clue how the man inside went from plump and pale to thin with flaming red hair and dark glasses.

They try to think up a practical explanation, but as former men of faith, they come to the conclusion that what's going on inside the cell is the work of the Devil. They hurry off, presumably to summon back-up, screaming about witchcraft and perversion. Aziraphale doesn't know for sure. They could be yelling about the weather. His grasp of conversational French isn't as good as it should be. He could ask Crowley to translate, but he wouldn't remove his mouth from his cock for anything.

Tragically, Crowley does so himself. "I think we've been spotted."

"How did you guess?"

"Are you even close?"

"Yes! Yes, I am! I ... oh, let me! May I?" Aziraphale grabs Crowley's head but waits for a consenting nod before he holds him still and fucks his mouth to the finish. And Crowley lets him. He may as well have some fun with his mouth before he and his head become strangers. Not that he thinks Aziraphale would leave him there to be beheaded.

But would he?

"Oh! Oh, dear! Oh for Heaven's ...!" Aziraphale comes down Crowley's throat in a wash of Holy light enough to burn straight through to his stomach, but that's part of what he enjoys about letting angel use him.

That taste of Heaven that accompanies his orgasm.

"Oh my goodness!" Aziraphale pants. "That was exceptional, my dear. Bravo. You really know how to rise to a challenge."

"I'm glad you're satisfied." Crowley wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then licks up every last drop. "But there's still the matter of you breaking me out."

"Yes ..." Aziraphale awkwardly clears his throat "... that."

"You are going to free me, right?"

Aziraphale shoots Crowley an offended look. "Of course, I am! I'm an angel of my word!"

"A-ha. And how do you intend on doing that when you didn't want to use a miracle to free yourself?" Crowley asks, kicking himself for not considering that at the beginning of all this.

"Oh! Well, you see, I nicked the key from that chap over there ..." Aziraphale pats down the pockets of Crowley's coat, then the pockets of his own, chirping a tiny, "A-ha!" when he finds it.

"Why didn't you tell me!?"

"You didn't ask!"

"How did you get it off him without his noticing?"

"Nu-uh." Aziraphale sticks the key in the lock and gives it a twist. "A magician never reveals his secrets."

"Wait! That means you could have gotten yourself ... and me ... out of those chains this entire time!?" Crowley hisses, shaking out the throbbing in his wrists as the chains fall to the ground. But Aziraphale sidesteps Crowley's question and helps him to his feet.

"Come come now! Let's get moving!" With a snap of Aziraphale's fingers, Crowley is re-dressed in his original clothes while Aziraphale reluctantly switches outfits with the still frozen guard. "We mustn't hang about!"

When the guards return, there's only one prisoner in the cell.

The aristocrat on his knees and the revolutionary he was servicing are gone.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #Crowley

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calpalirwin · 3 years

Text

Nights in the OR

A/N: This is called “I watch too much Grey’s Anatomy” so if you’re a fellow Grey’s fan in addition to a fellow Ashton ho, hi!

Word Count: 1.9k

And away, and away we go!

Nights on the peds floor we’re, in a word, uneventful. Low hums and beeps from machines doing their jobs while kids and parents alike snoozed between nurses prodding them awake to do their routine checks. You went through the charts of your patients, delegating a duo of an intern and older resident to each case with strict orders to page you only if something was seriously wrong, and a bright “Keep the tiny humans alive,” before making your way to the emergency room.

The trauma team usually ran the emergency room, a sea of green scrubs moving effectively and efficiently, assessing situations before paging the right departments, or diving headfirst into the work themselves. You caught sight of one of the doctors, a tall man in a shade of green scrubs darker than the rest in the room, and rolled your eyes. Attending trauma surgeon Ashton Irwin was about as arrogant as he was skilled, with an annoying habit of assessing quickly, albeit correctly, and working even faster on patients before shipping them off to the correct departments to deal with the fallout. You weren’t sure if that man had ever spent more than an hour, two tops, with a patient from start to finish. True to his arrogance and almost zero tolerance for sloppy mistakes, he was talking in hushed tones to a second year, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, jaw set, as the resident nodded frantically before running off.

Dr. Irwin took a moment to compose himself, giving the slightest shake of his head and relaxing his jaw, before turning to wherever he was needed next. His hazel eyes scanned the room, and even from where you were you could tell that they were more on the green side tonight as they met yours. He offered forth the smallest of nods and smiles in your direction, dimples indenting both sides of the smile.

You returned the gesture, before twirling your index finger about the room. Extra attending on hand.

He waved his hand. No need. Got it covered, thanks.

You smiled your best, I don’t give a damn smile, striding across the room to take a seat behind a computer, crossing your hands behind your head. And with little else to do on your part, you settled in for a long night of researching the pros and cons of artificial bones versus prosthetics in cases for patients with osteosarcoma, a joint effort you were working on with the orthopedic surgeon.

Around 2 in the morning, you took a break from your research to grab a cup of coffee and a small bite to eat. On your way back, you spotted the orthopedic surgeon with a patient. “Oh! Dr. Hood,” you said as you approached. “Come find me when you’re done. I have some ideas.”

The man swiveled on his chair to glance up at you, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “You’re not in OR 2 with Ash?”

“Nnnnoooo…” you said slowly, taking a sip from your coffee. “Why?” you followed up in a clipped tone. What had Dr. Arrogant done now?

Dr. Hood smiled politely at his patient, and got the attention of his resident. “Ma’am, we’re going to take you up for X-rays now, and then we’ll see about setting your arm for you, okay?”

The woman nodded, clearly shaken up. Then, “What about my husband and son?”

“I’ll get word, and update you as soon as I can,” he promised, before the resident escorted the patient up to X-rays. Finally he turned his attention to you. “Car accident just came in. Parents are a little banged up. Mike and Luke are working up the dad. You know how Luke gets about stitches.”

The both of you shared a chuckle. Luke Hemmings, the plastic surgeon, had very high standards for even the most basic of stitches, and if he was on hand and free, it was an easy bet he’d do the work himself. “So, what’s Mike doing with him then, if it’s just stitches?” you asked, referring to the general surgeon.

He shrugged. “General work up and clearance, I suppose. But the mom and the son’s side took the impact the hardest. Specifically the son. Ash didn’t page you?”

You scoffed. “Why on Earth would Ash page me, Cal? It’s trauma,” you raised your hands and voice in a mocking manner.

“Uh, probably cuz the kid is like seven.”

You growled low in your throat, hands going to tie up your hair. “OR 2, you said? How long ago?”

“Not too long. They gotta still be prepping. So if you hurry…”

“Thanks, Cal,” you patted the man on the shoulder before taking off at a run towards the OR rooms, briefly mourning your discarded coffee and potato chips in the process.

When you shouldered your way into the room, Ashton was in the process of scrubbing in, while nurses finished prep. “What the hell are you doing?” you demanded, arms crossing instinctively over your chest as you made your presence known.

Ashton shut off the water with his elbow, turning slightly to face you. “My job,” was the reply in a tone that questioned your intelligence.

“Bullshit,” you spat. “That,” you pointed out the window towards the child on the table, “is a peds case, and you know it.”

“It will be once it stops being a trauma case, yes.”

“Why didn’t you page me?”

“Because I don’t need you. It’s a trauma case. I’m a trauma surgeon. Now, you want to stop asking inane questions, and let me do my job, or you wanna stand here and fight with me all night?”

“It’s a peds trauma case, and in case you forgot, I’m the peds attending who happens to be trauma certified. And I’ll be damned if you do some hacksaw job on my patient that I have to fix later when I can scrub in and do the correct job now. So, are you going to ask me to scrub in, or do you wanna stand here questioning my credentials all night when you know I’m right? Do not make me go above your head to the Chief, Ash, because you know I will.”

His jaw ticked underneath his mask, his eyes hard as he thought over your threat. “Well?” he snapped after a beat of silence. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to scrub in?”

~~~

It was a grueling surgery, working in tandem with Ashton. For all the shit the two of you gave each other outside of the OR, inside you were one of the best teams, each of you knowing each other’s moves before you made them, and knowing what the other was thinking in the subtlest of changes. Even with both of your focuses solely on the patient in front of you, you were both vigilant in sending Ashton’s intern out every hour on the hour with updates, in which you two were also informed of the parents’ recovery.

Just before the four hour mark, Ashton let out a small hum of approval and you nodded. “Close and get him a room on the peds floor,” you told the intern.

“You don’t want me to update the family?”

“No,” Ashton cut in, already discarding his gloves, mask, and removing his scrub cap, shocks of curly brown hair falling forward and plastering to his sweaty forehead. “I will. Give Dr. Y/L/N any trouble and you won’t see the inside of an OR for a month.”

The intern gulped, knowing their boss meant what he said and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Y/N, I’ll meet you after I update the family to make sure we’re on the same page for how to proceed from here?”

“If you can remember how to page me, that is,” you smiled sweetly.

Ashton chuckled as he left the OR, while you stayed to oversee the intern closing, providing probably much gentler instruction than they were used to.

~~~

You rubbed at your eyes and stifled a yawn as you made your way to the cafeteria, still waiting for Ashton to page you. As you walked in, you realized why Ashton still hadn’t paged, spotting the man chatting with a few other attendings.

“Heard Y/N chewed your ear off,” Michael snickered.

“Yeah, she was pissed. Thanks for that, Cal,” Ashton said with a small giggle before changing his voice to do his best impersonation of you, “ ‘It’s a peds trauma case, and in case you forgot, I’m the peds attending who also happens to be trauma certified. Do not make me go over your head.’ Like yes, darling, I know. I’m the one who gave you your trauma certification.”

As the men started to laugh, you set your tray down in an empty seat at their table. “Morning, gentlemen!”

There was a cough as they tried to stifle their laughter, each of them getting out a choked, “Morning.”

“What were we talking about?” you asked innocently.

“Uh… just how Luke needs to learn to loosen up on the stitches,” Michael thought quickly. “Turns a five minute procedure into a half hour ordeal, it’s insane.”

“Sorry that I care how my patients look after a trauma,” Luke said with an eye roll.

“I’m sure, psych would call that mentality projection,” Calum teased.

“Paging Dr. Pretty Boy!” Ashton cackled.

“Hey! Rather be Dr. Pretty Boy than Dr. Arrogant,” Luke rounded on Ashton playfully.

“Who calls me that?”

“Uh… everybody. Y/N’s pretty accurate with her nicknaming,” Calum grinned.

Ashton let out a breath of disbelief as you smiled sheepishly at him, shrugging your shoulders. “Have you considered being less arrogant?”

“I am not arrogant!”

“Yeah, you are,” you all chorused, while Ashton crossed his arms and pouted. “Oh, whatever, the best surgeons usually are” you continued, turning your attention to Calum. “Before I got stuck in surgery, I meant to talk to you about artificial bones. Found some promising stuff.”

Calum paused in his sip of coffee. “Mmm, shit, awesome. Uh…” he checked his watch, “I got a half hour before rounds. You got time now?”

You checked your own watch. “Yeah, I got t-”

“Actually,” Ashton interrupted. “Y/N, I was wondering if we could talk real quick first. About the kid.”

“Oh! Yeah. We should probably do that. Cal, I’m off after rounds, if you’re free then.”

“Sounds good,” he nodded as he went back to his coffee while you and Ashton rose from the table, bidding the other three goodbye.

“So, his chart’s all up to date. I have one of my fourth years monitoring the situation, but I’m not expecting any complications to arise. Should be good to discharge probably later today or early tomorrow at the latest,” you brought him up to speed as you walked.

“Yeah, that’s great,” Ashton rushed, eyes darting around as he pushed open an on-call room and locked the door behind the two of you. “How long we got til rounds?”

“A little under a half hour, why?”

Ashton smirked as his hands landed hot on your waist, his lips finding yours. “Wanna boss me around some more?” he murmured against your lips, before he was trailing kisses down the column of your neck, before sucking into the sweet spot just before your collarbone, his hands jerking you to be flush against him. “Or, do you want my sincerest apology for being Dr. Arrogant, and forgetting to page you earlier?”

“Mmmm,” you moaned softly, tilting your head back, eyes shutting. “Little bit of both?”

“Yes ma’am,” he winked before scrubs went flying and your back hit the mattress.

Tag List

@aquarius-hood1996 @creator-appreciator @philthepegacorn @myfavfanficsever @cxddlyash @youngblood199456 @stormrider505 @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @hoodhoran @metalandboybands @maybeememez @major5sosstan @kaitieskidmore1

#nights in the or #ashton irwin #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin au #5sos #calpal irwin

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sortagaysortahigh · 4 years

Text

The Rule | Rafe Cameron

Okay i was supposed to post this two hours ago but I got distracted and my dumbass never hit the post button, but lol here’s the smut of the night, there’s gonna be a few blurbs based on their relationship so keep an eye out for those because this ended up being a lot of smut and a lack of plot. This isnt one of my favorite works but idk i guess i was stuck in a rut lowkey

Warnings: cussing, smut, unprotected sex, mentions of nudity, fingering, oral (f receiving), cream pies, overstimulation, slight dom tendencies, choking, idk some other kinks maybe

Word count: 4.5k

Latinx!Fem!Reader x Rafe Cameron

The front door of the fraternity house slamming open surprised everyone inside, it was a thursday at five in the afternoon, half the guys were just getting in from workouts or classes, no one expected to see you coming through the door.

They all stared at you wide eyed, some of them regretted keeping the door unlocked because it occurred to them that you were there to raise hell. They could practically see the anger radiating off of you. One of them whistled at you and you clenched your jaw, grabbing a random pair of keys and throwing it at his head-he barely ducked.

You watched Topper Thornton walk up to you-the two of you had been friends since your freshman year at UNC, with him came Rafe Cameron and Kelce Smith. The three of you got along fairly well, but you were closer to Topper for a while, eventually getting to know Kelce and Rafe more. You considered them some of your best friends, even if they were-as your teammates put it-’douchey frat boy lax guys’.

“Woah woah woah, what's wrong Riviera” He put his hands on your biceps, trying to hold your arms down because he didn’t want you to hit him. You stared at him with a clenched jaw, breathing heavy with an irritated expression on your face.

“If you don’t tell me why you’re angry, I can’t help you, we’ve been over this in the past” He held eye contact with you and everyone was watching the scene unfold.

It’s no secret that you were quite the hothead, it’s the reason that your entire team called you a firecracker, you usually channeled your anger into things like working out or being on the volleyball court. But this time, you were infuriated.

“Did you know?” he furrowed his brows “know what?” “About Rafe’s stupid fucking rule” his eyes widened and you felt his grip on your arms tighten while you tried to move them-he knew you were going to hit him based on his answer. “Okay-listen-here’s the thing-I told him to stop telling guys” you let out a cynical laugh “so you mean to tell me, the reason guys always pussy out of talking to me, is because of Rafe?”

Topper was silent, his eyes were wide, and he looked like he was about to start panicking, your gaze shifted to the other guys in the living room, watching the two of you, most of them immediately looking away. “Do you fucks know about it too?” “hey-hey you don’t have to be mean” you glared at Topper, ripping yourself out of his grip, pointing a finger in his face “you’re lucky I don’t kick your fucking ass Top”

You faced the other guys in the house “Where is he.” one of the younger pledges immediately pointed upstairs, not wanting to get embarrassed by a random latina girl who looked like she could serve a ball right into his forehead. “Great choice sweetheart” Topper tried to grab your wrist and stop you from going upstairs but you gave him a dirty look and shoved him backwards.

Fortunately for you-and unfortunately for them-you’d just found out in your anatomy class that Rafe Cameron had a rule on campus, being that he was very well known around UNC most people followed it. The rule was that you were hands off, no one was supposed to flirt with you, ask you out, and sleeping with you was off the table automatically. Sure some guys didn’t care for the rule, but when you spotted your last hookup coming into class with a busted lip and bruised jaw you had a plethora of questions.

When he told you about Rafe’s not so little rule you were pissed. You’d always wondered why guys wouldn’t look your way, or why they’d ask everyone else out on your team except for you. It’s not like you seeked male validation-but truth be told sometimes you just wanted to hook up with someone. It took you a while to notice the pattern, but at team bonding sessions when everyone would talk about always being flirted with or asked out, or their latest hookups you realized you were the only one.

Plus you were far from ugly, sure you might’ve been one of the shortest girls on your team, but for the record most of your team was hitting the five eleven-six foot mark. But you blamed genetics on that. But you had an amazing body, your hair was always well kept, flowing down your back in loose curls, you had a smile that could kill, and overall you knew you were hot. So it did bother you that guys acted repulsed by you.

Your jaw was clenched while you stormed up the stairs, knowing exactly which room was Rafes. You didn’t hesitate to slam another door open-you reminded yourself to apologize to the guys for slamming their front door so hard-and you stared at a very shocked and confused Rafe. His brows furrowed and his mouth wide open, looking at you from his desk, putting his marketing book down.

“The fucks got you all riled up” you scoffed, smiling and running your tongue across your top teeth before letting out the same cynical laugh from earlier. You nodded your head a few times, dropping your bag on the floor and slamming his door shut.

“Who the fuck do you think you are Rafe Cameron?” he was taken aback by the venom in your tone. “You clearly know who I am y/n Riviera, you just said it” his playful tone led you to grab his deodorant off of his dresser and throw it at him. He gave you another confused look when he realized you were genuinely pissed at him.

“Aw whats got my little spicy latina in a bundle” “don’t call me a fucking spicy latina you know I hate that shit, I will literally fucking castrate you-you’re such an entitled asshole” he raised his brows at your statement, blinking a few time, now fully turned around in his desk chair looking at you. His leg started bouncing up and down and you placed your hands on your hips, shaking your head and letting out a frustrated sigh

“Once again, the fucks got you riled up, tryna break my door and shit” if looks could kill, you would’ve murdered Rafe ten times over by now.

“So did you think I wouldn’t find out about your goddamn rule” his eyes widened slightly, his smile dropped and he licked his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about” “cut the bullshit you’re a horrible fucking liar, and I saw Matt today in anatomy, you did a fucking number on his face” he rolled his eyes.

“I would’ve hit him harder but he’s fucking fast” “what the hell is wrong with you Rafe! Do you realize that in the past two years that I’ve been at this fucking university I’ve only been on four dates, fucking four, the amount of guys I’ve had sex with here-i can count on one fucking hand. What the fuck gives you the right to tell people that I’m off limits, and threaten them, and try to fucking fight them?” he shrugged, his jaw clenched now as he watched you pace slightly while you yelled at him.

“Then the fucking fact that everyone knows but me, all of the guys, no one fucking tells me shit, everyone thinks I’m some piece of goddamn meat that’s just claimed? Are you fucking serious? Do you know how many times I’ve had to question if I’m just fucking vile and unnattractive because no one-no fucking one-even looks my way? Just to find out it’s your fucking fault.”

You weren’t looking at him anymore, you were pacing back and forth in his room, your hands moved rapidly while you talked and you were fighting the urge to throw all of his shit everywhere.

“For the record, you’re far from unattractive and vile” “don’t fucking talk, just fucking listen you asshole” he rolled his eyes, then trailed them down your figure, taking a second to stop on your ass, licking his lips at the sight of it in your thin spandex. Then he trailed your golden legs, seeing the few bruises along them from volleyball, but he ignored them.

When he trailed his eyes back up your figure he paused on your chest, watching it rapidly rise and fall with your words, he was glad your shirt of choice was fitted today-usually seeing you in more baggy clothes-he licked his lips at the sight of you. When he finally looked back at your face you were glaring at him, jaw clenched and the vein on the side of your forehead was popping out.

“Are you really going to fucking sit here and check me out, instead of fucking listening to a single thing I’ve been saying. I should beat the shit out of you with your own fucking stick” he rolled his eyes “shut the hell up already” “excuse me? Did you really just tell me-me the one that you put a fucking ‘don’t fuck’ label on-to shut up? What the hell is wrong with you Rafe. Do you not understand the fact that everyone I know is out here fuckin, suckin, datin, the whole shabang and I’m here alone, dealing with guys being too afraid of you and your fucking fraternity cult followers to even think of holding eye contact with me”

When he stood up you grabbed a random bottle of lotion and threw it at him. He rolled his eyes and walked up to you, looking down at you, but you held eye contact with him. Not backing down.

“Listen Riviera-rules are rules-get the fuck over it” you shoved him back and let out another laugh. “Rules? Rules are fucking rules? I got my back blown out for the first time in months and it wasn’t even that bad-and you-you go and ruin that for me by fighting the guy two days later over some fucking bullshit rule. And why the fuck are you even fighting guys, do you not give a fuck about your position on the stupid fucking lacrosse team, why are you such a douchebag”

He clenched his jaw and let out a deep sigh, trying to hold his composure, but when you shoved him back again he grabbed your wrists and pushed you back against the wall. “Shut the fuck up” “get the fuck off of me you cockblock” he rolled his eyes at your attitude “do you always have to be so feisty, for once just shut the fuck up and stop fucking arguing” “you’re the reason that I’ve been in a drought for months and you want me to be content with that? I should murder you” he laughed at your venomous tone.

“The fuck is funny” “that you really think I give a shit about you being upset” his dominant tone caught you off guard, but you brushed the shock off “Why? Is it because you wanna be overprotective so damn bad-like wow oh my gosh thee Rafe Cameron-the star lacrosse boy-the head of the stupid Kappa Chi house-actually cares wow”

Your sarcasm was irritating him. Truth be told Rafe did care about you, after your first semester at UNC he realized how much he actually cared about you, so much that he decided to instill his rule-mostly because he was overprotective and the jealous type. He had no issue in fighting anyone that tried to get with you, and quite frankly he didn’t care.

“So you aren’t gonna say anything. You’re such a fucking basta-” before you could finish talking he smashed his lips against yours, it caught you off guard but you easily melted into the kiss, letting him have control, giving him entrance, letting his tongue explore the newfound territory. His hands let go of your wrists, one of them on your waist, pulling you closer to him, the other wrapping around your throat, making you whimper.

He pulled away biting your lip in the process. You looked at him, a slight blush on your face and his grip on your throat was bringing warmth to your core. He looked down at you, holding eye contact, clenching his jaw.

“So this is why you had that stupid rule?” your mocking tone irritated him, he was trying his best to hold his composure. “You’re just gonna stare at me-after kissing me like that?-what the fuck Rafe” you swatted his hand away from your throat, shoved him back and tried to walk away, but he grabbed your waist, pulling you back into another heated kiss. Your hands going into his hair, tugging at the strands while his free hand trailed to your ass, giving it a rough smack.

You pulled back slightly, you knew he was holding back. “For fucks sake, let go Rafe” your whiny tone was enough to send his composure out of the window, he didn’t hesitate to move his hands, lifting you and placing you on his desk, moving his books onto the floor, focusing on taking your shirt off of your body, then discarding his own before pulling you back into another kiss.

The feeling of his hard on through his shorts against your clothed center made you whimper, grinding yourself against him, trying to find some sense of relief.

His lips peppered kisses along your jaw, moving to your neck, one of his hands in your hair, pulling it slightly, making you move your head back, exposing your neck more. You moaned when he dragged his teeth along your skin, sucking marks into your skin, marking you as his-and his only.

You felt your growing wetness on your panties and shorts-making you shifting your hips more, letting out small whimpers. He smirked against your skin, moving his hand to your thigh, tracing his fingers along the skin.

“Rafe-if you don’t fucking touch me I’m gonna call Matt to come pick me up and fuck me in his fucking beat up cadillac”

He moved back, staring down at you, clenching his jaw while his other hand wrapped around your throat, holding a tighter grip than before while the hand on your thigh easily slipped between them, pressing into you, feeling your wetness soaking through the thin material.

“You really think Matt can fuck you better than I can?” you smirked at him, wanting to get a rise out of him “I don’t think it, I know it” He nodded his head a few times before moving both of his hands to the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down in a swift movement. You expected him to finger you, but when he got on his knees pulling you to the edge of the desk your eyes widened.

He smirked at your dripping center. “Matt have you like this?” when you didn’t answer he slowly licked your slit, making you shiver, it’d been a while since a guy went down on you, and seeing Rafe between your thighs was driving you crazy, he was waiting for an answer, teasing you.

“No-fucking shit no” he smirked at your answer, his hands on your thighs, holding them back, while he rapidly flicked his tongue against your clit, listening to your moans and whimpers, your hands back in his hair, hips bucking slightly. He slipped his tongue into you, darting in and out of you at a rapid pace, devouring you.

“Rafe-oh my god-Rafe” your moans were loud and you felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm, you were on the verge of begging him to make you cum. He looked up at you, the sight of you above him, in nothing but a thin lace bralette, your head thrown back slightly, eyes shut in pleasure, lips parted, moaning his name-over and over again, the thin layer of sweat starting to coat your skin giving you an almost angelic glow against the sunlight streaming into the room. He moaned into your center, the vibrations driving you crazy, your breaths were strained and your grip on his hair tightened. “I’m gonna cu-Rafe oh my god”

He was positive everyone downstairs could hear your moans as you came, but he didn’t care, he kept his movements up, lapping up your juices, but instead of letting you come down, he moved his tongue back to your clit, wrapping his lips around the sensitive bundle, licking and sucking on it, swirling his tongue-spelling his own name out.

You felt him slip two fingers into you, bringing a pornographic moan from your mouth, feeling you clench around his fingers while he curved them slightly, angling them perfectly, hitting your g-spot with every movement. When you tried moving your thighs, he left a harsh smack onto one of them, making you whimper his name.

Rafe was almost positive that he could stay in this position for the rest of his life, just hearing you moan his name, tasting you, making you cum-over and over again. He loved the way you gripped his hair, the way your breath hitched when he’d gently grind his teeth against your clit, the way your voice was strained. He loved all of this.

He felt you about to cum again, so he slipped a third finger into you, moving his fingers at a rapid pace, looking up to see you looking down at him, with hooded eyes, your hair falling and framing your face perfectly. He swore his heart rate picked up, he’d never been more attracted to you, and he groaned into your center, feeling his cock straining against his shorts.

“Fuck me” your words dragged as you came again, your nectar all over his fingers, but he easily moved back and sucked all of it off of his own fingers.

“I taste good hmm?” your tone was teasing, but your words sounded raspy, your throat was somewhat dry from moaning and you gave him a small smirk, still in your post-orgasmic daze. “Keep talking and I’ll tie you to my bed and eat you out until you’re in tears begging me to stop” his dominant tone made you blush, blinking a few times, biting your lip.

He stood up, looking down at you, taking a second to take the bralette off of you, his lips attaching to one of you nipples, rolling the sensitive nub between his teeth, one of his hands working at your other breast, massaging it, rolling your nipple between his fingers, giving it a slight tug, listening to your moans.

His other hand trailed between your thighs, giving your heat a few rough smacks before sliding two fingers back into you, feeling you buck your hips into his hand. His thumb on your clit, rubbing small circles into it. He pulled away from your breasts, his hand on your jaw now, pulling your bottom lip slightly with his thumb.

“This what you wanted huh?” you bit your lip, looking up at him, his fingers moving faster inside of you, bringing you closer to another orgasm. “Answer my fucking question” you blinked, whimpering at the sensation. “I wanted to be fucked” his movements immediately stopped, you watched him take his shorts off, letting them fall to the floor, his cock sprung out, hitting his abdomen.

Your mouth watered at the sight of it, his large size was impressive, but it made you blush-knowing that he was about to be inside of you. Your eyes traced the veins covering his thick shaft, your eyes stopping on his red tip, leaking precum, watching him pump his shaft a few times.

“Bend over the desk” you nodded your head at him, licking your lips, sliding off of his desk, leaning onto it, arching your back, spreading your legs, waiting for him to fill you-to give you the relief you desperately needed.

He looked at you, smacking your ass a few times, smirking at your whimpers. His eyes trailed your exposed back, then your reddened ass, then they landed on your glistening pussy. Your juices dripped down your inner thighs, and your center looked fucked out already. He loved the sight of you-he was taking mental polaroids of it all.

“Rafe stop looking at my pussy and fuck me” he rolled his eyes at your needy tone, roughly smacking your heat.

He lined himself up with your entrance and you bit your lip, feeling him slowly enter you at first-but he quickly bottomed out after his tip was inside of you. You screamed his name, breathing heavy, looking back at him slightly, not used to being this full. He stilled inside of you, giving you a moment to adjust.

His jaw clenched while he stilled inside of you, his hands gripped your waist, fingers digging into your skin, you were tighter than he expected. “Rafe-please move-fuck please” your begging tone made him groan, his grip on your waist tightened and he didn’t hesitate to almost pull out of you, then slam back into you.

His pace was relentless while he fucked you against his desk, pounding into you, listening to your moans and whimpers. He loved the way you felt wrapped around him, and you loved the feeling of his cock fucking into you-feeling all of him. He moved one of his hands to your hair, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

Your hands were on the desk as he pulled your hair, the arch in your back should’ve been somewhat painful, but the pleasure from Rafe’s cock filling you was overtaking your entire body. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, completely lost in the pleasure you were experiencing as he repeatedly hit your g-spot.

“Could Matt fuck you like this?” “No Rafe-fuck-God No-Only you” your words were slurred, you were lost in a world of pleasure. Your orgasm quickly approaching-you weren’t used to being overstimulated-but you loved every second of it. “I’m gonna-oh god Rafe” your moans were loud as you came, his thrusts never stopping, he fucked you through your orgasm and past it.

When he pulled out of you, you nearly collapsed, letting go of your hair and guiding you towards his bed, he sat down first, pulling you onto his lap, you looked at him with hooded eyes and a dazed smile on your face. You knew what he wanted, so you shoved him back slightly, watching him fall back onto his bed, a smirk on his face while you properly straddled him, gripping his member and sinking down onto it.

Your moans were pornographic and loud, his name left your mouth in a chant as you bounced up and down on his cock, grinding your hips back and forth, letting him fill you, angling him to hit your g-spot even more. He was very vocal, praising you, telling you how good you were at taking his cock, one of his hands on your hip, helping to guide your movements.

You leaned back slightly, an arm on his thigh to help stabilize yourself, the new angle made you see stars while you rode him, keeping your pace up, ignoring the burn in your thighs, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of you. But when his fingers met your clit your movements faltered, the pleasure only intensifying.

“Rafe-fuck-Rafe” “Who’s pussy is this?” you looked at him, he raised his brows expectantly at you, still helping to guide your movements. This was his way of letting you know that he was still in charge. “Yours-oh my god-its yours” your head fell back, feeling yourself on the edge, so close to letting go. You clenched around him and he moved his fingers faster against your clit, guiding you over the edge.

He had a very satisfied smirk on his face, watching you come apart above him, squirting on his hand and abdomen. You whimpered, out of breath, he was still hard inside of you.

“Why the fuck-do you have so much-fucking stamina” he laughed at your pauses-catching your breath. He rolled his eyes “Something about playing a division one sport, I feel like you understand that pretty well Riviera” you rolled your eyes at him, moving yourself off of him, whimpering at the feeling.

“Can you handle another one?” you furrowed your brows-his caring tone caught you off guard. “Matt wouldn’t of asked, he’s pretty sure of himsel-” he cut you off by shoving you down onto the bed, shifting so he was hovering over you “Shut the fuck up y/n” you licked your lips “I don’t think I want to-holy fuck Rafe”

He ignored your statement and bottomed out inside of you, your eyes rolling back, back arching off the bed, and fingers gripping his back. He kept a fast pace, being anything but gentle with you.

You wrapped one of your legs around his waist, feeling him deeper inside of you-you were a moaning mess under him. Feeling your last orgasm building up faster than you thought, the feeling of it was overwhelming you and you couldn’t stop yourself from begging him for it.

“Please-oh fuck-please make me cum Rafe-please-I need it-fuck please” he smirked at you, the sound of you begging made him bite his lip, shifting his weight onto one of his arms, choking you with the other, leaning down to give you a rough sloppy kiss, swallowing your moans, pushing you into your last orgasm, your nails digging into his back, clenching around him-holding him in a vice grip.

He pulled away as fast as he could “can I-” “cum in me Rafe” your words were dragged out but that was all he needed to hear before you felt his ropes of cum coating your walls, the feeling was euphoric.

He leaned his head on your shoulder, the both of you were trying to control your breathing, coming down from your highs. He slid out of you and bit his lip when he heard the whimper come from you. Sitting up, looking at you, trailing his eyes along your fucked out figure, your neck and chest covered in his marks, your waist and hips had small bruises from his hands, and your pussy-he groaned at the sight. Seeing his juices leaking out of you, your thighs had a slight shake to them.

“So you still gonna call Matt?” you rolled your eyes, looking at him. “Fuck off, I’m still mad over your goddamn rule” “In all fairness, I think the rule is nullified now” “why is that?” “because you’re mine, and if anyone tries anything then they’re automatically getting their asses beat” you scoffed at him.

“I’m yours? I don’t recall having a boyfriend” “Okay, so Y/n Riviera do you want to be my girlfriend, some of the benefits include going on stupid dates, coming to my games and wearing my jerseys, getting fucked as much as you want, and you get my love and undying support” you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile on your face.

“It sounds enticing, I think I’ll accept the offer Cameron” “Okay Riviera” “But you have to meet my tias-they’re very judgemental” “you have to meet my father, he’s probably worse”

--taglist and frenz--

@socialwriter @stfukie @pit-zuh @rae131415 @wtfstarkey @starkeymarkey @drewstarkeyobx @ilovejjmaybank @outrbank @angvelics @yourlocalauthor @letsgofullkook @queenk00k @kook-kid @jjmbanks @jjmaybcnks @jjsmentalpolaroids @softstarkey @copper-boom @wtfstarkey @starkeymarkey @ims0golden @jjmaybankx @storiesbymads @kiarascarreras @milaonthemoon

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader

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namu-the-orca · 3 years

Photo

Swimming Sunlight

A large pod of Mediterranean spinner dolphins enjoying some peace, swimming through warm, sunlit waters. This is a fictional species created by Nikaleles on deviantart. I love their design - they’re just so pretty, I had to paint them. It’s been a while though... I started this four years ago. Got stuck on the water webbing, didn’t like it anymore and then it sat almost done on my laptop for 2 years. In a bid to finish old paintings though I recently picked it up again, and I’m glad I did. Just a little work made me enjoy this painting again. I cleaned up the layer hell (turns out I layered everything back then), got rid of the old water webbing and revisited all the dolphins to fix anatomy and colour. Lastly I worked a bit on the overall colours and pained in the surface. Now I’m really happy with how this turned out and I hope you’ll enjoy it too!

#paintings #digital art #fictional species #dolphin #toothed whale #mediterranean spinner dolphin

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jobrookekarev · 3 years

Text

I Remember it All Too Well Chapter 4

Chapter Four of Six: So I Showed up at Your Party.

Words: 2600

Chapter Summary: Alex sees Jo at the bar with Link and Levi. As he begins to approach her, Link blocks Alex off and tells him to leave Jo alone. However, Jo is more willing to share the bar with him.

Story Summary: Alex knew from the moment he signed the divorce papers that leaving Jo and Seattle was the worst mistake of his life. As Alex works his way back to Seattle, he sees Jo again four times before she allows him back into her life.

The four times Alex saw Jo after their divorce, and the one time they finally got back together with her, plus a soft epilogue.

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Relationship: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson.

Characters: Jo Wilson, Alex Karev, Levi Schmitt, and Atticus Lincoln.

Rating: General Audiences

Additional Tags: Regret, Longing, Pining, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Foster Kid, Adoption, Joe's Bar.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

……………………………………………………………………

After arriving back in Seattle, the last thing Alex wanted to do was go home alone. However, this was his new normal. As it was summer he got the kids for two weeks in Seattle at a time, instead of having to fly to Kansas to see them. Alex had tried to remain cheerful and positive on the plane ride back, but the twins could sense his feelings. Although it wasn't the first time Alex had dropped them off only to go back to Seattle, the kids still didn't understand why he wasn’t going home with them. It was a tearful goodbye at the airport that had stuck in his mind the whole plane ride home.

At least next time they would all be in Seattle together as Izzie had agreed to fly out with them in exchange for letting her have the weekend in Chehalis with her mom. Robbie Stevens had apparently been on better terms with Izzie after she left Seattle and was a decent grandma to the kids. The second Alex's plane touched down at SeaTac he seemed to be on autopilot as left the airport and drove back up to Seattle. Somehow he ended up back at the hospital, but instead of going back to work, he decided to hop across the street to Joe's Bar.

When Alex walked into the bar he wasn’t surprised to see that it was still the same as it always was. The neon lights still hung on the walls, peanut shells still littered the floor, and the old jukebox in the corner played the same old songs. Alex quickly went over to the bar and greeted the bartender as he ordered a beer. He looked around the room and wasn't surprised that he didn't recognize anybody until his eyes landed on a booth in the corner. There sat Levi, Nico, and Link, and then he saw her. Jo sat at the booth next to Link as she smiled and talked with them while she drank. Alex stared at her for a moment and as if she could sense his eyes, Jo looked around the room and their eyes met.

Even from across the room, he could see her light brown eyes glow in the low light as she stared at him intently. They hadn't spoken since he laid out his heart to her in the hallway of the hospital a few weeks ago. Yet, as she held his gaze now he suddenly got the urge to get up and go to her. Jo's eyes pulled him in like a lasso and before he knew it, he was walking across the bar to her.

Jo continued to stare at him. Her lips slightly parted in a look of longing as she held his gaze. He had that longing too, Alex always had a longing for her. It was the same feelings that had always drawn him to her. Jo was so similar to him, in the way they grew up, the way they ran, and their anger, but also in their humor, and the way they cared for patients. In love and in life, they were so similar and Jo understood him like no one else did.

It was comforting, she was the one truly familiar thing at the bar and he missed just hanging out with her. He was so lonely without the twins and with Meredith working tonight, he thought he'd end up drinking alone. As he got closer to their table he saw her eyes sparkle and there was a hint of a smile on her lips. Alex was almost to her booth when suddenly Link was standing in front of him.

“What do you think you're doing?” Link said, glaring at Alex as he crossing his arms, and raising his eyebrows at him.

Alex seemed to step out of his daze as he looked at Lincoln and Levi who had stood up to form a wall between him and Jo. “I saw you were here and I thought I’d just come over and say hello.”

“We all know you're back, Alex,” Link said, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’ve been back for a while now and if we wanted to drink with you, we would have asked.”

“Yeah,” Levi added, although he was not the least bit intimidating.

“Can I at least talk to Jo,” Alex said, gesturing to the woman that was hidden behind them.

“No,” Link said, taking a step forward. “You don’t get to talk to her, you don’t get to look at her, and you don’t get to just walk back into her life after everything you’ve done to her.”

“I never expected to,” Alex said, but Link cut him off again.

“You left. This wasn't a mutual thing, where the both of you decided to break up. You left, Alex,” Link said as he loomed over Alex. “You know I trusted you. I trusted you to love her and to take care of her in the way that Jo has always deserved to be loved, but instead, you broke her heart and you left.”

“I know and I am truly sorry. I told Jo that...” Alex started to say, but Link quickly interrupted him, not even letting him get a word in edgewise.

“Have you? Have you really taken the time to apologize, because it sure as hell doesn’t seem like you have. Jo certainly would have told me if you had. She did say that you explained it to her, but it just sounds like a lot of excuses to me. Do you know what Jo did when you left? She took the pain that you caused and she made sure that I didn't make the same mistake that you did, and walk away from Amelia. Now you're a fool for having left her and you're a fool for thinking you can come back. So you can take your sad and miserable self and walk away.”

Alex stood there and he took it. He took every word that Link said to him because he deserved it. “I know. You're right, I was a fool for leaving Jo.”

Link seemed a little surprised at Alex's words and the anger left his face. Alex was happy that Link had been there for Jo since he left. He knew Link would be of course, but he was still happy that Jo had someone to confide in and that Link looked after her.

“Link, let Alex be.” Jo’s hand on Link’s shoulder and her soft voice caught Alex’s attention again as she got up from the booth. “Look, it's late and I told the sitter I'd be home before ten.”

“You don't have to go if you don't want to,” Alex said looking at her as he caught her eye again, those amber eyes still pulling him in. It was only eight, so he knew she was lying about having to get back to the sitter and he didn’t want to make Jo more uncomfortable and he already had. “You guys are clearly having a good time here, so I'm going to go, and don't worry I won't try and talk to you at the bar again.”

Alex turned away before Jo grabbed his arm. “Alex wait.”

It was the first time they had touched and it felt so familiar and natural. Alex turned around and looked at her as Jo realized she was still holding his arm. She looked down at her hand before she dropped it. Jo��s hand left an invisible impression on his arm and he could still feel the weight of her fingers on his sweater. He remembered how she felt in his arms when he held her and he missed her weight in his arms and in his heart.

Jo looked down before she looked back up at him and held his gaze. “You don't have to go. We don't own the bar, I mean, I technically own part of the hospital and I didn't kick you out of there, so you can stay. If you want to. I'll make sure the boys, don't bother you anymore.”

“I wasn't bothering him. If anything he was...” Link started to say, but Jo shut him up with a glare.

“No it's okay, I should be getting home anyway. I've got early morning rounds with the residence and I need to be awake so I can remember all their names and stuff,” Alex said, with a nod trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince her.

“Okay,” Jo said with a nod of her own before she sat back down.

Alex had to tear himself away from her as he turned around and walked back to the bar. He quickly paid for his drink and left. As Alex opened the door to walk up the stairs, he glanced back and saw that Jo was still staring at him. As their eyes met, Jo gave him a soft smile and he easily returned her smile. Jo quickly ducked her head and looked back at Link as they talked and Alex sighed.

Just that simple smile was enough to send his heart to the clouds. Even after all these years, Jo still made him feel like he did when he was first fell in love with her. Alex adored Jo. Her simple smile had made his heart beat faster, and for now, that smile was enough.

……………………………………………………………………

“You didn't have to do that you know,” Jo said to Link after Levi and Nico went to the bathroom to make out and she knew they probably wouldn't be back anytime soon. “You don't have to go full on big brother mode and protect me from Alex.”

“I know, but I wanted to, Jo. The way he left you was not okay and I know that you've forgiven him, or you're in the process of doing so, but you can't just give him a free pass without making him do the work to repair the damage he did.”

“I'm not just giving him a free pass,” Jo said with a shake of her head as she looked up at the door despite how Alex had left a few minutes ago. “Look, I know Alex. I was married to him. I know the way he thinks and why he's doing what he’s doing now. Plus, it’s my decision to forgive him or not and I can make my own decisions.”

“I know, you're right and I'm sorry,” Link said looking down at his drink.

“It's okay,” Jo said, nudging him with her shoulder and leaning against him. “I don't need you to be my big brother, but I appreciate that you still are.”

“Anytime,” Link said, putting his arm around her shoulders and leaning his head against hers. “You'll always be my annoying little sister.”

“Um, annoying? Excuse you, I am a pleasure to be around, I'm pretty sure your parents like me better than they like you,” Jo scoffed as she sat back with a laugh.

“That is annoyingly true,” Link said with a shake at his head. “I can't believe how much they adore you.”

Jo laughed as she remembered the cancerversary dinner she had attended with Amelia and Link a few months ago. She got a text from her babysitter the teenager down the street named Elsie, saying that Asher had gone down for the night, along with an adorable picture of him asleep in his crib. Jo sighed at the photo and showed it to Link. She missed her baby and was ready to go home for the night.

Link offered her a ride home and they texted Levi and Nico a goodbye as they were still in the bathroom together. Link dropped her off at Meredith's, before driving up the street to the house he and Amelia had bought. It had been a few months since her own house hunt had started and she still hadn't found a house. Every place she looked at was either too big or too small. She had told her real estate agent that she wanted a three bedroom house, but everything she saw just seemed too small. Jo didn't know what the future held, and she wanted a place that would be her’s permanently.

Jo walked into the house and let herself in through the side door, by the stairs. Meredith’s kids were still up, and she quickly said hello to them. She paid Elise and sent her home before she headed upstairs. Meredith's kids had their own nanny, but four kids was a little too much for her. So Jo always asked Elise, to watch Asher whenever she wanted a night out.

Jo quietly opened the door to her room, leaving the lights off, and crept over to the crib in the corner. Asher must have woken up as when she peered into the crib, he looked up at her and smiled. He was holding the knitted lion that Grandma Helen had sent out to him and kicked off the blankets.

“Mama,” Asher cooed and reached up for her as Jo leaned down to pick him up. Every time he called her mama, her heart swelled with love for her son.

“Hello my sweet boy,” Jo said cuddling him close.

She grabbed the blanket and put it around him as she walked over to sit in the rocking chair. Jo cuddled Asher closer as he laid his head on her shoulder and she rocked back and forth. Within a few moments, his big brown eyes were fluttering close as she kissed his head. In the dark and peaceful night, Jo took a moment to watch her son sleep in her arms.

At almost a year old he was starting to lose his baby fat as he grew taller each day. He still had the full head of dark hair that grew out so fast she could hardly keep up. She had let it grow out past his neck in an effort to only have to cut it once a month. When Jo picked him up from the fire station she had fallen a little bit in love with him. She and Alex were trying at the time and Jo was ready to be a mother. After Alex left she had made the impulsive decisions to foster and low and behold Asher needed a placement. She had said yes in an instant and they had been a family ever since.

Jo was happy with Asher and being a single mom, but she wanted to love again. Her friends with benefits relationship with Jackson had been the first step and she’d gone on a few dates, but nothing felt right. Now that Alex was back, it brought up a whole mess of mixed feelings she wasn't sure she was ready for, but a part of her wondered, what if.

Certainly, things couldn't go back to the way they were before, but there was a part of her that would always be in love with Alex Karev. Jo wasn't sure if she was ready to be in a relationship with him again, despite how she had forgiven him. However, Jo had made up her mind. She was ready to talk to Alex again and she was curious as to how things would develop from there.

#jo wilson #alex karev #jolex #grey's anatomy #grey's anatomy fanfic #otp: home and heart #atticus lincoln #levi schmitt #my work #my writing #my fanfiction

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bestillmyslashyheart · 4 years

Text

map on your skin

Alex was late. The rest of the group was already settled in around Max’s living room by the time Alex finally sidled in, looking exhausted. He kept to the back of the room and nodded to Jenna to get started without bothering with pleasantries. Kyle tried to catch his eye to see if everything was okay but Alex avoided his gaze.

“Alright,” Jenna huffed, standing up. Next to her, Gregory shuffled a few large files and handed one to her. “This is what we found cleaning out the last of Jesse’s files. Mostly, it’s some nauseating research that I can promise you none of you want to look at,” Isobel and Max looked angry at the thought while Michael hunched in on himself, “but there is a decent amount of information that they managed to discern about where you guys come from and your powers and your anatomy, etcetera, etcetera…” She flipped open the folder in her hand. “And there are other bases.” Jenna whipped out a sheet that had a list of names followed by coordinates. “We’re not sure what, if anything, is still there, but there was definitely something there at one point.”

“We need to search them,” Isobel said immediately. She rose from her seat and ripped the paper from Jenna’s hand, earning herself a scowl that she promptly ignored. “There could be more people there, people like us.”

“Some of these places couldn’t hold prisoners, from what records we have they just weren’t equipped for it, but yes there are a few places that could have held other people at some point. But they all appear to be abandoned.”

“Caulfield appeared abandoned too,” Kyle had to point out. Jenna tipped her head in concession.

“There’s one more thing,” Gregory announced. He dropped his stack of files and unfolded a large piece of paper. Once open, he laid it on the table. Hurriedly, everyone grabbed their drinks and phones to clear some space.

Almost as one, they all stood up and leaned over it to look. “What is it?” Maria asked for the group.

Put simply, it was a mess. There were lines crisscrossing it all over the place with vague shapes underneath. Also, there were three large gaps, giant white spaces that broke up the lines.

“It’s a map,” Charlie answered. Everyone looked at her in confusion. She shrugged. “At least that’s what they believed.”

“A map to what?” Rosa scoffed. “It’s just lines.”

Isobel shook her head. “What are you talking about?” She reached out and dragged her finger across one of the lines. After a few inches her finger fell off the line until she was following something only she seemed to see. “It’s-”

“The stars,” Michael finished. He and Max leaned over further to look closely. “It’s an astronomical map.”

“I don’t recognize that star pattern,” Max mused. He turned his head to look at it from a different angle.

“Okay, what are you looking at?” Maria asked. The three aliens looked up at her. “It’s not a map, astronomical or otherwise.” She furrowed her brow. “It’s just a bunch of lines and blobs.”

Michael huffed. “It’s clearly a map.” He pointed at a blob. “This? This is-”

“We can’t see it,” Charlie cut him off. He glared at her but she ignored it. “It was made by some of the prisoners in Caulfield, and they could clearly read it, but humans can’t. Somehow, however they made it, it doesn’t translate in a way that our brains can comprehend. Whatever it is the three of you are seeing, we can’t.” She gestured at the humans in the room.

“What about the blank spots?” Max asked.

Gregory rifled through his folder. “Uh, they said something about…aha!” He pulled a sheet of paper out and read out, “The heirs will lead the way. Without them, hope is lost.”

“Well what does that mean?” Isobel huffed, crossing her arms. “Are we the heirs? Because we see big white spaces in the middle of this map.”

“Map to where?” Alex spoke up. Everyone turned to him but no one answered. “Where were they trying to go?”

“Does it matter?” Max sighed. “We’re missing half of it.”

Alex eyed the map strangely. Kyle watched him as Isobel and Michael started arguing with Max that of course it mattered. Behind them, Maria was pestering Jenna and Charlie as to why she couldn’t read it if she was part alien. On the opposite side of the table, Liz was oddly silent.

Suddenly, while Kyle was distracted by Rosa pulling out her sketch book and pencil, Alex crossed the room and forced himself gently in between the three aliens. The room fell quiet again.

Alex lifted up the edge of the paper and peeked at the back for a moment before flipping it. Rosa cursed as the edge of it came close to her face but she quickly grabbed it and helped Alex get it turned over.

“Alex, what are you doing?” Michael asked even as he too helped get it flat on the table. “What the…”

Kyle stood up again, unsure when he’d sat down. The map carried on to the back almost like it had bled through the paper but it looked different. A few blobs were in different places, a few lines missing or added.

Alex studied it carefully.

“How’d you know this was on the back?” Max asked, half an accusation in his voice.

Alex ignored him. He nudged Michael out of his way as he reached across the table to touch the two smaller white spots. “Liz?” He asked.

Everyone turned to Liz.

“Liz?” Max asked. Liz gave him a small smile before focusing on Alex, a considering look in her eyes. She didn’t move at first, her and Alex communicating silently over the expanse of the table. After a long moment in which the room seemed to hold its breath she leaned over and tapped the spot under Alex’s right hand.

“You’re sure?” Alex asked.

Liz held her hand up and waved it back and forth. “I’d have to check but I’m pretty sure.” She shrugged. “I’m not a cartographer so I could be wrong.” She jerked her chin at him in question. “You?”

Alex straightened up and tapped the large white spot in the middle.

“You’re sure?” Liz asked. There was a teasing lilt to her voice. Alex smirked and nodded. Liz sighed and tapped the third spot. “What about this one?”

“Might have to wait on that.” Alex started to fold it the paper up but Michael and Isobel both reached out and grabbed it.

“Woah what are you doing?” Isobel said.

Michael waved a hand between Alex and Liz. “What was that?”

Alex stared at Michael. “Do you trust me?”

“Are you going to answer my question?”

“Not right now.”

Michael stared at him for a moment but Alex didn’t blink. Finally, Michael let go with a huff. “Fine. Do whatever.”

Isobel looked at him. “Not. Not fine. This is ours.”

“And you’ll get it back,” Alex promised, tugging it gently from her hands and folding it up. I just need it for a few days first.” Isobel glared but a sharp look from Michael kept her mouth shut.

“Anything else?” Alex asked Jenna, Gregory, and Charlie. The three of them shook their heads. “Then I’m heading out. Good night!” He slipped out the door before anyone could stop him, the map firmly in hand.

“What the hell was that Liz?” Rosa asked as the door shut behind Alex.

Liz shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.” She looked at her watch. “It’s late.” It was barely 8pm. “I should go.” She leaned up to press a quick kiss to Max’s cheek. “Night guys!” With a wave behind her head, Liz followed Alex out the door.

—

Liz had only been to Alex’s house once since he’d been home but she didn’t have any trouble finding it. The Christmas lights on the tree out front, despite the fact that it was April, definitely helped. She parked next to Alex’s car and hurried to the front door, not bothering to lock the car behind her.

“Alex!” She called, knocking loudly.

“It’s open!” A distant call replied immediately. Liz tried the door and found it unlocked as promised and stepped inside.

“Should I lock it?” She asked.

“Up to you,” Alex replied. “I’m sure they’re right behind you and Michael will get in either way.” Liz left it unlocked.

The light in the dining room called Liz like a moth to a flame. She found Alex hunched over the table, cleared of everything but the map, with a marked stuck between his teeth and pencil in his hand. He had already started sketching in a few lines.

“Alex.”

Alex’s hand stilled. He hesitated, clearly considering his options, before he dropped the pencil and sank back onto a chair with a heavy sigh. He took the marker out of his mouth. “Liz.”

All of a sudden, Liz didn’t know what to say. She pulled out a chair and dropped heavily into it. “Alex.”

The corner of Alex’s mouth quirked upwards. “If you’re not going to ask…”

“Michael’s your soulmate.” It wasn’t the question it maybe should have been. It wasn’t a question at all.

“Yes.” It was said simply. Like there wasn’t a mountain of baggage that came with it. Like Michael hadn’t been dating Maria off and on for months.

What Liz wanted to say was ‘why did you never say anything?’, ‘why was Michael with Maria?’, ‘why aren’t you and Michael together?’, ‘how long have you known?’, ‘were you ever going to admit it?’, but what she said was, “Alex.”

Somehow Alex heard all the unasked questions. “It was easier.”

Liz didn’t understand that.

“Why haven’t you admitted it?” He asked. “It’s not like it’d be a surprise,” he teased gently.

She shrugged. “It never came up.” And it hadn’t. Everything had happened so fast and there had been the revelation of what happened with Rosa ten years ago, and then Max was dead and Rosa was alive, and then she got Max back only for things to get crazy with her dad, and it just never seemed like a good time. Announcing you’d found your soulmate, that you’d met your match, was supposed to be a time of celebration and Liz hadn’t really felt like making a big deal. It deserved to be special, it deserved an event, but there hadn’t been a good time for it.

Alex nodded like he understood.

“When did you know?” She asked quietly.

“First time I came back,” Alex answered. “After basic training, before my first posting. It, uh, it was about six months after graduation?”

“That was ten years ago.”

“It was.”

“How could you- I mean, why didn’t you-?”

Alex shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

Liz accepted that. Up until tonight, the only information she had on Alex’s relationship with Michael had come from Maria so she knew she was missing more than a few key bits of trivia. “You know,” she started after a long silence, “the first time I saw it? And realized what it was? I freaked out.”

“Yeah?” Alex laughed.

Liz nodded with a little laugh of her own. “Yeah,” she agreed. “It was right around when I found out what had happened to Rosa. I, uh, I walked in on him accidentally while he was getting ready for work and I saw it and I just…ran. Went home, drank a lot, and ignored it. Right then, he was the guy who framed my sister for an accident that killed two other girls and he’d covered it up for ten years. I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that he was my soulmate too.”

She could still remember it vividly. Max had come around the corner in just his boxers, not having heard her come in or call his name, and splashed across his thigh was his mark. She was pretty sure she’d seen it once in high school, or at least the part of it that covered the top of his knee, but it hadn’t solidified then. But that day it was clear as could be, a mess of images on a grid background that should have been an amorphous blob to her eyes. That for a moment, she had wished was an amorphous blob. Because a person’s mark was only a solid image to their soulmate, to the rest of the world it was like a bastardized Rorschach test, and in that moment Liz had wanted nothing less than for Max Evans to be her soulmate. So she’d turned on her heel and ran out the door. It was only weeks later that she let herself get up close and personal with it.

Until today, Liz had never seen anything else like it in the world. It vaguely resembled a map but nothing quite like any she’d ever seen. Not until Gregory Manes unfolded an alien map that humans shouldn’t be able to read but Liz saw clear as day. Equally clear was the blank white spot on the side where Max’s mark would fit perfectly. It was the same size, same markings.

Three cars pulled up outside. The engines cut out and the doors slammed shut. Liz counted silently to ten. On six, Alex’s front door swung open.

“Alex!” Michael yelled.

Alex didn’t answer. He and Liz sat silently as the heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway until Michael appeared in the doorway. “What the hell?” Michael greeted.

“Hi,” Alex greeted with a glare.

Michael rolled his eyes. “Yeah, hi. You knew we were coming, you left the door unlocked.” Max and Isobel filed in behind him. “So tell us.”

Max looked to Liz, the question clear in his eyes. Liz looked to Alex, silently ceding the floor to him.

Alex stood up, his back straight and shoulders square. “Liz and I can read the map. And we each have one of the missing pieces.”

“How?” Isobel asked.

“Because they’re yours,” Liz answered. Isobel and Max turned to her in question but Michael hardly glanced her way.

“Alex?”

Alex sighed. “The missing pieces are your marks.” He pointed at the one Liz had identified earlier. “According to Liz, Max’s mark fits this blank space here. And this,” he pointed at the large one in the middle, “is yours, Guerin.”

“What are you talking about?” Isobel asked. “How do you know that? They said humans can’t read it.”

“I guess since we’re your soulmates and can see your marks, we can see the map? And where they fit in?” Liz looked to Alex and Alex shrugged. “Best guess?”

Max and Isobel turned to Alex then Michael. The sudden synchronicity was disconcerting. “What?” They both asked.

Alex arched an eyebrow. “Thought you said they knew?”

Michael shifted under everyone’s gaze. “It’s not like we talked about it but they knew.”

“Clearly they didn’t.”

“You really want to get into who knew and who didn’t?” Michael shot back.

Alex lifted a hand in concession. “Look, the important thing is Liz and I can fill in the missing pieces from yours and Max’s marks but we’ll still have a blank space unless…” he turned to Isobel.

“Don’t look at me, I’m the one in the room not hiding a secret soulmate.”

“I wasn’t hiding anything!” Max immediately protested. “You knew!”

“Yeah but not because you told me!” Isobel yelled back. “I had to figure that one out on my own.”

Liz tuned them out as she focused on Michael and Alex. She still hadn’t quite processed the revelation that they were soulmates, that they’d known for ten years they were soulmates and done nothing with that knowledge. The two men were communicating silently across the table, both leaning in towards each other but neither saying a word. Finally, Michael looked down at the map and traced the few pencil lines that Alex had started sketching in.

“You do this from memory?” He sounded disbelieving.

“You forget what mine looks like?” Alex asked, eyebrow arched.

“No but yours is a lot smaller.” Michael smiled. Alex rolled his eyes.

“Wait,” Liz sat forward. “How big is yours?” She’d never seen it but- “If it’s comparable to Max’s,” she traced the outline of the white space where Max’s mark fit and it was true to size, “how is yours…?”

Michael rolled his eyes and started tugging off his shirt. His undershirt quickly followed, hitting Isobel in the face as he tossed it aside.

“So gross,” she muttered as she flung it away. Liz didn’t hear her though because Michael turned around and showed her his back.

The entire expanse, from the tops of his shoulders down under the waistband of his jeans and curled over both his sides, was mess of mottled black ink. Liz couldn’t make sense of it because there were no spaces, it was like someone had slathered Michael’s whole back in black paint and just smudged the edges.

Liz whistled lowly. She’d never seen one so large. Most were much smaller. Even Max’s, which covered the space from his knee up to his hip, was considered large. Michael’s was huge.

Michael gave her another second to look and then he started to tug on his shirt, the undershirt forgotten on the floor.

“No.” Michael stopped immediately at Alex’s command. Liz looked over to see him with pencil in hand already sketching in more lines. Michael craned his neck to see over his shoulder.

“Really?” He asked. “You want to do this now?”

“Well you’ve already got your shirt off.”

“If you want me to take my shirt off, darlin’, all you gotta do is ask,” Michael leered. Alex shot him an icy look that froze Michael in his track’s. Instantly, his face fell into a frown and he turned to stare at the wall opposite.

Liz cleared her throat. “Do you have another pencil?”

Alex gestured behind him to cup full of writing utensils. Liz scoured through it until she found an already sharpened pencil and then turned back to the silent crowd. “Alright take your pants off.”

“Woah, what?”

“Hold on.”

“I’m out.” Isobel threw her hands up and left the room. “Have fun with your art project!” The door slammed shut behind her.

Michael glared at Max. “Leave the pants on.” Max rolled his eyes at him.

“Where exactly is Max’s mark?” Alex asked hesitantly. Max ran a hand over his thigh. “And how far up does it go?” He turned to Liz.

Liz considered it. “Probably best if we do that at home.” She looked down at the map. “His is smaller-”

“Yeah it is,” Michael interjected.

“Oh my god are you twelve?” Alex huffed. Michael smirked.

“As I was saying,” Liz continued, “the space for Max’s mark is a lot smaller so it might be easier if I do his first and then give it back to you to do Michael’s.”

“That would make sense,” Alex agreed slowly, looking down. Still, he hesitated.

“No?”

Alex flipped the pencil over in his hand and tapped the part he’d started sketching. “I’ve already started and Michael’s already here and ready, so why don’t I keep it tonight and work on it a bit and then I’ll bring it to you tomorrow. You can keep it as long as you need and then once you’re done I can finish up.”

Liz checked with Max and shrugged. “That works. After all, there really isn’t a rush, right? Since we don’t have Isobel’s section?”

“That’s true,” Max acknowledged. Michael seemed antsy though. “It doesn’t have to happen tonight.”

“In that case, why don’t you just keep it until you’re done and then pass it along?” Liz suggested.

“That works, too.”

“So are we doing this tonight or what?” Michael huffed. Alex nodded. “Okay then.” He spun around and sat on the edge of the table, back to Alex. “Sketch your heart out.”

“You two do that and let us know when you’re finished.” Max looked to Liz. “We skipped dessert?”

Liz smiled. “Don’t worry, I know a guy who makes great milkshakes.” He smiled back at her. She stood up and looked around for her keys before remembering she’d dropped them on the table in the hallway on her way in. “You two need anything before we go?” Michael and Alex shook their heads.

“Have a good night,” Alex looked up from the map and gave her a small smile that Liz returned.

“Good night, guys.” She squeezed Michael’s bare shoulder in goodbye as she walked by.

“Night!” He called after them.

–

The house was eerily silent once Max and Liz left, the scratches of the pencil on paper the only sounds.

Alex worked steadily for about five minutes before Michael started fidgeting. “Guerin.”

“It’s too quiet.”

Alex pulled out his phone and hit play on his latest playlist, the music flowing a second later. “Now sit still. This needs to be exact.”

Michael was a perfect model for a little over ten minutes. And then he opened his mouth. “You told Liz.”

“Would you prefer I didn’t and left your map incomplete?” Alex shifted to get a better view of the part wrapped around Michael’s left side.

“You’ve never told anyone.”

Alex shaded in one of the shapes he’d just outlined. Once he thought it might have represented a landmass but now he’s pretty sure it’s a planet. “Neither have you.” They’d never discussed it, not really, but they’d each come to the same conclusion, that their marks were theirs and no one else’s. So no one else needed to know.

“Well secret’s out now.”

Alex hummed. He couldn’t quite see where the next line ended so he reached out without a thought and gently pulled at Michael’s skin to get a better look. Michael sucked in a breath but didn’t say anything, his back muscles tensing under Alex’s hand. Alex ignored it.

“So who’s gonna tell Maria?” Alex froze, the pencil digging into the paper.

“What?” He asked, certain he’d misheard Michael.

“I said who’s gonna tell Maria?” Michael looked over his shoulder. “Because I doubt the others are going to come up with some other reason for how we fill in the missing spaces. They know which means everyone is gonna know which means Maria’s going to find out one way or another.”

“She’s your girlfriend,” Alex reminded him coldly. “You should be the one to tell her.”

“She’s your best friend.”

“Eh,” Alex replied. “She’s my friend, yes, but we’re not nearly as close as we used to be. And again, you’re the one dating her. The person responsible for telling her her boyfriend already found his match is her boyfriend.” He poked Michael with the eraser. “That means you.”

Michael sighed. “I don’t want to.”

“I know.”

“This thing with her is easy, that’s why I like it.”

“I know.”

“Bringing soulmates into it complicates things.”

Having a soulmate didn’t seem to complicate things all that much, Alex didn’t say. What he said instead was, “I know,” because he did, because Michael had told him as much every time the subject came up. “You still need to talk to her, though.”

Michael let out a breath and hunched over, his elbows on his knees.

“Guerin,” Alex admonished. “Stop moving.”

But Michael stood up. “I need a drink.”

“You really don’t.”

“I really do.”

He left the room and a moment later Alex heard his cabinet door open and shut. Just the one because Michael knew his way around Alex’s house nearly as well as Alex did.

Alex dropped the pencil onto the table with a clatter and followed. Michael greeted him with a glass of his own which Alex took and quickly drained before placing in the sink. “What’s the problem?”

Michael scoffed. “There’s no problem.”

“Guerin.”

“You told Liz.”

“I didn’t actually but she’s smart enough to figure it out on her own and I didn’t bother wasting my breath correcting her.” Alex drummed his fingers on the counter. “And so what if I did? I can’t tell my friend about my soulmate? I need your permission?”

“I thought we would decide together before telling anyone,” Michael confessed petulantly.

Alex blinked in surprise. “When the hell did we agree to that?”

“I thought it was obvious.”

“Oh well it wasn’t.” Alex took a deep breath. “I’m sorry we didn’t wait until you got here to discuss it but I won’t apologize for telling her.”

Michael huffed. “Course not.” He drained his glass and placed it next to Alex’s. “Back to the art project.”

Alex paused a few minutes in the kitchen. Normally, he loved being around Michael, even when they weren’t getting along, even when it hurt, but there was a tension in the air that he didn’t like. He didn’t understand where it was coming from but he knew a powder keg when he saw it and right now they were one.

“Alex!”

When Alex walked back into the dining room it was to find a naked Michael Guerin perched on the edge of his table. Alex stopped and stared, he couldn’t help it. No matter how many times he’d seen it, the view still took his breath away. Part of it was just Michael, absolutely, but part of it was the mark in its entirety. It covered the top of Michael’s ass, enough so that he really couldn’t display it unless he took his pants off, so Alex didn’t always get to see all of it. “I wasn’t doing that part yet.”

Michael smirked. “Well now you can.”

Alex made himself focus on the work for as long as possible but when he had to touch Michael to position him correctly for Alex to see everything, all hope was lost.

The second his hand grabbed at Michael’s ass, Michael arched his back and pressed into it.

“Guerin,” he warned. Or tried to.

Michael smirked. “You’re the one with your hand on my ass, darlin’.” Alex quickly removed his hand. Michael rolled his eyes and stood up, turning around to face Alex. Alex dropped his eyes low before forcing them up to Michael’s face. That damnable smirk was firmly in place.

“You have a girlfriend.”

Michael shrugged. “Only technically. We’ve barely talked in weeks, haven’t had sex in like two months. It’s done with we just haven’t actually said it yet.” He rounded the table. “Besides. You’re my soulmate.”

He stepped in close. Alex didn’t move away. “You were pissed at me a few minutes ago.”

“I’m still a little pissed,” Michael admitted. “So what?”

Alex pressed a hand into the center of his chest and pushed Michael back a step. “We’re not having sex.”

Michael arched an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “No?”

“We’re working on your map,” Alex reminded him. “That’s it.”

“Alex,” Michael groaned. He grabbed onto where Alex was still pressing against his chest with one hand and looped a finger through Alex’s belt loop with the other. One sharp tug and they were pressed flush against each other.

Their lips brushed against each other in a whisper of a kiss before Alex pulled away. “If you don’t want to work on the map then we should call it a night.”

Michael looked upset. “So that’s it, huh?”

“What’s it?”

“We can tell people we’re soulmates but we can’t act like it?”

Alex stared at him. “Don’t.” His voice was hard. “You were the one who wanted nothing to do with me. You were the one who decided to date someone else. You were the one who said we shouldn’t be together. You don’t get to get angry at me for following your lead.”

Michael stared at him, his shoulders rigid with tension, before giving a sharp nod. “Fine. Right. My lead.” He stalked around the table, his clothes flying up from the floor to meet his hands mid-stride. Alex watched him tug on his boxers and jeans, his movements jerky.

“Michael,” he sighed.

“We can do the map another time,” Michael replied without looking at him. “Like they said, without Isobel’s soulmate there’s really no rush.” He shoved his feet into his boots. Michael grabbed his hat and plopped it on his head. “Good night, Alex.” His shirt was still in his hands when he disappeared down the hallway.

Alex groaned softly in the empty room. The front door opened. “Guerin!” The front door closed. Alex stepped into the hallway. It was dark but the lights from outside framed Michael’s hunched form well enough for Alex to see. “I’m going to bed.”

“It’s early,” Michael replied in surprise.

“It is,” Alex agreed. “Might have to lay there for a bit. Could get boring.”

Michael half turned back towards him. “Sounds like you could use some company.”

Alex hummed. “Probably could.” He turned and headed for his bedroom. “Lock the door and turn the lights off.” By the time Alex reached his room, Michael was right behind him. “No sex.”

“What?”

Alex took his pants off and sat on the edge of the bed to remove his prosthetic. “No sex.”

Michael hesitated in the doorway. “Fine.”

“Fine.” He set his prosthetic aside. “Take your pants off.”

“You just said-”

“I want to see it,” Alex rolled his eyes. He slid under the covers, his own clothes littering the floor to be picked up later. Michael helpfully shed the clothes he’d just put on and got in on the other side of the bed.

Alex gave him a moment to get comfortable on his stomach before he shoved the covers down far enough that they only covered their legs and shifted onto his side. Carefully, he reached over and started tracing the lines of Michael’s mark. Michael shivered under the light touch but made no move to stop him.

Slowly, Alex made his way down Michael’s back, making sure to touch each line, every shape. When his finger had mapped the expanse, he leaned over and started again, this time with his lips. It was an old habit, one he’d started the very first time he’d seen it, and it never failed to relax them both.

He knew every inch of Michael’s back. He knew it in his fingertips and in his lips. Every single marking was etched into memory, he’d hardly needed Michael to model it for him earlier.

When he was finished, he stayed slumped over Michael’s back, his lips pressed to the planet at the base of Michael’s neck. In response, Michael, now a mostly boneless lump beneath him, turned his face to the side and craned his neck to reach Alex’s arm. In this position, he could just reach the mark nestled in the crook of Alex’s left arm. His mark was substantially smaller than Michael’s; a tiny, detailed planet with a sky full of stars behind it. When it first appeared, Michael had tried searching for the planet in the sky by using the stars as a guide but they didn’t match up with any known pattern. Alex had long accepted that it wasn’t anything specific, more an idea.

“Why isn’t it easy?” Michael asked quietly. “It’s supposed to be easy, right? Find your soulmate, live happily ever after. That’s how the stories go.”

“We’re not a story.” Alex traced the cluster of planets nestled over Michael’s hip. “We’re real, Michael. And if we want this to mean something, to be worth something, we have to work at it.”

Michael didn’t say anything for a long while. “Nothing worth having ever came easy.”

“No. It didn’t,” Alex agreed. He pressed a lingering kiss to the nape of Michael’s neck and rolled off of him. “Guess we need to decide if we’re worth it.”

Michael kissed Alex’s mark. “We are.”

#malex fic #rnm #my fic #hey look its another soulmate au from yours truly #*shocked*#long post #in case the read more doesnt work because who tf knows

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years

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Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) {5}

Summary: With an active shooter in the hospital, Ethan and Y/N remember their lives and all times they’ve spent together.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, triggering content

Word count: 5000+

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) series Masterlist

A/N - heavily inspired by Grey’s anatomy, my own experiences and thoughts, but also by songs: Birdy - Not about angels, Bear’s den - Fortress, Matthew and the atlas - Out of the darkness, Harry Styles - Falling, Kodaline - Wherever you are, Isak Danielson - Love me Wrong, Dove Cameron - Remember me, Tom Odell - Can’t pretend, The XX - Angels, Coldplay - Fix you, Coldplay - The scientist.

I really hope you guys like it! Feedback is always wanted and appreciated, no matter how small or big it is!

If you want to be tagged for future parts, reply down below.

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Ukiyo (japanese noun) - living in the moment

When your world comes to a stop and the value of life is amplified by those dead before their time in gruesome ways, it feels like an earthquake shakes the very foundations your life is built on. But when the walls start falling, past and future no longer exist, only the moment you're in and the first person that comes to mind when those walls are gone is what your life is all about. For Ethan, Y/N was the first person that came to mind and his brother a close second.

There wasn’t anything he could do as the doors around him slid close, the inability to pass through the glass barrier pushing him closer to madness he ever thought possible. He was just a few inches away from the ward they’re both supposed to be on and he’s stuck? It felt like a cruel game of fate.

Not only did he have so much to say and not enough time, but he wanted to do something else as well. He wanted to wrap Y/N in his arms and tell her there isn’t a chance in hell he would ever let her walk away, not after he had a taste of what it means to be with her. He wanted to tell her his love is unconditional and that his soul is hers, even if she didn’t want to give him hers. He would wait, as patiently and as stubbornly as he did by now and that she will never lose him because even if he wished, he can’t scrub his heart clean of her tender soul. And he never wanted to.

Slamming his fists against the Plexiglas, red in the face, Ethan falls to his knees. His hands are shaky, his eyes filled with tears, his body feels warm and the back of his neck is trickling with beads of sweat. He’s terrified, seeing his worst dream manifest into reality and while she may be far from the shooter, he can’t be certain and if something were to happen to her, to his brother too, Ethan would lose his mind.

And he can’t help but remember the time he had the whole world in the palm of his hand, yet he failed to do the right thing.

“You really outdid yourself.” She smiled up at him, her eyes focused on his lips as she tilts her head up to reach his chin with her own, falling short a few inches, leaving a small peck just under his swollen bottom lip.

“If I knew making you food would make you that grateful, I’d have done it sooner.” Ethan chuckles, tightening his arms around her just a little more, hoping she knows he would never want her away from him. She had become his heart, his reason to live. She lit a fire within, something he had lost over time and while she’s completely unaware of it, if her world started to fall apart, Ethan would wage war to make sure she’s untouched by grief.

“Oh, shut up!” Slapping his chest playfully, Y/N had managed to hide a smile as she tucked her head under his chin, hiding her face in his neck shyly as his giggle filled her with joy she never felt before. She didn’t give a damn about her soulmate anymore, not when Ethan felt more like a soulmate to her than anyone else ever could. And maybe that is temporary, but she wanted to experience every little thing and keep it in her memory until her dying breath. Ethan Dolan would inevitably break her heart, but she didn’t care. She’ll take the pain for more nights like this.

“Mind if I ask you something”, she spoke quietly, just above a whisper. Ethan could hardly hear her, yet his heart jumped with the notion of her possibly facing him to his crime against her – his secret about their connection. What if she figured it out?He wasn’t exactly sly when she insisted they stop using condoms because she believes she can’t get pregnant and he managed to come up with a possible STD fear since they were anything but exclusive which is dumb since they basically spend every night together. When would he have time to fuck anyone else? When would she? Would she if she did have time?

Shaking his head to get rid of that painful afterthought, Ethan sighs as he nods as a response to her question, praying her suspicions over his excuses didn’t become more than suspicions. He wanted to be the one to tell her the truth about them being soulmates and he wanted more than anything to tell her he never wants to touch another for as long as he lives, but he needed to know she can love him even without the connection.

“You’ve been alive for a long time now. Much longer than me. I guess I’m just curious about your life.” She managed a small smile as their eyes meet, her index finger trailing up and down his chest as she notices his lips part, surprised by her question.

“Yeah, um…I’ve been around for 119 years now. I remember a happy family – mom and dad were like two lovebirds, just a typical soulmate couple that loved each other deeply. After my dad died from cancer, my mom was getting by. She was badass. After she died, Ethan and I left New York for a long time.” Letting out a heavy breath, Ethan closed his eyes and swallowed thickly. It wasn’t easy to remember his parents. Every day that went by, Ethan missed his family. Maybe that’s why he longed for his soulmate so much, because he wanted to replace the family he had lost?

“If it’s too hard”, Y/N tried to give him an out, propping herself up on her elbow to face him properly, her palm resting on his right cheek as her sweet lips pressed a kiss to his for comfort.

“No. I want you to know.” She laid beside him, instead of his chest. It felt vastly important to see the change in every line of his handsome face as he remembered the past and she didn’t want to miss a single word, expression or look he could bestow upon her. He felt more important to her than anyone and this wasn’t just a story, it was his story. With her leg still thrown across his waist and her hand splayed on his chest, she felt confident about her feelings for Ethan solidifying. There would never be another like him. She was sure of it. Drawing a deep breath, Ethan continued.

“My sister left to look for her soulmate, something she managed to do in just a few years and they’ve been happily living in Australia ever since. Grayson and I decided to start medicine, something neither of us regrets. It allowed us to travel, to learn, to save lives and make the world better, even if it’s just one person at a time. We’ve moved a lot for residencies, met a lot of people and moved back here thirty years ago. I’ve taken art classes for a few years, taught anatomy for a decade and even took a year off and lived on an island.” Reminiscing wasn’t easy, there were far too many things Ethan had allowed to slip his mind – some because they were too heavy to think back to and other just because he never felt the need to dig up his past. And while they spoke of his past the entire time and he recounted every mishap he ever had and every victory just to show off, Ethan had never once mentioned the cause behind the grey hair at the back of his head and no matter how curios she was, Y/N let him off the hook for a while. She couldn’t handle seeing his beautiful smile disappear and she absolutely adored his smile.

Ethan wished he was braver that night. He wished he told her the truth and let it all play out on her terms instead of his. Selfish. That’s how he feels now. He could have loved her openly, had her love him too? But he was too selfish back then and he couldn’t change that now. No matter how bad he wishes he could.

And while Ethan remained helpless, grasping his hair with trembling hands, praying his girl and brother are safe, Y/N was rather close by.

“How do we know where he is?” She whispered, looking around with wide eyes as she tried to assess the situation. Her steady hands grasped Grayson’s shaky ones, forcing eye contact as his lips started to tremble.

“Hey. We’re fine, Gray. We’re completely safe and there is no one with a gun pointed at our heads right now. Breathe.” She tried to calm him down, wishing she could roll her eyes right now because she didn’t understand his fear nor how bad she is at talking people down from a panic attack. Grayson’s hands became a cage for her own, his hold strong and relentless. Her jaw is tight, her resolve clear to Grayson who shakes his head.

“Whatever you’re planning, you can’t. I won’t let you.” Making himself clear, Grayson clears his voice as he examines her body language only to find she had no signs of fear taking over her. In fact, she seems fearless and that’s not always the best thing, especially in these situations.

“Protocol says the boss should make sure everyone is safe and you’re clearly shaken up. Grayson, it will take me half an hour tops. I just need to count everyone and make sure no patients are dying.” The fire in her eyes scared him even more than the possible shooter, realizing she isn’t going to back down and if he let her do this for him and got hurt, Ethan would never forgive him. But Grayson was almost paralyzed and it wasn’t death he feared but missing out on meeting his soulmate. He realized how stupid it is to wait for her to walk into his life without moving a finger. If anything, he should have been looking for her since the moment he knew there was a soulmate for him. He was absolutely terrified of dying without ever knowing what true love feels like.

“I’m not letting you leave here without me. I’m coming with and if I tell you to do something during this, you will listen. IS. THAT. CLEAR?” Grayson’s voice wasn’t shaky anymore and he was in charge once more. Y/N’s lips twitch in amusement, actually enjoying a serious Grayson with a badass attitude.

“Sure. Why not?” She shrugged, gifting him with a smile and even if he didn’t mean to, Grayson smiled too.

“Good. Let’s go.”

Amaranthine (adj.) - undying, immortal, undying, beautiful

And while they tiptoed around the wards – Pediatric, Gynecology, Neonatology, Y/N had recounted a night with Ethan she had bared her soul.

“You never talk about your parents.” Ethan noticed her stiffen, her back against his chest had turned into a brick wall, just as strong as those she built around her heart. He had craved a peek ever since they met and he definitely didn’t expect any of the bricks to fall.

But her body relaxed and she turned in his embrace, her eyes focused on his chest and her hands are curled up under her chin. She never seemed as vulnerable as she does now and Ethan felt honored to have her trust run deep.

“They were bad people. I like to pretend they never existed because they did the same for me. I felt like a flaw in the plan, like I was never meant to be born. That’s how they treated me. I feel like they were relieved when I got sick. Even then, they just paid the bills but ignored my existence. I grew up with an army of nannies and nurses, barely ever seeing them. Sometimes I’d hear them fighting…I don’t think their relationship was healthy but they stayed together anyway because the love they had thanks to the bond was unbreakable.” Biting her lower lip, she looks into his eyes briefly, but long enough to know he won’t judge her. He had all the understanding she sought in his hazel hues, a tenderness she always prayed to find in someone. There was no doubt in her mind she could trust Ethan Dolan.

“They owned a company that profited off people’s misery. They funded armies, and as I’ll later find out, terrorists too. My dad was arrested, took the blame so my mother would be free. He was killed in prison two days before his trial. As for my mom…After the nanny came for me in the hospital and took me home, I found her hanging from the living room ceiling.” Closing her eyes, she felt her body betray her as the memory shook her to the core. It just reminded her of all she wants to forget, but she wanted Ethan to know her and why she’s so fucked up. She never felt what love is, to be loved and cared for. She never knew how to love because all she ever had were these fucked up people who saw nothing but each other and even they didn’t know how to love one another.

“I’m here.” But Ethan didn’t run from her or her truth, no matter how fucked up everything is. Instead, he held her tighter, his hands rubbing her back soothingly until she let herself breathe again.

“Do you think I’m broken?” She whispered, her eyes watering as he frowned, his forehead forming a few worry lines she’d normally tease him about because their age difference is so vast despite them both looking so young, but she reveled in knowing he actually cares enough to worry about her. No one ever cared for her so much before.

“Do you?” He speaks and his voice had never been softer, so heavy yet coated with pure love – something she tried not to pay any mind to.

“I do. I feel like I’ve been shattered my whole life and you’re sort of picking up the pieces. Will you fix me? Please?” He didn’t respond with words, but with his lips, claiming hers so passionately as his fingers wiped her tears clean off. He didn’t see her as a project in need of fixing, but he would heal her if that’s what she needs. He would make her see she is wanted, needed and if anything, she healed him too.

It was great while it lasted, great to be loved, the warmth of his cheek next to her with his soft hand brushing her hair from her face and his cheeky laugh in her ear... it was great to be loved but when their bubble was gone, she shattered and felt isolated and alone, on her own in the world with no one to care for her, no one to laugh with. She hated herself for losing him, all because she didn’t know how to let him love her. She didn’t know how to love him either and it tore her apart.

“Okay, so we have everyone covered but the pediatric ward. I feel like we should split up, get it done faster so we can report to the police.” Y/N talks in hushed voices, trying to remain calm as Grayson nods reluctantly, assuming that the danger for them is gone. Who would go to a ward with kids holding a gun? He just wanted to finish his duty and go back to contact the police, his brother too. He worried about Ethan and while Y/N showed no signs of worrying, he knew she was dreading the possibility of losing Ethan too.

“I’ll go left.” She forced a smile, giving Grayson a small wave as she turned away and let out a long sigh. At first she wanted to tell him that Ethan is fine, to give him a message for him in case something went awry, but she decided against it. Why bother when they would be just fine and leave with their heads attached to their shoulders? Why say something when emotions are running high only to regret the words later on?

Sneaking down the hall, she entered every room with a soft smile upon her lips, checking on the kids quickly and instructing them to stay still. Luckily, most kids had a nurse with them, or even a parent, someone to barricade the room once she left and it left her relieved. Those who were alone, she ushered with ones who had an adult by their side, helping kids unwind as well.

She walked out onto the bridge connecting Pediatrics with otorhinolaryngology, her eyes going over the patient list on her side, but no matter how many times she went through them, she was one kid short.

“Fuck.” She mumbled under her breath, sitting down before taking her phone out and dialing Grayson.

“Gray, I’m missing a kid. A Martha Levi? If you found one extra kid, let me know.” Pocketing her phone, she leaned back against the glass made railing, looking at her shoes with a heaviness in her heart.

Petrichor (n.) - a love for the scent of rain in nature

She couldn’t help the feeling of regret as it washed over her. She should have told Ethan she loves him too, that she wasn’t perfect but she would find a way to make it work between them for as long as he wants her, but she didn’t. Even if she is absolutely crazy for him.

A small smile formed on her lips as she remembered the night she realized she loves Ethan, the night he had acted on impulse and still managed to create such a beautiful memory she would never forget. He made sure she never forgets him.

“It’s starting to rain.” Y/N groaned, holding out a hand as a few drops wet her palm, making her shake her hand and frown.

“Don’t like the rain?” Ethan chuckles, cocking his head to the side as he walks forward, even if the rain started to pour in seconds.

“You’re gonna get a pneumonia!” She shouted over thunder, watching him push his wet hair back before outstretching his hand for her to take.

“Not gonna happen, Dolan!” She meant it. Rain was anything but a favorite to her. But Ethan seemed relentless.

“Come on, sweetheart! I promise it’s just a little bit of rain!” Ethan insisted, a grin taking over his face as she started to gnaw on her lips, a clear sign she��s contemplating his offer, something she wouldn’t have done if she didn’t plan on joining him.

And she hates rain with burning passion, but Ethan seems to love it, every single drop. He enjoyed the rain, the thunder, the smell that lingers after, everything about it. And she loves him. Enough to step into the horrid wetness rain brings, just as long as she gets to kiss him after.

“I really hate you sometimes.” She rolls her eyes at him before taking his hand, allowing him to draw her near and as he does, he rests her hand over his shoulder, taking her waist with his other. Pulling her close, Ethan smirks while she gawks at him, noticing him move in a slow rhythm to a song playing in his head.

“What are you doing?” She narrowed her eyes and furrowed her eyebrows, all while a smile formed on her lips – all in disbelief as her own hips started to sway with the silent song in the storm, a song in their hearts.

“Dancing with a gorgeous woman.” Ethan snickers, leaning his forehead on hers lightly, their noses brushing together and her eyes close for a moment, collecting herself, reminding herself this is real.

Unable to take it, she leans into him, her head resting on his chest as her arms close around him, feeling his hands rest on the small of her back, virtually no space remaining between them. And that’s when she heard it – “Wise men say only fools rush in” – at first it was so quiet she thought she was imagining it, that maybe the thunder had made her imagine the sound, but his lips were right by her ear and he mostly whispered it, - “But I can't help falling in love with you “ - ,but the words made her heart race fast enough that she felt faint.

Her lips part, her mind screaming with every syllable, yet she never felt more at peace. - “Oh, shall I stay, would it be a sin. Oh, if I can't help falling in love with you?” – How can one man make her feel so many things at once? She didn’t know what is stronger – her need to run and save her heart from heartbreak, or her need to stay in his arms forever. – “Like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be.” –

Taking a deep breath, she stopped dancing, not even caring about the rain ruining her make up when he stopped too, his lips still moving as his voice got slightly higher, but looking into his eyes as he sang? – “Take my hand, take my whole life too. Oh, for I can't help falling in love with you “ - Even if it was a half whisper, Y/N never felt happier.

Ever since, rain had become a friend, more than a foe and Ethan? He had taken a permanent residence in her heart.

She could still hear him singing in the back of her mind, her eyes closed as she tried to relax, to let his voice ease her nerves for she couldn’t lie – Y/N felt like she’s standing on edge of a very high cliff and she didn’t know if she had the strength to come back down and face everything that pushed her there in the first place. She tells herself she’s fine with how her parents hated her, but she’s not. She tells herself she’s fine with her battles with cancer, but she’s not. She tells herself she’s fine with Ethan being hers but having a soulmate out in the world, but she’s not.

There isn’t anything she’s fine with in this case and she can’t help but wish Ethan was there with her. He would know what to say to calm her raging storm and to stop the war inside her. He’d remind her she’s a fighter, something she has no strength to remind herself of.

“Y/N?!” But then she heard it – heard him. For a moment she was sure it’s a hallucination, but when she turned her head, she saw him standing on the other side of the glass, mere inches away from her with a relieved look on his face.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” Looking around, Ethan wanted nothing more than to open the door and hold her, but with the key-cards being useless at this point, he was just happy to put his hand on the glass and have her do the same.

She couldn’t hide her happiness, her hand quickly laying against the glass, longing for his touch.

“Yeah. How”, she pauses to take a breath, her throat closing up as her emotions flood her senses and she’s on the brink of crying. “How are you here?”

“I was on my way to see you. I had to talk to you.” Ethan spoke when her phone went off and she saw it was Grayson. Holding up her index finger, she picked up the call, eager to tell him she and his brother are both fine.

“Hey.”

“Martha isn’t here either.” Grayson’s panicked voice is enough to make her mutter ‘fuck’ under her breath, letting out a heavy sigh.

“I’ll do a second sweep. Stay put. And Ethan’s fine. I’m sort of with him right now.” She let out a weak chuckle, ending the call before rubbing her forehead.

“A kid is missing, I’ll have to go back and check the rooms again.” She explains and Ethan nods, wetting his lips.

“Did you check the janitor closets and on call rooms?” Ethan suggests and Y/N facepalms.

“No…I bet Grayson didn’t either. She might be scared and hiding.” With her hands on her hips, she half smiled at him. “Your brain is beautiful. Thank you.” But Ethan was no longer looking at her, rather over her shoulder with his eyes wide and mouth open and while she didn’t have to look back, she knew it just by the expressions on his face.

Turning halfway toward the door connected to the pediatrics, Y/N felt her heart speed up. She didn’t frighten easily, in fact, people would say she’s not one to flinch, but the sight of a grown man holding a gun to a scared little girl’s head? It was enough to scare her.

There are times in your life when everything comes down to one moment - one defining moment where you're either the hero or a coward. And in that moment, Y/N could see her life pass before her eyes. She saw her father imprisoned, her mother hanging in the hall, the nurse that always hid an extra cup of her favorite jelly, chemotherapy, trying to stand after surgery, fainting in med school when her cancer returned, meeting Ethan, Ethan's smirk, Ethan's warm arms, the way his fingers coil around her neck as his hips meet hers, Ethan in the OR, Ethan kissing her in the rain, his haunting voice as he sings in her ear, Ethan pushing her against the wall as his lips press against her throat, when Ethan said he loves her...when she summarized her life, the past few months she's known Ethan had overshadowed every bad things, every tear and every pain and all she could see is HIM. And her choice was no longer a choice, but a certainty - something she saw worthy of whatever is to come.

"Take me!" She shouts, her hand above her head and her palms turned to the shooter, her insides shaking but her face remained impassive and at peace with her decision.

"Take me, leave the girl alone." She insisted, her voice not wavering, not even a little. She glanced back at Ethan who remained stuck behind the glass door just outside of the pediatric ward and her lips pressed together to keep in the shattering scream of emotions just bubbling to come out.

Ethan pounded on the door but Plexiglas doesn't break easily and no matter how hard he screamed and his face turned red, Y/N was out of reach and he couldn't do a damn thing.

"Fine then." The shooter kicked the little girl, the little one running straight to Y/N who gave her a quick hug and whispered directions to take after she was gone with the man.

"Go straight down the hall to the gynecology ward, you'll find a handsome doctor to keep you safe there."

She knew once the little one arrived, Grayson would know she wandered and would lose his mind, but she couldn't just let a little girl be used for whatever this man intended.

Glancing at Ethan one last time, Y/N mouthed 'I love you' and the next thing she knew, the shooter had grabbed her arm and pulled her before him, the cool barrel of the gun pressed against her temple and he whispered in her ear menacingly.

"Don't do anything stupid."

Trembling wildly with adrenaline overflowing her system, Y/N couldn’t force herself to even try and see Ethan, quite possibly for the last time. She could hear him begging, screaming, offering himself, but she was forced back onto pediatrics and just as they stepped into the main hallway, blood splattered her face.

Gasping, her ears ringing, Y/N falls to the ground, the world around her slowing down as the man falls with her. She’s quick to stand back up, using the adrenaline rush to keep herself going, seeing red dots dancing along her pink scrubs as she raises her hands up in the air, her breath caught in her throat.

All the doors opened at once, the SWAT team swooping in, but the man’s brain is painting the floor, he wasn’t dangerous anymore.

Struggling for a few short breaths, Y/N felt her heart beating out of her chest. No matter how hard she tried, everything seemed out of control and while people are talking around her, she can’t hear a damn thing.

But then she sees him stumble in the ward, his face blotchy, hair a complete mess and she didn’t even realized she was moving. Without even thinking, she jumped up and threw her arms around him, making some weird sound that combined laughing, choking, and crying. Ethan was holding her so tightly that she couldn’t see his face, and she can’t tell when he let her go as her vision faded and her body went limp in his arms. Unable to handle the shock of the day, her consciousness slipped away from her and she found herself enveloped in darkness, but she never felt safer in her entire life.

It wasn’t until later that she regained consciousness. Finding herself in Ethan’s bed, wearing his over-sized t-shirt, she smiled slightly. It’s exactly where she wants to be. Looking toward the door left ajar, she hears him.

“What are you doing? She’s a perfect picture with a broken frame. You can’t just glue it back together and think it’s enough. You need to be honest. That might make it new.” Grayson whispers and she couldn’t help but wonder what they’re talking about. Her? Is she the one with a broken frame? She never realized Grayson thought so low of her. It stung to know it now.

“Plus, you see the world in black and white. She doesn’t. You need someone like her in your life, brother. Just tell her everything. She’ll understand.” Now her curiosity is peaked. She can’t help but wonder what the truth is and if it has anything to do with the mysterious soulmate Ethan seems to hide from her.

“It’s not that easy, Grayson. I can’t just come out and say it.” Ethan exclaimed, lowering his voice when he spoke the words Y/N never dreamed would be true. It stopped her heart when he admitted the truth, unaware she had never been more awake in her entire life.

“I can’t just tell her – Hey, we’re soulmates and I’ve known all this time – Y/N would kill me.”

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Tags: @beinscorpio @peacedolantwins @heyits-claire @dolandolll @godlydolans @dolanstwintuesday @ethanhes @iwastornsincethestart @graydolan12 @zeusgrayson @libradolan @justordinaryjen @pineappledolan @graysavant @voguekristens @imayoutubere @livexdolan @shadowsndaisies @maybgrayson @dolans4lyfe @mendesficsxbombay @fxkthatdairy

Anyone crossed out wasn’t able to be tagged, probably an issue on Tumblr’s side, sorry.

#ethan dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan #ethan dolan x reader #ethan dolan angst #ethan dolan au #ethan dolan doctor soulmate au #ethan dolan doctor au #ethan dolan fanfiction #ethan dolan fic #ethan dolan fluff #ethan dolan fanfic

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whumphoarder · 4 years

Text

¿Cómo se dice ‘I’m in Deep Sh*t’?

Summary: Due to unforeseen circumstances (and a bit of procrastination), Peter runs out of time to prepare for his Spanish presentation and ends up faking sick to buy himself some more.

He just wasn’t really counting on Tony being the one to pick him up from school.

Word count: 2,997

Genre: humor, fluff, whump

Link to read on Ao3

A/N: Based on a prompt from @coconutknightshade!

Apparently it takes a village to write a story lol—thanks to @xxx-cat-xxx, @sallyidss, @fandomsficsandfeels, & @seek-rest for beta-reading and ideas, and @lunannex for Spanish help!

“What if I just like… fake my death?” Peter suggests as he hands his mentor a different sized wrench. “They can’t mark me down for not doing it if I’m dead, right?”

Tony, who is currently bent over their latest project (replacing the timing belt in May’s car), snorts. “As someone who’s been officially presumed dead more than once, can’t say I recommend it. Way too much paperwork.”

Peter sighs. “Can we stage a kidnapping then?” he says hopefully. “Or an alien abduction?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “It’s a four-minute speech, not the end of the world—though I have some experience with that too.” He holds out a hand. “Half inch ratchet.”

“A four-minute speech in Spanish,” Peter emphasizes, passing him the requested tool. “Which is a language I don’t speak.”

“Hence why you’re in Spanish class,” Tony counters. “With all the other kids who can’t speak Spanish.”

“But it’s also like ten percent of my grade,” Peter goes on as his mentor loosens the timing belt and removes it from the engine before handing it to Peter to set aside. “And I have to talk about what I do in a typical week, and it’s not like I can say I go patrolling or come over to the compound, so I’m gonna have to make stuff up—”

Tony interrupts, “Yo veo mucha televisión,” he says sagely.

“—and then what if I get up there and forget everything and just sound stupid?” Peter continues his rant. He groans and passes Tony the replacement belt. “Maybe I should just conveniently get the flu on Wednesday.”

Looking up from the engine, Tony raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you really this stressed about it? Because if you need to focus on school, I could just finish this up myself.”

Peter sighs again and runs a hand through his hair—he hadn’t meant to complain this much, he’d just kind of gotten on a roll after Tony asked him how school was going. “No, no… I wanted to come over—really. And I’ve got three more days to work on it, it’s just like… ugh. I should have taken German instead.”

Tony huffs out a short laugh. “Pretty sure they have to speak in German class too.”

“Yeah but MJ’s not in German…” Peter mutters under his breath.

“What was that?” Tony asks, elbow deep in the engine block.

Peter expels a breath. “Nothing, it’s fine,” he says a bit more audibly, trying to convince himself as much as his mentor. So what if the most observant and shrewd person in his year also happens to be in his Spanish class?

(And so what if he might have a bit of a crush on her?)

Tony chuckles. “You’ll do great, kid,” he assures. “Just make sure you practice.”

Peter forces a smile. “Right, yeah, of course.”

Practicing, however, turns out to be easier said than done.

With finals fast approaching, it’s crunch time for all of Peter’s classes. Whatever spare moments he has over the weekend are spent finishing up his Animal Farm essay for the English summative and cramming for his geometry test Monday morning. The upcoming Spanish presentation hangs over his head, but it’s more annoying than anything else. He figures it should be fairly simple to actually bullshit something and translate it if he just sits down and does it (which, ironically, somehow makes it easier to push off).

He’s intending to work on it Monday evening, but a winter storm hits that afternoon, dumping eight inches of snow and ice on the city. Peter spends most of his patrol assisting with minor traffic accidents and helping stranded motorists scrape ice from their vehicles or shovel cars out of parking spaces. By the time he gets home late that night, he’s too exhausted to do much more than sit on the couch with May and drink cocoa while she watches Grey’s Anatomy reruns.

Oh well. He’s still got time.

Peter tries to make good use of his study hall on Tuesday, but the period ends up being kind of a wash. He spends half the time attempting to come up with something to say that is both interesting enough to make him seem not totally lame while still believable enough to fool MJ, and the other half messing around on his phone and trying to recall the name of the annoying song stuck in his head.

(It was ‘Goodbye’ by The Spice Girls.)

He’s intending to finish the presentation Tuesday evening after he gets home, but then Ned throws an unexpected monkey wrench into his plans just before the final bell rings.

“So I gotta be there early for warm ups, but my mom will pick you up around six, okay?” he tells Peter as they pack up their book bags.

Peter frowns, confused. “...Pick me up?”

Ned tilts his head. “Unless May can give you a ride after all? But I thought you said she was working tonight, right?”

All of a sudden it clicks—tonight is Ned’s first band concert. He’d taken up percussion a few months back in an effort to beef up his extracurriculars for his college applications. Peter agreed to go to the performance weeks ago.

“Oh right right right,” Peter quickly covers. “Six is great. I’ll see her then!”

Ned beams. “Awesome! My sister and her boyfriend are coming too, so we might go out to celebrate afterwards!”

“Yeah, awesome!” Peter agrees, forcing a grin. “That should be really fun.”

(Oh yeah, he’s screwed.)

The concert was cool. Ned hit that triangle with all the required enthusiasm whenever his parts came up, and Peter flashed him loads of encouraging thumbs-ups from the audience. When it was over, they all went out to Denny’s for some mediocre late-night pancakes and the usual Leeds family banter. All in all, a pretty fun night.

When Peter gets home a little after ten, he opens his Spanish doc in one tab and promptly falls into a YouTube hole in another while looking for background music. He’s still grinning when he closes out of his fifth vine compilation video in a row until he checks the time a second later and the grin dissolves. It’s 12:03 a.m.

Oops.

Study hall Wednesday morning will be his saving grace, he’s sure.

So, of course, a fight has to break out right outside of the library.

It’s not too bad—the two instigating students are hauled away by security with a couple bloody noses and black eyes, and a few other kids are taken down to the office for questioning. Peter was far enough removed from the action that he doesn’t have to come along, but the whole debacle eats up all but the last ten minutes of the period so when the bell finally rings, he’s got precisely five words written down:

Hola, me llamo Peter Parker.

(Suddenly all those jokes about faking his own death are starting to sound a lot more appealing.)

Or if not my death, he thinks as he trudges down the hall in the direction of his Spanish classroom, cold dread pooling in his gut, then at least…

He stops walking, glancing sideways into the brightly lit office just off the hall. The elderly nurse is sitting at her desk, glasses half-way down her nose as she reads a paperback novel with the picture of a Christmasy log cabin on the cover.

No. He can’t. He doesn’t lie.

...Unless…

No. May’s at work. She’d have to leave early to come and pick him up.

Okay, but it’s not like you do this often, his brain counters. Hell, you came to school with a concussion and two cracked ribs last month and didn’t say a word about it. May can take one for the team just this once.

Peter slips into the bathroom across the hall and waits there until the bell rings to signal the end of passing period, and then an additional five minutes on top of that to add some credibility to his act. He splashes a bit of cold water on his forehead and around his neck, and then works himself up with some heavy breathing before exiting the bathroom.

Folding his arms over his stomach, Peter moves shakily across the hall back toward the nurse’s office, making an effort to look as unwell as possible. A passing student eyes him suspiciously and gives him a wide berth, so he figures he must be doing something right.

Steeling himself with a shuddery breath, he steps into the office.

“Hall pass?” the nurse asks without looking up from her book.

“Um, no, I don’t have one, uh…” Peter’s heart is fluttering in his chest. “I just… I’m not feeling good.”

Eyes still on the page, the nurse silently taps a finger to a sign on the wall just behind her desk which reads: PASSES REQUIRED FOR ALL STUDENTS.

Peter swallows hard. C’mon, Parker—commit. “Right, but, uh, I came from the bathroom.” He hugs himself a little tighter and looks down. “My stomach really hurts. I was throwing up and, uh… stuff,” he concludes, deciding that in this case, less is more.

The nurse’s expression softens. She lowers her novel and gets to her feet with a small sigh. “Well, there is a bug going around,” she concedes, gesturing for him to sit down on the cot in the back of her office.

Peter keeps his responses vague when she requests more specific information on his symptoms, mostly offering shrugs or short, mumbled answers. She checks his temperature and seems slightly suspicious at his lack of fever, but he makes up for it by getting up suddenly and darting into the nurse’s bathroom.

When he emerges—exactly seven minutes and two new levels of Candy Crush later—Peter makes sure to keep his eyes averted from the nurse’s gaze and his movements slow and a little unsteady, one hand hovering over his stomach. She gives him a bottle of Gatorade and a couple of crackers and tells him to lie down until May comes to pick him up.

“I got ahold of her,” the nurse informs, sounding more sympathetic now. She slides a small garbage bin beside the cot. “She says she’s just finishing something up at work and then she’ll be right over.”

“Thank you,” Peter mutters tiredly. He doesn’t even have to act for that part—between the stress of his upcoming finals and his last couple of late nights, he really is exhausted and he has a bit of a headache. It makes him feel just the slightest bit better about pulling May away from her shift that there’s at least something physically wrong with him, even if it isn’t what he’s claiming.

Under the thin fleece blanket the nurse gives him, Peter manages to drift off to sleep.

But it turns out, today is just really not his day.

“No fever yet, but sometimes with these kinds of bugs that doesn’t come until later,” Peter overhears the nurse explaining in a low voice. He’s lying curled up on the cot, face toward the wall. “If that happens, just remember that he needs to be fever-free for 24 hours before returning to school.”

“Oh, I have a feeling that won’t be a problem,” a familiar voice that definitely does not belong to Aunt May replies.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter’s eyes snap open fully and he sits up in a hurry.

Tony and the nurse are standing together beside her desk, chatting quietly. Tony turns to look at Peter, face straight but eyebrows raised in amusement. “Oh would you look at that—he lives,” he remarks. “Feeling any better, Pete?”

Immediately, Peter wraps an arm around his stomach and does his best to look ill. “Uh, no, not really... but, um wh-what are you doing here?”

“The hospital is a little short-staffed today and your aunt was having trouble finding someone to cover her shift,” Tony explains, keeping his expression perfectly neutral. “She called to ask if I minded picking you up. You know”—his eyes narrow—“since you’re so sick.”

(Peter gulps. He’s starting to wonder if maybe he’ll be sick after all.)

“So of course, I told her I would,” Tony goes on. “I mean, if you’re feeling this bad, we could hardly just leave you here...”

Peter has to force himself to meet Tony’s gaze. “Right. Um, thank you. That’s super nice of you.”

“Well, you know me, Tony Super-Nice Stark,” his mentor says with a small chuckle as he steps closer to the bed.

“Now, with stomach bugs, the biggest concern is going to be dehydration,” the nurse continues. “So you’re going to want to push fluids, especially if he’s having di—”

“Fluids, got it,” Peter cuts her off, feeling his cheeks heat up. He gets to his feet and starts moving toward the door, but Tony halts him by grabbing his arm.

“Hey, hey, slow down, kid,” Tony tuts at him. “You were just looking like you might pass out a minute ago.” He presses his palm to Peter’s forehead and glances over to the nurse, eyebrows pinched together in the semblance of concern. “He’s kinda flushed, right? Maybe we should check his temperature again.”

“It’s fine,” Peter mutters, barely managing to suppress an eye-roll. “I think I just need to go home and sleep.”

“Sleep is probably the best thing for him,” the nurse agrees, nodding. “But going back to dehydration, if at any point it’s been more than five hours since he’s last urinated—”

“Mr. Stark, c’mon…” Peter whines quietly, nudging the man toward the door.

Tony holds up a finger to shush him—there’s a twinkle in his eyes that’s honestly driving Peter mad. “Hang on, kiddo. This is all very important information. In fact”—he pulls out his phone and opens the notes app—“let me just write this down. So you said if he hasn’t peed in five hours…?”

The nurse goes on to happily share her wealth of knowledge regarding stomach viruses with his mentor. Tony nods along to her advice, looking genuinely interested the entire time, occasionally interrupting to ask pertinent questions. Meanwhile, Peter just stands there, quietly dying a little inside.

Finally, she concludes her little spiel and Tony thanks her politely, then asks, “You wouldn’t happen to have a bin or bag or something we could take with us, would you? I just got the car detailed recently—hate for that to go to waste.”

Peter lets out another low groan. “Mr. Stark…”

“Ah, I have just the thing!” the nurse says. She bustles over behind her desk and produces a plastic sand pail with assorted Paw Patrol characters on it. “I get these from the dollar store,” she informs. “They don’t look like they hold too much but you’d be surprised!”

Tony grins. “That’s perfect. Thank you so much, Alice.” Looking to Peter, he asks, “Need the bathroom before we leave?”

Rolling his eyes at his mentor, Peter takes the bucket from the nurse with a muttered “thanks” and strides directly out the door.

Tony doesn’t say anything for the entire walk to the car, but Peter’s mind is happy to fill the silence with dread and anxious thoughts as he imagines all the various ways his mentor might chew him out about this. Stupid Spanish presentation—he should have just winged it after all.

The moment that both he and Tony are seated in the vehicle and the car doors are shut behind them, Peter sets the bucket down on the floor and covers his face with a groan.

“Alright, let’s get it over with,” he mutters into his hands. “Lay it on me.”

“Just to clarify,” Tony begins, sounding a bit more serious. “You’re not actually sick, right? This was just to get out of your presentation?”

“Yeah, I dunno...” Peter admits, feeling defeated. “I was planning to work on it—I swear. Just, well, there was all this stuff due for my other classes, and then the snowstorm, and all these commitments just kept coming up, and I just kinda... ran out of time. Figured if I got sent home I could buy myself an extra day or two.” He sighs deeply, lowering his hands to look up at his mentor. “Are you gonna tell May?”

Tony huffs out a short laugh. “Honestly? I think you’ve suffered enough.”

Peter blinks at him, surprised. “Wait, seriously?”

“You listened to a school nurse describe the BRAT diet for three whole minutes,” Tony says with a snort. “I don’t think any lecture May or I could give would top that.”

“God,” Peter groans, running a hand over his face. “If I hear the word ‘binding’ used one more time…”

“But,” Tony says, holding up a stern finger as he starts the car. “As soon as we get back to your place, we’re finishing up that presentation in time for your miraculous recovery tomorrow, got it?”

“We?” Peter raises an eyebrow at him. “Do you even speak Spanish?”

Tony waves a hand dismissively. “I know French and Italian—close enough. More importantly, I am fluent in the language of bullshit, kid. I once convinced an entire board of investors that not adding a clock feature to the new Starkphone prototype was a philosophical statement about the ‘futility of time as a construct’ rather than an embarrassing oversight caused by deadline crunches, no sleep, and more caffeine flowing through my veins than red blood cells.”

“And how did that go?” Peter asks.

“Sold twelve thousand shares that day. And I got to meet the Dalai Lama.”

Peter just snorts.

“Oh, and there was this other time,” Tony goes on wryly, “when I helped my intern play hooky to get out of a school presentation by convincing the nurse he had the shits.”

Peter leans back against the seat with a heavy sigh. “I’m never doing this again, Mr. Stark,” he mumbles.

Link to all my fics

If you enjoyed this story, you might also like:

Karmaitis

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#faking sick #sick peter parker #peter parker is a little shit #irondad fic irondad #sick at school #tony stark is a little shit #stomach bug #school nurse #the science in my fics be like

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sourw0lf · 5 years

Text

Making Home

Summary: The Winchesters take you in after the death of your family. Dean invades your nest on accident, and Sam yells at him and then comforts you in his own way…

Relationship: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4000+

Tags: Angst, Abo Dynamics, Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam, Nesting, Fluff, Pre-Heat

You met the Winchesters after the death of your family.

They were disguised as FBI agents, asking too specific questions that you yourself had been taught and memorized long ago.

“It’s dead, you know,” you couldn’t help but blurt out to them the minute they began questioning you. They were obviously hunters and you weren’t going to waste their time.

Confusion and intrigue filled their eyes and their scents when you said that, but Sam had been the first to bite.

“What’s dead?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes, “The werewolf, you know? The one that killed my entire family?”

“How-” Dean started to question but you interrupted him.

“My father was a hunter for twenty years. You guys are asking some very obvious questions, you’re dressed in cheap suits, and you’re badges are fake.”

Awkward silence.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. Whoever made those did a very good job, but they’re still fake.”

The older hunter smiled, either amused at your bluntness or happy with his badge work.

“Uh, really, is-” Sam coughed awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

“Did you kill it?” Dean interrupted Sam.

“Yes.” You replied, tired of the questions.

It had been a long couple of days in that motel room. Empty bottles of Jameson littered the floor and the room reeked of depressed omega, a smell so potent that the men in front of you had no doubt smelled it when you first opened the door. The bed behind you was covered in random shirts and blankets, a makeshift nest you had been wallowing in for days.

“Awesome. Well, I guess our work here is done then.” Dean put his hand out for you to shake, “Dean Winchester, a pleasure.”

Sam smacked his hand away and lectured him quietly, something about insensitive and her family just died.

But you didn’t care what he was saying and you could barely pay attention to it because that name. Winchester. You knew it.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” you barked.

Sam looked at you, sympathetic, “I’m sorry he’s such a dic-”

“You’re the Winchester brothers?” You demanded an answer.

They gave eachother a look and Dean’s hands disapeard behind him.

“Do you know where I can find Bobby?”

Dean let go of his gun, hands moving to his sides once again. “I’m his niece. We haven’t seen him in years but when I was a kid.. my dad always told me to find him if something went wrong. If he was killed...”

Sam smelled worried, Dean smelled angry. Both scents hit you in the face, making you shift uncomfortably.

“He’s dean, isn’t he?”

They nodded and your heart dropped. You eyed the half-empty green bottle on the nightstand, willing yourself to feel nothing so your scent wouldn’t stink up the room anymore than it already had in their presence.

You knew Sam caught the glance, the next thing out of his mouth only confirmed it.

“Maybe you should stay with us for a little while,” the younger Winchester asked, or more like pleaded.

Dean gave him the what the fuck?? look but didn’t argue.

You laughed, “You, uh, you don’t want me staying with you. Not right now,” you gestured to the mess of the room surrounding you.

“It’s fine, Dean’s the messiest person I know and I manage,” Sam immediately argued.

“And I drink a lot.” They laughed at that, each muttering something along the lines of yeah, me too. “No, I mean a lot.” You pointed out the empty fifths littering the floor. They seemed to catch on.

“I’ll drink with you,” Dean assured you in a more comforting tone. “Come on, let’s get out of here, kiddo.”

---

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since the Winchesters had taken you in. The bunker was nice enough, comfortable. It made you feel safe, safer than you had ever felt in your life and a hell of a lot safer than you were used to.

Sam and Dean had been nice, nicer than you deserved. And Dean kept that promise on drinking with you.

Currently, though, the reality that you had absolutely no family left was feeling particularly hard today. Everything felt empty and pointless, and you begged yourself for escape from the constant depression.

So you did what you knew would help at least a little bit: building a nest.

You had been eyeing the small closet since the first day, contemplating. Normally you wouldn’t have hesitated making it, but the extra two alphas in your presence made it hard. What if they found the nest? How were you supposed to explain that to them? Oh, hey, sorry I marked the shit out of your closet and made the entire room smell like depressed, dying omega. Shit, my bad.

You thanked god himself for the existence of scent blockers. Without them, surely the boys would have kicked you out by now. You would have stunk up the entire bunker.

Sighing, you grabbed the blankets off your bed and headed for the closet.

---

“Hey, Y/n! I made burgers, you want one?” Dean walked up to your door, speaking loudly from the other side.

No answer.

“Y/n?” He asked again. “If you’re naked you gotta tell me now because I’m coming in,” he added after a few long moments.

He walked into the room hesitantly, looking down to avoid the possibility of you being naked. Still, no sign of you. In fact, the room was practically spotless. The blankets and pillows on your bed were gone and there were no empty bottle of whiskey like he would have expected. He spotted a couple dozen empty boxes of scent blockers in the trash next to your bed but you weren’t in sight.

“Y/n?” He asked again, growing concerned.

A shuffle was heard from the closet and Dean immediately whipped out his gun from where it stuck in the back of his jeans. He stared at the door, cautious, and then opened it slowly, the gun still pointed directly in front of him.

“Y/n?” He put it away as soon as he realized and knelt down to you.

You jumped back, dodging Dean’s hand when he reached out to you. You were surrounded by fluffy, white blankets and random articles of clothing. Underneath the strong, distressed omega scent was the smell of unfamiliar people. Most definitely an alpha and possibly another omega. The smell was faint but it was there and Dean could only guess you deceased family’s scent was buried in the nest somewhere.

“Hey,” he said softly, covering his nose with one hand to try and help with the smell. It was no use, though, the alpha in him was reacting to the prominent depressed omega scent. Without meaning to, he gagged. “What’s wrong, Y/n?”

“N-Nothing, I’m good,” you replied. Your voice was shaky and your body quivered to match it. You looked down at his hand, resting in the blankets of your nest. The idea of an alpha, even Dean, touching your nest made you uncomfortable.

He pulled his hand away and stared at you, “I lie professionally and I know when people are lying to me, Y/n. You are not okay.”

Tears formed in your eyes, “I’m sorry. I just- I nest when I’m nervous and I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I-I’m sorry-”

“Woah, Y/n, hey, it’s fine,” Dean said quickly. His eyes grew wide when you started to sob, “I- fuck. Do you want me to get Sam? I feel like he would be better at-”

“What?”

“No, you’re right I’m making this worse, aren’t I? Do you want me to leave? Should I leave?” He searched for some way to help.

“Please,” you agreed quickly.

“Okay.” Much to your relief he stood up and left the room.

---

“Sam!” Dean yelled as he walked into his brother’s room unannounced.

“Jesus, Dean! What?” Sam glared at his brother, demanding a reason for the sudden unwanted intrusion.

“Dude, something is seriously up with Y/n.”

“And what makes you say that, Dean? Did she eat your pie or something because you didn’t actually inform her of your rul-”

“No, I’m saying this because I just found her wallowing in her closet, buried in a nest that reeks of her dead family members,” Dean barked back. He was still uneasy and stressed from the unfortunate interaction.

“You what?” Sam stood up from his bed, now intrigued with Dean’s worry.

“I was looking for her because I made food and went to see if she wanted some and I walked into her room - yes, I did knock, and yell to see if she was in there before walking in - and all the shit of her bed was gone, the room is clean. I heard movement in the closet, got worried and pulled my gun out but when I opened it up, she was there, in the dark, crying.”

“You pulled a gun on her in her nest?!” Sam suddenly asked incredulously. “Dean!”

“I didn’t know she was in there!” Dean defended himself.

“Oh my god, Dean!”

“What?!”

“Do you know nothing about omegas?” Sam scolded, obviously angry.

“Not all of us took special classes about omega rights in a freaking ivy league college, Sam. What the hell did I do? What wrong?”

“Yeah, it was omega rights. Not anatomy you fucking moron! You’re supposed to learn that stuff in school and like- in life! How have you been with this many omegas and know nothing?” Sam threw a t-shirt on, having previously just been laying in bed reading a book. Dean glared at him. “Omegas make nests to feel safe and content. Her entire family is dead. Her father, uncle, and sister were just killed, in front of her, all in one day. It hasn’t even been a month since then, of course she’s nesting! She was just pulled from everything she knew into a strange place with two strange new alphas constantly around.”

“I’m still not seeing why you’re mad at me,” Dean deadpanned.

“Because that nest is probably the only place where she felt even remotely safe this entire time and you just pulled a gun on her. A random alpha intruding her nest would be enough to compromise it, but on top of that you pulled a gun on her! How do you think she feels right about now?”

Dean sighed, “Fuck.”

“Yeah. Fuck.” Sam agreed, pacing anxiously as he continued to scold his brother.

“What do we do?” Dean asked.

“We can’t do anything but wait until she comes out of her room.”

---

Four Hours Later

You walked out of your room in a new pair of clothes and covered in scent blockers. You headed straight for the showers, needing to be as odorless as possible before confronting the alphas after that embarrassing encounter earlier today.

You put music on as loud as it would go and got into the shower, sighing as the hot water hit your back. Desperate to as much of that depressed scent off of you, you grabbed your new scent blocking shower gel and scrubbed it all over you.

You had a plan: Scent blocking body wash, shampoo your hair, condition, shave legs, more body was. You wanted to get in and out quick so you could get something to eat because apparently sitting in that closet for some reason made you extremely hungry.

So you had a plan.

---

“Oh, fuck,” an involuntary moan was pulled loudly from your lips, your head falling back against the tiles of the shower wall. You hand was moving furiously against your clit, pleasure coursing through you as you balanced on the edge of orgasm.

This was not your plan.

“Oh my god, fuck,” one of your hands cupped against a breast, the other working hard to get you off. Your head was cloudy with lust and your were positively desperate to reach orgasm already.

You tried to picture something, anything that would push you over the edge. Your mind pictured a big, fat knot, connected to a hot alpha body. The alpha was naked, abs protruding and tanned all over. You imagined his mouth, his growl.

You were so close, legs shaking, letting out desperate please. You continued to pictured him, him moving his hand against his length, fingers gripping a half-formed knot. You could picture his mouth hot against yours, teeth scraping against your neck. Hair, brown and long, scratching you chin as he continued to kiss down your body.

Brown and long hair. Sam’s face connected to the imaginary alpha’s body. Sam. Why were you picturing Sam?

Whatever the reason, it pushed you over the edge and into one of the most satisfying orgasms you’ve had in a while.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” you rode out your climax, easing the pressure and slowing the divine little circles around your clit.

Finished, now you stood on shaky legs and continued to wash the conditioner out of your hair.

---

When you made it to the kitchen Sam was sitting the the table. He looked up only to glance at you and then down back at the book in his hands.

“You know, you uh, scared the shit out of Dean earlier-”

“Fuck, I know. I’m sorry I swear I’m not usually like that. I don’t know why I’m acting like this and-”

“Woah, hey,” Sam interrupted, closing his book and placing it on the table. “First of all, you have nothing to apologize for. If anything, Dean owes you an apology. He had no right to barge in on you like that. Second, Y/n, you’re allowed to freak out. You’re grieving, it’s fine. Dean and I have done our fair share of dealing with people’s deaths in our life, we know how it goes,” the alpha said. He stood up and walked towards the fridge.

You immediately went for the liquor cabinet, reaching for your usual. You heard the padding of Sam’s feet and the door of the microwave closing as you poured yourself a drink.

About a minute went by before the microwave went off and by then the kitchen had been filled with an amazing, mouth-watering scent that made your stomach growl. Seriously, why were you so hungry?

Sam grabbed the plate from the microwave and handed it to you.

“Dean’s an idiot but he makes good burgers,” he said, brushing past you close enough for you to get a whiff of his scent. The smell somehow made you feel calm, tame, but you brushed off the feeling after looking at what was down on your plate. “They even taste good after being microwaved.”

It looked and smelled magnificent and you had to catch yourself from moaning at the sight. You sat down next to Sam, who had picked up his book and continued reading.

You took a bite, now not able to control yourself. You let out a small moan in between bites. It was salty and smokey and exactly what you fucking needed right now.

Sam smiled at your delight, “That’s basically exactly how I feel every time he makes those.”

You ate the rest of it while he read his book, content in the easing smell of happy alpha and cheeseburgers. You relaxed for a minute.

---

“This might be a, uh, weird question.. but do you have a shirt I can borrow? This one is like, the only one not drenched in the smell of death but it’s also has a bunch of blood splattered on it. I was gonna ask Dean because you’re like, gigantic, but he’s passed out on the couch,” you said awkwardly.

Sam laughed, “You know we have a washer and dryer, right?”

“I did not know that.”

He laughed again, “Okay, well I’ll show you where they are tomorrow. In the mean time, you can borrow one of my shirts. Come on.”

He led you down the halls and into his room. There, his scent was everywhere. It was strong and caught you off guard, but it smelled amazing. It made your mouth water and you wondered wondered briefly why you were so attracted to his scent.

And then it hit you.

“Oh my god,” you said in utter disbelief.

Sam turned around, “What?”

“Oh my god,” you groaned in annoyance.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I’m in pre-heat,” you said quietly, too quietly for him to hear. It explained it all: the emotions, the hormones, the hunger, and the mid-shower masturbation session.

“You’re what?” Sam asked, concerned now.

“What day is it?”

“The 14th, why?”

“I’m due for a heat on the 20th, fuck.” All the pieces were being put together, “That’s why I’m being a little bitch-”

“You’re not being a little bit-”

“Yes, I really am. I’m being all emotional because my hormones are fucked, and that’s why I freaked out on Dean. And the freaking nest, and, fuck, that explains the shower and your smell.”

“What happened in the shower?” Was the younger hunter’s first question. “What about the way I smell?” Was his second, sniffing himself.

“I can’t believe I forgot about it,” you said. You paced his room, deep in thought.

“What happened in the shower?” he asked again.

You laughed, “A lot,” is all you said.

He sniffed himself again, “Do I smell bad or something?”

“No, no!” You said quickly. “You smell fucking fantastic,” Sam’s eyebrows rose in question and he looked down at the shirt in his hand.

“That’s not why I wanted the shirt! I really do have blood on this shirt, look,” you pointed to the dark brownish red stain across the front of your shirt.

He handed the shirt to you.

“I believe you,” he said, smirking.

#there used to be more smut but I didn't want to edit more sooo #sourwolfwrites #omega!reader #alpha!sam #alpha!dean #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #alpha beta omega dynamics #alpha #beta #omega #fluff #smut #nesting

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puckngrind · 5 years

Text

My favorite girl

So this is my first writing...let me know what you think!

warnings: none really, maybe a swear word or two.

Word count: 2,643

(edited again 8/29/20)

You met Josh years ago when some friends convinced you to go out to a bar downtown on a weeknight. You realized quickly as you walked into the jam packed bar that several Blue Jackets were guest bartending. While you loved hockey, the thought of pushing your way to the front seemed ridiculous. You spotted an empty corner high top and almost ran towards it not realizing it was already taken.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you sitting here?” You asked the tall man who was leaning against the table with his drink resting on it, fingers wrapped around the glass.

“Um, yeah. Sorta but you can have it if you don’t mind if I keep standing here?” You couldn’t stop staring at his memorizing blue eyes and pink cheeks. The smirk on his face was one of a kind.

“Yeah, sure. My friends should be over here in a minute. They went to the bar.” You pointed over to the chaos.

“And you didn’t want to go over there, meet the hockey stars?”

“It’s not really my thing. I’d rather watch them skate.” You stuck your hand out to shake his. “I’m (y/n) by the way.” He grabbed your hand and told you he was Josh and new to the area. While everyone seemed to have Blue Jacket shirts on you caught a glimpse of the emblem on his golf shirt as he shifted. “So, you like hockey then? I mean is that why you are here?” Josh’s smirk returned to his face and his head tilted to the side like he was trying to formulate an answer.

“Yeah, you could say that.” Josh stated with a laugh. Your friends joined, gushing about the new defensive man, Jones, and how nice Boone and Murray were. You introduced them to Josh and kept on the small talk. You didn’t think you would see him again.

That fall, you were standing in line at Starbucks near the arena. As you looked at the board debating on what you wanted you could feel someone leaning in behind you.

“So are you PSL kinda girl?” The deep laugh and voice sounded familiar. You turned quickly on your heel ready to tell off the boy who thought you were just a basic midwest girl only to find that sweet face that you shared a table with staring at you with that same smirk on his face.

“Only usually have one in October. I don’t have a typical order. And you? Pumpkin Spice your thing?” You looked at him waiting for a response.

“Not exactly. So (y/n), what are you ordering for us today?” He asked pointing to the board. You were shocked he even remembered your name. You ordered two of one of your go-tos and headed to a table. He was dressed in Blue Jacket sweats this time and you still didn’t figure out who he was.

“So would you want to plan to hang out on purpose some time?” Josh asked.

“Like a date?” The words popped out before you could even stop them. “Don’t answer that.”

“I meant like friends really. I don’t have any friends outside of... uh... my job. Plus you are pretty easy to talk to.” He looked confused but you thought it was from the embarrassment from your comment. You slid over your phone to have him put his number in. You sent him a text with a face palm emoji and this is (y/n).

That was it. You became best friends with Josh Anderson quickly and he loved that he wasn’t hockey player Josh Anderson when he would come hang out and take over your television and most of your couch. You would watch all the Bachelor shows together and if he was home in Toronto or on the road you would FaceTime to watch together. His commentary normally had you laughing so hard you were crying by the end of the show. He would make fun of you crying while you watched Grey’s Anatomy or the latest Rom-Com that he secretly loved and swore if you told anyone he would stop coming over. He knew you hated any horror movie so he would torture you with them especially around Halloween which is always his favorite.

Your friendship over the years was comfortable. His mom frequently spent more time with you than him when she was in town and his siblings would take your spare room if more than one were in town. Josh fit in with your friends and you somehow fit in with his teammates, even though they still gave you a hard time about not knowing who they were at first without their names and numbers on their backs.

You had been texting and snapping with Josh all day. He was headed back to Columbus this weekend to get his place in order and start training camp. You were dancing around the kitchen with the music up way too loud making cookies. All of a sudden familiar arms wrapped around your waist and raised you off of the ground. Whispering into your ear almost kissing it, Josh’s voice was strong over the music. “How’s my favorite girl? I’ve missed you so much.” You squealed. Out of being scared half to death and excited that he was standing in your kitchen. You turned around and slammed your hand to his chest.

“You scared the hell out of me J!” You yelled before turning down the music.

He threw his head back and laughed. He wrapped you into another hug. “But didn’t you miss me?” He gave you that smirk you loved.

“I saw you a few weeks ago in Sudbury for Nick’s thing, remember? And you DID come to Columbus a few times.” Meeting his eyes with a smirk of your own. Knowing he wanted a “yes of course” to come out of your mouth. He reached over your shoulder to stick his finger in your batter and bringing it to his mouth.

“So what do we have here? Is my girl making me welcome home cookies?” He sucked the batter off of his finger. “Ohhh... my favorite. How’d you know?” You elbowed him in his side and rolled your eyes. While the cookies baked you caught up, which seems silly since you talked or texted everyday so catching up really was the same old banter. You couldn’t help but notice that he kept calling you ‘my girl’ while you frequently used babe and honey and other nicknames over the years, this one was new. You were always called his girlfriend on social media by fangirls and they would be up in arms with Josh was spotted with another women. You eventually set your accounts to private to keep the comments from creeping on your page too. You two didn’t seem to care and he would have you accompany him to events especially if they involved kids or dressing up. Thing was you never dated and the topic was never discussed. When you went out it was always with his teammates or your friends to group things like concerts, dinners, and other activities around Columbus. Normally he would come hang out at your house because (according to Josh) the suburbs were so much quieter and you actually had food in your pantry and fridge. You were pretty sure it was the entertainment system your brother set up and the fire pit on the patio that he really loved. Josh was always there. He would sling his muscular arm around you and pull you into hugs and when you were out he wasn’t more than an arms length away from you. You were each other’s person.

The cookies were done and ready to be iced. Josh decided he was going to help you. Hunched over with his sleeves pushed up he started. You looked up and saw the face you’ve seen so many times. The face he made when he was stopped by fans around town or at a team signing event and even when he bought you some skates and re-laced them. This face of concentration always made you laugh. Josh’s tongue sticking slightly through his teeth and his eyebrows creased together.

“So, are you ready for the season? Did your training go well?” You asked. He looked up from his focus on the cookies.

“Are you really asking me about my training? Like you don’t know? We talk every day (y/n).” Your face turns red with the look he was giving you. It was different just like the my girl comments before. He moves around the island and stands in front of you. “Why are you asking about my training?” He was too close for your comfort. He’d been this close to you countless of times but something was different.

“I... I... I...” words. Words were not forming in your head because all you could think about was the words my girl that he kept using and the fact that he surprised you. And you backed up from him towards the hall when you eye caught glimpse of the table by the door. “Is that for someone?” Your eyes were wide as you backed up further and pointed at the gorgeous orchid now sitting on your entry table which was not there before.

“Yeah, they are your favorite right?” He smiles while rubbing the back of his neck. He quickly brushes past you to grab the potted plant.

“um... yes... how? why? Josh? What?” You could not formulate a full thought to save your life. The boy you loved to spend every free moment with was acting weird and it made you feel things that you ignored for years.

“(y/n), you okay? You like it right?” He looks at you with the face that all the girls at the bars swoon over. You saw it so many times and he was usually oblivious to the looks he got from girls.

“Josh, yes. I love it. But why?” You ask face the color of a tomato and thoughts cloudy.

“To show you how much I missed you. That’s all. Stop being weird. Let’s catch up on Bachelor in Paradise okay?” As he takes your hand and moves towards your living room. Making himself right at home he pats the seat next to him to encourage you to sit.

While watching, you slip into your normal ways. He has your side hurting so much from laughing that you are sure you pulled a muscle. By the end his hand was on your knee as your feet were tucked under yourself. You didn’t notice it at first but then you feel the heat from his hand as his rubs against your leggings.

“Let’s head to Forno’s tomorrow for brunch. I haven’t had it since leaving and not exactly on my diet once the season really starts.” He kept his focus on the screen and his hand on your knee.

“Oh, yum. Who’s all going? Who is back in town?” You were looking at Josh and not the television.

“Um, most of the guys are back but I meant just the two of us. I guess we can invite some of the guys but there is the end of summer party at the Dubinsky’s next weekend and you will see everyone there.” Still, not looking at you and confident as always when it came to your conversations. The sometimes shy hockey player Josh Anderson that you saw in interviews was not the same man you had befriended all those years ago.

“Really? Alone? The two of us?” Your voice cracked and he turned his attention to you.

“Is there a problem with us going to brunch alone? Are you afraid to be out with me in public? Do I smell or something?” He sniffed his shirt and then poked you in your side. You smiled and blushed again.

“I mean we normally don’t go out just the two of us. And you’ve been... different... today. Like something is up.” You poked him back and his face matched yours. He’s fully facing you now and his hand has moved to your hand while the smirk on his face is hard to read you feel like he is reading you like a book. A book that Josh has been studying since he landed in Columbus after winning the Calder in Cleveland.

“(y/n), I love you.” You looked at him and smiled.

“I love you too Josh but what is up?” Josh stands up quickly from the couch and is now towering over you from where you are sitting. He starts to pace a little.

“No, no, no. You aren’t hearing me (y/n). I fucking love you. Like want you to be not only my best friend but mine.” Josh stops and is looking down at you with his piercing blue eyes and flaming red cheeks. You stand to up next to him and start to talk but he puts his finger to your lips to stop you. “Look, I know we’ve been friends forever and I love our relationship but I was sitting with Seth in the Bahamas and the only thing I kept thinking was why isn’t (y/n) here.” You are shocked at what Josh is telling you.

“Josh, that was May right? And...” He cuts you off again.

“Yes, I know. I didn’t know what to think about how I felt. It changes everything. Even just telling you all this changes everything and the thought of losing you makes me sick. But here is the thing, I want all of you. I want to be yours and you mine. My family already loves you. I’m pretty sure my mom likes you more than me most days. Your family is seriously the best and has taken me in for all the holidays that I can’t go home for because of my schedule. You are my rock. The place I land. I missed you so damn much this summer it hurt. That’s when I realized that this friendship was way more than a friendship to me. You are my girl. If you will have me?” He combs his hand into his hair as he stares at you. Your best friend just confessed his love for you. You couldn’t put into words what that meant so you did something better. Stretching on your tippy toes and cupping his face with your hands you moved closer to him. Josh takes the cue from you. He dipped his head down and crashed his soft lips into yours. His one hand landing on the back of your neck and the other at the small of your back to keep you close to him.

“So, I guess that’s my answer?” He asks slightly winded. Smiling at you in a way that made your insides turn to mush. “So are we making this official? You are my girl?” He slightly kissed your lips again and loosens his hold of you.

“Yes, J. I love you too. But can we keep it off social media for now?” You batted your eyes at him and he laughs.

“I’m not sure I can keep the guys from telling everyone. They’ve all heard my pro and con list all summer. I’m pretty sure they will be more excited than me.”

“More than you eh?” You poke at his rock hard abs and attempt to sound Canadian with your midwest accent.

“No, I’m over the moon.” Josh says as he picks you up and swings your legs around the living room. He kisses your forehead before putting you down. “So, Frono’s tomorrow? When do you want me to pick you up?”

“How about you just stay?” your eyebrow moves up as you pull Josh towards your bedroom. Your boy wastes no time sweeping you off your feet and carrying you towards your bed.

#josh anderson #josh anderson imagine #j. anderson #cbj #my andy man 77

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