#ended up stranded in the wrong city for a while until I managed to catch a taxi | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

taetaesbaebaepsae · 4 years

Text

Lunar Violence (jjk)

Summary: You’re not a big fan of your best friend’s favorite band, Lunar Violence. Their werewolf gimmick makes you roll your eyes, even if the music isn’t too bad. When she drags you to a concert just as the blood moon rises, though, everything changes.

Warnings: werewolf sex, possessive behavior, choking, knotting, marking, heats and ruts so whatever consent issues you feel are within that realm, unrpotected sex, werewolf dick, abo dynamics

Word Count:7445

Rating: Explicit

You're not normally a fan of gimmicks, particularly with your music. So when your best friend begs you for a solid week to go with her to this concert, you're wary when you do a simple Google search.

Lunar Violence might be the dumbest fucking name for a band you've ever heard, but they certainly seem like they're going for a certain vibe. You'd definitely have been into it when you were a teen, the fake fangs, the facial piercings and torn leather pants, the howling they do at the ends of some of their songs.

The music itself isn't bad, the lead singer is stupid hot and has a smooth low tenor and bedroom eyes.

You flip through only a few of the member pictures before making a decision based on the fact that they're good eye candy, at least.

Your friend Jia jumps up and down excitedly when you tell her and shows you the signs she's made. She's got a thing for the one they call Happy, a lean bassist who has a bright smile and a sexy glare.

"What are with these names? The seven dwarfs? I think they're mixing metaphors."

Jia snorts. "They call the drummer Baby because he's the youngest. It’s not that dumb and the music is really good, you’ll love it, I promise!"

"This is so dumb. You owe me."

"If I get close enough to Happy to make eye contact I'm gonna make him mine and then I'll give you anything you want." Jia says determinedly.

It’s a few weeks before the concert, so you find yourself listening to a few albums and actually getting pretty excited about it. It should be a fun time, get you away from the stress of your every day life, at the least.

You had no way of knowing that the night of the concert would complicate your life tenfold.

“Do we always have to schedule concerts around rutting season?” Namjoon whines after hitting yet another wrong chord on his guitar.

“It’s the best part about this job!” Hoseok grins.

“I can’t fucking concentrate being horny all the time, I agree with Joon,” Yoongi agrees, banging his forehead down on the keyboard.

“Should have called you Horny rather than Lucky,” Seokjin snorts, and Hoseok laughs so hard he nearly knocks over his bass guitar.

Jungkook watches them with a fond smile on his face, his brothers. Not by blood, of course but being the only werewolves in the city made them have an instant connection and camaraderie, and they’d created a pack pretty quickly. The music had come later, they’d all been interested in it, all had some talent and all been blessed with good looks, and after that it was only a matter of who did what and stage names.

Kim Seokjin, with his regal looks and sharp jaw: Prince.

Min Yoongi, with the scar over his left eye he’d gotten scrapping with a grey wolf in the woods behind his house in Daegu as a pup: Lucky.

Jung Hoseok with his easy smile and eager nature: Happy.

Kim Namjoon, always so serious and intelligent: Beethoven.

Park Jimin, with his pretty face and sneaky smirk: Sly.

Kim Taehyung with his sweet nature and affectionate personality: Honey.

Finally, Jeon Jungkook, because he'd been barely old enough to breed when they'd met: Baby.

"Baby hasn't had his first rut yet, yeah?" It's Jimin, smirking, always giving Jungkook grief about something.

Jungkook narrows his eyes and chucks a drumstick at him but it's no use, Jimin catching it in one band and twirling it like a goddamn baton. Jungkook would say Jimin was graceful if he hadn't seen him fall off about a dozen barstools and half a dozen stages, sober even for the latter.

“Kinda late, isn’t it?” Seokjin speaks up, and Jungkook knows he’s teasing but it stings a little, nonetheless.

“He’s only just turned 23. You were two weeks from your 23rd before you ever popped a knot, hyung, or have you forgotten?” Namjoon snarks, and Jungkook snickers as Seokjin makes a face, that vein on his neck pulsing just a bit.

He shouldn’t laugh, they’re just as likely to come to blows during the beginning of a rut and in a full moon cycle, but he can’t help himself

Yoongi, as usual, manages to keep the peace by offering to order pizza and foot the bill, a truly saintlike act since they could go through a pizza each, as hot as their temperature would be running by now.

Jungkook doesn’t say that he’s had a knot for two years now, the very thought of his hyungs knowing that makes him blush so much he hides it by wiping his face with a towel, pretending to have been sweating.

Truly, he should have had a rut by now, triggered by all the pheromones' from the shows they’d been doing, this tour had been particularly rough due to the upcoming blood moon, at least for all the other boys, and it isn’t as if Jungkook hasn’t mated, of course, but a full rut? Not even the hint of it. It worries him, but Namjoon keeps assuring him that everyone gets there in time, people are just different.

Taehyung had been a late bloomer himself, not starting his first rut until he met and fell in love with his girlfriend, a short feisty redhead he’d met after a hand injury from stringing his bass guitar and slicing his palm open. She’d been a nurse who scolded him for not coming in sooner and it’d been almost instant, her green eyes triggering every wolf thing about him, or at least that’s how he tells it, all wide eyed and dreamy.

She’s a near constant in Taehyung’s hotel rooms now, sometimes riding along on the tour bus, but he doesn’t let her into anymore of the concerts even when she pouts, because human mates around a group of wolves around rutting season can be a dangerous time.

Taehyung is one of the gentlest wolves Jungkook knows, but he’d seen him snarl when Yoongi so much as winked at the redhead near a rut, so it’s probably for the best.

Anyway, Jungkook wasn’t worried (much). He’d find his true mate eventually, but probably not at a concert. Maybe he’d start his rut there, at least, around the full moon. He’d never have imagined that he’d find both.

The crowd is nice enough, although they seem a little feral. Some of these girls have signs that should be x rated, but you're not one to judge, especially since you've never actually….done anything too x-rated.

You feel a little strange when you enter the concert venue and you can’t quite put your finger on it. You shrug and blame it on the strong drink your friend had made you chug before you entered since she couldn’t finish it all herself.

It’s like there’s something living under your skin, some rush like heat, and it makes you feel antsy, ready to dance along to the music or at least laugh at your friend losing her mind next to you.

There’s a lot of gimmick to the concert and it’s bright and dark at the same time near the stage. You’d swear you’d seen the guitarist strum with no pick, with a sharp claw instead, but you’re sure it’s makeup, part of the show. They’re wearing contacts, too, you’re pretty sure, and the music is good, your friend isn’t wrong.

The song you’d heard that you’d like is actually their encore song, heavy on the bass and drums, and the lead singer even makes your skin feel hot a little when he makes eye contact and winks at you. The last solo the lights come down on the drummer, he’s on the back stage so all you can see is his long hair bouncing, the flex of his admittedly impressive biceps as he finishes the song.

You’ve been jumping up and down and singing along so much that you’re sweating and feeling a bit dizzy, so you drag your friend out the back alley while she’s still swooning, having gotten a direct smile from her favorite bassist.

“Did you see him? He looked right at me! We’re in love, Y/n. Do you want to be my maid of honor?” She’s babbling when you hear the click of a lighter next to you.

There’s people milling about, it wasn’t exactly a sold out show but there was a decent crowd, and people are now piling into the bar next door.

“Did you like the show?”

When you turn your head you’re shocked to see that it’s the lead singer, a couple strands of his silver hair falling over his eye as he smiles at you.

“Oh. Oh, yes, I liked it very...very much,” you stammer. He’s even more handsome up close. Those are some really good contacts, you can’t tell they aren’t real at all, even though surely no one’s eyes are a violet color like that.

“Sly!” Your friend screams, and you jolt forward, surprised.

The singer’s hand lights on your shoulder and you look down. You have time to think that they must make great money for these expensive special effects because they sure do look like claws before your friend rushes past you, yelling because Happy had come out the back with the rest of the band.

There’s no mob or anything, maybe a dozen people other than you and Jia, but it makes you a bit anxious nonetheless, especially since you’re still feeling just as antsy, hot and dizzy as you were before.

It might be worse, actually, as you stand outside in the moonlight.

“Sly’s just my stage name.” His voice sounds softer, closer to your ear as he leans in. “You can call me Jimin.”

“O-okay,” you stutter, unused to feeling this way. You’re usually more outgoing, talkative, but it feels so strange. You find yourself looking up at the sky as if looking for the moon.

It’s better, once you’re inside the bar, there’s not as much of a crowd and you’re sitting at a big table with Sly...Jimin, you remind yourself, and Jia and Happy, who seems to fit his name well, laughing open and loud with your best friend as if they’ve known each other forever.

After a few hours and a couple of drinks you’ve lost most of that antsy feeling since being indoors, and you and Jimin vibe well, becoming fast friends. You’re both flirty and talkative after getting to know each other, and your mood is lifted from the concert, the alcohol, and the socialization.

You even laugh about calling their gimmick dumb as they dodge questions about where they get their makeup and accessories. You assume it’s some kind of sponsorship situation or contract, not thinking much of it.

You manage to excuse yourself long enough to look for the bathroom, although Jia abandons you since she’s made her way into Happy’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and with a blissful smile you’re not sure you’ve ever seen on her.

There’s someone standing in the hall and it’s a narrow hallway and he’s pretty wide from the back so you stumble a little when you turn, placing a hand on the wall.

“Oh, excuse me!” You say, brightly, but when he turns you gasp, a little surprised by the bright red of his eyes before you realize it’s another member of Lunar Violence.

“Hello,” he says, quietly with a little smile and he has these prominent front teeth that are pretty cute, make him look a lot less intimidating, despite those contacts and an eyebrow piercing and his size.

“Oh, hello! You’re…”

“Baby,” he blurts, and it makes you giggle.

You feel a little tipsier than you’d realized, and you guess it must be since you’ve been sitting down for an hour or so and just gotten up.

He puts a hand over his face, embarrassed. “My name is Jungkook,” he explains. “I’m the drummer?”

It’s cute how his voice pitches up into a question, as if you wouldn’t recognize him. He’s definitely a bit more modest than the other two members you’d met, with Jimin and Happy (who you’d just learned also goes by Hoseoki), bragging about tours and performances.

“Pretty big for a baby,” you tease, and he makes an embarrassed sound in the back of his throat.

“I keep trying to get them to let me change it,” he mutters.

You introduce yourself and he smiles again, and his eyes aren’t as red as you’d thought at first, anyway, maybe it’s just the light. You brush past him as you continue to the bathroom after excusing yourself, and it’s a little zing through you, like static electricity.

It takes you longer in the bathroom than it usually would, that last drink really must have packed a punch, and when you return to the table Jungkook is sitting there, too, next to your empty chair. Jimin looks a little sullen and pouty, but he smiles at you, those violet eyes crinkling up at the corners, and you give him a bright smile back.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is all energy, jiggling his leg and tapping his fingers on the table and Hoseok seems to be watching him intently.

The atmosphere in general seems to have changed, and after exchanging numbers with everyone with the urging of Jia, you two excuse yourself.

The three men walk you outside and Jimin is close while Jungkook hangs back. You imagine Jimin is so close since you mentioned feeling a bit dizzy and he asks you twice if he can call you a car but you tell him that the fresh air will do you good.

It’s funny, the moonlight seems to energize you a bit. When Jimin leans in to kiss you on the cheek, you jump a little at a sound behind you, something like a bark.

Jimin jolts back a little, eyes widening, and you both laugh at your nerves.

“Stray dog,” you remark, and Jimin snorts.

“Something like that.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “So what exactly the fuck happened after I left?”

Jimin is sullen on the couch, arms crossed over his chest with a busted lip and Jungkook is sitting next to Hoseok on the floor on the other side of the hotel room with tissue up his nose, Hoseok tilting his head back.

“Baby is about to go into rut,” Taehyung sings, laughing, his girlfriend draped over him on the bed drowsily, his teeth marks littering her neck and throat.

“Don’t,” Yoongi warns. “Everyone’s just wound up. Full moon is in two days, after all, cut him some slack.”

“Sees one girl he likes and suddenly no one else can talk to her,” Jimin complains, gingerly working his tongue across his lip ring to see if it’s torn.

“You tried to kiss her,” Jungkook growls, and Hoseok pushes on his chest to keep him from getting up.

Jungkook can’t explain why his wolf wanted to rip Jimin’s throat out when he leaned in to kiss you, he’d just met you, didn’t even know your last name, but it was visceral, sudden, something crawling up his throat. He’d almost moved forward to do it before Hoseok said his name, sharply.

“We all get a little possessive about potential mates around the full moon,” Namjoon reasons. “But that’s not the way to handle it, Jungkook.”

Jungkook hangs his head and removes the tissue from his nose with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry, hyung.” He looks over at Jimin but he means it for Namjoon. He’s still bitter, somehow, about Jimin’s hand on your lower back, his lips brushing your cheek. It makes his head feel fuzzy, his guts roll.

Namjoon, on the other hand, had been the one to “discover” Jungkook, back when he had no idea why his eyes were starting to change color with the moon cycles or why his nails grew out like claws. He’d started learning percussion just to get rid of some of the energy he had around those times, and he’d been 17 when Namjoon approached him in a music store when Jungkook was looking into buying cymbals.

Jungkook had been abandoned when he was a baby, adopted at four years old and he had no idea about his wolf lineage, or even that they existed, until Namjoon explained it to him.

“Jungkook doesn’t know his lineage,” Namjoon reminds them all. “He might just be presenting as an alpha, that’s a lot around the full moon, Jimin, you remember.”

Jimin grumbles something under his breath and Jungkook has to take a deep breath through his nostrils, smelling iron from their scuffle earlier, in order not to lunge across the room and hit him again.

Eventually, Jungkook has to move to his own room despite usually bunking with Jimin, and he finds himself unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling. He keeps seeing your bright smile, your curls bouncing around as you talked and laughed, mostly at Jimin, and it makes him stiffen to think of how Jimin had met you first.

Why did it matter, anyway? You’re just a person, just like he is, just a girl, and he doesn’t have the best track record with talking to girls, anyway. You’d been in the front row, with your friend who Hoseok had gotten so smiley about, he’d seen you just before he started his set, his vision clearer around the full moon.

The others laughed at him for how he talked about “the wolf,” as if it wasn’t a part of him, as if it wasn’t who he was, but that’s how it had always felt. He just hadn’t had a name for it until he’d met Namjoon. It was like this thing, inside him, this beast, something that clawed and scratched to get out.

Seokjin keeps telling him that he’s fighting the wolf, that’s why he hasn’t gone into rut or popped his knot, that’s why he feels so achy and fidgety around the moon cycles, that’s why he hasn’t shifted. Namjoon would always respond there was no way to know that but Seokjin just rolled his eyes.

“Aish, I’m your hyung, listen to me. I fought mine, too, when I was young, and when I shifted I broke a few bones. You should give in, let it ride in the front seat once in a while.”

Jungkook had nodded at the time but now, he doesn’t know how to do that. Drumming helped, it was a lot of work and energy expelled and it felt like he could let him out, the wolf, just a little. It’s why he’d gotten so big, staying active and lifting weights was something the wolf liked.

The wolf came sometimes when he masturbated, too, when he’d feel particularly worked up around the full moon, after a concert, sweaty and rolling his hips into his hand.

When he tries it after meeting you, he can’t even finish, ending up panting and sore, the wolf still snarling over the memory of Jimin’s lips barely brushing across your cheek.

Surprisingly enough, it’s Jungkook who texts you first. Wanna go for a drink?

You’re not sure whether to say yes at first, you’ve been feeling so strange. You can barely sleep, your skin feeling hot, as if you’d burned yourself with a too hot shower. You think about that night at the concert a lot, Jimin’s violet eyes, Jungkook’s almost red ones, how odd you’d felt.

You would have talked to Jia about it but she’s been abducted by the werewolf band, apparently, you’ve barely seen her in a week and when you had she’d been littered with hickeys and with a big goofy smile.

Part of you wonders if this is all some sex ring cult but she seems happy, jubilant even, so you agree, meeting Jungkook at a downtown bar.

He’s there before you arrive, you can see him through the window sitting at a table, looking wide and a bit intimidating until he lifts his head and smiles at you with a little wave.

His eyes are a warm brown now, pretty and wide, you’re able to notice the shape more without the contacts.

Jungkook is still all energy, maybe that’s just how he is, talking to you more and more as the nights go on and you two share a pitcher of beer, scooting his chair closer. You find he flushes a pretty rose when you flirt with him and can’t stop laughing when he nearly falls out of his chair when you prop your legs up in his lap.

By the end of the night he can’t stop smiling at you and you’re intrigued, moreso than you’d imagined you would be when you’d first met him, smiling shyly at you at the bar near the concert. You start to feel funny again, your head fuzzy, probably from the alcohol.

When you tell him, he’s all wide eyed concern.

You giggle. “Now I know why they call you Baby.”

He huffs a little.

He walks you outside just as he did before but this time he doesn’t hang back, and when you reach the alleyway, he places a hand on the swell of your hip as you take a few deep breaths of the night air.

You’re surprised, laugh a little until you look up into his eyes. You’d swear they looked red tinged again, but surely it’s just the beer.

“Not a baby,” he murmurs, moving closer, pressing you up against the brick with his body, and you hitch in a breath.

“No?” You ask, boldly trailing your finger along his collarbone through the black tshirt he’s wearing.

He shakes his head, leaned down close enough to your face that his nose brushes yours.

“Prove it,” you tease, and he makes this rumbling sound in the back of his throat that makes goosebumps break out across your flesh.

He leans down further, nips at your lower lip, and you moan, body surging forward toward his as if it was made to fit it. You’re not sure if you kiss him or he kisses you, but his tongue is in your mouth, his hands on either side of your head, caging you in.

You feel hot all over, dizzy in the most pleasant way, at least until he pulls away, gasping.

You whine, a sound you don’t think you’ve ever made before, when he’s not touching you anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I’m sorry. I should go.”

He’s gone before you can even gasp out another whine of his name, and the moonlight on your skin burns instead of cools.

Jungkook tells this story in a burst to his bandmates the next day, hungover with his head pounding.

“You just left her there?” Jimin says, his face shocked, and Jungkook feels the wolf make a growl start at the back of his throat.

Namjoon puts a hand on his shoulder and it turns into a whine instead.

“I’ve never felt him that close, hyung. Right at the surface. I wanted to…”

Namjoon and Seokjin meet eyes above Jungkook’s lowered head.

Jimin catches it. Jimin catches everything, it’s one of the best and worst things about him.

“What? You think…” Jimin laughs. “No. She can’t be his.... She’s not a wolf, I would’ve smelled it when-”

Jungkook surges out of his seat, a deep growl rumbling from his chest. “When what, Jimin?”

Jimin’s eyes glow a pale violet as he snarls back, uncaring that Jungkook towers over him.

In the end, Namjoon and Seokjin have to separate them physically as they bark and snarl at each other.

Hoseok and Taehyung are missing, having holed up to ride out their ruts with their human mates instead of the house the seven share.

Yoongi huffs out a breath. “He’s definitely presenting as an alpha.”

“No shit,” Namjoon barks, unusually on edge.

Yoongi, Seokjin, and Taehyung are the betas of the group, and until now there had only been a slight difference among the bandmates despite their different rankings.

Alpha pheromones were stronger and their senses were more heightened around rutting season, particularly for other mates.

In the end, they have to completely change how they house themselves, with Jimin sharing a room with Yoongi, and Jungkook sharing with Seokjin.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Jungkook says miserably, his wolf finally calmed as he sits down on the bed.

“It’s not your fault,” Seokjin says, voice much less harsh than Namjoon’s had been earlier when he’d scolded him. “I saw Namjoon during this time, and it wasn’t easy.”

Jungkook looks up at the elder with wide eyes. “Really?”

Seokjin snorts and nods. “Yeah, around the full moon he was unbearable, snarling at everything.”

“I just didn’t want to scare her or...or hurt her...I wanted to put her against the wall and…” Jungkook trails off, embarrassed.

Seokjin only smiles and ruffles Jungkook’s hair. “That’s normal too, Baby. You wouldn’t have hurt her, especially if it’s what we think it is.”

“What...what does that mean?”

Seokjin shakes his head. “Something you gotta work out on your own.”

Jungkook groans and flops down on the bed as Seokjin laughs, heading downstairs to make dinner while things are calm.

He has trouble sleeping again, but this time instead of wondering why, he knew, could almost feel the soft skin of your hip on his palm like it was still there, how you’d moaned into his mouth, whined for him.

Jungkook isn’t sure there’s a cold enough shower to help.

You can’t seem to sit still as the full moon nears, feeling like you might jump out of your skin. You can’t count the number of friends you’d called but no one seems up to going out. You bite your lip while looking at Jungkook’s contact on your phone screen.

If you think about it long enough, you can still feel the way he pressed against you, how the hair on the nape of your neck stood up when he nipped at your lip, how hot you’d felt, how wet…

You sigh and scroll up, seeing Jimin’s name instead. Jimin had been fun to be with the night you’d met, easy to talk to, less….intense. And he didn’t make you feel like you were about to crawl out of your skin, so you ask if he wants to meet up for a drink.

It’s late, by the time you decide, and the moon is out, waxing toward fullness. There’s only a tiny sliver remaining, big in the sky, and you can’t stop looking up at it as you walk to the bar near your house.

You’d chosen it because it’s close and not because it’s where hot drummer Jeon Jungkook, also known as Baby, had pressed you against an alley wall and made you almost…

Jimin jolts you out of your thoughts, calling your name and waving as you approach the door. He’s leaned against the doorjamb, giving you a smirk and you think now you understand why they call him Sly.

It makes you smile and again, you vibe well with him, you get along in the best way, conversation is easy and you don’t feel gooseflesh or your hair stand up when he brushes his fingers against yours.

Jimin knows he’s playing with fire when he replies to your text, but they don’t call him Sly for nothing, and you’re interesting, for a human. He’s only met one other female wolf, a tall and feisty woman with a sharp tongue and the most beautiful brown eyes, but she’d had a mate and well...things hadn’t ended well.

Jungkook thinks of his wolf as this separate entity but Jimin disagrees, let’s his wolf do what it wants, so that all the bad things he feels have some kind of outlet. This was especially so after he’d lost his brown eyed wolf girl, so he invites you back to the house, knowing that Jungkook will be at the gym all night before the full moon tomorrow.

In fact, all of the others will be out, finding fun of their own, and why shouldn’t Jimin do the same? It isn’t as if Jungkook has marked you, or even can, since you’re human.

Your eyes aren’t quite the same shade of hers, but he can pretend.

Jungkook works out until his muscles ache but nothing can shake this feeling he has, like something’s wrong. When he leaves the gym even the moon looks off, as if it’s dimmer than it should be, and something’s pulling him home, like this tug in his gut. It feels like it used to as a kid in his first foster home, when he’d get so anxious he’d climb onto the roof and stare up at it.

He’s almost running as he gets closer, feeling his skin prickle as he gets to the house, his wolf so close to the surface he can feel the fur that isn’t there yet standing up on the back of his neck.

He smells Jimin first, wrinkling his nose at the alpha pheromones, and when he walks upstairs it isn’t as if he decides to let the wolf take over, or struggles with it - it’s instant.

You’re standing in the hall, head tilted up, and Jimin is leaning against the wall, smiling down at you, and when you lean up to just softly brush your lips against Jimin’s, Jungkook’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest, and the wolf barks, loud and warning.

You turn, surprised, and Jungkook doesn’t think, doesn’t act, it’s all wolf. He grabs you by your waist, hefts you up over your shoulder, and begins to walk you to his room.

Jimin protests and Jungkook growls over his shoulder, daring him to try something. Later, Jungkook is glad his friend didn’t follow, because he isn’t sure that he could have held the wolf back.

You kick and yell and beat on his back and Jungkook doesn’t realize what he’s done until he’s plopped you down on his bed, crawling toward you.

You kick him in the chest and it barely registers. You stand up and that’s when he snaps back to himself, at least to a degree.

"Don't leave. You can't leave." It's panicked, his voice, higher pitched almost like a whine.

"I can do whatever I want," you snap.

He makes this sound between a whine and a snarl and it's startling, strange, and you stop at the door.

"I know that! I know, but he doesn't!"

"He..." you turn to look at him and he's trembling, head down, and you step closer, worried. "Baby, what do you mean?"

Jungkook just stands there, still trembling, until you reach out to touch his hair, gently. "He thinks he owns you, that you're his, that no one else can touch you." He explains, almost in a whisper.

"Who is he?" You ask slowly.

He raises his head slow and you gasp when you look into his eyes, instead of a warm brown this burnt amber, red hued.

"The wolf."

You stand there, blinking in surprise, for a long moment before actively telling your feet to move to the door. Unfortunately, your brain seems to have some kind of disconnect to your limbs, because you just step even closer, lean in and inhale along his neck, this scent of sweat and the iron of the weights he’d been lifting washing over you.

Rationally, you know that you should be shocked, horrified, even, that werewolves are real and you’re apparently standing in a house full of them but all you can do is run your tongue along the vein in his throat and Jungkook is trembling all over, whimpering like a puppy.

“Y/n, please, don’t-” he chokes out.

“Why not?” You murmur against his skin, the scent of him making your body react like you’ve never felt before. There’s this ache between your thighs that you’ve only felt a hint of before and you want more, nipping at his skin, unable to think clearly.

“He wants to...wants you,” Jungkook stutters, balling his hands into fists to keep from touching you.

“He does? Or you do?” You ask, lifting your head to pout at him, and Jungkook groans.

“Both,” he whispers hoarsely.

“Then take me,” you say, and you don’t even know where the words came from. Your head feels light on your shoulders, dizzy with the scent of him, how his skin tastes under your tongue, and you do what he did to you the last night you’d seen him, nipping at his lower lip. Your canine pierces the skin and you taste iron on your tongue

Jungkook growls and lifts you again, this time with his hands under your ass and thighs and your legs wrap around him instantly. He all but throws you down on the bed, this time, and you whimper when he grips one of your thighs with his big hand, squeezing the flesh there.

“Mine,” he snarls, that high pitched whine at the end, and it makes you arch your back, claw your nails across his shoulders.

Jungkook leans down to sniff at your neck and growls again, wrinkling his nose and when you open your eyes he’s staring down at you with those red/amber eyes.

You look back defiantly but you’re rolling your hips against his, you can feel him hard against your core and even though you’d never gone all the way with anyone before you want him inside you, can’t think of anything else.

“You smell like him,” he accuses, voice hoarse, and his wide eyes fade back to brown, just slightly, the color dilating around his pupils.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, feeling something like guilt, even though nothing had happened, really, and even it if it had…

He rubs his nose against your throat, covers you with his body like he’s replacing any of Jimin’s scent with his own. He licks against your neck, bites down on your skin, making you yelp.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook whines. “I’m sorry, I have to. You’re mine, I have to mark you, have to scent you anywhere he touched you,” he tries to explain, his hands skating down your ample curves.

“It’s okay,” you say, and somehow you mean it, you understand, the very thought of Jungkook smelling like anyone else makes your heart jump into your throat, something primal rise in your gut. “I know, baby.”

“You’re mine?” He says again, voice pitching up into a question just like when he’d introduced himself and it scares you, the way it makes your heart ache.

Instead of speaking you kiss him again, hard, moving your hands to his hair to get him closer. You had worn a skirt and halter out, it’s so warm even though it’s close to winter, your skin feeling so hot under the moonlight that you couldn’t wear much else.

Even as you kiss him he’s tearing at your clothes and you lean up to help him until you’re bare beneath him and panting, this whining noise coming from your throat that you can’t explain.

“God,” Jungkook groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know what I’m doing, I-”

“You haven’t...haven’t done this before?” Your eyes widen.

Jungkook realizes what you mean and he blushes a bit. “I’ve...yeah, I’ve done this before but not...not like this. I feel like...the wolf feels like...he’s been crazy. Since the first moment I saw you.”

“Like you’re gonna jump out of your skin? Always feeling...hot?” You ask.

Jungkook nods slowly, eyes widening.

“Me too,” you admit. “I don’t...I don’t know what it means. That’s why I came out with Jimin, I-”

Jungkook cuts you off with a choked whine. “It means you’re supposed to be mine.”

He snuffles against your neck again, hands at your hips, still holding back, trembling. “It means he never should have touched you.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, even though you know you have nothing to apologize for. “I want you. I’ve never...I’ve never done this before but I want you so bad,” you admit, clutching at his tshirt, pulling it up until he gets on his knees and pulls it off, tossing it to the side. You spread your hands across his chest and he lets out a wrecked moan.

“You’re holding back,” you accuse.

He nods. “The wolf, he doesn’t….I don’t want to hurt you. Especially...fuck, no one’s touched you like this before?” His hands slide up and down your thighs as he stares down at your body, your breasts, the cleft of your cunt.

Jungkook knows that shouldn’t make him so hard, shouldn’t make his dick pulse in his sweats, shouldn’t make the wolf keen with pride. Mine mine mine, the first, the only is all his brain is chanting, he feels dizzy like he’s drank too much even though he hasn’t had a drop.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, but he can’t, can’t let the wolf out, he’s afraid he’ll rip you apart. You’re human and a virgin and he can’t risk hurting you.

The wolf won’t even let him say it, so he just shakes his head.

You huff out a breath, your body aching all over, need making your arousal coat your thighs. You don’t know what you’re going to say until you say it.

“Should I ask Jimin to do it? I bet he can smell me,” you taunt, shocking yourself.

Jungkook freezes, his eyes bleeding to red again and one hand jolting out to wrap around your throat.

“Don’t,” he warns.

You know you should be cautious since you’re about to fuck an actual werewolf, but fuck, you’re so hot, you can’t think, you need something inside you and you drop your feet to the bed, spreading your legs wide.

“Jimin would mark me. He’d fuck me, fill me full like I want.”

Jungkook feels something in him snap, and his heart hurts and his cock aches and the wolf is keening, clawing inside him and he can’t control it anymore, just like before.

“Never,” he growls, squeezes his fingers around your throat and you gasp, your stomach aching with need.

Finally, finally he slides his fingers along your pussy and you choke out a sob as his thumb slips across your clit but it’s not enough.

“Jungkook,” you whimper. “Make me yours.”

“Already mine,” he murmurs, and finally slides two fingers inside you, making you cry out. “You’re already mine but I’m gonna give you what you want, mark you, fuck you, make sure Park fucking Jimin never so much as sniffs at you again.”

“Yes,” you sigh. “Yes, please, please.”

Jungkook still worries somewhere in the back of his mind that he’ll hurt you, that the wolf will, and by now he understands they’re one and the same but you’re rolling your hips up and his cock feels heavy and full like he’s about to burst, somehow wider at the base and he rips down his sweats, fucking you with three fingers now.

When his cock bounces against his stomach you gasp, and if you’d been in your right mind you might worry he’s too big but something inside you is crying out in pleasure just at the sight of it. You spread your legs wider and he releases your throat, leaning over to kiss you instead, biting your lip as he slowly works himself inside you.

It’s a tight fit even after three fingers and you’re whining into his mouth, wanting more.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, far from it although a little less experienced than some of his band members (Hoseok had once bragged about fucking a house of sorority sisters during a rut), but the way you clench around him has his hips twitching, wanting to buck into you even if it would split you open.

Despite his worry, neither he or the wolf wants to hurt you, though, so he waits for you to adjust even as you beg, waits until you can take all of him.

He’s barely realized that he’s popped his knot until he looks down to see where you’ve joined and he groans. He knows how to do this, has been talked to (endlessly, by Taehyung, about his human girlfriend and how she desperately wants to take his knot and they’re working on it but it will take time and training), knows that you can’t take his knot but the wolf is howling for it, wants to fuck you hard and then pop it inside you, spill a littler into your womb.

You whine and pulse around him, reaching up to tug at his hair. “Kookie,” you pout. “Baby. Want you inside me, fuck me harder, please-”

“I can’t-” he chokes out, but then you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him deeper and the wolf growls, leans down, mine mine mine chanting in his head. My mate.

You felt a tiny pop when Jungkook first entered you, nothing painful and then just need, you want more and more and you don’t even know how to say it. You look up at him, near tears, needing something that you feel he won’t give you.

“I’m not yours yet,” you slur, and he looks pained, his eyes dilating from warm brown to amber red again and again.

He rocks his hips against you slow, and you’ve orgasmed twice already, once from his fingers and one from his cock but it’s not enough and you whine, it comes out almost inhuman, like his.

“Fill me up,” you urge, and Jungkook tries to hold the wolf back, he really does, but he’s too far gone, this close to the full moon and in the start of his first rut.

Jungkook groans, fucks you harder and faster and when you cry out his name his balls draw up and he thrusts forward harder than he’d meant to, popping his knot inside you.

You make a surprised sound and his eyes pop open, his hands cupping your face even as his hips twitch as he cums, spills inside you.

“Y/n. I’m so sorry,” he mourns. “I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry,” he babbles, kissing along your neck and throat, seeing that he’d already marked you twice, once on each side of your throat, and he barely remembers it.

You let out a happy sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, feeling finally sated, at least for the moment. “What are you sorry for, silly baby?”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” He asks, and you look up into his eyes and they’re heterochromatic, now, red hued amber and brown both.

“You’d never hurt me,” you mumble against his throat.

“Never,” he promises. “Never, I love you so much.”

You’re half asleep, sated with him still inside you, planting soft kisses on your lips and face. You don’t know where you’d learned the word, but it feels right when you say it, right before you drift to sleep.

“I love you too, Alpha.”

It takes a while to understand, especially between Jungkook being barely able to leave his room since he’s in rut and you’re in heat, but eventually, you figure it out.

Your great grandmother had been an omega werewolf, and it’s a recessive gene so you’d been the lucky one to receive it. Since you had never shifted because your gene wasn’t activated by male wolves, you had no smell.

At least, not until the full moon, when you shifted into what Jungkook says is the prettiest wolf he’d ever seen.

After, when you’d near your heat, Jungkook would snap and snarl at the boys so much just for talking to you that it made you roll your eyes, but eventually you got the dates right (for the most part, there’d been one instance in which Jimin had made a snarky comment and Jungkook had lunged at him and they’d gone rolling down the stairs), and you holed up in your apartment, instead.

Jungkook was working with Seokjin to understand that the wolf is him instead of some seperate entity. You tell him you’ve always known that. From what you know now, if the wolf wasn’t, he would have taken you the very first night. True mates are rare, and you’d both known it the whole time, even when you hadn’t.

You and Jia went to every concert, her always telling you her neverending sexcapades with Hoseok to be able to take his knot, front row, waiting for your Alpha’s set. It’s cute, you think, that they call him Baby on stage but he’s your Alpha, especially since he’s both, always, to you.

#jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #bts imagines #werewolf!jungkook #bts werewolf au #jungkook imagine #bangtanshadowfamily #bangtanheadquarters #btscreatorscorner #btswritersclub

1K notes · View notes

spiderlilyserendipity · 3 years

Note

omg violet you write so well!! if you can, could you write a taehyung nsfw of while on vacation, tae's girlfriend wakes him up early with kisses and promises to do "whatever he wants" if he gets up with her and explores the city and tae holds her to that promise when they get back to their hotel starting with some steamy (private) hot tub sex?

Anon, you are awesome but you have ruined my brain. I got so carried away writing this fic, it is double the size I thought it would be. Many thoughts, head full typa situation. Thank you. This one is titled Only One. Enjoy <3

WC: 4475

Genres: Smut, fluff, angst

Tags: established relationship, anniversary dinners, tae x oc take a trip to Paris

Warnings: dom/sub relationship, dom!taehyung, sub!reader, sir kink, punishment, praise kink, use of the word slut once, colour system as a safeword, insecurity, possessiveness, possessive sex, aftercare, taehyung is very 🥵🥵🥵 in this one y’all

(*Cis female reader*)

“Y/N, Y/N, should we take a picture over there?” Taehyung asks, batting his eyes cutely.

You smile but roll your eyes at Taehyung’s enthusiasm.

Not to be mistaken, if there’s anyone who loves their boyfriend, it’s you. You would live and die for Kim Taehyung, but there’s a special reason for your eyeroll today.

It has been only two weeks since Taehyung got off tour, and at that a world tour. You know Taehyung must be very tired from constantly travelling, hence why you let your boyfriend get his full rest the first week. But the thing is you haven’t seen your lover in a year, and you want to make some memories with him.

You know he will get too busy once the post-tour lull passes over everyone at the company and everything goes back to regular schedule. Then, Taehyung will get sucked away by album preparations, promotions once it’s out, and inevitably: another tour.

You love that Taehyung gets to do what he loves for a living. You also love how cool he looks on stage. But most of all you like getting to spend time with him.

To be honest, you were going to go see Taehyung in Paris during the European leg of the tour. It had been your anniversary, and the two of you had plans to get dinner together and enjoy the city. But then life happened and your plans came crashing down, preventing you from seeing Taehyung until the tour ended months later.

But past you had thought quickly, knowing the day Taehyung would return home and shifted your ticket instead of cancelling. So a week after Taehyung got home, you presented him with a second plane ticket to Paris, France that you bought last minute just for him.

You thought Taehyung would agree with making up for your missed anniversary, but Taehyung had frowned instead. “Babe, I seriously don’t want to go anywhere for a while. I’m sick of hotels and planes.”

“But I’ve never been there, baby. It would be so romantic!” You convinced him eventually, your pout winning him over. Taehyung had sighed, then called his manager to let him know.

So excited from Taehyung agreeing, you had leapt up into his arms and kissed him like crazy. “Ahhh! I’m so excited!”

Taehyung had held back a grin. “Okay. But no touristy stuff.”

You pout. “But that’s the most fun part!” When Taehyung pouts back, you try to convince him again. “Baby, I promise I’ll seriously do anything you say if you do all the embarrassing touristy stuff with me.”

“Anything?” Taehyung asked you, arching a brow.

You took his hand, nodding eagerly. “Anything. Let’s just have fun!”

Taehyung grinned at you. “You better keep your word.”

You had kissed him, grinning at him. He watched you with a fond smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You bet I will.” You vow.

It isn’t until you actually land in Paris that you realize what anything Taehyung is imagining.

For all his great qualities, Taehyung is not subtle about what he wants. Especially when he wants you.

The first three days, Taehyung lets you drag him around under the condition that you both wear disguises to avoid being noticed. You comply, picking odd hours of the day for activities that would be very busy at other times of day. You hit all the touristy spots in early mornings before the crowd, hide away in small tucked away cafes and restaurants with Taehyung during lunch hour, then spend the day browsing vintage stores for jewellery and clothes.

It’s all fun and games except for the teasing that Taehyung will not stop. It’s hard for you to name a time of day where Taehyung’s big hands hadn’t been resting on your waist or his lips idly pressing a kiss to your cheek in passing. You know very well the game Taehyung is playing. He is slowly working you up, getting you used to his constant touches. Then, he will withdraw them, leaving you needy.

Despite Taehyung’s teasing, the two of you still have a great time. You buy souvenirs for your friends and things for yourself. Taehyung also buys you clothes and jewellery, loving to spoil you. But what you love the most are the small establishments he brings you to, full of tasty food and where no one knows his name. You know the game Taehyung is playing, but you let him guide you to an isolated table towards the back and feed you food off his own utensils. You let him wipe the corner of your mouth for some smeared sauce, let him lick it off his thumb. Sometimes, you even get a little on your face on purpose. Taehyung notices when you do that, and lets you get away with it. After all, this isn’t a favour he’s doing you. This is your anniversary trip. He can’t be the only one getting away with teasing.

The following three days, the two of you hit the museums. Taehyung shows you around, explaining things he had seen on previous trips to Paris. You listen to him, happier to see him happy than to really look at the art. You take pictures of your boyfriend inside the museum and really anywhere it won’t catch too much attention.

Over those three days, Taehyung’s touches decrease. He reduces it little by little, but you know him well by now. Taehyung isn’t trying to be subtle, rather the opposite. He wants you to notice, to get riled up when his touch is gone.

You tell yourself you don’t mind it, but both of you know it’s a lie. You ignore the smirk on Taehyung’s face every time you intertwine your hands or wrap an arm around his waist to guide him through the back roads. You will get back at him at dinner tonight.

After lunch on the final day, you tell Taehyung to head back to the hotel on his own. You say you are going to buy a new dress for your dinner date tonight, and that you want it to be a surprise for him. Chuckling, Taehyung just passes you his blackcard and tells you to have fun.

You buy a dark green coloured gown, Taehyung’s favourite colour, and a matching necklace and earrings set of emeralds. You smile at the sight of your ass being cupped by the silky material. This is sure to drive Taehyung mad. After all, tonight is the final night. Both of you know exactly how tonight will end.

You catch a cab to the five star Taehyung made a reservation at. You pay the taxi driver excitedly, getting out in your all new outfit, new heels, and even a new purse! You were sure to impress Taehyung.

You walk into the restaurant, telling the waiter who you’re here with. He lets you in, guiding you upstairs to your table.

You frown as you see your table. From this angle, you can’t see who, but Taehyung is talking to a woman. You approach quietly, catching neither of their attention. Luckily (or unluckily) for you, they’re talking loudly. You don’t speak much French but you don’t need it to deal with this woman. You hear her mention the word “model” and a woman’s clothing brand. You hear her repeat “model” a second time as she blatantly roams her eyes down Taehyung’s figure, then up at him. That’s the part that makes your blood boil. You know she is aware of your presence. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what kind of relationship you and Taehyung have.

But she still challenges you anyway, openly eyeing your man in public. If you could speak more French than basic small talk you would rip her a new one.

Fuck it. You think, making your way across the room. Who needs to know the language?

“Oh, baby.” You say in a sweet voice. They both look over at you. The woman looks visibly irritated, pursing her perfect lips in annoyance. What a shame you like to flirt with other women’s men. You think, slightly in awe at her beauty. I’d like you in any other situation. “Is this a friend?” You ask.

You see a hint of a smile before Taehyung bites it back. “No, Y/N. We just met tonight.”

You smile pointedly at the woman. She frowns at you. “Ah, I see. Well, it was nice meeting you. We haven’t had dinner yet, so.” You say, pretending to be apologetic for cutting the conversation short. All three of you know you’re not, but it’s the thought that counts. Or doesn’t. You couldn’t care less.

“Colour.” Taehyung asks the minute you’re back in the hotel room.

“Green.”

“Poor baby. Got so angry that I took my eyes off you, huh?” Taehyung teases, hooking his fingers in the band of your underwear. He pulls back, making it snap against your hips. You whimper. “What’s that? Are you trying to say something?” Taehyung taunts you.

He cranes his head to look at you. He cups your face and makes you look at him. He makes a fake-worried face. “That’s odd, you were talking perfectly fine a few hours ago. Was it something in the food that’s making you feel sick or are you just embarrassed from being a possessive little slut in front of sir?”

His words make you shiver. He grins as he feels it against his own abdomen. “It seems like you’re really sick, Y/N. I guess we'll just have to go to bed.”

He begins to unwind his arms from around your waist, but you grab them, holding them against your skin. “S-Sir.” You whisper.

“There’s my girl.” Taehyung says proudly, rewarding you with a kiss to your temple. “Let’s talk about what you did wrong tonight, shall we?”

“I-I was possessive. I got jealous because you were talking to that model.”

Taehyung’s eyes flicker at the last word. “Oh, you heard?” He snaps the band of underwear against your skin again. You wriggle, but he refuses to let you go. “What a bad girl. Eavesdropping on sir’s conversations. What if she had been a potential colleague and you ruined everything? But you didn’t think of any of that, only your. own. feelings.” He emphasizes each of the three words with another smack. “You’re just an ungrateful little slut, aren’t you? I bet you would open your legs for any man that offered you this kind of treatment, huh?” He growls in your ear.

“I-I’m sorry.” You whisper, voice cracking.

Taehyung stops. “Colour.” He says, thumbs gently stroking at your sides.

“Green.”

“Y/N.” He repeats more firmly. You sniffle. A tear rolls down your cheek. Taehyung thumbs it away immediately. “We don’t have to. I’m sorry. Do you want to take a bath together? We can cuddle after. Anything you’re comfortable with baby.”

You shake your head, looking away from him. “I’m really okay. I...I want my punishment.”

Taehyung turns you to look at him. He watches your face, looking for any unwillingness. He cups your face and makes you look at him. He smiles finally when he sees the familiar, hazy look in your eyes. You are already slipping into subspace.

“Follow me.” Taehyung says.

You walk behind him, still naked except for your panties. Taehyung is still entirely clothed in his suit and tie. He leads you to the fancy living room of the suite, and closes the curtains. You wait until he sits down to approach him. You observe his spread legs and the stern look in his eye. The air in the living room is freezing cold, but it only adds to it. This is one of the many things you love about Taehyung. How incredibly sexy he looks when he is in control.

Without being asked, you get on the sofa on your hands and knees. You drape your body over Taehyung’s lap, ass up in his lap. You fold your arms over the sofa’s armrest, turning your head to look at Taehyung.

Taehyung’s warm hand caresses your ass. He kneads at the flesh roughly without breaking eye contact with you. On the outside, he looks indifferent, dark eyes sultry. He makes it look like he couldn't care less if it was you or another sub being bent to his will. But you know it’s part of the scene, that he’s watching you this intensely for your reaction and it is only your reaction he ever wants in a setting like this.

“You can safeword out if you need to.” He reminds you. You nod, putting your head against the armrest. “Count.” He tells you, before the first smack comes down.

You flinch on instinct, but his arm pins the backs of your thighs down. “One.”

Another smack but to the other cheek. You hiss under your breath. “Two.”

Taehyung gives the next three in succession. “F-Five.”

“Colour?” Taehyung re-checks. You reply green again. He delivers two more. “Six, ah, seven.”

The next two smacks are harsher. “Eight, nine一!” As you’re counting, Taehyung gives the final one. This one is the hardest of all, making the two of you sink a little lower into the sofa. “T-Ten.”

You are crying now, falling deeper into your subspace. Taehyung’s warm hands smooth over the places they hit. His voice murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, reassuring you.

“S-Sorry.” You continue to cry. “I didn’t mean to be like that.”

“I know.” Taehyung reassures you. He helps you up into a sitting position. It burns to sit on your still painful ass, but you do so anyway because it’s Taehyung who asks you to do it. “You took my punishment very well, Y/N, just like a good girl.”

You shake your head, sniffling. “I don’t wanna be ‘a good girl’, I wanna be your good girl.” You say. Taehyung frowns slightly as he wonders what that means, then looks shocked when he realizes what you’re saying.

“You are my good girl, baby.” He says softly, wiping away your tears. “No one but you.”

“But i-it was our a-anniversary dinner and you were letting her flirt with you. You just一just let her do it. And when I called you baby at the restaurant, you only called me Y/N.” You confess, giving up your fake confident act. The truth is that despite your anger in the moment, you had felt very insecure. It wasn’t like you could blame the woman for finding your boyfriend hot, anyone would. But the fact that Taehyung never said anything back and just put up with it instead of correcting her bothered you. Was it embarrassing to admit he was dating you in front of a woman who was so obviously his equal in elegance? This thought bothered you throughout the whole dinner.

You didn’t plan on telling Taehyung about it, since he didn’t know you sometimes felt this way. One of the reasons you insisted on travelling to make up for your missed anniversary was this doubt. Maybe if you showed him around this fancy city and you made good memories with him, he might appreciate it. Maybe then it would ease your doubt of if you were worthy enough to be his.

You had never admitted this aloud to anyone, but you actually wondered If Taehyung had women in other countries that he went on dates with during tour. You know Taehyung is a good person but after all, he is a young man with sexual needs. And at that, a very attractive man who could get with just about any woman he wanted. So yes, seeing him talk to the very attractive woman had angered you, but it also made you feel like your worst fears might be true.

“Y/N, talk to me, baby.” Taehyung pleads you, his worried brown eyes searching your face for any answers.

“...Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, my love.” Taehyung responds. “Ask me anything you want, baby.’

You sniffle. You play with his suit blazer. “Can you promise to not get mad at me?”

Taehyung looks like he might cry when you ask that. “I promise.”

“When you go away for tour...is there anyone else?” You watch your own tears fall onto Taehyung’s dress shirt. Taehyung looks shaken. “It might seem random but I’ve always wondered. I promise I’m not just acting up because of tonight.”

Taehyung continues to watch you, looking worried and at a loss for words. You put on a fake smile. “Sorry, it’s probably nothing. Let’s just go to bed.”

Taehyung holds you by the waist, stopping you from getting up. “Y/N.”

“I said it’s fine. It’s okay. Really, even if you had another woman. I can’t control what you do when you’re not with me. A year is too long for a couple to spend apart anyway, it’s only natural that your feelings would change. It’s okay. Anyway,” You breathe shakily. “Anyway I’m still yours. As long as you like, of course.”

“Of course I like it.” Taehyung insists, tears glistening in his eyes. “I love you. Tell me how long you’ve felt like this.”

You hesitate. “Y/N.” There it is again, that firm tone that you hate outside of scenes.

You look down at your hands. “Maybe two years?”

Taehyung is crying now, and he cups your face in his hands. “You’ve been thinking like this for two years? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“...I didn’t want to burden you. You’re really busy on tour.”

Taehyung purses his lips. “Can I show you there’s no one else?”

You nod. Taehyung lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He holds you by the backs of your thighs instead of your ass, careful not to hurt you. “The bed?” He asks. You consider the feeling of the rough sheets against your sore ass.

You shake your head. “C-Can we use the hot tub?”

Taehyung kisses your forehead. “Anything for you.”

Taehyung sets up the hot tub for both of you. He takes your panties off for you, sliding them down your legs. He kisses you deeply, sweetly. You whimper into the kiss, his tongue completely in control of your mouth. When you part, a strand of saliva comes loose. When you part far enough, the saliva ends up on your chin. Taehyung wipes it with his thumb. A darkness has entered his eyes again. “Get in. Let me show you how much I love you.”

You get in the hot tub, relishing the feeling of the hot water. It stings a bit, but it’s easier to sit then the bed would have been. You sit with your legs spread slightly, calves tucked under you and feet beneath your ass. Neat and pretty. Just the way sir likes it.

Taehyung strips quickly once you’re in the water. Your eyes roam over his beautiful body, at the hard muscle of his chest, his bulging biceps, his caramel thighs, and his rigid cock. “Come here.” Taehyung orders as he gets in the water. You do so, climbing up into his lap. He kisses you hungrily, like this is the first time all night. You are surprised at the intensity of this kiss. You cannot recall a time Taehyung has ever kissed you so passionately in your years together, even in your roughest scenes.

“So pretty.” Taehyung growls when you two part again. He wraps one arm around your waist to press your chest against his, then attacks your neck. You gasp as he makes love bites, all the way down your neck. He has never made this many before in total, yet he makes them everywhere tonight. He litters your collarbone and the top of your chest with them, making them bloom red at first but you know they will be a deep purple shade tomorrow. “How can you not know what you mean to me, when you’re this fucking beautiful? You drove me crazy in your dress tonight, no, you drive me crazy every fucking time I see you. Maybe even since the first time I met you.”

“S-Sir.” You moan at the praise, face heating up. Taehyung pushes you back against the wall of the hot tub. You tilt your head back against the tiles as he touches you everywhere. He uses his hands to tease at your nipples, making them harden. Even as he does it, he is grinding down on you. You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

“You fucking know I am.” Taehyung snaps, losing the careful composure he wears during scenes. “You’re my one and my only. Look at yourself, so fucking lewd, all worked up by my touch. You have me wrapped around your finger and you still think I’d have another woman.” He continues, cursing in between his sentences at your sweet sounds.

“S-Sorry.”

“Don’t ever be sorry.” Taehyung cuts you off. You let out moans as he starts rubbing at your clit, hard and fast. You grind against his hand. In his dom persona, Taehyung would never tolerate you doing this, but both of you are too far gone tonight to follow the rules to a T. “I will clear this misunderstanding tonight. On your knees, princess.”

You lean on top of the towel Taehyung placed for you on the tiles. Taehyung places his own knees outside of yours, and you feel his hard cock against your ass. Taehyung eases two fingers into you, wet from your arousal that it’s an easy fit. “Nnn, sir.” You plead, grinding down on him.

“You won’t get more until you say what I want to hear.” Taehyung says next to your ear. He presses his chest into your back, pinning you to the edge of the hot tub. “Who do you belong to?”

“Sir! I belong to sir!” You cry out, and Taehyung picks up the pace.

“So fucking pretty.” Taehyung praises, kissing the marks he left on your neck. “Only you get treated like this, understand? No woman could ever be loved like this by me. Every time you forget I will bend you over my lap and make you come on my cock over and over until you get it in your head.”

You let out a particularly loud moan at that, making Taehyung smirk. “Does my princess like that, hmm? You want to get bent over and take my cock all the time? Want me to fill you up with my come, plug you with a pretty little toy, and make you go about your day?” Taehyung inserts another finger and the stretch has you whining. “Answer me.” He demands.

“I do. Ah, fuck, Taehyung. Please. I do.” You plead, tilting your head to the side. Taehyung meets you immediately in a passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth, completely different from Taehyung’s usual style. Is this really what he can do when he lets go? You wonder, getting drunk on his kisses alone. You thought Taehyung had been rough before, but it’s nothing compared to tonight.

“Turn around.” Taehyung says, withdrawing his fingers.

He takes in your needy expression, leaning in to kiss you again like he can’t get enough of you. “Can I come in you, baby? Have you been taking your pill regularly?”

“Yes. Yes.” You chant. Taehyung laughs breathlessly, grabbing a fistful of your hip in one hand and lining himself up to your entrance.

When he enters, both of you moan. “So good. Whose are you, princess?”

“Yours, only yours.” You answer breathlessly. Taehyung grips your thighs and lifts you slightly, allowing him to enter you more deeply.

Taehyung abruptly picks up the pace of his thrusts. You grip at his shoulders for support, unable to stop the noises that fall from your lips constantly. Not only is Taehyung going fast, he is also going incredibly deep, rubbing right over your G-spot.

“C-Can I come, sir?” You beg.

Taehyung nods, and you move one hand between your legs to rub at your clit. As you tip your head back, Taehyung holds himself deep inside you. Both of you come at the same time, you clench hard around him and Taehyung pumps his seed inside you. He kisses at the marks on your neck as he comes, and you dig your nails into his back.

You move your hand to his hair once you finish, stroking it gently. Taehyung pulls back from the wall, his hand smoothing down your back to ease any discomfort you felt being pressed against it. You don’t even notice until the postcoital bliss dies down that your ass was now more sore than before. But Taehyung does.

“Let’s take a shower.” He tells you, helping you up. You both get out of the hot tub. Taehyung runs a small handcloth under the tap. He comes over and wipes your vagina down first, then cleaning himself.

The two of you get in the shower together. You let Taehyung wash your body down, scrubbing gently and avoiding touching your ass. You grab his shampoo off the ledge and put a good amount in your palms. “What are you doing?” Taehyung asks, surprised that you turned around while he was washing your back.

“Taking care of you.” You mumble, washing Taehyung hair for him. You grab the detachable showerhead from the side. You shield his eyes with a hand as you rinse the soap out.

Taehyung smiles fondly at how concentrated you look. “Baby, a dom is supposed to look after their sub following a scene. Not the other way.”

You shrug. You probably heard that somewhere. Your brain is too foggy right now to think. “But I want to.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes.” You answer, smiling at how nice Taehyung’s hair looks now that it’s clean. “Because I belong to you.”

Taehyung lightly pecks your forehead. “And I’m yours.”

Later, when the haze of your subspace wears off, you two are laying in bed together. You’re wearing one of Taehyung’s shirts and a pair of panties. Taehyung is shirtless and in a pair of boxers. Taehyung has just finished putting lotion on your sore bottom to ease the ache for tomorrow.

You lay on top of Taehyung’s chest, and Taehyung tucks the blankets tucked in around you. You snuggle up against his chest, content in his strong arms.

“Y/N, I know I already proved my point, but you really are my only one.” Taehyung tells you. You don’t reply so he cranes his head to look at you. Taehyung smiles fondly to notice you’re already asleep. He kisses the top of your head. “No problem. I guess I have the rest of my life to prove it to you.” He mutters to himself.

You smile to yourself with your eyes closed.

Requests are open (✿◡‿◡)

#bts smut #bts fanfic #taehyung x reader #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x you #kim taehyung smut #taehyung fanfic #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff

221 notes · View notes

alphabravocharliedelta · 3 years

Note

I'm not too sure if you are still taking requests but if you are may I request how the team would react to a reader who struggles with a hard time in their life?(you know you just sorta isolate yourself and find it extremely hard to talk about anything and find motivation to get out of bed?). Thank you for taking the time to read this ♡ I wish you a wonderful day please remember to stay hydrated

Ahhh thank you!!! I definitely need to drink water more often. And I hope whoever’s reading this to take time to take care of yourself as well.

Adler

He's quick to notice your sudden change in behavior. Adler would give you some space at first, but if you haven’t budged, he becomes more concerned about it being a deeply rooted problem.

In the end, he'll take it slow and draw back the blinds to the window, letting the sun in and brings you a glass of water while urging you to get up from your spot.

“You can’t stay there forever.”

Eventually, he’ll sit down next to you, maybe brush a strand of your hair out of the way so he could see your face. His voice softens up as he talks to you.

“It's hard, I know. But, if something is bothering you, or if you need anything, I’ll take care of it— I’m here for you.”

Hudson

Might be forceful at first, asking you direct questions as to why you might be feeling that way, or if anything contributed to it.

Hudson would blame himself, wondering if he did anything wrong. But, he puts his personal thoughts aside, bringing you your favorite snacks and cooking up meals (which he rarely does)

“Why don’t you sit up and talk with me for a bit while we eat?”

He’ll try strike up conversations with you, of various topics, just to get you talking about something/to hear your input on things. Single worded answers are fine if you’re not up for it.

Cue nostalgia as he rounds back to the days where you both first met

He wants the best for you, and your mental health comes first

Lazar

It takes a bit for him to sense that something's wrong, but he catches on pretty quick and immediately gets to action.

If you're not in the talking mood, and if you allow him to, Lazar will talk about his own day instead, or go off on a tangent of beautiful things he's seen recently

tells you weird facts he’s learned as well

uses small motivators to get you up and moving: “Come on, let’s go walking for a bit. It’s pretty breezy today, so you won’t be working up a sweat.”

small kisses on the knuckles and brushing your hair, he’ll do the things you can’t bring yourself to commit to during that moment (self care important)

Mason

He knows how it is, he's been there before.

Mason will take your hand, rubbing circles into them while just lying beside you. After a good amount of time passes, he would give you a kiss on the forehead, before murmuring that "it's time to get up."

He would get you situated at the table, putting together whatever breakfast he could make. Mason might force you to grab a few things from the refrigerator, just so you can move around.

you can catch him singing your favorite song under his breath as he sets the plates down on the table

It's a long road ahead, but he know you'll pull through, and he's ready to assist you in any shape or form.

“tomorrow’s going to be a different day, okay? what’s the first thing you want to do?”

Park

She knows how important one's health is, so to see you like this is alarming.

Park would need some time to think for a bit, trying to piece together anything that happened recently that might've contributed to your behavior, but comes to realize it's just one of those days.

She'll you the best comforting hug she could manage and bring you a cup of tea/coffee/hot chocolate or whatever is in season

Park takes you by the hand to pull you out of bed, urging that you need to get cleaned up and will force you to take a rejuvenating shower.

Afterwards she'll drive you around the city, windows pulled down and encourages you to just scream as a way to just let everything out and de-stress

Sims

"You're just going to lie there?"

Will do anything to get you out of bed. Though, if his efforts don't make you budge, he'll give out a sigh, before lying down next to you and wrapping an arm around you.

He doesn’t like to talk about his past often, but he'll tell you about his own experience, recounting how he went through something similar with his father's passing.

Sims will order take out from your favorite restaurant and sit with you to eat, and if you want to hear about it, he’ll happily rant about his favorite topics for you

such as new technology, a new song he’s heard recently or he lets you listen to a track that he thinks you might like

Woods

He doesn’t get it at first, but it pains him to see you in such a state. Woods gets frustrated, more so at himself, knowing how he could only do so much to help you but he wants to do more.

Woods would give you some alone time, before eventually picking you up bridal style and carrying you down stairs, much to your astonishment.

He says something along the lines of "If you can't getting up, then I'll be your legs until you're able to stand up on your own."

the man’s cheesy, but he means it— he’ll be ready to do whatever you need

also seem like the type of person who would take you to one of those destruction rooms where you can just hit/break everything

#sorry this took a bit i've been thinking on this for a while #i hope whoever's reading this bountiful good vibes and send motivation your way #you can do it #also i apologize if these seem out of character people are complex #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod #bo:cw #russell adler #jason hudson #frank woods #alex mason #helen park #lazar #hc #call of duty imagines #black ops cold war #text #lawrence sims

159 notes · View notes

pagingevilspawn · 3 years

Text

how's your heart after breaking mine?

ts x jolex week 21

day one: fearless - mr. perfectly fine (taylor's verion) (from the vault)

wc: 2.5k

pairing: Jo Wilson/Alex Karev. Alex Karev/Izzie Steven (mentioned)

summary: years after they last saw each other, jo and alex reunite at a conference, and while she is still struggling from her heartache, he seems to be mr. perfectly fine.

rating: general audiences

category: angst.

warnings: angst, no happy ending, alcohol consumption.

A/N: guess who finished this just now? me. that's who. I was actually working on this one long before the announcement for this event came out, but it gave me the motivation to continue this! Alex is unintentionally an ass in this and for that, i’m sorry. Anyways… hope you enjoy! (first part's pretty crappy, but after that it gets better.)

(this was also proofread, like...once, so of there are a plethora of errors i apologize)

____

The absolute last thing Jo wanted right now was to attend a medical conference in Salt Lake City, Utah. There were multiple reasons why she should’ve said no. One; she had just started her second year of her OB GYN residency a few weeks prior, and there were a very limited number of lectures on her new line of study where she was headed. Two; she now held an absolute hatred for the Seattle Tacoma International Airport, since it was the place where her ex-husband stood before her, placed a soft kiss on her lips and promised to see her in a couple of weeks, lying to her face about seeing his mother in Iowa, when in reality he was going to see his ex-wife and kids, never really planning on returning home.

It was ironic really; how not even two years ago, she was standing in front of gate 48, saying goodbye to him, and now she stood in the same spot, in front of the exact same gate, with him nowhere near her side as she glared up at the same exact entrance she last saw him at.

(She also now hated the number forty-eight)

But, since Meredith had been hounding her non-stop about attending this event, she gave in. Because how was she supposed to say no to the woman who had barely survived the pandemic? Along with a plethora of other things she was too lazy to memorize. (The answer was that she couldn’t. She felt guilty for leaving Meredith behind for OB, so she now did whatever her former mentor wanted, even if more than two years had passed) If Meredith Grey asked for something, Meredith Grey got it. She was turning back into the intern who cried fake tears and would do anything to earn her approval, and Jo was not a fan.

“It’ll be good for you Wilson. You need to leave that loft of your’s and go somewhere Wilson, blah blah blah,” she mutters to herself as she shows the attendant her ticket, not even bothering to return the smile, settling on brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear instead. The messy bun on the top of her head bounced in place, and she felt like a college student after a night of studying, but rather than books tucked under her arm it was a neck pillow and a carry-on.

She shuffles into her seat, thankful that it was an aisle one before letting her eyes shut, trying to catch a wink of sleep in an attempt to make up for the less than few hours she had gotten the night before. It proves to be unsuccessful, because the businessman sitting next to her ate his chips so loud she had to restrain herself from coiling into herself every time a chip crunched beneath his teeth, and the toddler behind her continuously managed to kick her seat, no matter how many times his mother told him to stop.

After three hours of loud chewing, seat kicking, and crying babies, she lands in Salt Lake, taking in a deep breath when she finally escapes the crowded airport and is met with humid air. She picks up her rental car, and arrives at her hotel not long after, immediately tossing her bags into the corner and sprawling onto the bed. Eventually, she moves to unpack her clothes and other necessities, casting a glance at the clock which read 10:37.

Taking a look around the room, she decided that nothing more needs to be done; all of her makeup is laid out for the morning, and what she chose to wear is already hanging up in the closet, freshly ironed and wrinkle-free. She yawns, crawling under the covers and flicking off the light, sleep coming easily.

When she wakes up the next morning to her alarm clock going off, she’s freshly rested and in a better mood than she normally was when she had to wake up before nine. The early morning sun beats down onto her face, and she knows that if she wanted to get to the first lecture on time, she needed to start getting ready sooner rather than later.

With a sigh, she begrudgingly gets out of bed, hopping in a quick shower and changing into her clothes. She adds some soft waves to her hair, in the hopes that it made her look more put together than she felt. It didn’t seem that just because she got hours of sleep made up for the fact that she would rather be curled up in the soft sheets of her bed at home than the stiff ones the hotel provided.

It doesn’t take long until she’s arrived in the lobby, where doctors all around her were dressed in firmly pressed suits and skirts. Tables advertising different events throughout the day were lined up and down the hallways, fellow surgeons and mentees passing out little pamphlets with information about their courses littering the pages.

Jo passes by a few stands displaying lectures on the OBGYN field, mentally making a list of the ones she would like to attend.

A quick glance to her watch tells her that the first item on her list was starting soon, and with that she dumps the now-empty coffee cup she had ordered a few minutes prior as a pick-me-up, and shuffles into the seat of the auditorium, the chairs around her filling up quicker than she expects.

It’s only a few minutes later Dr. Maria Cavanaugh steps out onto the stage, silencing the crowd after a round of applause. Jo leans back into her seat, feeling grateful that Meredith had pushed her to go to this conference.

If her whole weekend is spent listening to experts talk and teach about her new specialty, she thinks she’s going to enjoy it.

____

It’s hours and a multitude of lectures later when she exits another grand room, fellow surgeons beside her chatting about the new information they’d acquired. She feels a small smile grace her lips as she realizes that the excited squeals could only come from the med school students that had been invited from the nearby college.

She pulls out her phone, seeing a text from Link and Meredith, both along the lines of that they hoped she arrived safely and that she enjoyed her time away from home. She responds, pocketing her phone and making her way to the hotel bar, settling into one of the few empty seats and ordering a whiskey sour, thanking the bartender when it's placed in front of her not even a minute later.

She sips the drink slowly, feeling some leftover tenseness from sitting all day leave her body as the alcohol starts to flow through her veins. She was far from drunk, but even saying tipsy felt like too much of a stretch.

Pleasantly buzzed, she decides on, taking another sip of her drink, making a brief second of eye contact with a man on the other end of the bar. He raises her glass with a slight nod of his head, and she does the same. She’s tempted to continue; take use of the way the man’s making subtle glances to the seat next to him when her ears pick up another conversion from a few feet away, freezing her in place, glass nearly dropping to the floor.

“Do you want anything?”

“Just a water’s fine. I’m gonna go talk to Dr. Conwell about some of the research her and her team were talking about.”

She turns in her seat, against her better judgment. She watches as he kisses her cheek before leaning against the bar’s counter a few feet away.

She feels as if ice had just been dropped down her back —frozen in place, unable to move as she watches Alex drum his fingers on the dark wood, head nodding along to the soft tune playing through the speakers. He grabs his drinks from the bartender; two waters, one with ice and one without, about to walk towards the woman he was with earlier when he spots her.

“Jo?” he questions, blinking multiple times as if to see if it was really her, and not a trick of the light.

She wants to run when he makes his way over to her. She wants to run, and scream, and throw her drink in his face. But instead, she places a tight, thin smile on her lips and acts as if nothing was wrong.

“Alex, hi!” She turns to face him, her voice too high for her enthusiasm to be true, but if he knows it he doesn’t make any move to show it.

He runs a hand through his hair —it's longer than the last time she saw it, a bit of grey speckled in so lightly that it wouldn’t be noticeable to someone who wasn’t looking.”I uh, I didn't know you’d be here.”

She wants to roll her eyes, but refrains. “Well,” she spins her drink with the straw, watching as the ice cubes clink against the glass “The feeling’s mutual.”

“How are you?” He asks after a few beats of silence, and she wants nothing more than to yell at him that he couldn’t talk to her like this —like they were old friends who had lost contact after a while, and were due for a catch up. Because they weren’t old friends. They were so far from friends that someone could build a bridge with the amount of space they had between them.

“Fine,” she lies through her teeth, her heart nearly beating out of her chest in nervousness. She was worried that she was going to break down at any second, spew the words that she had said to Carly in anger at him if he looked at her any longer as if things were okay between them.

“You?” she questions, not interested in the answer, sipping her drink similarly to how she had the night of Bailey’s wedding, the unwelcome memory of the start of their relationship blossoming to the front of her mind.

He sips his water, “Good. I’ve been good.”

With his hand clasped around the glass she catches sight of the pristine, shiny gold ring that sits on his fourth finger, and she has to fight back the growing lump in her throat that threatens to escape.

“Congrats,” she says instead, eyebrows pinched together as she nods towards the ring, a tell that always told whether or not her words rang true.

He seems to have forgotten that, and takes her words as a compliment. He gives her a small smile, “Thanks.”

Jo wants to laugh, because this was so far from the Alex Karev she had known, the man in front of her unfamiliar and so, so different from the one she married years ago. The Alex she knew would’ve never ordered a water instead of a beer, or act as if everything was okay between them when it was so far from it.

He’d changed, and she couldn’t say that she liked it.

“How are the kids?” she asks, and she can tell that she’s surprised him. He looks taken aback for a moment, before smiling gently and reaching into his pocket for his phone. “They’re great,” he says, pulling up a photo of them, the twins smiling brightly into the camera.

“That was at their birthday party last week,” he explains, and she notices the large 7 balloons that are floating in the background.

“He looks like you,” she comments about the boy. He grins, and she wants nothing more than to slap him for not being able to see that she’s so obviously hurting, that her heart is breaking inside of her chest. That she selfishly wants him to say that he made a mistake, that he was in love with her, not Izzie. But her life wasn’t a trashy romance novel, and even if it was, Alex was never one to admit to his faults, his pride and ego too large to have it bruised in such a way.

She had always wondered what he had been up to after he had left. If he was okay. She’d imagined different futures for him, some including Izzie and the kids, some of them not. She’s even naively envisioned ones with her and the children they had always talked about having one day.

Somedays, when she was feeling worse for wear, she had wished that he was miserable —that he and Izzie weren’t together and as far as they went communication-wise was a phone call to see who had the kids that week; that he was as alone and bitter as she was.

But instead, here he was, Mr. Perfectly Fine. The man who had looked her in the eyes and told her he would never go away.

Here he was, Mr. Perfectly Fine. Married to the woman he had left her for, a shiny gold ring on his finger instead of neat, polished wood.

For the past two years she’d been picking up the pieces of herself that he had shattered and left behind, only just starting to put herself back together, and here he was, Mr. Perfectly Fine. While she was piecing together her shattered heart, he was picking up her, the woman he had left her for.

She had thought that he was different from the rest; different from everyone who had ever left her. But he wasn’t —the man she had thought was so different was so exactly the same as everyone else.

“I’m sorry, Jo.” he says, and she has the urge to laugh —laugh because he wasn’t sorry, she could tell. He was sorry that he left her and caused her pain, sure. But he wasn’t sorry that he had done it, that he had married Izzie again and lived with her and his kids on a farm in the middle of Kansas. He wasn’t sorry about that at all.

Mr. Insincere Apology so he didn’t look like the bad guy.

She acts as if she believes him, giving him another tight smile, and lies through her teeth once more. “It’s fine Alex. It’s in the past.”

Jo checks phone, making a face when she ‘realizes’ the time, eager to get out of there as soon as she could. “I need to go, early morning,” she fibs, and she internally rolls her eyes at how he believes her. While he seemed to have forgotten everything about her, she still remembers every detail about him.

“It was nice seeing you again Jo,” he’s playing with the sleeves of his jacket and his eyes meet hers, and for less than a second it’s almost enough to break her resolve.

Another tight smile graces her lips, and she begins to walk away when her body fights her mind and she finds herself leaning down, her lips against his ear.

“I’m glad it was worth it, Alex.”

Her voice is harsh and bitter, yet broken, and she doesn’t need to look at him to know that his face has fallen, and he’s realized that everything she’d told him that night was a lie. She turns and lets the tears fall silently, making her way back up to her room with a head full of thoughts about her ex-husband, about Alex Karev.

About Mr. Perfectly Fine.

____

@thejolexgroupchat #tsjolexweek21

50 notes · View notes

drazzilder · 3 years

Text

A Hellish Encounter

Art credit goes to @stormcallart

By Drazzilder

You're an escaped test subject from a United States testing facility. You have been on the run for years when one day you meet the man that can change everything.

Chapter 1: Regret

The soft sounds on the morning are suddenly interrupted by the harsh noise from the alarm clock. A large hand tiredly aims for the off button which is found after a few attempts. The man attached to that hand wakes up begrudgingly with some groans and cracking joints. He slowly gets up to get ready for the day, heading toward the bathroom. As he enters, he sees his reflection, but he doesn’t hold on it long. He can’t stand the sight of himself. The man in the mirror may be Endeavor, but Enji doesn’t like what he sees. He should be happy on his 40th birthday but he can’t stop his mind from racing. He hurt his family; his first son died from his own power, his youngest was scarred by his mother, and the rest of his children where mentally neglected and abused by Enji himself. Enji’s wife, Rei, couldn’t handle the stress and guilt from everything and ended up in a mental institution soon after hurting Shoto, but by then it was so bad that she took her own life two years ago.

Enji sees all of this when he looks at himself in the mirror. It affects him so much that looking makes him sick to his stomach. He quickly looks away and gets ready for the day.

Coming into the kitchen, Enji sees Shoto, getting ready for school with the help of the nanny Hina. Fuyumi and Natsuo already left for school. Hina is the fourth nanny they have had in 2 years. She has been there the longest because she knows no one else will stand the family and someone needs to be there for the children. Plus, she is the only one who can actually stand up to Endeavor and is not afraid of him. She knows he would never hurt her. When Hina looked at Enji, the look on his face made her stop what she was doing.

“Everything ok Mr. Todoroki?”

“I’m fine…” he answered in a gruff tone, letting her know that he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Im off to school dad, are we still training this afternoon?”

“Good, and yes we always train on Wednesdays!” Sounding more annoyed than anything.

They finish up breakfast and getting their things ready for the day. They soon left the house and went to their final destinations. Enji made it to his agency and meet his secretary.

“Sanji, after I’m done with today’s paperwork, where is my patrol going to be today?”

“Sir, you will be taking the northern end of Tokyo”

“Very well. Thank you Sanji”

“Sir?”

“Hmm?”

“Happy Birthday.”

Sanji is the only one to acknowledge the day let alone tell you happy birthday. She has been working for you for years and knows almost everything that has happened. Enji knows he can trust her with anything so of course she would be the only one to wish him a happy birthday. Enji quickly finished up his paperwork, at least quickly as he could. He squinted and moved the papers so he could read everything clearly. “I’m going to need glasses soon” the man thinks to himself but is to stubborn to actually go get them. After this. is done, he takes a quick lunch and heads out for his afternoon patrol of the city. He does a few heroic acts here and there, but overall the day seems to be quite boring. He is kinda glad because all he wants to do is go home and sulk. That is, until Sanji called.

“Sir, there is a bomb threat at Shibuya crossing!”

“Why are you calling me? Just send some of the sidekicks to handle the bomb.”

“Sir, he is asking for you and the whole crossing is being held hostage. The man has a dirty bomb, please!”

“Alright, I’m on my way!” He says as he rushes off a full speed.

As Endeavor arrives, he assesses the situation, and it’s not ideal. There are hundreds of people on the ground face down, the other hero’s and police and in a standoff with the lone assailant in the center. The man is dressed in tailored suit. Everything is fitted perfectly, not even a single strand of hair is out of place. How he managed to hold everyone hostage quickly becomes clear as he is voicing his demands.

“Ah! Endeavor, I was wondering when the number 2 hero would show up. Be careful what you do, as you can see, I am wearing this fetching bomb vest with matching dead man switch! See how it brings out the green in my eyes. Oh, I almost forgot, the rest of my ensemble is filled with anthrax, one of a kind thread thread makes this silky smooth lining. Plus, shoulder pads are coming back into to style this season, so why not make them special! As you can see, if anyone makes any wrong moves, all of these people will suffer because of you!” The man finishes his speech with an evil laugh. Endeavor knows that he can’t do anything which is just making him hotter as his flames grow brighter around his face. The villain takes one quick look at Endeavor. “Better watch your temper” he quips, “we wouldn’t want to get all hot under the col…..” The villain stops.

Everyone looks almost in shock as the villain has stopped completely. He can still move his eyes and blink but he is completely immobile. No one moves because they are afraid what ever is happening will end just as suddenly as it started. That is until one person gets up and starts walking toward the villain.

You are frail looking, very thin, eyes sunken in, bags under your eyes. Wearing tattered clothes with matching long shaggy hair, representing the years you have been on the street. Your eyes are the most startling part of you as your left eye is completely white with no sign of a pupil and the other is black with red glowing iris. You look at Endeavor and just say “Stand back” in a weak voice. You are so tired but you can’t just sit back and let people get hurt. As you walk closer to the villain, his eyes show more and more fear. He now knows it is you holding him still. Once your next to him, you place a hand on the bomb vest and give it all your attention. As this is happening, the other heroes are yelling their concerns for your safety. “Sir, it’s not safe” “You need to step back” “Sir are you alright?!” All of these go over your head as you are concentrating on the task at hand: saving these people.

Suddenly, the bomb vest starts to glow a little, just enough for Endeavor and the other heroes to notice. A flash of light and then darkness again as everyone notices the bomb is gone. Just as fast as the bomb disappeared, a large explosion happened overhead. “Was that the bomb?” “Did he teleport it away?” “What happened?” Hero’s rush to the villain and detain him. Endeavor approaches you because in his gut he knows something is wrong.

“How can this man have a teleportation and a body controlling quirk?” He thought as he gets next to you. Suddenly, you cough up some blood and collapse from the effort you put out. Everything was too much for you in the state you were in. Your body could not give anything more. Endeavor catches you and he looks right at you as you try to reach his face while barely being able to say “Help me…” as you pass out completely.

Next Chapter

#endeavor x male reader #endeavor mha #mha enji #enji x y/n #endeavor stan #endeavor x reader #endeavor fluff #enji todoroki #enji x reader #endeavor #enji x you #bnha endeavor #todoroki enji #A Hellish Encounter

103 notes · View notes

grasshopperjay · 3 years

Text

silent sleepers

evermore series | track 2: champagne problems

your moms ring in your pocket, my picture in your wallet, your heart was glass i dropped it.

pairing: jay halstead x reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: angst, swearing, alcohol, sadness, insecurity

Everyone’s eyes are on you, the whole room anticipating an answer, an answer that shouldn’t take you nearly this long.

The room is sleeping, everyone is quiet, not a sound to be heard. God you wish someone would just break the silence, but it’s actually you that’s supposed to do that. Answer with a yes, a cheer or a smile, or some happy tears, but you can’t do any of those things.

Jay is down on one knee in front of you, his once hopeful face looking more dire as the seconds pass.

You take a glance around the room at all the faces as they realize what’s happening. Your eyes catch on Jay’s brother, Will, as he rubs his jaw uncomfortably.

It’s only when Jay quietly says your name that you remember exactly what’s happening. You’re being proposed to.

And you have to say no.

But you don’t know how.

The beautiful diamond ring is practically calling your name, and you recognize it as Jay’s mothers, and she’s not here, but god you feel like you’re letting her down too.

You’ve never felt worse in your life. All these people and Jay’s stupidly handsome face make you want to say yes. But you can’t.

Which is why you don’t look back when you run out the door.

You only stop when you’re out of the building and down the street, your lungs ache and when you try to take a deep breath in, all that comes out are sobs.

The tears are nearly freezing on your cheeks, the crisp air only starting to sting your skin now. You’re not exactly dressed for the weather. The only thing blocking you from the elements is the thin strapped emerald green dress Jay bought you.

And of course your exit wasn’t exactly planned so you never grabbed your coat or purse, or phone for that matter. You’re completely stranded.

But even as terrible as you’re feeling, alone and cold in an unfamiliar part of the city, it’s probably nothing compared to how crushed Jay is.

You saw it on his face. A look so rare and so unfamiliar to you. He was scared.

And you hate that you did that to him.

You have no idea what to do anymore, but you know you can’t go back, so you walk a little further until you find a tiny dive bar. One of the only open signs still lit up on the street.

There’s only a few people scattered around the bar, and they look at you like you have three heads as you walk in.

You perch yourself on one of the barstools. And almost immediately there’s a glass shoved in front of you, a small shot of tequila, you’re assuming by the smell.

“Oh I can’t-,” You start to say, and the bartender cuts you off.

“You look like you need it,” He explains with a pitiful smile.

“I don’t have any money.” You admit, and he just chuckles.

“It’s on the house, runaway.”

“You can tell?” You murmur, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

“You’d be surprised how many fancy looking boys and girls I get in here, all alone. I’ve heard enough proposal gone wrong stories to know when one of ‘em walks into my bar.” And then he grabs himself a glass, raising it to you with a sad glance before he downs the liquid, and you do the same.

He leaves to tend to some others and apparently you’re alone with your thoughts for too long, cause the tears start spilling from your eyes, and their pace is too quick to wipe them away and pretend nothing is wrong anymore. You’re crying and everyone here knows it.

Then there’s a panicked face storming into the bar, and you’re on your feet within seconds. Kim sighs, “Oh thank god,” She wraps her arms around you, holding tight while you try to pretend you’re not a total mess.

“How’d you find me?” You whisper.

“I went right, Sylvie went left. I checked every damn building on this street.” Kim chuckles. “Jay was gonna try to ping your phone, but that was a dead end.”

You feel a pang in your chest when she says his name, “Where is he?”

“Will took him home.”

“Is he okay?”

“I think you know the answer to that question.” She sighs, and you wipe harshly at the damn tears that won’t stop falling.

“I don’t know why I couldn’t say yes.” You shrug, and Kim places her hand over yours.

“I think you’re scared,” She says, and you open your mouth to respond but she keeps going. “And that’s okay. It’s okay to be scared. But he deserves an answer, whether it’s the one he wants or not.”

“She’s right,” A voice chimes in. It’s the bartender, he’s setting two more tequilas in front of you and Kim. “Shot for confidence.” He says.

Kim laughs, and you find it in you to crack a little smile, even though it hardly feels genuine. “Shot for confidence, and then I’ll take you to him.”

•••••

You’ve been staring at the door for at least ten minutes, and you still haven’t thought of the right thing to say.

And it’s stupid cause there is no right thing to say, not after everything you’ve put him through tonight, but making him wait longer is only gonna make it worse so finally you open the door.

After you shut it, you take a deep breath and then turn into the living room.

He’s sitting on the couch, looking completely lost and tears gather in your eyes almost immediately.

“Jay...” You whisper, but he doesn’t even lift his head. “I’m so sorry.”

That stupid word isn’t even going to begin to slice into the pain you caused him tonight, and you’re terrified because you really don’t know if your relationship will recover from this.

You stand there for a few minutes, the silence deafening while you wait for him to say something. “Jay-,”

Finally he does, and the hurt in his voice is enough to bring back the wave of tears you tried so hard to fight off.

“Why couldn’t you say yes? What did I do wrong?”

The fact that he thinks it’s his fault is heartbreaking and so, so untrue, you can’t help the way you rush forward, kneeling down in front of him. You grab his forearms to pull his hands away from his face, but his red puffy eyes refuse to look back at you.

“It’s not you. You did nothing wrong you have to know that, Jay.”

“Then why?” He asks again.

And the most terrifying part of all? You can’t answer his question. You don’t have a reason.

“I don’t-,” He finally meets your eyes and your words clog in your throat. You’re left looking into his devistated eyes, unable to say or do anything that will bring any relief to them.

His eyes gloss over, it’s like a kick to the stomach so you just say it, even though you’re not sure if it’s true. “I do want to marry you, Jay.”

He remains silent but you know he’s asking, then why’d you say no?

“Just not yet...” You recover. “I’m not ready, I’m sorry.”

And finally, there’s a small glimmer in his eyes. He’s hopeful and relived and selfishly, you feel better too. Like you can breathe again.

“Shit,” He whispers, swiping under his eyes to make sure there’s no emotion shown. “I should’ve asked, or hinted or something. Shit.”

“Jay-,” You start, because he’s about to take this all on himself, just like he usually does but you can’t let him. You’re fucked in the head, that’s why you said no, not because of him. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that, I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong, Jay.” You repeat.

He finally nods, acknowledging what you’ve told him so many times, and you sigh, hoping you’ve taken some weight off him.

Then he grabs your hands and pulls you onto the couch with him, and you could cry. You thought you ruined everything, but maybe things can be okay again.

The two of you lay there, pressed together, your head on his chest, his arms holding you tight. Eventually his breathing evens out and he relaxes, and you lift your head gently to watch him as he sleeps.

He looks so angelic. So perfect. You really can’t believe that somehow you managed to get him to love you. It’s unfathomable, and it scares you. What if he comes to his senses? What if he realizes you’re not good enough?

But laying here you feel warm and safe and above all... Loved. Even after everything you put him through tonight, he’s still here, holding you and loving you despite it all.

And finally you get it.

It’s just like you telling him this whole night wasn’t his fault. You had to repeat it for him to realize it. Jay’s been doing the same thing to you for years, you will always be good enough. You were never not good enough.

For the first moment since he got down on one knee, you think, maybe you can do this.

Next time he asks, you have your answer.

....

taglist: @lorenakaspersen @jayxuptons @toomuchtv95 @halstudandruz @halsteadsway @hart-kinsella @astrosmayhem @life-treatments @dreamingmanip @jayhlstead @sofferderynnp @caromichaela @samantha-chicago

#jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd #one chicago #one chicago imagines

210 notes · View notes

anncanta · 3 years

Text

Veduta of Venice

Fandom: Dracula (2020)

Characters: Count Dracula, Zoe Van Helsing, Agatha Van Helsing

Relationship: Dracula/Zoe Van Helsing, Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rating: Explicit

Veduta (Italian veduta - seen, view, picture, point of view) is a genre of Western European painting and graphics, especially popular in Venice of the 18th century.

@alma37 @hopipollahorror @ravenathantum @flutteringphalanges @ladyhaley28 @dragatha @khyruma

Read on AO3

Or read below

The hotel was damp and cold, but the view was magnificent. Rising from the chair, Zoe wrapped herself tighter in a wide woolen scarf and went out onto a tiny balcony made of openwork stone.

As far as the eye could see, there was water ahead – pinkish, blue, green. Zoe had never seen so much water before. The water has never been so close. Leaning over the balcony railing, Zoe stared down at the low waves intersecting at odd angles.

Such a strange city. When she bought a tour at the agency, she was offered a choice – Verona or Venice. Zoe rejected Verona at once. And she looked at the glamorous, deliberately beautiful photos of Venice for a long time as if looking for something – either a crack in the ideal porcelain world captured on the image or ugly everyday flaws. In the end, she decided – she has nothing to lose.

The flight never seemed to end. The large iron bird seemed to hang in the sky forever, spreading its immovable wings and holding the half-asleep Zoe either in its paws or in a steel silver beak. When, to her surprise, the bird let her go, Zoe still had to get from mainland Italy deep into the archipelago. So she arrived at the hotel completely exhausted.

She burst into a spacious room that smelled of rain and prickly nights, dropped her suitcase on the floor, and stretched out on an obscenely wide bed.

And when she woke up, the sun, mother-of-pearl gray skies, and water looked out of her windows.

Zoe wasn't going to take a vacation. She worked hard and monotonously, with stubborn, dull dedication, unlike many of her workaholic colleagues – not for the sake of her own reputation and career, and not at all for show. The fact is that there was really nothing more in her life.

Zoe didn’t realize it right away. She just worked, day after day, not even always overtime. Like everyone else, she played bowling on Thursdays and had fun in pubs on Fridays. But when her friends and colleagues hurried home to their families at the end of a stormy evening Zoe, starting her old Renault, every time fought the temptation to return to the laboratory.

This went on for a long time. Months. Years. Until one day, on the eve of her fortieth birthday, Zoe realized that the desire to go back to work after a party with friends was her only temptation.

For some reason, this understanding frightened her so much that the next morning she was already sitting in the office of the head of the medical research center in which she worked, with an application for a vacation, and a week later – on a plane on her way to Italy.

Zoe straightened and looked at the bright scarlet sun sinking into the bay. Self-pity is not the best feeling to approach the second half of your life, she thought. Well, in general, she had nothing to feel sorry for herself. She was lonely – but she always had more or less enough of her own company, with the rare addition of a friend or two to chat with over the weekend. She did not have an impressive career – although many of her colleagues at the center, who discussed at tea the young doctor, who had managed to make several breakthrough discoveries by the age of thirty-five, could argue with this. Success in science is an unpopular success. Nothing to brag about. Zoe chuckled out of the corner of her mouth. And she had absolutely no idea what to do next, and for that matter – why all this was needed.

On the other hand, why not?

Would she have died of some kind of blood cancer, she would have made a sort of a romantic heroine, Zoe thought irritably as she closed the balcony.

At the foot of the building, somewhere far, far away, muddy water was rustling and foaming.

***

Zoe bought a complete tour, which included a full package of services, so she did not choose a hotel. Maybe if she did, she would spend time looking for something more comfortable and not so boring, she mused as she walked down to the restaurant for lunch. During the week and a half that Zoe spent here, nothing happened in the hotel that could conditionally pass for entertainment. Don't consider the other guests as such, she chuckled mentally. On the stairs and in the corridors, there were mostly gloomy gray-haired couples and girls of dubious appearance. Sometimes a jazz band played in the lobby in the evenings.

There wasn`t a soul to be seen in the bright and quiet hall – except for a tall man in black, sitting in the far corner at the piano. Leaning over the keyboard, the man absentmindedly fingered the keys, pulling out the notes one at a time. Zoe smiled at the metaphor that crossed her mind and turned around and headed there instead of the restaurant.

In the niche in which the piano was hidden, only one small lamp burned, giving a soft yellow-orange light. Falling obliquely on the keyboard and the lid, it snatched out of the half-light a man's back and shoulder, tightened in a classic black suit, the outlines of the profile and hands with large fingers.

Approaching, Zoe leaned on the piano and for a while, just stood listening to the music. Now, being near, she could finally understand what was wrong with this music – the stranger played skillfully and cleanly, but the melody, its very fabric, seemed... vulnerable and fragile as if the pianist was painfully remembering it or composing it on the go. Zoe watched as his hands gently touch the keys as if asking about something – and finding no answer.

‘You haven't played for a long time,’ she said softly.

‘Very long,’ he raised his head. For a moment, his face – beautiful, pale, with dark eyes and well-defined lips – remained relaxed. Then he brushed aside a straight strand of black hair that had fallen on his forehead and looked at Zoe. And then a strange expression appeared in his gaze – bewildered, amazed... looking. This happens with those who have met someone whom they have long lost hope of seeing. Zoe could bet that he was about to say something, but at the last moment, he resisted. He turned away again and continued to play.

‘My… teacher was pretty good,’ an ironic note slipped through his low voice, ‘but I'm afraid I’m lacking in practice. What do you think?’ The stranger again raised his eyes to Zoe.

‘I like your manner,’ she said carefully. ‘Have you just arrived?’ she asked for some unknown reason.

‘Yes, yesterday,’ said the man. ‘Always wanted to go to Venice,’ he added slowly. ‘To this... city of dreams.’

Zoe smiled involuntarily. Looking at his hands, which were still on the keyboard, she suddenly imagined with amazing clarity how fingers stroking the keys touch her skin. Imagined how they touch her neck, shoulders, pass along the shoulder blades, move to the waist, barely noticeable, but confidently increasing the pressure. Turning away, Zoe blinked.

The momentary rush of embarrassment, however, disappeared as quickly as it had arisen. What are you here for, Zoe, she asked herself. Not to sit in the room in the evenings with a glass of Tokaj and picture suffering, are you? Take a look at this piece of masculine beauty and make the most of what he promises. If he promises, of course.

‘ – at dinner tonight?’ Zoe woke up and looked at her interlocutor. Judging by his look, he was perfectly aware of what she was thinking and did not seem to mind. ‘If I understood correctly, there will be dances after dinner.’

Zoe nodded.

‘It's always like this here on Fridays. If you're looking for entertainment, there is hardly a better case,’ she said, looking him in the eye. ‘The season has just ended.’

The man silently shook his head.

‘I’ll come,’ he answered, standing up. He bowed graciously, intending to leave, and suddenly turned around. ‘What is your name?’

Again this strange seeking expression, a poignant mixture of despair and hope. And mockery – not at her, at himself.

‘Zoe Van Helsing,’ she said. Amazement flashed in his dark eyes but then disappeared.

‘Count Dracula,’ he said, shaking her outstretched hand. ‘See you at dinner, Zoe Van Helsing.’

***

For the upcoming evening, Zoe prepared carefully. After scrapping several spectacularly low-cut dresses, she settled on blue jeans and a light blue blouse. ‘If he is a real Count,’ her pride chuckled, ‘you will hardly be able to surprise him.’ Well, she didn't intend to.

‘I want to have a good time,’ Zoe muttered, glancing at herself in the mirror of an antique carved dressing table. She washed off the mascara from her eyelashes, which she diligently dyed five minutes ago, then, after short thinking, wiped a thin layer of lipstick from her lips. Zoe used makeup a little and only on special occasions, but it was not a lack of habit or awkwardness that made her get rid of it now. She could not explain to herself why, but she was sure that the best choice for meeting the Count was naturalness.

The hotel restaurant was unusually full: probably dancing inspired not only her, moving to one of the few free tables – at the exit to the terrace – Zoe thought. Sitting at the table and ordering a glass of Chianti, she turned her face to the light wind blowing from the ajar doors.

The bay shone in shades of blue, pink, and dove. Small waves broke up, catching the lighted lanterns. Zoe heard how music was born and tried its power in the hall. The wind became a little cooler. The waiter brought her Chianti.

She could have sat like that all evening, Zoe thought after the third or fifth sip. The music became louder and a little braver. Zoe decided that she might need more wine.

‘You promised me a dance.’

‘When did I?’ Zoe turned around.

Pause.

‘One hundred twenty-three years ago.’

She chuckled.

‘What a precision. And what a tactlessness!’

‘I beg your pardon?’

He was dressed in the same classic black suit as when they first met, and just like when they first met, she wanted this suit off him immediately. Zoe nodded to his questioning glance in the direction of the chair opposite and said, putting down her glass:

‘You just hinted at my age?’

‘No way,’ Dracula responded with mock horror. His eyes flashed with a mixture of irony and melancholy. ‘Never mind, this is... a personal joke.’

The orchestra fell silent behind them. One by one, the instruments stopped playing, as if they were disappearing into the shadows, yielding to the only remaining violin.

Zoe finished her wine. She felt like crying. Determination and frivolity vanished, and anger with herself remained.

‘I –’ she began, but Dracula interrupted her.

‘You promised me a dance.’

She watched him get up and walk over to her. Taking his hand, she rose and allowed him to lead her to a small dance floor in the opposite corner. She saw him making a sign to the musicians, heard the first chords sounded, then he pulled her to him and velvetly ran his hand along her back.

Everything floated somewhere: Venice, the damp smell of canals, a shade of raw plaster, which seemed to cover everything and everyone in this city, a draft coming from everywhere; pink-blue sky. Closed, sharply defined lips and dark, demanding eyes.

Music came from somewhere with dry clicks, crumbling on them beat by beat and measuring their steps. Piano – thunderstorm, monotonous rain, wet asphalt, water on San Marco. Pigeons flutter out from under her feet. Fractional flashes of droplets gather in puddles, a violin steps carefully over them, creeps in, displaces other sounds, and again remains alone. Freezes, kissing her forehead. And everything freezes with it.

...They took the elevator for ages. Squeezing his hand, Zoe watched the numbers change on the scoreboard on the wall. When the number three finally lit upon it, it seemed to her: a little more, and she simply could not stand it. They got to the room, and holding the key card to the door, she was surprised – it does not open until it dawned on her: not her suit. The door opened, closed behind her. Zoe leaned back on it, lifted her head.

Dracula leaned over to her and took her face in his hands. Zoe stood silently, motionless. Closing her eyes, she held her breath, feeling the touch of his lips, then – the tongue. Snuggling up to him, she grabbed him by the neck. He ran his hands over her body, finding, squeezed the nipples through the fabric. He pulled her blouse from the belt and ducked under it with his palm. Exactly how she fantasized... a long time ago... yes, this... afternoon. Twitching impatiently, Zoe swung her hips, her jeans button digging into his stomach. He pulled away, turning her, pressed her to the door again, tore off the button, zipper, and put his hand into her panties. Zoe buried her forehead against the door with a groan. His fingers caressed her harshly and roughly, without ceremony, tormenting her, not allowing her to escape. Zoe finished, breathing out a soundless scream.

Grasping her from behind, Dracula waited until she calmed down, turned her around, ran his fingers over her cheeks, erasing the lines of tears. He pulled her into the room, along with him, to the bed.

Lying on her back, Zoe listened to the disturbed world rebuilding within her body. She smiled at Dracula, who had time to put his clothes somewhere and bent over her. Now his touch was gentle, fleetingly teasing as if he was asking for forgiveness for the recent explosion. Zoe lifted herself up and slid into his arms – and gasped as he rolled onto his back, swapping them.

Zoe loved sex and found partners easily. Many of them were passionate and skillful. But she never really wanted to be on top. She shifted in embarrassment. She wasn't even sure she understood how...

She did not have time to think out the thought: grabbing her by the waist, Dracula slowly lowered her onto himself. And it was so good and... accurately, that Zoe bit her lip with acute pleasure. Dracula waited a couple more moments, lifted her, froze. Zoe frowned in bewilderment. He smiled and moved his hips. Once, twice. The third – slower, then faster, and in the same order – again. Arching, she trembled – and when his fingers found her clitoris, everything became unimportant, there were only moans and sighs in the darkness.

…

‘Would you like some coffee?’ Zoe asked. Dracula, hugging her with both arms and absentmindedly running his fingers over her stomach, shook his head.

‘I don’t drink... coffee,’ he replied, and there was distant anxiety in his voice. Zoe nodded nonchalantly as she climbed out of bed, wrapped her dressing gown, and walked over to the table.

‘It's cold,’ she said, looking into the coffee pot. Well, the coffee was brought in yesterday. She turned to Dracula, who was sitting on the bed. He was disheveled and looked at her in a strange way. ‘I'll order a new one.’ Stepping to the balcony, Zoe opened the glass door and breathed in the morning air.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dracula get up and approach her.

The sky was still gray, but somewhere in the distance birds were already awakening. Zoe turned to Dracula – and froze, bumping into a sharp, focused gaze.

He stood naked in front of her, and there was something very familiar about it – not because of last night, but different.

‘Sorry.’

He grabbed her with lightning speed, so that she did not have time to recoil or cry out, hugged her again – and something happened.

Zoe felt herself trembling and swaying, slipping and falling into an unknown direction. Everything blurred, and before her eyes flashed pictures – an iron grate, a torch thrown to the ground, the smell of burnt wool, a nun's dress, and blood. Swaying, salty air, captain at the helm, shouts, shadows on the deck, and another fire. An explosion, the smell of fresh gunpowder tickling her nostrils, a man's face distorted by rage bending over her.

Agatha recoiled, gasping for air, and finally screamed when she realized what he was doing.

‘Agatha, it`s over!’ Reality fell on her and struck from all sides at once, stunning. ‘That's all, Agatha!’ Dracula hugged her, holding her. She struggled, trembling, bursting into sobs. ‘Sorry,’ he repeated when she was exhausted and quieted down. ‘Sorry, I had to make sure.’

He let her go, and she, moving away, climbed onto the bed, huddled like a wounded animal. She wrapped herself tighter in her dressing gown, which miraculously still remained on her. She leaned back on the pillow and cried softly. Dracula silently sat down on the other side of the bed.

‘You survived,’ Agatha said without looking at him.

‘I did,’ said Dracula. ‘I just slept for a hundred and twenty years. Then I woke up and saw around... all this. But I liked it, you know.’

Agatha didn't answer. She didn't want details. She wanted to close her eyes and not open them for another hundred years.

‘How many have you eaten?’ she said dismissively.

‘Agatha, you worked at the research medical center,’ Dracula's voice sounded annoyed. ‘Do you know who the donors are? These are special people who donate blood, eggs, and sperm.’ He paused. ‘And there is Tinder, besides.’

Agatha felt her head begin to throb heavily.

‘How is this possible?’ she asked hoarsely. Turning, she looked at Dracula. Dracula didn't answer. ‘It’s the twenty-seventh of October two thousand and twenty,’ Agatha said with an effort. ‘I ate toast for breakfast. My blood type is the first negative. I don't like grapes and I love bananas. Last year I went to Islamabad. I remember the life of Zoe Van Helsing!’ she shouted; her voice rang out again.

Dracula was silent, and somehow that silence helped calm the storm that was raging inside her. Agatha looked around the room, looked at the bed, and at Dracula. She breathed in without a sound. Her body was still agitated, still keenly aware of what they were doing together. How could she do this – with him?

‘You remember the life of Zoe Van Helsing because you were her,’ she heard Dracula's voice. Agatha looked at him incredulously. ‘Her life was real. From the very first day. And at the same time, from the very first day, it was you.’

Getting up, Agatha walked to the balcony and leaned against the glass of the door. She frowned at Dracula.

‘It is believed that reincarnation,’ he said, ‘is always a new personality. In rebirth, a person begins a completely different life. And in most cases, apparently, it is. But it happens... it happens very rarely that the former personality turns out to be so strong that it displaces or does not let the new one in, and a conflict arises between them. I heard about this maybe two hundred years ago from some Arab doctor.

Agatha listened in silence.

‘The problem is,’ Dracula continued, ‘that two consciousnesses cannot get along in one human body. Such a split cannot last forever.’ He made a pause. ‘Have you ever been diagnosed with... what is it called now... cancer?’

‘Some years ago. I was in the hospital. Suspicion of leukemia,’ Agatha said in surprise. ‘Not confirmed. Zoe... I've seen the tests. But Z... I'm not an oncologist. I figured it was just a mistake. Someone confused the tubes.’

Dracula stared at her wordlessly.

‘Now, yes, that's a mistake,’ he said and stood up. In the split second after his words, something changed in his face and gaze, and in the room. Standing in place, Agatha watched him approach, stretches out his hands to her, opens her dressing gown. Already when he is very close, holding her between himself and the glass, raises her hips, and enters, she remembers that he is still naked.

Looking into her eyes, he pushes into her body, hard, rough, and deep. She has nowhere to go, not to hide, she should be disgusted and ashamed, she should be hurt, in the end, but she only moans and, shuddering, leans back.

The despair in his movements melts, smears out, he gets out of her, carries her to the bed. He enters again, leaning on his hands, continues, at the only point in contact with her. Agatha cums from this alone, and sweet spasms are still poured in her – while he lets her go, while he searches for his things, finds them, while dresses and, buttoned-up, walks to the door.

Agatha is unable to move, she feels at the same time heavy and light, but her thoughts and feelings are more clear than ever. She turns and holds out her hand.

‘Don't go.’

#dracula 2020 #dracula bbc #bbc dracula #count dracula #zoe van helsing #agatha van helsing #dragatha #fanfiction

17 notes · View notes

waatermelon-sugaar · 3 years

Text

Half-Priced Chocolate

Words = 2.8k

Summary = You hate Valentine’s Day. Nick tries to change your mind.

Warnings = One swear word

A/N = Reader is described as a similar height to Nick, and taller when she wears heels. Also I didn’t mean to write this, it just sort of happened so sorry if it’s not very well thought out ahaha

Posted to AO3

Masterlist

***

“You know, I’d pegged you as the type of girl who would do anything to ensure she had a Valentine’s date.” This observation comes casual as anything from your boss, Mayor Wasicsko, as the two of you work together to build beds in the town hall.

A combination of a lot of snow, an early thaw, and then rain, had resulted in flooding all around the city, many having to be relocated. And so here you were, on a night that most were celebrating with their loved one across an over-priced bottle of champagne, some heart-shaped chocolate and probably something red themed, in the town hall, setting up extra accommodation with Nick.

Who you should probably call Mayor Wasicsko in your head.

You’d been here for hours, first building the beds with other volunteers, all of whom had melted away as the night had gone on. All, apart from you and Nick.

“Yeah? Well I pegged you as the type of mayor to sit on his ass all day.” You snipe back, not thinking for a moment, before slapping a hand to your mouth in horror. “Sorry, Mayor Wasicsko, that was really unprofessional of me-”

You stopped your rambling, because … was he laughing?

You flip your end of the sheet the two of you are attempting to fit to the bed, successfully causing his end to yank out of his hands, flying up and causing enough of a breeze to dislodge his hair enough for a strand to flop onto his forehead.

Not that you’d noticed.

“I told you, call me Nick. And it’s ok,” he’s still smiling, annoyingly. “I just - you don’t have some annoyed boyfriend who’s sitting at home waiting for you?”

You shake your head. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no.” You finally tuck in the corner of the sheet at the top of the bed and move to the bottom. “And anyway, I hate Valentine’s.”

Nick throws you a pillow and a case when you hold your arms out. “So you hate love? And happiness?”

You roll your eyes at him, busy stuffing the case, leaving him to struggle with the duvet, gathering the new sheets for the next bed as you talk. “No. I just … I hate the commercialisation of it.”

You wait for Nick to finish with the duvet, before attempting the next bed. “It’s like … so what? If my hypothetical boyfriend doesn’t get me flowers, and chocolate and some shitty card on this one specific day of the year, he doesn’t love me?” You scoff. “No thanks.”

Nick tucks in his corner, thinking about his response. “I think it reminds people to be thankful for the people they love.” Oh God he’s one of those. As if he hasn’t managed to drop in the fact that he’s woefully single for the last two hours whenever the opportunity arose.

“Only romantic love,” you remind him. “And,” you continue, remembering more and more reasons. “It’s all over-priced anyway, and it’s just so couples can feel smug while they walk hand in hand down the street, trying to get a table to a restaurant, where the prices have been upped for two people, and so single people, specifically women, can feel shit about themselves?”

You harrumph again, handing Nick the other end of the sheet. “There is good about it though.” He’s looking at you differently, and you’re not sure how, but maybe it’s because you’re having the first real conversation with him tonight, despite having worked for him for the last year.

You’d talked before, of course, but it usually had something to do with politics, Nick ducking out of his office to ask your opinion on something, before returning back to his phone and papers. It had never been a two-way conversation like this, never nothing to do with either of your jobs.

You raise an eyebrow, tucking in your corners as you wait for him to make his point. “What about the half-priced chocolate the next day?” And … he nearly has you. Until you remember a counter-argument.

“So it’s back to its normal price?”

Nick looks at you like he’s never seen you before in your life. But he changes tack, which you take to mean that you’ve won that particular battle.

“And what’s wrong with celebrating love? Even-” He anticipates your response before you do, “-if it is just romantic love?” He grabs the pillow before you can, leaving you to struggle with the duvet this time.

You’re smiling now, unable to help yourself, as you watch the Mayor of Yonkers, of all people, pick up a pile of bedding. He looks good like this, you think, shirt rolled up to his forearms, collar open, tie left behind somewhere with his jacket. Not that he doesn’t normally look good.

You’ve become more relaxed too, you can feel it, as though every bed that the two of you have completed has shod you of another layer, making you feel lighter. Your heels are by the door, and you are a similar height to Nick without them, which you’ve never noticed before, either being taller than him, or sitting in his presence. There’s something weird about it, but also nice, in a domestic sort of way, as your stocking feet pad around the beds, occasionally catching on the wooden floor. You hope you don’t get a hole. Or worse, a ladder.

But you know it’s your mind which has relaxed the most. Allowing you first to smile at his jokes, then joke back, the tension in your shoulders melting away. And now this. A deep conversation. Which you suppose was bound to happen, the two of you alone after the last volunteer had called it a night at 1am and gone home. But love? Really?

“There’s nothing wrong with celebrating love. It’s just forced, somehow. Like you’re a bad person for not doing it, just because of some long-dead guy who’s now in our calendar.” You finish your duvet, and move to help Nick.

“I think you’re wrong.” And maybe it’s the way he says it, like it’s the most simple thing in the world. “I think it makes sure that people take a breath and appreciate what they have.”

He looks so hopeful, you stop the scoff in your throat, instead letting yourself consider his point. “Well it doesn’t matter, it’s …” You pause and check your watch, blinking in surprise. “Fuck. It’s four in the morning. It’s not Valentine’s Day anymore.”

And then you look up. Properly.

There’s one bed left. You turn around, admiring all the made-up beds. Ok they could be neater, but so what?

“Well.” You turn back to look at Nick as he speaks. “Do you want to take advantage of those sales, or not?”

You blink at him, even as he gestures at you to take the other end of the sheet, unsure if you’re dreaming now.

***

When you exit the town hall, the sky is the cool blue of pre-dawn. Grey clouds still hang, heavy and angry over Yonkers, a precursor of the rain to come. It’s been a cold night, a glimmer of frost on the ground, but you can already feel that it won’t last the day.

You yawn, rubbing your eyes with one hand, while your other holds your heels. Nick’s thrown his blazer over one shoulder, the tie hanging out of his trouser pocket. “C’mon.” Is all he says as he walks towards his car.

It takes a second for your brain to engage. “What?” Your voice has become hoarse from a lack of sleep.

“Can I show you something?” And how can you say no, when he leans against the car roof with one arm, opening the door for you, and looking like that?

Inside the car it’s warm, and tiredness sinks down on you until you can hardly keep your eyes open. Nick only asks for your address, which you give him, and then you’re asleep. You wake when he stops the car on the high street, but fall back asleep when he tells you he just needs to pick up some groceries.

You don’t wake up when he comes back, nor do you wake up when he sets off again. You open your eyes when he gently shakes your shoulder. The sky is much brighter now, the sun peeking over the horizon and you blink, looking at your watch. It’s nearly 7. Which means Nick let you sleep for 2 hours. It takes a second for your surroundings to fall into place, green and brown surrounding you.

Nick’s sitting next to you in the driver’s seat. And in the back seat are his groceries.

You blink again. Harder this time.

Praying your makeup isn’t smudged all down your cheek, you move to sit up straighter, where you’d fallen asleep against the window. “What … where are we?”

Nick doesn’t answer until he’s grabbed one of the bags, clambering out and opening your door for you. “We are in one of the city’s finest parks.” He announces, using his Official Mayor Voice.

As far as you can tell, it’s a pretty basic park. The only notable point is the view. You can see the full scrawl of Yonkers below you, as the sun rises to your right, still fighting the storm clouds left over from yesterday. Funny. You’d heard there was going to be more rain.

As you step out of the car, you put your heels back on, and wince a little. Nick hands you a blanket to carry and sets off towards a clear area without too many trees, and you follow him, spreading the blanket for the two of you to sit on. Nick’s put his blazer back on and you try not to be disappointed, reminding yourself that he’s your boss.

He places the bag between you, and … it’s stuffed with half price Valentine themed food. Chocolates, champagne, even a small teddy. You can’t help it. You let out a laugh as the two of you sit next to each other, the bag between you.

“I never knew the Mayor would be a cheapskate.” You’re only half-serious, and you think Nick knows this, catching the glint in his eye as he replies.

“You’d rather I bought you this full price?”

You shake your head, grinning, but confused on the inside. You must be tired. Hearing that the Mayor, your boss, wants to buy you something for Valentine’s? You must be misinterpreting this.

“And I’ll have you know, that everything in this bag came to less than what it would be in a normal month.” He winks and you groan, theatrical and over the top.

So instead you open the chocolate, grabbing the first one you see and popping it in your mouth. “Nice though,” you mumble, without having swallowed your mouthful, savouring the sweetness of it as it coats your tongue, eyes closing as you lean back on the blanket, missing the way Nick looks down at you.

“Yeah? Worth every cent, aren’t they?” You smile, shaking your head.

“Yes, Nick.” You finally sigh, giving in. “Worth every half-price cent.” You squint open an eye, waiting for his reaction, glad when he laughs, propping yourself up onto your elbows so you don't fall asleep again. And then you look down, and your eye catches on a bottle of champagne.

You reach for it, twirling it on the ground. “So Nick, seeing as how you’re the Mayor and my boss,” you start, sure you’re going to get what you ask for, “and we worked all night long, can we have today off?”

You look at Nick to see him watching your face, amused at the long winded way you’re going about this. Finally he nods. “Yeah I think we deserve the day off.”

You grin widely then, sitting up properly with a burst of energy, and pop the cork. You take the first sip straight from the bottle, leaving a small ring of lipstick behind. You use your thumb to wipe it off before passing it over, the bubbles still tingling on your tongue, washing away the chocolate.

Nick takes a healthy swig as soon as his hand is wrapped around the cool bottle, and you can’t help but watch the way his throat bobs when he swallows, wiping at a drop that escapes his mouth.

You turn to the rest of the bag to distract yourself. There’s at least 3 boxes of chocolate, a pack of strawberries, and a small bear. All of them have the tell tale yellow half-price stickers in clear view. You pull out the bear, amused. “He’s cute.”

Nick hands the bottle back to you, running a hand through his hair. “Got a name for him?”

You think about it for a minute, before deciding. “Arthur the Fourth.” And you place Arthur at the bottom of the blanket, so he’s looking at the two of you.

Nick frowns, looking between the two of you. “The Fourth?”

You laugh, biting on another chocolate. “Yeah. Throughout my childhood, I have had three other teddies, all named Arthur. He will be the fourth.”

“And you lost them all?”

“No, I still have Arthur the Third.” You wash the chocolate down with another sip of champagne, and when you go to scrub away your lipstick again, Nick’s hand stops you. He shakes his head, like he’s having a secret conversation within your public one.

“Shame to hear about the first two though.” You let him take the bottle from you, watching as he - his mouth - touches your lipstick. You can feel your heart rate raise, thumping inside your chest like a drum. You can still feel the ghost of his hand, warm where it touched yours.

You look down on Yonkers again, unable to cope. “Yeah, well. It’s how it happens in real life, I guess.”

The two of you fall silent as the sun climbs pathetically further and further, finally disappearing behind angry storm clouds. Conversation is quiet observations, both of you feeling wrapped up in a bubble of tiredness.

You lie back down, ignoring how the cold of the ground is seeping through the blanket now and closing your eyes as you take a chocolate from the box which you intend to be your last, and you can hear Nick’s smirk when he talks. “Chocolate’s not too bad then?”

You just hum, pretending to think about it. “Yeah not bad,” you finally agree, opening your eyes and turning your head to watch Nick as he leans back on his hands, “But it’s not Valentine’s day so you haven’t changed my mind …”

And Nick’s looking at you like that again, and you could never in a million years anticipate his next question. “So you wouldn’t count this as the best Valentine’s Day date you’ve ever been on?”

You freeze, what? You decline in that moment to mention that it’s the only Valentine’s date you’ve ever even been on, and you also choose to ignore that it’s not Valentine’s Day anymore, shaking your head. You can’t quite believe what you’re about to say, heart beating faster than normal, blood thrumming in your ears. “I would count it as the best date I’ve been on.”

And then you’re laughing at the look of shock on his face, quickly stopping when he ducks down to kiss you.

Nick, your boss, the mayor of Yonkers, is kissing you.

It takes you a second to respond, shock freezing you where you lie. But then your hands are on his neck, pulling him back down over you as he deepens the kiss, tongue exploring your mouth. His forearm is resting on the blanket next to your head, supporting his bodyweight, his other hand cupping your cheek. His moustache is tickling you slightly, but you don’t care.

He tastes sweet, from the chocolate. But then, you can taste the bubbles from the champagne, you can taste how cold it was, you can taste the birds chirping in the trees above you, and you can taste how warm the sun’s rays felt five minutes ago.

It’s perfect.

Until the clouds open above you.

It starts gently, and you don’t feel it at first, and when you do, you ignore it, more interested in snogging Nick. Your feet are becoming wet quickly and the rain falls in large drops.

Nick’s the first one to pull away, and you follow him, chasing his lips with your own, not wanting to open your eyes. When you do, you realise your feet are wet from the bottle of champagne falling over, and Arthur’s looking to be in danger of rolling away.

You can feel the rain on your head, and the drops are falling faster. You snatch Arthur and the now-empty bottle up, Nick scrambling to get everything back in the bag. At the last second, you ball up the blanket, ignoring how it brings half the floor with it, and the two of you run towards Nick’s car, laughing as the rain soaks the pair of you.

***

Thanks for reading! Reblog and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰

#nick wasicsko #nick wasicsko x reader #nick x reader #show me a hero #nick wasicsko fanfic

96 notes · View notes

artyblogs · 3 years

Text

Best Wingman Ever

Read on Ao3

Summary: For @caruliaweek. Prompt: Surprise. After the fight in the pyramid, Julia doesn’t feel so hot, so she checks into a hospital. Carmen finds out and has concerns, so she goes to see her.

---

The longer the press conference goes on, the more discomfort Julia feels. It started in the pyramid, after Countess Cleo pushed her into that godforsaken pit, and she managed to catch the edge with her elbows. Her legs swung under her and something in her torso tore. Or broke. It certainly seemed like something snapped judging by the searing pain that lanced through her chest.

She was able to ignore the pain for the rest of the time they were in the pyramid, half because of the adrenaline coursing through her system, half because…well, it seemed pittance in the face of certain death. But now, in front of all these reporters, with the adrenaline draining from her body, the ache grows and grows until she sweats under her collar from the exertion of standing upright.

Every breath Julia takes is fire.

Either the reporters don’t notice what is happening, or they attribute Julia’s flush to the strong Egyptian sun, because they don’t ask what is wrong. They ask her if she will be heading the effort to catalogue all of these artifacts (she won’t be; all this treasure is technically on Egyptian soil, so it is up to the Egyptian government to come up with a plan), or if she will be working with Egyptologists and other archaeologists to catalogue them (again, that’s technically the jurisdiction of the Egyptian government. If invited, she’d help, but she needs to be invited).

Eventually, they have enough information for their segments, and Julia and Chase end the press conference and slink off towards the parking lot. Julia waits until they are out of earshot of the reporters, and far away enough to be indiscernible by the cameras, before she runs a cautious hand over her ribs.

It doesn’t seem like anything’s broken, but a simple swipe of her palm induces agony. Julia sinks to her knees.

“Miss Argent? What’s wrong?” Chase kneels next to her, his hands hovering, but not descending. He’s probably afraid of making things worse.

It feels like her chest is imploding. Julia tries to catch her breath, but cannot get any words out. Chase takes out his cell phone and dials a number.

“‘Allo? Please send an ambulance, there is an injured woman who needs help.”

---

Julia had hoped that she would be able to tough it out until she got back to the UK because at least there, she would have all of her identification. Here in this private hospital in Cairo, she has nothing. Besides the press conference and Chase, no one knows that she is here. The fact that a whole person could be disappeared like that, that she could be misplaced, is disquieting.

The walls of the hospital room muffle the car horns and loud voices in the street. If Julia closes her eyes, she can imagine that she is slowly sinking into sand, like so many forgotten baubles in the desert.

CLICK.

The door to her hospital room opens to reveal Chase, who carries a grease-stained paper bag and a cardboard drink tray with two paper cups.

“Miss Argent?”

“Agent Devineaux!” Julia tosses the thin, hospital blanket aside and—very, very carefully—sits up and unfolds her legs over the side of the hospital bed. In the back of her left hand there is taped an IV line, and she lightly pushes the IV rack a little to make room for him.

Chase gently closes the door behind him, then he takes the back of a visitor’s chair and drags it to her bedside. He places the tray of drinks on the side table next to a prescription bag, and holds out the greasy paper bag for Julia to open up.

Julia delves into it and finds two shawarma wraps carefully bundled in foil. “Which one is mine?”

“They are the same.”

Julia takes one of the wraps and opens it up, the foil shredding between her hands, and bites into it. The shawarma is a mess of sliced lamb and garlic and spices. Still hot. Smothered in yogurt and lemon juice. She had a similar shawarma years ago when she first visited Egypt during a field archaeology class, and she has been searching for a comparable place ever since.

Nothing has even come close. Julia licks a stray drop of yogurt from her thumb and takes another bite.

“They didn’t feed you, did they?”

Are her table manners that bad? Julia hesitates, then slowly shakes her head to agree. Chase frowns and unwraps his own shawarma. They eat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the muted noon adhan ring out across the city. Eventually, the food is done, and they crumple the foil into balls and toss them into the paper bag, and Chase holds out one of the drinks to Julia.

“Where is the medicine?” He asks.

“On the table. Can you get it?”

Chase opens the prescription bag and blanches. “Miss Argent, this is…eh….”

“It’s just one of each.” Julia chews on the straw and holds out her hand. “Do you mind?”

Thus begins an absurd process: Chase takes out a pill bottle, twists it open, and shakes a pill into Julia’s hand. Julia claps it into her mouth and takes a swig of water while Chase recaps the bottle and sets it aside on the side table.

They do this five times.

At last, Chase sets the empty bag next to the bottles and stares at the display ruefully. “Miss Argent?”

“Hmm?”

“What did they do to you?” He’s unusually subdued.

Julia’s ribs twinge. “I am an ancient historian, and VILE needed to decode ancient languages.”

Chase’s frown deepens. “I have taken similar pills for what I assume are similar kinds of injuries, Miss Argent. Please.”

“They were not nice people,” Julia finally says. She doesn’t…she cannot describe what happened, because to do so would require her to travel there in her mind.

“Miss Argent,” Chase says, now truly alarmed. It’s funny, in a way. A year ago, he would have probably given anything to shut her up and today, he can’t get her to say anything.

“I can describe what they looked like,” Julia says. She can do that, at least. Chase reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out his cell phone, which he unlocks and gives to her.

The screen is cracked. Julia gingerly taps and swipes to navigate to a specific face-generating app, and uses sliding scales to change the different attributes.

“How are you getting back to Oxford?” Chase asks.

“There’s a British embassy down the street; I’ll go there first thing tomorrow,’ Julia says.

“Not today?”

“The doctor wants to keep me here overnight for observation.”

Another pause. Chase’s nose wrinkles as he scowls.

“It’ll keep, Agent Devineaux.” Julia takes a screenshot and refreshes the app to create another face.

Chase makes a noise as he sinks in his chair. “I shall go with you to the embassy tomorrow.”

Julia looks up. “Really?”

“You should not be alone. We do not know where VILE escaped to. They could still be here in Egypt.”

Julia is legitimately moved. She didn’t think it was possible for him to act this way. “Thank you, Agent.”

“Pas de problème.” Chase stares moodily out the window, so Julia returns to the app.

The minutes pass, but somehow it’s not as bad as before. Julia is in the middle of creating the last face when the screen blacks out for a call. She hands the phone back to Chase.

“Zari is calling you.”

“Eh?” Chase looks quizzically down at the phone, then takes the call. “‘Allo? Ah, Agent Zari. I will not be back for another forty-eight hours at least. What?” He pauses to listen. “Wait, now? But Miss Argent needs a security detail!” Chase tries to say more, but the voice on the other end rises in volume. Eventually, Chase’s shoulders slump in defeat. “Yes, yes, I’ll be on the next flight.” The call ends.

He turns to her and he might look as miserable as Julia feels. “Miss Argent, I, er.”

“Duty calls.” She says despite the sinking feeling in her gut. “You have three of the four faces at least. I’ll go to the embassy tomorrow, and you’ll visit me in Oxford when this is all over.”

“But VILE.”

“Aside from you, no one knows…no one knows I’m here. That anonymity will shield me.”

Chase’s jaw clenches, and he nods. “Until then, Miss Argent.”

“Goodbye, Agent Devineaux.”

He turns and leaves the hospital room.

---

Carmen does one more sweep of the hotel room before she zips her duffle for the final time. She doesn’t usually pack a lot on capers, but it pays to be vigilant.

“How is Jules getting back to the UK? Is Devineaux arranging that for her?”

Player absently hums as he types. “Oh yeah. She wouldn’t have any passport or anything, huh? Because she was kidnapped?”

“I want to make sure she isn’t stranded in Egypt.”

“I’ll take a look. And I could whip something up for her if Devineaux doesn’t have anything in place. How does sharing a plane with your favorite Oxford professor sound to you?”

“Ha ha.” Carmen throws a phone charger into the duffel and zips it closed. “Being close to Jules might not be such a good idea. VILE kidnapped her because of me.”

“VILE knows and now ACME knows too. You might as well go for broke, Red.”

“Go for broke doing what, exactly?” Carmen asks. “Don’t say, ‘Jules.’”

Player laughs. “I’m trying to be a good wingman here!”

“Jules has students, and bills, and maybe even a cat, or something. She has a life outside of all of this and I ruined that when I went to see her.”

“How dare you say that to me when I heard what she said when you guys talked in her office. What was it she called you? One of her ‘two key interests?’”

The sheer audacity. “Player.”

“Carmen.” But Player gasps and whispers a curse.

“What is it?”

“Uh.” More typing. “Julia isn’t going anywhere. She’s—uh. She’s checked into a hospital.”

All the hair whooshes out of Carmen’s lungs. When she last saw Julia, she was awake. She was responsive. She was standing unaided. She was…she was in VILE’s custody for at least twenty-four hours at that point, that’s what she was. Julia walking around in the pyramid this morning? Seemingly bright-eyed and bushy tailed? That doesn’t mean a thing if she’s in the hospital now.

BEEP. Carmen’s phone receives notifications as Player pushes an update to it. Address, map, and a plane ticket for the rescheduled flight back to Seattle. She pulls the duffle strap over her head and strides out of the hotel room.

---

In case of emergency, Player allegedly has a list of hospitals that he will trust with the safety of Team Red. Allegedly, because Carmen’s never seen Player’s desktop. When he tells her that Julia’s been admitted to one of those hospitals, it does little to ease the raging unease within her. Carmen gently opens the door to the hospital room and peers inside.

The blinds are drawn against the afternoon sun. A privacy screen is pulled halfway across the room, obscuring the single bed in the room. There is no television monitor, and instead a oscillating fan sweeps back and forth on low.

Carmen steps into the room and softly closes the door behind her. She lowers her duffel to the floor and creeps closer. While she didn’t see any local police, or any police-looking types staking out this hospital, and while she didn’t see any VILE operatives either, it helps to be cautious. When she peeks around the curtain, however, she only sees Julia.

Her glasses and suit jacket are gone, and a hospital blanket has been drawn up to her chest, but it is her. Carmen steps around the curtain to her, and she holds a hand a little ways from her mouth.

There’s a soft breath against her palm, and Carmen almost cries in relief.

“Red? Did you find her?” Player asks.

“She’s asleep,” Carmen whispers.

“Ah.” And Player falls silent.

She’s also alone. There are no guards, or orderlies, or nurses. Devineaux is nowhere to be found. If VILE found out that Julia was here, there would be nothing to stop them from taking her again. Carmen sinks down into the visitor’s chair.

Let them come. She will be enough to stop them.

Julia seems smaller in sleep. Her brow is smoothed free of complex thought, and her lips are slightly parted. A sunbeam falls across her face, highlighting the freckles dusting her cheeks. Julia’s dark hair is disheveled from the pillow, and her front fringe falls over her eyes. Carmen makes as it to smooth it away, but falters and instead, she pinches the hinges of Julia’s glasses and delicately lifts them from her face. She folds them, and starts looking for the rest of Julia’s things.

She finds pill bottles instead, lined up like soldiers at the back of the side table.

“Player?”

“Yeah?”

“When you found Jules’ file, it was bad, wasn’t it?” Carmen whispers.

“I didn’t look very long, because I didn’t want to snoop, but from what I did see? It wasn’t good.” He leans back from the mic and shouts something, then when he returns, he says, “I gotta go eat breakfast. Will you be okay for a minute?”

“Yeah. Go.” Carmen continues searching. She finds the rest of Julia’s things in a drawer in the side table. At the bottom are Julia’s shoes, over which is her suit jacket—carefully folded—and over that is her pendant. Carmen puts the glasses down beside the pendant and closes the drawer.

Julia wakes with a start. She gives a weak cry, and her feet kick out against the blanket. When she settles back down, she also puts a hand over her eyes.

“Jules?”

“Carmen?” Julia’s voice comes out strained and broken. Her hand cannot hide the furrow of her brow, nor can it hide the stuttering gasps she takes in a poor attempt to calm down.

“Surprise,” Carmen whispers. She holds her hand, the one with the IV line stuck into it, and Julia holds on tight. So tight that it might break her fingers and some dark part of Carmen thinks that she might deserve it. But it doesn’t last. Eventually, Julia’s breathing evens out, and her body relaxes against the bed, and her grip loosens, but she doesn’t let go. Julia drops her other hand to reveal red eyes.

She clears her throat. “How did you find me?”

It is so casual that it throws Carmen off. Are they really not going to discuss Julia’s state from not even a minute ago? But Julia looks at her expectantly, so she says, “Player found you. I was worried.”

“Thank you. I didn’t think….” Julia’s face screws up. “Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t. Jules, I am so sorry. VILE was never supposed to get a hold of you.”

“I’m not sorry,” Julia whispers. She winces as she eases up on the bed, and Carmen wants to help her, but doesn’t know how. Julia manages to sit upright anyway.

“You needed help. Was I supposed to say ’no?’” Julia asks. She even manages a half smile. “This was not your fault,” she says as she gestures to herself.

“They kidnapped you because of me.”

“Absurd. I mean, yes, they did. But that still wasn’t your fault. You might as well rage against an earthquake for bringing down a building, or at lightning for striking a tower. Criminal syndicates kidnap people; that’s just what they do. If not me, then it would have been some other poor sod.”

“Jules.”

“I mean it, Carmen. Don’t blame yourself for this.”

When Julia says it like that, Carmen might be able to believe it. “How bad is it? If you don’t mind me asking.”

The bridge of Julia’s nose wrinkles, so Carmen asks instead, “What happened?”

“I said ‘no.’ The taller woman—they called her ‘Countess Cleo’—she said that she would only ask for my services once. So I said ’no.’” Her brows furrow again and she bows her head, casting shadows on her face. “Those two men, Vlad and Boris, they were very persuasive. And I tried, I really, really tried. But I couldn’t.” Julia trails off and when she looks up again, her eyes are glassy. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

The idea that Julia should ever think of herself deficient in any way, that she could be convinced that that was the case, is so painful that Carmen’s heart could break. It is also equally vexing, because it is clearly untrue. The boldest lies that Carmen has ever heard.

“How could you apologize for being so brave?” Carmen asks.

“I’m supposed to be a former secret agent.”

“And? I don’t care about some arbitrary threshold of toughness. I’m just glad that you’re alive.”

Julia smiles and stares down at their clasped hands. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too. Not that I’m in a rush, but the longer you’re here, the more dangerous it is for you. When are you getting discharged?”

“Next morning at the earliest. The doctors want to keep me overnight for observation.”

“So it’s that bad.”

“Carmen….”

But Carmen gestures to the pill bottles. “Jules. Come on. How bad is it?”

Julia sighs. “Hairline fractures in my fibs, and some minor internal bleeding.”

She mumbles this last part, but Carmen catches it anyway. Cold horror washes through her body. “Internal bleeding?”

“Minor internal bleeding. Carmen, don’t feel bad, or we’ll be going in circles all day.”

On the contrary. Carmen’s horror ignites into hot, unbridled rage, and she leaps out of her chair and starts pacing up and down the tiny room.

“Carmen?”

“They are never touching you again. Never again.” Carmen pauses just long enough to say before she continues to pace. Julia face softens a bit.

The door creaks open, and Carmen whirls around and grabs an extra chair. It’s one of those mass-produced plastic and wire things, light enough to throw across the room if needed. Julia too, falls silent.

But an orderly pokes their head in. “Visiting hours are over,” they says in Arabic. “Miss Santa Rosa, you must leave now.”

“No, no, she can stay,” someone else says from behind him. It sounds like the nurse who was manning the reception desk. “She’s her fiance. It’s in the file.”

“Eh? Okay.” The orderly turns back to them. “Have a good night.”

The door closes again.

The chair slips from Carmen’s nerveless fingers. On the bed, Julia turns away, her face and ears a brilliant red.

“You understood that,” Carmen says. It isn’t a question.

Julia, unable to speak, nods her head.

“Player, did you do that?” Carmen asks. Her earrings crackle to life.

“Do what?”

“The fiance thing.”

He chuckles. Actually chuckles. “Best wingman ever.”

Oh no. Carmen is going to die. She is going to shrivel up from mortification. What must Julia think? At the very least, she must think that Carmen’s such a creep.

“Do you want me to change it back?”

“You’ve done enough.”

Player chuckles again, this time with a darker tone. “So that’s a ‘no.’”

“Goodnight, Player.” And with that, Carmen taps her earring to mute.

“You can leave if you need to. You must be terribly busy,” Julia says.

“Never too busy for you,” Carmen says, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she can think too much about it. Julia flushes all over again.

---

Julia gasps awake, the ache in her ribs stealing her breath. Her left hand is clasped tight in Carmen’s, a lifeline tethering her to this this plane of existence.

She fell asleep.

They were talking. About anything and everything. One of those meandering conversations that are pointless, yet profound. Carmen is endlessly fascinating, of course. Julia couldn’t help but hang on her every word. When it was her turn to share, she tried her best to be as interesting, but she couldn’t help but feel so incredibly mundane. Carmen’s rapt attention must have been a facade done out of politeness, because there is no way that she could be just as interested in Julia. Carmen was just being kind.

They were just talking, and then the meds took over and she fell asleep.

“I’m right here, Jules.” Carmen’s worried face swims into focus and the bed dips as she sits next to her. The room is dark, save for a single nightlight plugged into a nearby outlet.

“Was it a nightmare?” Carmen asks.

“The pain from my ribs must be tricking my mind. Every time I go to sleep, I go right back to that safe house,” Julia whispers.

“What about a distraction?” Carmen asks. “If you felt something else, would that help?”

They both look at their hands. They’re still holding onto each other, with Carmen’s thumb gently pressing against Julia’s pale knuckle.

“It does seem to help,” Julia says. Somehow, realigning herself with reality is easier with Carmen around. Carmen’s brow furrows in thought, then she nods, as if making a decision.

“Okay, scoot.”

It takes Julia a moment to understand what Carmen means to do, and when she finally does figure it out, she briefly considers saying ‘no’ before the thought is immediately smothered without mercy. Perhaps it’s because Julia almost died this morning, or perhaps it’s because of the heady cocktail of medications currently running through her system. At any rate, Julia doesn’t say ’no.’

She scoots.

It takes a little maneuvering—Julia’s IV line has enough slack, but they don’t want to pinch it shut—and they take care to not jab elbows and knees, and the bed is already so narrow, but they manage it in the end. They end up facing each other, with Julia’s head cradled between Carmen’s arms, and their legs tangled together. Julia’s fingers curl in the belt of Carmen’s romper.

Carmen runs hot. The heat of her arm thrums against Julia’s ear. Her gray eyes are also very close. The distance between them is so negligible that if Julia were to move just a couple inches forward….

Well.

“Go to sleep,” Carmen whispers, her breath ghosting against Julia’s face. “I’ll be here.”

Julia closes her eyes and goes to sleep.

---

“Red.”

Carmen’s earrings turn on, and Player’s voice cuts through the still night.

“Red, wake up.”

Julia is still asleep. Carmen’s arm is getting a little numb, but hell, Julia can have it. She rolls away a little, not enough to disturb Julia, but just enough so that she can talk to Player without speaking directly into her face.

“What time is it?” She whispers.

“About one AM your time.” Player also lowers his voice to match hers, even though he’s a little speaker in her ear. “The Seattle base got torched.”

“What?”

“VILE destroyed it. They burned everything. And then in Oxford, another team torched Julia’s apartment and blew up her car. They blew it up, Red!”

Beside her, Julia stirs. “Wusrong?” She slurs.

Carmen’s heart sinks. “I’m so sorry, Jules.”

“This again? We talked about this, Carmen.” Julia’s sleepy expression melts away when Carmen doesn’t answer.

Carmen gently removes her arm from under Julia’s head, then maneuvers so that she doesn’t crush her, but she’s able to brace herself over her and align her head over hers so that she can also hear.

“Player? Explain.”

He explains. Julia tenses beneath her, and her hands tighten in Carmen’s clothes the longer he goes on.

“VILE must have wanted to retaliate, but when they couldn’t find either of you, they did the next best thing,” Player says.

“Phone,” Carmen says. She rolls off the bed and goes to her duffel bag. She takes out her phone and swipes across the screen to answer Player’s call. He appears on the screen, and she tosses the phone onto the foot of the bed. Julia sits up and leans over the phone.

“Player?”

It must be early evening where Player is, but it’s always difficult to discern anything with how dark his room is. He must have blackout curtains or something.

“I’ve got Carmen’s plane ticket sorted out, and I was gonna get you on a plane to Oxford, Julia, but I’m not sure I should do that anymore.”

Carmen slips on her shoes and ties the laces. “Put us on the same plane.”

“What?” Player asks.

“You were right about VILE and ACME. Jules isn’t safe as a civilian anymore, so she’s coming with me.” Finished, Carmen stands up and regards Julia, who has her hands over her eyes again.

“Jules?”

“Jay?” Player asks, slightly muffled from the hospital blanket.

“I placed my students’ papers on the coffee table. They were just there in bundles, because I meant to grade them. And there were plant clippings on the windowsill…I was growing them in jam jars.” Julia’s hand moves to cover her mouth, and she stares into the distance. “Gone.”

Player looks down at his keyboard. Carmen’s heart sinks in her chest. She did this. Julia lost everything because of her. Because she asked for her help, and this is how she’s rewarded.

“I’ve only lived in Oxford for half a year, but that flat was mine, and I….” But Julia stops and turns to the side table. She pulls open the drawer and there, nestled in the folds of her suit jacket, is her pendant. It glitters in the low light, and she lifts it out, the chain draping between her fingers.

“I was wrong,” Julia whispers. She slips her glasses back on and she stares very hard at the pendant.

“Jules?”

“Everything I need is right here. Everything else is replaceable.”

Player’s jaw drops, and he and Carmen share a look. “Just like that?”

“Sometimes it really is that simple. Don’t mistake me; it will be awful to replace everything when the time comes, but the fact is that they can be replaced. And I have insurance. My class will be fine. My students will be fine.” Julia unclasps the chain and tries—and fails—to put it on. She looks up at Carmen. “Do you mind?”

Carmen takes the ends of the chain and carefully clips it around Julia’s neck. Her fingertips graze her nape as she pulls away, and Julia catches her wrist.

“I won’t be put in a safe house. If I’m coming, I’ll be useful,” Julia whispers.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Carmen says. Julia smiles up at her.

“Plane’ll be ready in an hour,” Player says. The call ends, and Carmen slips the phone into her pocket.

“Then we shouldn’t waste time.” Carmen unhooks Julia from the IV and helps her shrug on her jacket. Julia slips her shoes on, and after picking up the duffle and the meds, the both of them vanish into the night.

Show it some love on Ao3!

#caruliaweek #carmen sandiego #julia argent #carulia #julethief #carjules #carmen x julia #my writing #fanfiction

36 notes · View notes

autumnslance · 3 years

Link

((Shadowbringers 5.3-5.4. I wanted to have this done by the 15th of January but didn’t quite manage it because these two idiots are wordy as heck, and I initially started in the wrong place and POV. I wrote roughly 8000 words total and only ended up using half of them. There are letters and pining and admitting things happening here.

Below the cut as usual for those who prefer Tumblr to Ao3, but the formatting may work better on that site.))

Aeryn stepped through the mirror and into the familiar space of the Ocular, taking a moment to reorient herself after the rush of journeying between worlds. Once the vertigo had passed she left the Tower, the Crystarium guards greeting her as she crossed the Exedra. It took some questioning before she was finally pointed to where Ryne was currently; training with Captain Lyna just outside the city gates.

She simply watched for a time as Lyna tried to keep her distance while Ryne tried to close in. Aeryn did not announce herself, simply noting how Ryne’s bladework had improved, at least one new trick learned since the last time Aeryn had watched her fight.

“That is enough for now,” Lyna said as they reached a breakpoint in their dance. “And the Warrior of Darkness has waited long enough,” she continued with a wry smile in Aeryn’s direction.

Ryne started, then turned with a grin, hurrying over to give Aeryn a hug. “It’s good to see you! Oh sorry, I’m all sweaty…”

Aeryn laughed, brushing damp strands of hair from Ryne’s reddened face. It was still winter in Eorzea, but in Norvrandt spring was on the horizon and the morning was warm. “Not to worry. Hope you don’t mind the interruption.”

Lyna waved them off. “Go on; we can catch up later.”

Aeryn nodded, knowing the captain wanted word of her grandfather, and G’raha had given Aeryn a small package to deliver, but that would wait until Lyna was off duty and had readied herself. There was an order to such things with the stoic woman.

Instead, Aeryn turned back to Ryne and smiled. Had she gotten taller? “I have a question, if you’ll indulge me.”

“Of course!” Ryne answered as they walked across the bridge into the city. “What is it you need?”

“I have a note from Thancred; he and Urianger are currently on a mission, but he left me instructions for tod--well. The day it is back on the Source.”

“I see. What are the instructions?”

“I’m to ask you about the black willow box he kept in his room here.”

Ryne paused, a little sharp breath escaping. “Ryne?” Aeryn asked.

“Sorry! It’s just I was under strict instruction never to open the box, though I have the key now, of course; I still didn’t dare. It’s where he kept,” she hesitated.

“Kept what?”

“I’ll show you; it’s a good thing--I think--that he wants you to see. Come on!” Ryne dashed toward her apartment as if she hadn’t just completed a long practice session with the captain of the guard. Aeryn picked up her own pace to follow along after.

It did not take long for them to reach the apartment Ryne used to share with Thancred. As the girl opened the door, Aeryn realized it was the first time she had returned to these rooms since the Scions’ departure from the First. It was much as she remembered, though lacking Thancred’s continued presence. Evidence of Gaia’s frequent visits were visible instead, from lipstick-stained coffee mugs at the sink to dark ribbons left on an end table to a book that did not seem to be to Ryne’s taste on a sofa cushion.

Ryne paused in front of the door that had led to Thancred’s small room. “I haven’t been in here since,” she trailed off, shaking her head. “Gaia and Taynor sorted most of it, actually, so only a few personal things remain. I should probably move to a smaller suite to let someone else use the space…”

“Maybe you need a roommate,” Aeryn suggested. “Perhaps Gaia could stay with you.”

Ryne reddened. “We’ve considered it, but I’m just…” She gave a helpless little laugh as she shrugged, looking up at Aeryn apologetically. “I’m just not quite ready, I think. It’s silly, but there’s a part of me that keeps hoping they’ll find a way--a safe way--to return. Even just for a little while.”

Aeryn squeezed Ryne’s shoulder. “It’s not silly,” she said quietly. “And I keep hoping that, too. Fairly certain Y’shtola has it at the top of her projects list.”

Ryne laughed, truly this time. “She would!” She looked at the door again. “The box should be on the shelf above the writing desk,” she offered Aeryn a small key. “I’ll let you see for yourself.”

Aeryn nodded, taking the little key and entering the room.

It was familiar, yet unfamiliar. Always small, it had kept from being cramped mainly by virtue of Thancred’s own minimalist tendencies with his added reluctance of accumulating things on the First that he would have to leave behind in the end. Even so, the room felt barren, many necessities and items missing, given away to be used by others in need among the Crystarium’s residents; naught went to waste while still usable.

The bed was neatly made; her eyes lingered for a moment, recalling a handful of pleasant times curled up together in it. They had often met in her own chambers for privacy, especially when feeling the need for more than simple closeness. There was a bench under the shuttered window; he used to clean his gunblade there, storing materials and parts in a chest beneath the bench. Nothing remained but the seat.

The writing desk was really a tall square table, a stool for the chair, in a corner of the room. Two simple shelves hung on the wall above it, some of Thancred’s personal effects that remained neatly placed upon them. The black willow box was a simple but lovely piece of old Nabaath make. It was familiar only in that it was a part of the room, always upon the shelf above the desk, a background decoration.

She had to stretch a little to pull the small box down. She unlocked it, pondering what it could contain for one last moment before opening the lid to find out.

Neatly folded pages, Thancred’s familiar handwriting covering them, five different bundles marked by Vrandtic dates in Eorzean lettering. The earliest one was dated five--no, six years ago now, in the midst of Thancred’s first year in this world, just after the Vrandtic new year. The second bundle was dated a year later. Then the third, then a fourth. The final bundle broke the date pattern, written...She shivered. The dates would have been the time after they assaulted Mt Gulg and before seeking Emet-Selch and the Exarch in the Tempest, when she had lain in a Light-induced fever for days in between.

All of the letters, long and detailed, were addressed to her.

Aeryn carried the box to the window and opened the shutters, letting in the natural light of day. She sat at the bench, picked up the first letter, and began to read, brows already rising at the first line.

My Dear Aeryn,

It’s been roughly half a year, to me, since I arrived in this world. We search for a means to send me back, but given the dangers, it’s difficult to say if we shall ever be successful. I hold onto hope, given we have made the impossible happen more than once—particularly when you are involved.

I know so much less time is passing for you, even as time is difficult to track beneath the eternal Light, but the people still mark the hours and days as best they can--perhaps better than we do in the Source, reliant as we are upon the sun and stars. So as the calendar year turns to a new page, I find myself confronted by reminders of you at every turn, my own mind noting the dates, as if counting down to your nameday in truth.

Violas grown in the Hortorium call to mind your favored hair decoration and your scents carried with it. The heather meadows and clear mountain springs of Il Mheg make me think of the taste of your magic. Treasure hunters in Mord Souq unearth duelist rapiers reminiscent of your combat style. The grey waters of a lake, shifting in color and tone under the burning sky, remind me of your eyes and ever-shifting moods.

I think of our new situation, how fragile it all still seems, our duties as Scions, the distance between Ala Mhigo and Doma keeping us apart more often than I liked. Especially after already having denied my own interests for far longer than I care to admit.

I fear now, not knowing when I may return to your side--in whatever capacity--that I am forgetting important things, and I very much do not want to. So indulge me as I list your various qualities that I admire, to remind myself why I allowed myself to maintain my impossible infatuation for so long, even as you became one of my dearest friends...

Aeryn eyes widened as she turned to the next page, then quickly checked the several pages following; Thancred had indulged his bardic habits, writing in verse and engaging in wordplay. Even the most innocent descriptions and memories of moments together, professional and extremely personal, were laden with puns and innuendo--not entirely unexpected from him.

She was mostly through the verses, trying to parse every dedicated line, when a knock at the door startled her.

“Aeryn?” Gaia called. “Everything all right?”

She cleared her throat. “Fine; I’ve quite a bit of reading to do, though; I may need some water.”

The door opened, Gaia appearing with a tray already in hand. “Ryne thought you might--are you all right? You’re redder than I have ever seen, and that’s saying something.”

Aeryn pressed a hand to her warm cheeks. “I’m fine. Just...wasn’t expecting some of what I found so far.”

“Is that good or bad?” The girl asked, setting the tray on the nearby side table in easy reach. There was a small tea service and also ice water, bless them.

“It’s...Better than good,” Aeryn replied. “I may be awhile, though.”

Gaia shrugged in her nonchalant, pretending-not-to-care way. “Doesn't matter to me, but I was going to drag Ryne out for a while, just so you know. You’ll be fine here by yourself--won’t you?” A little genuine care came through in the last two words, despite her attempts to seem otherwise.

Aeryn nodded.

“All right. Enjoy your reading, and we’ll see you later.” Gaia gave a little wave before leaving, quietly closing the door behind her.

Aeryn cleared her throat again, sipping the cup of minty green tea--bless those girls again--and set the first letter aside for now. She would get back to that later; alone in her own room, where she could bury her face in a pillow and shriek like a schoolgirl when overwhelmed by his words, godsdamn him. For now, the second bundle had her curious.

My Dearest Aeryn,

I almost let the date slip by, I am ashamed to say. So much has happened in recent weeks...

She read through two pages of his recounting Minfilia’s story and the reincarnations that had followed, offering a small hope to Norvrandt; of Urianger and Y’shtola’s arrival, his anger at the spell’s failure and yet relief at seeing Urianger again; and their shift in focus upon learning of the Eighth Umbral Calamity.

...Urianger’s vision of the Calamity, of our deaths, is a sobering thought. The idea of you fallen especially freezes my blood. I cannot bear the thought.

So I redoubled my efforts to rescue the girl bearing Minfilia’s name and appearance. She sleeps now on a cot in this Mord town as I write. She can’t be more than twelve or thirteen summers; a frail little thing with no skills aside from reading books thicker than she is, and asking innumerable questions. They taught her nothing, simply locked her in a windowless cell under the waterline. For at least ten years, that is all the child’s known. If the fate Urianger saw for us makes my blood freeze, her situation makes it boil again. Should I chance to meet Eulmore’s General--the man responsible for her “care”--I will let him know exactly what I think.

Tomorrow Minfilia and I shall attempt to reach Nabaath Areng, the site of the Flood’s halting; the girl says she must go there, as if pulled. I have a hope I dare not voice yet. The Blessing of Light does work in such interesting ways.

But that is on the morrow; tonight, though a day late, I wished to write to you as I did last year. With the date in mind you have also been in my thoughts--when I’ve had a moment to think, at least--and I find myself recalling more and more often the little things. Simple things. Things I fear I may forget, having been here for years now, years without the way you tilt your head when you have a question. It initially annoyed me actually, you were so quiet but now, gods I would give much to be in your silence again, to see that quizzical look. Anything to see the little furrow between your brows when you’re thinking. When you prop your chin on your hands as you stare out a window, tea forgotten in your hand. How you unconsciously wriggle and make faces as you read, reacting to the pages, lips silently moving as you devour each word...

“Oh I do not,” Aeryn muttered--realizing in the same moment that she was doing that now. She sipped her tea and kept reading, noting how he wrote, as much as what; the moments where he had scratched out words, or underlined others. The splots where the pen had sat on the page a moment longer than normal as he thought of what he wanted to admit to. The way the letters slanted in places where he was eager. There was no poetry this time, fewer puns and word play. He had written when tired and possibly injured, given the shakiness of some lettering.

There were places where he couldn’t remember clearly--what perfume had she worn on the day of a particular memory? Was she wearing her red coat, or a blue dress in another? He wasn’t certain.

The letter wrapped up several pages later.

...I must get some sleep, given the long trek across the Amber Hills awaiting. I don’t know what will happen when we arrive, but whatever it is, I’ll keep the girl safe. Taking care of her is the only thing I can do, lacking the skills of the Exarch and our colleagues. Particularly now that we have abandoned the idea of going home--yet. I still don’t know how I feel about that, having struggled to find a way back for so long now, but there must be a home to return to. To save ourselves, we must save this realm. Forgive me; as much as I yearn to see you again, I wish for you to live far more. Despite everything, I still remain

Yours, Thancred.

Aeryn drew in a sharp breath; the previous letter’s signature had been much simpler, after all the floweriness of the verses. This simpler, newsy, reminiscent letter had such a different feel to it, so much changing for him in that year. Her eyes kept drifting to that closing.

It took a few moments before she was able to refold that bundle and open the next.

His next year in the First; this one another detailed description of events he survived, and quite a lot about Ryne, still only known as Minfilia at the time.

...I actually began this letter yesterday, as we rested in a small inn at the edge of the Greatwood. I thought of seeking out Y’shtola, but am unfamiliar with those dark and twisting paths, and was low on ammunition. Minfilia was exhausted, unable to fight or imbue cartridges, and I won’t risk her more than our constant travels already do.

It was she who reminded me that I had been writing, before she made me take my rest as well. I’ve never told her about these letters, but she’s a bright girl and I have told her of you. Sometimes it’s simply because she is curious about you, and the hope that you’ll come here and save yourself, as well as the rest of us. Many times though I don’t mean to say anything, but the stories simply come, like a slumbering spring awoken by new rains, bubbling up and overflowing the riverbanks.

It’s something about her, I suppose, that makes me remember, and so I must speak before the memories fade back into the dustier corridors of my mind. Perhaps an effect of her unique Blessing? Or perhaps simply her childish curiosity drawing it out of me.

There’s a selfish part of me that wants you to meet her. It would mean that you’re here, for one, but also I think you two would get along. She’s a good girl--with her moments of petulance and stubbornness, as many youths are wont, but she’s come such a long way already, has learned so quickly.

I fear influencing her. The choice she must make is so important, and it must be hers. You would be a much better role model; you inspire others to do what’s best simply by your presence. I’ve felt the lack of you more keenly this last year than ever before...

Aeryn read through, noting he wrote it more like a conversation she had yet to answer. Memories of their adventures and companionship were woven through the words more naturally as he spoke to her. She smiled as he spent a good chunk of the letter not even realizing how he had gushed about Ryne and all she had learned and how she had grown in that first year they spent together, as if he were trying to ensure Aeryn would love the child as much as he so obviously did--even if the foolish man hadn’t been able to tell the girl so until it had almost been too late.

But then, that was Thancred; locking his thoughts and feelings behind stoicism, snark, and literally in a box on a shelf.

She traced her nail along the letters of his name--again signed “Yours”--before tucking that bundle away and picking up the fourth.

By this time the twins were somewhere in Norvrandt, though Thancred had no opportunity to see them as Eulmore’s hunters were ever close. He wrote to Aeryn of his frustration with how many Scions had come to the First but she was still so far away and still in so much danger, alongside the rest of the Source and this shard itself. If she couldn’t come to Norvrandt to break the Light’s hold over the realm then the girl would have to make her choice sooner rather than later--and perhaps face the same fate as all of her predecessors.

He admitted that he feared both of those outcomes. He seemed to have begun to cross out that line, but had stopped himself.

...A nasty part of me believes you will never receive these nameday letters. That these are simply my way of remembering yet another important woman in my life I will never see again. I try not to dwell on such thoughts, try to keep busy, but you know me. Perhaps better than anyone since our Minfilia. How I wish I could speak with you again; patrolling through Mor Dhona, lunch at Rowena’s cafe, stargazing on the roofs of Ala Mhigo, reading in the Waking Sands’ dusty library. Simply holding you until we fall asleep, those few, rare moments we had. You always made me say more than I ever meant to; you’ve a way of drawing me out despite myself—and failing that, of simply being there as a brilliant, warm presence.

There are places here I want to show you, things I want to share. Yet I fear your coming, what it will mean. What changes I’ve experienced. What we had was...comfortable, and felt right, after so long, and yet it was still so new and fragile. I used to be confident in my ability to be delicate, but these last few years with this girl have made me feel boorish and clumsy. And I know I have changed, not just because of her, but everything in this hard world. Will you recognize me when we meet? Will you still want me, when you were already so uncertain before?

I suppose I shan’t know until you’re here, or we find a way home. Given the Exarch’s record, the former seems more likely. And it still worries me, much as I know it’s the better course to preserve all we hold dear...

Aeryn stared out the window for a long moment; she had known of his doubts, his fears; when she had arrived and finally found him again, it had been difficult. Yet despite everything, they had gotten past it.

She eyed the final bundle, slimmer than the rest, those dates seeming so heavy though she had no conscious recollection of them, given her state at the time. Having finished the tea, she poured a glass of water and began to read.

Aeryn,

Ryne assures us you will still be Aeryn when you wake; her wards hold for now. I pray long enough to find a cure for what those bastards did to you. What we did to you, unknowing. Will you be pleased to know I have not struck Urianger for his part? I was too tired and injured as we returned, and occupied with carrying you besides. Now I simply am too weary in heart and mind to conjure that initial anger, and he has had time to explain how the Exarch coerced him into his confidence.

I am still not happy about it.

For five years I waited to see you again, thought about you through many days and most nights--such as they are, here. It’s funny what one can become accustomed to in time. Finally seeing you again was a jolt to every one of my senses as the missing you had long since become more real to me, much as I longed for your presence.

And as I feared, you hesitated. I don’t blame you; I know this place changed me. What we had back home was still so new, despite the prior years we had known each other. So I tried to be content to merely be in your company once more. We had rebuilt our friendship once, we could do it again. I had been a fool to think I deserved more.

Then you sought me out in Rak’tika. Do I need to tell you how you intoxicated me that day? I hope I was a comfort, both in words and in the release you needed. The distance still felt too great, but this much, at least, I could give. I thought it would be enough, to simply be what you needed in the moment.

I know now that I was once again fooling myself.

These last few months traveling and fighting and just being together have been a strange mix of stress and relief; our mission had been dangerous and difficult in so many ways, and yet working together, it was hard not to get caught up in the optimism, in the feeling that things would turn out, that we would find a way.

And you were here; your quizzical headtilts, your faces when you read, the white flowers in your hair. Your silences, your laughter, your strength in combat and your helping with every common chore in the vicinity. I thought I could simply be happy to bask in your steady light.

But now, seeing it tear you apart, it is not enough; it never was, and never will be. I can live with it, should that be your wish. My wish, however, is to continue what we had once begun. To hold you close not only occasionally but always.

Aeryn felt a hard lump in her throat; there was a decent space between the lines, the ink thick where he had hesitated, the initial letters shaky. Still he had written them:

I am in love with you, Aeryn.

It’s taken me time to collect myself after rereading what I just wrote and fighting the urge to burn the whole page. A part of me fears that you will scoff, though the greater part of me knows--hopes--better of you.

And the gods know you deserve better than me, but if you’ll have me, I certainly won’t complain.

I know after everything with Ryne I ought to say it to you aloud. That it may already be too late to do so. I pray that isn’t the case. I pray I find the courage and the words both to say what you deserve to hear. Even should you never reciprocate; if that should be the case, you shall never hear another whisper from me on the matter.

But I hold out a small hope, that you will, that you do. That we will have the chance to discuss the matter further. That you survive.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. I only know I’ll be at your side until the end; there’s nowhere else I can be.

Ryne is calling; hold on just a little while longer, darling.

Yours always, Thancred.

She covered her face with her hands, emotions and memories flooding over her. There were words before finally confronting Emet-Selch in his memory of Amaurot. More than words on returning to the Crystarium, bodies twined together in relief and comfort.

Then she had returned to the Source to report their success. She came back to the First as quickly as she could, though; not only was there still much work to do, but he was here, and things were...not exactly different, but not quite the same, either.

As she reread the last page, she noticed a swiftly written addendum on the back. She turned it over.

I carried these letters all the way to the Tempest, thinking if I failed to say anything I might at least give them to you--they are yours, after all. But of course no time seemed right, and with a screwing of my courage (and pointed prodding from Urianger), at the last I was able to say what I wished. Miraculously, you said it too.

And now here we are, you peacefully asleep while the night sky wheels overhead and I still hear the celebrations outside despite the ungodly hour. I’ll rejoin you in a moment, but I needed some time to attempt to process the last few days. What happened in the Tempest. The fact you’re alive, and healthy, and claim to love me in return.

I’m not entirely certain why, but I won’t complain, either.

Rereading these letters, I’m not sure I’m quite ready to hand them over yet. They’ll return to their box for now, and perhaps in a few days I’ll be ready to show you.

Aeryn laughed lightly; of course he had hesitated to share them. The letters showed all his vulnerabilities behind the serious, confident facade he had developed. And with everything in the Empty, and then Elidibus, it was no wonder the letters had fallen to the wayside.

Until her actual nameday on the Source had come around, his note delivered with her breakfast by Tataru per Thancred’s instructions while he was on his latest reconnaissance. It wasn’t as if he could have brought the letters with him, after all--nor given them to her in front of the rest of the Scions in the Ocular, nevermind how public their relationship was now.

She rubbed her face--she had cried more than a few times while reading--and replaced the letters in the box. She locked it, and pocketed the key.

The girls were still out so it was no trouble to take the tea service to the sink and clean it, along with the other dishes, giving her time and activity to settle. She finished by washing her own face, removing some evidence of her emotion.

Since the first year she had joined the Scions, they had given each other gifts; she had discovered his nameday from Minfilia, gifting him the orchestrion roll of a song she knew he liked from a favorite minstrel. Her own first nameday as a Scion had been missed due to Lahabrea and Baelsar’s schemes, but Thancred was certain to make up for it. Sometimes they were late, or even early, but they always managed a little something, even as friends.

Aeryn took the box with her as she left Ryne’s apartment. She still had a few people to see while here on the First--starting with Lyna and the messages from G’raha--but then she would retire to her own suite in the Pendants and do a bit of rereading.

And maybe a bit more once she returned home, too; after all, if she timed it right, it would still be her nameday, and the best time to reread her present.

#Final Fantasy XIV #Lyn Writing #Shadowbringers #Thancred Waters #Thancred x WoL #Shippy Nonsense #Aeryn Striker #Pining

43 notes · View notes

jobrookekarev · 3 years

Text

I Remember it All Too Well Chapter 2

Chapter Two of Six: Now I'm in Exile, Seein' You Out

Words: 3000

Chapter Summary: Alex goes to see Meredith in Seattle and catches a glimpse of Jo and Asher while they are staying with Meredith.

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, Meredith Grey, Zola Grey-Shepherd, Bailey Grey-Shepherd, Ellis Grey-Shepherd.

Rating: General Audiences

Additional Tags: Regret, Longing, Pining, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Foster Kid, Adoption, the Pandemic.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

……………………………………………………………………

Alex stared up at the big gray house in the Queen Anne neighborhood, suddenly afraid to go up to it. It was never a feeling Alex had before, the house had always been home or at least a place that could be home. The frat house was always open to him, even when Meredith hated him, but so much had changed in the past year since he left. Meredith still called him, at first it was just to yell at him for what he’d done, but then they started talking again. However, it wasn't like it was before.

They were still friends, but Alex could tell that Meredith was still mad at him. She told him that in the divorce, she was taking Jo’s side. That she loved Alex but, she couldn't stand how he had left Jo for Izzie. Alex couldn’t help but love Meredith even more for that because he had left Jo alone and he was glad she had Meredith. The one thing Meredith told him that Jo wasn’t mad at him for doing was leaving to be with his kids. He had left to be a father to his kids and Jo understood why, just as he knew she would. Alex loved Eli and Alexis and he didn't regret a second of his life with them. However, he did regret leaving Jo and Seattle to do it.

Alex had screwed everything up, everything with Jo and Meredith in Seattle and everything with Izzie, Alexis, and Eli in Kansas. So here he was back at the start trying all over again to do what he should have done from the start. Things with Izzie had gone from bad to worse and they were officially separated. Alex was hoping that the week he had the kids he could have them in Seattle. He had missed Meredith and his work at Pac North. He'd missed Seattle, it felt like nothing made sense in Kansas. Seattle was his home, but it wasn't just the city that he missed. He missed his family, especially Meredith.

Alex worked up the courage to walk up and knocked on the glass of the front door. He waited until he heard Zola yell that she would get the door and smiled at the thought of seeing his niece again. The glass door swung open and there stood Zola. A year older and nearly half a head taller than he remembered her. Her jaw dropped when she saw him and she smiled.

Zola jumped up to wrap her arms around him as she hugged him. “Uncle Alex you're back! I knew you'd come back, wait you are back, right?”

“Well, I'm hoping to be?” Alex said, as she squealed and pulled him into another hug. The baby girl that he brought over from Africa with the surgery program would always have a special place in his heart.

“Good, we miss you a lot, especially Mom and Aunt Jo,” Zola said as Alex finally sat her down.

“Really, Jo missed me too?” Alex asked, he got bits and pieces from Meredith and his mother, but they were still hesitant to tell him about Jo. Alex didn’t push it as he tried to respect her privacy.

“Well not at first,” Zola said, going quiet and she looked back into the house through the open door. “It was Mom who missed you and me too, a whole lot!”

“Well I'm hoping to move back to Seattle and I'm looking for a place to live, you think I could be your roommate again,” Alex teased her and he put his hand on Zola's head. Something that was a little awkward as she was so tall now.

“Yeah, you could take Aunt Maggie’s old room and Aunt Amelia and Uncle Link have moved out too, I'll go get Mom,” Zola said, excitedly running inside and leaving the door open.

Alex looked at the clear frosted door as he remembered seeing Jo dressed up as Tinkerbell on the other side. After she admitted she was wrong about his father, that was the moment he realized she wasn’t just a woman that he loved. Jo was worthy of forgiveness. Out of all the women he had ever dated Jo, was the one person who had always admitted her faults to him. In return, he did the same, and throughout their relationship together they worked to fix things whenever they messed things up.

Alex remembered opening the door on their wedding day and seeing her in curlers, waving around a piece of paper, and jumping around with excitement at the prospect of getting the Mass-Gen Fellowship. He remembered how she couldn't stop kissing him and she got so excited that she kissed Arizona as well. Alex missed her kisses and he missed the way her smile would brighten his day.

Alex lingered in the doorway for a moment staring into the house that was once his home. Although Zola had probably intended for him to wait, Alex walked into the entryway to the house. It was still the same except for a few new pieces of furniture and toys scattered around. He could hear multiple voices in the house including Meredith and Zola talking in the kitchen. Then Bailey and Ellis came running around the corner. They shrieked excitedly when they saw him. Alex bent down to pick them up, swinging them around in excitement as they laughed.

“We missed you, Uncle Alex,” Bailey said, wrapping his arms around Alex's waist and giving him a tight squeeze as he tried to squeeze Alex’s guts out like he always did.

“I missed you too and I can see you've gotten stronger,” Alex managed to say as Bailey squeezed him too tightly.

“I miss you too, Uncle Alex,” Ellis said, giving him a kiss on his cheek.

“I missed you too, Ellie belly,” Alex said, leaning down to kiss her head.

“Alright let your Uncle Alex breathe,” Meredith said, putting her hand on Bailey's back. “Zola, could you take your siblings upstairs for a minute?”

“But Mom,” Zola whined, looking over at Meredith with puppy dog eyes.

“You can come back in a second, just let me talk to Uncle Alex for a moment,” Meredith smiled at Zola and ushered her upstairs.

Alex put the kids down and they reluctantly went upstairs, giving him one last wave before they all disappeared upstairs. Meredith then pulled him into a hug for the first time in a year. The person Alex was looking forward to seeing the most was Meredith. They had been through so much together and she was a constant in his life for the past sixteen years. Meredith had always been family, she was his best friend and she was like a sister. She crawled in his bed at midnight and went on and on about her marriage and her life and her career. As much as Alex hated it, he missed it. He had no idea how he made it through the past year without her. Without Meredith, he didn't have anyone on his side. Fighting with Izzie the past year had made him realize that he needed his family, Meredith, more than anyone. Meredith pulled back and put her hands on his shoulders as she looked him over.

“You look older, tired too, and grayer,” Meredith said as she reached up to stroke the gray strands of hair that had developed in his beard.

“Gee thanks,” Alex said, despite how he knew that it was true. The past year had been hard and his body reflected that.

“You're welcome,” Meredith said with a laugh as she hugged him again.

The sound of a baby excitedly screeching as they continued to loudly babble, caused Meredith to look back at the kitchen.

“Is that Scout? Is Amelia here?” Alex asked, smiling at the thought of seeing her, Amelia was like a little sister to him and he was excited to see her too.

Alex walked over to the kitchen before Meredith protested. He paused in the hall as he realized that it wasn't Scout babbling. Jo was standing in the kitchen with Asher who babbled she held him close to her chest and just stared at Alex. Their eyes met and he looked her over. Jo’s long and dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail that cascaded down her left shoulder. She was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and she looked so good. She looked like a natural mother with Asher in her arms and he just stared at her.

Jo had that expression on her face, her eyes were a little wide and her mouth formed a little o. It was the same expression that he had seen across her face a million times when she was a little hopeful, but a little hesitant. It was the same expression she had when she knocked on the door of Meredith's house. After DeLuca had recanted his statement and the assault charges against him were dropped. She had hugged him, clinging to him for a moment before she pulled back and walked away. Seeing her expression now, Alex knew that Jo was happy to see him, but she wasn't ready to take him back. However, it gave him hope that he could repair his relationship with her again.

“Hi Jo,” Alex said, the words falling out of his mouth before he realized it.

His voice seemed to break the spell she was under as Jo blinked and inhaled a shaky breath. She turned her head to look away from him and Alex could see the tears collect in her eyes. It broke his heart to see her cry and know that he had caused her pain. Jo brushed away the tears and turned around to face the sink.

“Alex, please,” Jo asked him, and she didn't need her to elaborate to know what she wanted.

“I'm sorry, I'll go,” Alex said, turning away from her as Jo let out a sob and Asher started fussing in her arms. His presence had made her cry and Alex hung his head as he walked past Meredith who just sighed.

“Come on, let's go talk outside on the porch swing,” Meredith said, putting a hand on his back, she glanced back at the kitchen with a worried expression, but led him back outside.

Alex knew that coming back would mean seeing Jo again, but he never wanted to push her boundaries. He realized that it was a mistake to show up to the house unannounced, and vowed never to do it again. Meredith put an arm around Alex’s shoulders and led him over to the porch swing where he collapsed. He looked out onto the street as the Seattle rain that he had missed so much started to fall. Alex swallowed as a lump swelled up in his throat. He closed his eyes taking a second to breathe as he tried not to cry as well.

The last time he ever heard Jo’s voice was on the video call she had made to his mom. Alex could still hear how excited she was as she sat down to talk to Helen. However, the last time Jo had spoken to him was the voicemail she had sent him before he sent out the divorce papers. Jo was crying and begging him to tell her what was going on because she loved him so much that she would jump in front of a bear for him. All of her last words to him had replayed in his mind over the past year. Her last I love you, her last, I miss you, her last words pleading him to talk to her. Alex didn't know what to expect from the first time he talked to Jo, but he wasn't surprised at this.

“Will you tell her I'm sorry, I didn't know she would be here and I wouldn't have come if I knew she was,” Alex said, finally looking over at Meredith just who nodded.

“Jo’s staying with me for a little while. Now that the adoption has been finalized, and the pandemic is mostly over she’s looking for a house for herself and Asher,” Meredith said, with a sad smile as they sat back and stared at the rain together. “She's rented the loft to Levi, as he was staying with her after you left. If I'd known you were coming I would have asked you to come at a later time while she was at work or out.”

“No, it's okay. You shouldn't make Jo leave just because I want to see you. If she’s staying with you, I won't come by again. Just tell Zola, I’ll be her roommate another time,” Alex said with a slight smile as he sat back and rocked the swing back and forth.

“Come by again?” Meredith asked as she returned his smile with one of her own. “Does that mean Zola was right, you're coming back to Seattle?”

“Yeah I am or at least I hope so. Izzie and I have 50/50 split custody of the twins, and I just couldn't stay in Kansas anymore. I had to come back. Seattle's my home, you're my home, you're my family. I want my kids to grow up with you as their Auntie Mere. I talked to Bailey this morning, she's hesitant to give me my job back, but I guess the pandemic made everyone realize the need for more hospital management. I'll still be a Peds attending, but she’s also offered me a position as her Vice-Chief. I guess it's my best option since Pac North blew up while I was gone.”

“Yeah, pretty much everything blew up after you left.”

“I'm sorry, I was an asshole to you and to Jo. I left and I know that you two had each other, but I was her husband. I promise to be there for her and I wasn't,” Alex said looking back at her from where he had been staring at the rain. “I know that when I left I hurt you two. I promised to be your person and I wasn't.”

“After you left I realized I had more people that cared about me and I had Jo. We kinda spent the whole year talking shit about you, and boy did we talk shit,” Meredith said with a laugh as she nudged his shoulder, and Alex couldn’t help but smile and laugh as well. He was an ass and he deserved all of the bad words they exchanged. “But in the past year, I've forgiven you and I missed you. I'm glad you're back.”

“Thanks, me too,” Alex said as he nudged her back and smiled.

He turned and looked in the window that looked into the kitchen. He could see Jo smiling and holding Asher as she sang to him. The sweet lullaby barely reached his ears but he could still make out the lyrics of the song. She had Asher laying in her arms as she lulled him to sleep. Jo swayed back and forth in the way he’d seen so many mom’s sway to comfort their babies. Alex always knew that she would be an amazing mother and she seemed so utterly content with the baby in her arms. He was happy for her. All he wanted for her when he left, was for her to find happiness and it seemed like she did.

“Jo seems really happy.”

“She is, but she’s still pretty mad at you. There's something else you should know, Jo's an OB-GYN now. I'm only telling you this because I know how often Peds and OB overlaps. She switched specialties last May and she just finished her fellowship with Carina,” Meredith explained as she also looked back at Jo with a smile. “At first I thought she was crazy to quit surgery, but she's studying fetal surgery as well, and we still work together on the mini-livers.”

“Oh wow,” Alex said, as he looked between Jo and Meredith. “And she’s happy, being an OB, it's what she wants?”

“It is and she's happy. I think she loves being an OB more than she loved general surgery, and she's such an amazing OB, Alex. She cares for her clients and their babies so much and she’s doing this amazing research on endometriosis. She took your hospital shares and started sitting in on board meetings. She’s really good with that sort of thing and we gave her an official board seat a few months ago,” Meredith said as she talked, she seemed so proud of Jo, and then she gave a little shrug. “Maybe it's better that she saw you today. That way Jo can get used to you being here and then when you two see each other at work it won't be so awkward.”

“Yeah,” Alex said with a nod and a little smile. “Maybe it is better.”

He looked back at Jo and Asher. He was looking forward to the chance to work with her again and now that she was an OB maybe he could see her more often. He wasn't sure how much she would allow him to work with her, but he’d take it slow. Alex would respect if Jo didn't want him on her cases.

He hoped that she would at least give him the chance to explain why he divorced her and why he made the choices he made. He didn’t expect her to forgive him. He knew that he didn’t deserve her forgiveness, this time around. He knew she had a whole life without him, and Alex was happy for her. Alex left her and Jo moved on. He wouldn’t try to ruin her happiness by inserting himself into her life.

#alex karev #jo wilson #jolex #grey's anatomy #meredith grey #zola grey shepherd #ellis shepherd #derek bailey shepherd #grey's anatomy fanfic #otp: home and heart #my writing #my work #my fanfiction

25 notes · View notes

fantasyoverreality98 · 4 years

Text

Mess Is Mine

Pairing: Bryce x MC

Summary: Casey finds comfort in Bryce when memories of the attack at the hospital come back to haunt her.

Author’s Note: It’s been a while since I posted a Bryce fic, but here we are. This one was a bit of catharsis and I needed to write some angst, pronto. Not sure when I’ll be posting any writing next since school is trying to bury me alive, but thank you to anyone who takes the time to read, I hope you enjoy it!

Warning(s): Angst, that’s pretty much it

Tag(s): @anotherbeingsworld

Word Count: 1,702

---

Casey tensed at the sound of a knock on her bedroom door, turning onto her side so that her back was facing it. She stared at the wall and tried to focus on her breathing.

“Casey? Are you okay?” Sienna’s voice sounded so small, so far away. “Everyone’s worried about you.”

She chewed on her bottom lip, clenching her jaw when she remembered the panic in Danny’s voice before he’d been taken out of the room. The tears threatened to spill, but she cleared her throat before speaking.

“Fine. Everything’s great.”

Silence. She held her breath and waited for an answer, but it felt like an eternity before she heard a heavy sigh. The way Sienna’s voice sounded made the lump in her throat feel even heavier than before. “We’re here for you. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

Tears blurred her vision as Casey turned to look up at the ceiling, thinking about everything that had happened in such a short amount of time. Once, she had been confident, so sure of herself and where she stood as a doctor. Now…now she wasn’t so sure.

After a few minutes passed without an answer, Sienna seemed to give up, the sound of her footsteps on the floor creaking ever so quietly in the quiet of the apartment. Casey waited until she was sure no one was around before she sat up and threw on a coat, taking one quick glance at herself in the mirror before she stepped out of her bedroom.

It had to be almost midnight at this point. A few city lights flashed outside before her, and Casey paused to listen for the sounds of her friends. Everyone seemed to be in their rooms now.

Taking a deep breath, Casey walked towards the front door, biting her bottom lip as she slowly opened it and slipped outside without a word. She wrapped her arms around herself as she walked along the quiet streets, trying to think of a way to deal with the grief that weighed down on her.

She had no idea where she was going, but somehow, she found herself walking in the direction of Bryce’s apartment. The building loomed in front of her and her steps faltered. Casey shook in the chilly spring air, searching the windows for any signs of life. Everyone looked like they were asleep.

This was a terrible idea. She never should have come here.

As she turned to leave, a small vibration from her coat pocket stirred her from her daze, and she pulled her phone out to see a text message from Jackie.

Where did you go? We heard you leave a while ago.

Tears blurred her eyes when she thought about having to explain herself to her roommates. No one understood how it felt to live with this guilt weighing down on her.

The truth was, Casey had no idea how to survive surviving.

Sniffling, she told Jackie she was at Bryce’s before she shoved her phone back in her pocket and turned back around, marching to the apartment building. Bryce’s voice filled the quiet night after a few buzzes to his apartment.

“Mm?” His voice had a richness to it that came from waking up from a deep sleep. “Who is it? It’s—” There was silence for a second. “—It’s almost one in the morning.”

“Bryce?” Casey’s voice trembled, the fear she’d been engulfed in for the past several months finally rising to the surface. “Can—can I come in?” If she spoke one more word, she would collapse on the steps.

When there was no answer, she sunk to the ground, leaning against the brick wall as she tried to catch her breath. The world felt like it was closing in as Casey closed her eyes.

Everything had been fine earlier in the week. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d really, truly cried. The time for thinking about the attack should have come to an end.

But if there was one thing that Casey had learned, it was that grief had a funny way of appearing at the worst of times.

“Casey?” The sound of Bryce’s voice startled her, and her eyes flew open, glancing up at him. “What’s wrong?”

No words came. Instead, she opened her mouth, and a hideous cry tumbled out. She hated it when people saw her like this, but she didn’t know who else to turn to. Bryce had always been the one who knew how to make her feel better.

Without a word, Bryce took a seat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. Casey sniffled, resting her head on his chest so he couldn’t see her face. It was not a pretty sight.

“Thinking about the attack on the senator again?” Bryce’s voice still had a bit of hoarseness to it, but it was starting to sound normal again. “What are you doing out here? It’s really late.”

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Casey said, bunching the front of his shirt in her fist.

Trying to explain her feelings was impossible. She didn’t know why she felt the way she did, and nothing seemed to fill the void she’d felt inside since that day in the hospital. Remembering the fear she’d felt for Rafael made it worse. If he hadn’t survived—

Bryce hugged her against him, the faint scent of his cologne clinging to his skin.

Neither of them spoke for a while, sitting in silence while the distant sound of electricity hummed in the distance. For a moment, Casey could almost forget about everything. Here, in Bryce’s arms, things felt right. She felt like she could do anything when he was by her side.

“I’m sorry for showing up unannounced in the middle of the night,” Casey whispered, laying her hand on his chest.

He ran his fingers through her hair, stopping when he reached a small knot and instead tucking the strand behind her ear. “You don’t have to apologize. Honestly, I—” Bryce cleared his throat, his body tensing underneath her. “I still think about that day too. I felt so helpless when I heard what happened. Everyone was panicking, and I couldn’t go to you right away. Maybe if I—”

“Nothing you could have done would have changed it.”

No one liked to admit it, but they’d all changed after that day. Ethan rarely left her alone now, and she could see the worry set on other doctors’ faces when someone walked into the hospital who looked even somewhat disheveled.

Casey couldn’t be inside a hospital room without having a sure way to escape at any moment’s notice. She missed the way things used to be, back when she could live her life without experiencing constant fear.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, resting her head on Bryce’s shoulder. “I’m scared.”

More tears threatened to spill over as she pressed herself closer to him, afraid what would happen if she let him see the weakness. It amazed her that Bryce hadn’t run far away yet. She wouldn’t blame him if he decided that he never wanted to see her again.

“C’mon.” Bryce slowly got to his feet, pulling Casey up with him. He helped her into the building, pulling her to his side when she shivered at the chill lingering in the air. “You can stay with me as long as you need to, okay?”

The apartment was quiet when they entered, feeling empty without Keiki’s presence. Casey missed the teenager a lot more than she cared to admit. Spending so much time with Bryce and seeing the way her interacted with his sister had introduced her to a whole other side of him. A side that made her fall even deeper in love with the man.

“I don’t know how you haven’t given up on me yet.” The words slipped past her lips before she took a moment to think them through.

Bryce locked his apartment door, standing with his back to her for several seconds after she spoke. His shoulders fell, and he turned to her with a heavy sigh. “I’d never give up on you, Case. I—”

Her heart started to pound in her chest, the heaviness that had weighed down on her for so long lifting for a brief moment.

The tenderness in his eyes made her want to cry, but for an entirely different reason. For months, she’d wanted to say the three words. But she wasn’t sure if he felt the same way.

Finally, Bryce exhaled, giving her a glimpse of that beautiful smile before he grew serious again. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Casey didn’t hesitate to say it back, so overcome with emotion she broke down once again in the middle of the living room.

Bryce rushed to her side, holding her in his arms as the two of them stood in the same spot for a long time. By the time she calmed down enough to properly breathe, it was a struggle to keep her eyes open.

“Is it okay if I sleep here? Just for tonight?” Casey hated to impose, but she no longer felt brave enough to walk the streets in the middle of the night.

Bryce nodded, taking her hand to guide her to his room. “Of course.”

They lay in silence for a long time, listening to the sounds of the other breathing. Casey could feel the steady beat of Bryce’s heart beneath her as she cuddled into his chest, using his presence as a reminder that she was real.

She was here. She was still breathing. She was alive, even if it didn’t seem like it at times.

“I’m here.” Bryce’s voice echoed in the silence.

Casey closed her eyes and nodded, sighing when he laced his fingers through hers.

The two of them stayed awake until the sun came up, wrapped in each other’s arms until morning. As sunlight streamed through the blinds, illuminating the bedroom, Casey finally managed to close her eyes, telling herself that, somehow, she would get through this.

And Bryce would be by her side the entire time.

#choices fanfiction #bryce lahela #bryce x mc #open heart #open heart 2 #choices: stories you play #play choices

56 notes · View notes

darkpoisonouslove · 3 years

Text

Diamond in the Cold

Summary: While on the run, Marion is ready to abandon every last piece of the world she knows just to survive. After all, she hasn’t been herself in years. Then a stranger saves her life and she learns there is much more of her to rediscover than she’d ever suspected. Aladdin AU.

If I ever manage to get to it, there will be more chapters to this. For now, though, it exists as a one-shot indefinitely.

CW for discussions of murder, death and poverty.

"Let go of me!" Marion twisted her wrist viciously to no avail. Her strength was nothing compared to the man's grip on her. "I command you." The gleam of the golden domes of the palace flashed in her eyes from the distance to cut off her voice, her oxygen, her logic.

"You command me?" The man laughed amidst the anger still steaming from him, the sound piercing through her like a lightning bolt. He shoved his face into hers, the stench of his cologne exploding in her mind to make the world spin. The musky notes were like little daggers digging in her brain to spill blood as red as the apple she'd taken. "Perhaps you'd like to command the guard patrols?" the merchant growled like she'd only heard dogs do. "I'm sure they take orders from a common thief."

She had no power left. Not to her voice and not to her name. All of her authority had evaporated overnight as if she wasn't getting colder by the second despite the sweat beads rolling down her temple. Instinct burned through her, her muscles tensing before she pounced.

The unloaded fruits from the crates she hopped on rolled out from under her feet to nearly trip her on her second jump. Her soles connected with the man's chest and she kicked him in the ribs, using all her might to thrust herself away. The harsh tug on her arm blocked her vision with stars.

The limb was still attached and aching as her body thumped against the dirty street, her head ringing from the impact forcing all her air out. Pain pulsed through her but she pulled herself up to the sight of a bunch of guards surrounding her. The hurt buzzing in her bones had muffled the merchant's voice calling for them but she was cornered all the same, the sharp tips of their spears stalking closer inch by inch to poke her eyes out with the dead end she was facing.

A warm hand gripped her forearm as a blur of purple conquered her vision. "Come on!" A woman's voice sliced her loose from her stupor to allow her to be swept away.

Her arm protested against the rough motions and her feet scrambled to keep up despite eagerly following the path of escape. Her lungs burned fiercely, quite like the sight of the guards in her mind's eye. As tempting as it was, throwing a look over her shoulder would leave her plopping down and being dragged the rest of the way to wherever they were going or until they were caught. The guards could have fallen behind long ago thanks to the stranger's excellent navigation and maneuvering skills or they could be a breath away. She couldn't tell with the heart in her throat pounding louder than their feet hitting the ground as they rushed through an impossible to remember series of narrow streets and passageways. Her head was spinning again from all the turns they took to erase the directions of the world.

The woman ducked in a claustrophobic, shadowy alley that was more of a niche under the eaves of two houses and pulled her to the wall with their backs pressed against it.

The stranger's hand clamped over her mouth in the midst of her sucking in a breath. "Quiet!" the same urgent tone hissed in her ear to freeze everything around them. All that was left was the noise in her own system and the heat radiating from her savior and/or potential kidnapper next to her as the seconds trickled to an agonizingly slow rhythm.

The proximity of danger unfurled in a vicious burn as her lungs struggled to catch up with the distance she'd left between her and her past life. The darkness of the alley crawled over her body to swallow her but she had nothing to grasp at without exposing herself. She had to choke down the shivers from the black wrapping her on the inside the same way emptiness spread in her chest.

A galloping pack of guards passed the narrow slip between the houses without a glance spared in their direction to set her free of the tension of the chase in her muscles. Now for the next hurdle.

Marion's teeth sank into thin air as the woman released her. Despite the footing she'd lost, she had her eyes on the purple-haired mystery in one quick spin. She couldn't afford more surprises.

"You have to be the worst thief I've ever seen," the woman chided, her gaze skirting Marion's mouth. She'd caught her red-handed sending the heat spreading over her neck and cheeks. "What were you thinking?" Two golden eyes bore into her with the might of all the sunlight they caught out of the cover of the niche.

"I am not a thief!" Marion's pride reared its ugly head over the screaming wariness in her head. She had to find a way out of the city, not get deeper into trouble. "Why did you save me?" And how much would it cost her?

"Of course not! A thief wouldn't just grab an apple in plain sight. What did you expect? That he would give it to you with his regards?" Each word was another hard slap in the face but the woman's anger hit differently. Trusting a perfect stranger would be her biggest mistake yet. Regardless of how deep the lines carved into the face in front of her with each fiery breath to spell out the woman's concern. Why was she so involved with Marion's case if it weren't for personal gain?

"Answer my question!" Marion lifted her chin to stare any malicious intent down but her intimidating glare wasn't coming through.

The golden eyes narrowed at her–in contemplation or suspicion–and the woman stepped closer, invading her personal space. She studied her intently with Marion's stubbornness anchoring her in place where their faces were almost touching.

She could see every pore on the woman's face. The wrinkles were etched painfully into her ashen complexion. It was all an aggressive reminder of an old book with pages ready to crumble into dust despite the powerful knowledge they held. It drew Marion's fingers to run them over the coarse surface in hopes of soaking up the wisdom before it perished.

The down-turned corners of the woman's mouth tugging on her pale lips caught Marion short. They'd drain her blood to feed their own redness if she dared reach for them. The ginger of her curls wasn't nearly intense enough next to the woman's deep purple strands framing her face like a painting capturing the beauty and grace of a long lost time. Marion could swear the stranger was decades older than her–not to mention towering over her average height–if not for the wells of her eyes.

Light was pouring from them reined in by the lines of tiredness carved all around. The gold was still lively and stroking over the forest green of Marion's irises like the sun, with the warmth she'd known before adulthood had kicked her in the gut like an out of control horse.

The heavy fabric she'd draped herself in didn't have the thickness to cover her from the woman's gaze.

"That's the finest silk I've seen despite the fatigue."

It had torn off sending Marion falling in the tree under her chamber's window when she'd used old bed covers to climb out.

"And the supple leather..." The improvised cloak wasn't long enough to wrap her from head to toe leaving her trousers sticking out and drawing attention. "You're the princess," the golden stare burned through her pupils.

The world slipped from her sweaty palms. "I am not."

"What's your name then?"

"What's yours?" Marion challenged, eyes locked with the stranger. There was still time for the woman to bury her despite her help.

"Griffin... Your Highness." A sly glint set the golden on fire.

"Don't call me that!" Marion marched forward, forcing the other woman to crouch away. It was the first pulse of power she'd felt all day. She couldn't let go despite drawing her own blood where her nails dug in her palms. "I'm on the run from an arranged marriage. That's all." How she wished that could be the problem of her life. She'd stopped looking for love long ago. But she couldn't have given up on the very breath in her lungs.

"Doesn't mean you can't be the princess. And you are." Griffin had found her ground again and didn't give her a chance to protest. "You don't know enough about the life outside the palace, hence the expensive clothes and the near-death experience over an apple. Not to mention your attitude of spoiled royalty and your resemblance to the princess."

"How could you know what I look like?" Her eyes screwed shut but not nearly soon enough to protect her from the sight of her failure. She'd given herself away. "No one outside the palace has seen me before," she looked at Griffin for a sign of how deep she'd sunk. Maybe she could still escape. Griffin was faster than her and had better knowledge of the area but she was running for her life. All Griffin would get for her was money. Not enough to rival her motivation.

"I knew it." The smugness rolled off of Griffin in waves without suffocating Marion. There was too much softness to the genuine content for it to be malicious. But it could always be an illusion meant to trick her. She couldn't even trust her instincts. "There are rumors about you. You can't keep anything hidden forever, least of all the princess."

Marion wasn't so sure. In the palace the truth rarely survived and never long enough to see the sun.

"As you're proving here, running away from your responsibilities," Griffin's words cut to the bone with her sharp tongue stuck right in Marion's bleeding wounds.

"I am not running away. Just getting to know my city... my people." She had no people, no guards, no family. She was alone... She was a prey. She would die if she said the wrong thing to the wrong person. How to tell if Griffin was the right person?

"I thought you were on the run from an arranged marriage." Griffin raised a brow at her to punch her with her own weakness thrown in her face so casually. She was running out of options.

"No, I... lied about that. I would never abandon my responsibilities just to run away from a man." There were monsters after her.

"You're about as good a liar as you are a thief," Griffin spun around, her braid swinging after her like a whip the crack of which deafened Marion.

Would she turn her back on her and dissolve into the nothing she'd come from to save her life? No explanation, no price... Just the crippling loneliness that Marion had carried strapped to her back her whole life. It would crush her as if all of the capitol had been pushed on her head to balance like a book.

"If you really want to see the city, follow me," Griffin's voice drew tears from her and her retreating form as she walked further into the dark alley clawed at Marion's voice that refused to come out again.

She bolted after Griffin struggling to keep up with her and falling behind. Griffin maneuvered with ease through the crowded passageways, narrow even without the obstacles in the way, and climbed the rooftops like a monkey.

Marion had seen a monkey once when they'd been visited by the Linphean royals at the palace. It had been offered as a gift to them but her mother had rejected it. It hadn't been comely and refined enough to fit in. It had been for the best. The poor animal would have died in the palace. Everything did. Including her own mother who had been cut from diamonds and fire.

Marion shook her head to drop the images out of it. It was hard following Griffin anyway, no matter how intensely she focused on her frame. Her gaze never lingered long there, chased away by the pointy bones poking the skin from underneath. The air of light and friendliness to her was lost without the brightness of her eyes to mask away the sharp edges Griffin was made of. Her body looked worn away but she used the thinness to her advantage to make her way through places Marion had to hold her breath to pass through. Resilience cloaked her like an aura to transform her frailness into a testament of her will and determination to live.

Marion collided with the hard wall that Griffin was as she stumbled over the debris-covered staircase of a crumbling library. The floor creaked under every one of their steps and the wind howled menacingly through the holes in the walls with the possibility of knocking the ceiling on their heads.

Griffin's hands on her shoulders steadied her and guided her to an opening of missing bricks with a view of the city. "This is my favorite place... at night. You can see the stars sprinkled on the night sky."

Marion followed Griffin's gaze to the holes in the roof mercilessly letting through the scorching rays of the sun currently. At night it would be a beautiful sight, though. Patches of sky shining with starlight just for those that were awake as the world kept spinning towards morning. She'd spent full nights gazing at the infinite open space of the sky. No walls to keep you locked in, no people to stab you in the back for the crown breaking your neck. Just freedom.

The rumbling of her stomach was like a thunder sending her heart shooting up into her throat again where she couldn't swallow it instead of the food she didn't have. She folded her arms over her belly in hopes of muffling its desperation. Her chest was empty too but that Griffin couldn't hear so Marion hadn't had to train her gaze on the floor in an attempt to make it collapse and swallow her.

"Wait here."

Griffin was gone before Marion's eyes had touched her again. Now was her chance to run. She could make the trek down the stairs and disappear without sparing a glance at what she was leaving behind like Griffin had done. She had to. She had no idea what Griffin would bring back... or who, now that she knew her identity. But where would she go? She couldn't even fend for herself. She had no food, let alone a means of transportation outside the city. She couldn't have left behind a trail of gold or jewels from the palace.

She stepped closer to the hole framing the landscape like a painting. The floorboards wailed under her feet to twist her arm into backing away but her mind was captured by the view. She'd seen a lot following Griffin. She'd had her eyes locked on the unreachable shadow of a woman in front of her but she'd still caught glimpses of more than she'd wanted to.

The houses had been small and huddled together with cracks and holes in their facades and roof tiles scattered across the damaged roofs that surely leaked when it rained. The streets had been dirty and cramped in an impossible tangle, the ground unevenly covered with pavement that had dug into Marion's soles even through the hard leather of her shoes although Griffin had walked barefoot. The laundry they'd seen draped on clotheslines above the streets had been ragged and dusty, patching all over the fatigued fabric. She'd kept her eyes down and her step snappy when passing by people but she'd noticed a couple children playing with pebbles and sticks in the dirt.

The large-scale view from the library was gut-wrenching – ruins and poverty everywhere. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but little houses barely waiting for the next snow to cave in and bury their occupants. How could a glorious kingdom like Domino fall from grace so fast? Her mother's illness had lasted just a couple years before she'd been disposed of. What had the three old witches done to destroy Marion's land so promptly?

A howl startled her with its tangibility before she figured it was the building's announcement of Griffin's return and not her own heart. Her muscles tensed, ready to pounce as she turned around to find Griffin with a satchel thrown over her shoulder. There was a weight straining it from inside but it definitely wasn't a battalion of guards coming to drag her back to her death in the palace.

"Here," Griffin reached in the satchel and pulled out a loaf of bread. It was fresh, the warm scent wafting off of it making Marion salivate. She'd been out on the streets for half a day and she'd already regressed into an animal. "Careful not to burn your fingers, princess." Griffin grinned at her and handed her a third of the hot bread. The rest she put away in the satchel instead of biting into it.

"So you're a competent thief?" Marion chomped down on the bread in her hands. She had to strangle the moan coming out at the divine taste. She had more questions but her stomach was only concerned with its own emptiness. How Griffin could resist the call of the hot bread in her satchel was beyond her.

"Someone has to be," Griffin smirked at her again but her eyes remained unmoved. At least until she focused on Marion and her pitiful attempts not to drop the loaf as it scorched her fingers. "Warned you," Griffin chimed at her but the playful sound died at the look of the city below them. "I hate this place in the daytime." She picked up the edge of a brick that had broken off and threw it at the wall opposite of her, making more of the red chip away.

Marion swallowed with a degree of difficulty but didn't comment on the potential danger of bringing down an already collapsing building. "Why does the city look like that?" Budgeting for public‐facility and infrastructure maintenance and repair was a main concern of the ruler and the royal advisors. It should have made life easier and safer for people. The failure was unbearable to look at.

"It's always been like that." Griffin could have pushed her off the building and it would have been less painful. She stopped breathing for the second time that day. "It's getting worse, of course, and fast at that but it's been a couple decades since all of this started."

What? Impossible.

"What about the maintenance?" The bread was burning her fingers but she was so cold on the inside she could barely feel it.

"Maintenance?" Griffin's voice was cracking ice and Marion would drown in the water below. "Only certain esteemed areas get maintenance. The inner city around the palace and the main streets officials take in and out of the city. The estates of influential merchants here and there. And that's about it. Even schools and museums are falling apart along with other cultural centers. Look around if you find it unbelievable," Griffin gestured to the disemboweled library around them.

Marion approached her hesitantly with slow and light steps she hoped wouldn't disturb the place or Griffin. "Do you... read?" It was an insensitive question, or at least way of asking, especially when the answer was obvious. But the rawness Griffin was bleeding filled the silence in her chest, the stillness of her lungs.

"My parents taught me when I was little. They hoped I'd go to school but we couldn't afford the textbooks. I wasn't good at breaking and entering back then. I have a small collection of books at home that I've stolen and read over and over again until I memorized them because I was scared one day they would fall apart in my hands from all the reading and terrible storage conditions." Griffin's eyes were on fire and melting like lava Marion has never seen in person before. Only through pictures. It would leak out of her eyes. "I had to get my smarts and skills on the street while my parents worked their lives away for scraps. Looking at the city reminds me that I am not alone in that suffering. So many other people know it as well. Every day many of them don't make it." Griffin stepped towards her as if to run her down and Marion had to retreat.

"No," Marion shook her head, the loaf crushed in her fist for the crumbs to rain through the holes in the floor.

"This is your kingdom, princess," she poked her in the chest with a finger. "Seen enough of it yet?" Griffin grabbed her hand and dragged her between the rubble covering the floor. "Time to go back to the palace."

"I can't," Marion pulled back only to find herself in an iron grip again.

"I'm sure you'll find your way. You can ask someone." Griffin was cold like the crown she'd worn on her head, like the corpse of her mother as she'd imagined it. She'd never seen it, concerned with not becoming one as well.

"I can't!" Marion dug her heels in the fragile remains of the library. It would either save her or bury them both. Better than being thrown to the wolves. "They'll kill me," she cried at the unmoved mask that Griffin's face had become. "My mother's advisors got rid of her and they are lying to the whole kingdom about it. They wanted me to marry their son," Griffin didn't question the logistics of that – whether because she was familiar with Valtor's family situation and his three mother figures or because she didn't care. "I refused because they'd use him to steal my throne so they've been trying to kill me ever since. My sister has agreed to marry in my stead and I had to leave her behind and run." It all spilled from her against her better judgment if she'd ever had it.

There were no tears to accompany her story. She hadn't cried for her mother and she couldn't cry for herself now. She wasn't done for yet. Maybe Griffin could help.

"So you are running away like a coward?" Griffin let go of her hand so that she wouldn't go down with Marion as well when she shattered.

"Weren't you listening to me?" How could she say that? She knew what it was to struggle for survival. They were just young girls forced to fight for their lives. They shouldn't be attacking each other.

"I heard, yes. You're going to leave a kingdom that's already falling apart in the hands of three monsters that took down the royal family – supposedly the most powerful family in the world." Griffin approached her again to loom over her. "You're dooming your people by abandoning them."

Marion gritted her teeth. "My death won't help anyone." She looked at the shapeless bread in her fist. "Thanks for the lunch," she shoved past Griffin. Any second in those ruins could cost her the freedom she'd always wanted, the freedom she was reaching for now.

"Go ahead!" Griffin goaded her. She would not turn. She would not fall for it. "Run. You'll be dead by the end of the day."

Marion whipped around, her balance not sufficient for the terrain. She had to put her arms out to steady herself on her feet – like a helpless baby chick. Not the threat she'd been trying to pose even though Griffin already knew she was out of options.

"I'm not going to sell you out. I'm not stupid enough to put myself in the line of sight of those monsters," Griffin saw right through her. Wouldn't she stop doing that? It left her skin crawling with all the things she couldn't bury deep inside herself now that Griffin had pulled them out to unravel them. "You will be your own death. You have no plan, no idea where you're going, no resources or skills to fend for yourself, let alone reclaim the throne. You'll kill not just yourself but the whole kingdom."

Marion's last warmth flickered out inside her. "I should just lay down and die then? Decay like this place?" She'd been promised the world on the very day of her birth. How had she come to having no prospects at all? How had she lost a whole palace, a whole kingdom?

"You should fight. You can't abandon the people that depend on you, and yourself."

She'd never been herself. It hadn't been becoming of a princess. And now she was a nobody. "How am I supposed to fight if I can't even save myself?" It was easy for Griffin to drop the paradox on her head for her to solve because of her blood. She hadn't asked for a crown or a throne. Just the opportunity to make her own choices.

"That's it. You've already given up on fighting for yourself, for who you are. You're insulted I suggested that you're betraying your people but you're passing the crown like it's not your birthright and responsibility."

"I am not the crown." All her life the crown on her head had been the only thing fitting. Every other part of her had been imperfect, unworthy, insufficient for the queen her mother had been... for the queen she was supposed to be. Without the crown on her head she didn't even have a home. Maybe she could have a life.

"No, but it's the people that wear the crown that make all the difference. Look at this!" Griffin gestured around them. "This is what they did without the crown, without a throne. Are you really going to give it to them?"

"It's very easy for you to say that when you haven't felt its weight."

"You think it's easy? You think this," Griffin pointed to the ruins of the city, "is easy? We live and die by their rules just like you. Your problems are our problems and vice versa. This is your kingdom, your people, and you know nothing about it!"

"Stop saying that!" Marion's shout startled her as well. Too loud. Just like they always said. The people needed a queen, not her. She'd fit the mold no matter how much of herself she'd had to shed away.

"It's the truth." Griffin didn't rise to her level but didn't quit either. She probably didn't know what the word meant. "You know nothing about your own city. You're a foreigner in your land. If you go out there, you won't make it out alive. You'll get lost in the maze of streets or get captured by the guards or get yourself killed for a bite of food. You can't survive a city you don't belong in and that doesn't belong to you."

"You don't know me!"

"You don't know me either. You know nothing about none of your subjects. I have a mother and a sister, too, that will starve to death without me." She'd been saving the bread for them. "I risked my life to save you. Not because you're the princess, but because if we don't take care of each other, we all die. You can't survive by running from your roots. I didn't want to be a thief, I hate this view in the daylight, I only eat after my mother and sister have. This is my life. I don't like it but I live it because if I throw that one away, I don't get to pick another one. I die. And there are people who depend on me, including you, today in particular, and I can't abandon you. I can't abandon myself because one day I might look at the city and see it rise from the ashes but that will never happen if I join them."

She was right. If Griffin had given up in the past, Marion would be dead right now. And if she gave up, more people would suffer and die. She would suffer and die. "Help me."

"What?" First time she'd taken Griffin by surprise.

"Help me. You know the city so you can guide me. You can be my voice of the people. And your breaking and entering skills might be useful. You said it yourself – my problems are yours. Help me solve them so you can look out to the city without dying every time you do." She'd offer her hand if she was sure Griffin would take it. It was an overwhelming proposal.

"I work alone."

"And where has that gotten you?"

Griffin considered her for a moment before looking her over from head to toe. "We have to get you some clothes. You look like a walking pot of gold."

"How did you manage to make that offensive?" Marion shook her head but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. The first one since her mother had died.

"I have many talents, princess," Griffin curtsied theatrically. The first clumsy action Marion had seen from her. They had a lot to learn about each other.

"My name is Marion." For the first time it didn't sound like a death sentence.

p { margin-bottom: 0.25cm; direction: ltr; color: #00000a; line-height: 120%; text-align: left; orphans: 2; widows: 2 }p.western { font-family: "Liberation Serif", serif; font-size: 12pt; so-language: bg-BG }p.cjk { font-family: "WenQuanYi Micro Hei"; font-size: 12pt; so-language: zh-CN }p.ctl { font-family: "Lohit Devanagari"; font-size: 12pt; so-language: hi-IN }a:link { so-language: zxx }

#winx club #winx marion #winx griffin #griffin x marion #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #aladdin au #200fc

7 notes · View notes

shiftynightshade · 3 years

Text

How Half Of Class 1-A Gained A Crush On Iida At 5 AM

It was at 5 AM that class 1-A learned how hot Tenya Iida actually was.

Now it was granted that the class already considered Iida ‘good looking’, but between his constantly uptight attitude and rather comical gestures, Iida was a rather funny person to look at. But it wasn’t until one rather inconspicuous morning that their ‘holy shit Iida’s hot’ revelation actually smacked them in the face out of left field.

Only a little over half of the class was awake, some were already wide awake and dressed like Aoyama, Todoroki and Jirou. Some were half awake with their pyjamas still on like Bakugou, Tokoyami, Yaoyorozu, Kirishima and Uraraka. The rest had stumbled down only a few moments before, eyes barely cracked open and barely coherent. Kaminari was half babbling over his mug of coffee while Ashido and Midoriya were blinking away sleep from their eyes slowly, bags prominent in the early morning.

It was pretty peaceful, if not slightly disconcerting to not hear or see Iida’s frankly, endearing hand chops and rambles.

As if he had been summoned Iida ever so slightly stumbled down the stairs, glasses in one hand as he let out a yawn that interrupted his “Pardon me” and ran another through his hair, blues strands becoming mussed and undercut on full display.

As he delicately placed his glasses on his face (perfectly of course, Iida doesn’t do anything in half spades) the rest of them could just picture the rosy background and sparkles around him as if they were in a cheesy anime, before his eyes blinked open to reveal ruby red eyes that positively shone as he peacefully smiled at them, surprisingly calm for once compared to usual loud way of speech.

“Good morning all!”

Everyone that was in the room had quickly spreading blushes across their faces, all dumbstruck except for Aoyama who simply squeaked out “Magnifique!”

Hell even Bakugou was blushing even if he was still frowning, which was probably his default expression. (Don’t worry though, everyone knew he was a big softie.)

Thankfully Iida didn’t notice his classmates blushing as he walked into the kitchen, presumably to make himself breakfast.

“What the fuck” Bakugou sounded so startled that somehow didn’t even begin to match what they were all feeling at that moment.

They all though that it was a onetime thing but nope, the universe hated them.

When they arrived to class Iida greeted them with a blinding smile and energetic hand chops.

And much to the amusement and confusion of their other classmates, whenever Iida either glanced in their direction or talked to them they would furiously blush and stammer like underclassmen around their crushes.

Whenever he would see their expressions, Iida would his head to the side in concern and frown (but that only worsen the blushing and stammering as it him look like a curious puppy-)

“Are you alright? You’re bright red! Are you sick?”

The concern in his eyes would make them melt and it would be physically be painful to try and not collapse into a puddle of goo on the floor.

Midoriya would be frantically texting Shinsou in a bi panic whenever Iida would smile at him (so ninety-five percent of the time) while the rest would scream with their friends in a blubbering mess. Midoriya basically spent most of his time with Iida so this was pure torture.

Of course it got worse as the week dragged on. When they decided to use the pool Iida just had to forego a swimming cap dammit. His head shone in the sun from where it was plastered to his forehead and poor Kaminari was subjected to seeing a shirtless and soaked Iida in a new light.

Kaminari, being the chaotic dumbass he was, nearly short-circuited and electrocuted everyone in the pool, but thankfully was splashed out of his stupor by Yaoyorozu, who was blushing just as hard as him, but they all managed to pass their blushing off as simply being hot from the sun, which earned them a small lecture about sun safety.

Oh and don’t even get them started on heroics class with All Might. Tokoyami and Iida had been paired up for the exercise, which some of the others both were grateful for and lamented the fact that they weren’t with the class president.

They had agreed to split up and search the two buildings beside each other, only for Tokoyami to be thrown through one of the top windows by one of Bakugou’s more aggressive blasts, which had stunned Tokoyami enough that he wasn’t able to be prepared enough for the fall that came right after.

All Might was seconds away from stepping in only for Iida sans his helmet to burst through one of the other windows opposite of the building and catch Tokoyami by wrapping his arms around the smaller male, and essentially wrap his entire body around him before crashing through another window, allowing his body to take the brunt of the fall.

Tokoyami had thankfully walked away from the fall with only a few bruises while Iida had gained a slightly dislocated shoulder from the impact, some bruising all along his right side, arm, neck and a small graze along cheek.

Tokoyami had been apologising profusely for Iida’s injuries at the end of the lesson in Recovery Girl’s infirmary while Dark Shadow crowed sadly, but Iida had simply waved his apologies off with a smile and a “Do not worry about it at all Tokoyami-kun! Bakugou-kun is a strong person, and I am pleased that I managed to catch you in time!”

Later that night Tokoyami had screamed into the recently made group chat that the eleven had made, which was aptly named Tenya Iida Simps™, which had only existed for roughly two nearly three days, but had already gained just shy of two thousand messages.

Funnily enough,most of it was just key smashes.

Tenya Iida Simps™

Bananabeak: UHBWDCIDEIEPEI

Assid: couldn’t have said better myself toko

Peppermint Bastard: Is this about what happened earlier Tokoyami?

Bananabeak: WHAT ELSE WOULD YOU THINK????

God Herself: It’s okay Tokoyami, get it all out of your system.

Bananabeak: I- he’s just so soft!?!? He cradled me so gently I felt so safe an grateful that he caught me because I certaintly wouldn’t have walked away from a fall like that uninjured like I did today and just jkhuhlehlhdf he so kind because even though he was hurt and took nearly all the damage form that fall be still asked me if I was alright like excuse me sir you are BLEEDING AND YOU ARE ASKING ME IF IM ALRIGHT!?

JackJack is jacked: oof I feel ya there Tokoyami

Voltboi: yeah! Just like when Iida has helping me and ashido do some revision before a test but I could barely even concentrate cause his eyes are just so fucking pretty

Voltboi: I mean how are his eyes such a nice shade of red wtf

Bakugou? More Like BakuBITCH: Normally I would yell at you lot for that, but honestly?

Bakugou? More Like BakuBITCH: Valid

Of course even though they would all scream into the void at some point (The void being the chat) it didn’t help things in the slightest.

Aoyama had been asking Iida about different outfit designs that he would create (Of course everyone in the class knew about his designing hobby, but Iida was one of the only people who he shared the process with) and the class president was ecstatic when he was asked for his input.

Aoyama had confessed to Iida at one point that he had doubts about his work, only for Iida to smile and offer to be a model for his designs at some point, which only made Aoyama nearly burst into tears while hugging him.

While most of the groups interactions with Iida were soft and heart-warming, Bakugou and Kirishima had both agreed that training with Iida was both annoying and fun because one; Iida was so attractive that they kept getting distracted and two; Iida fought ruthlessly and wasn’t afraid to play dirty.

Todoroki of course enjoyed spending time with his friend, (when they weren’t plotting Endeavour’s murder that was) except when he had to make sure that hadn’t caught fire or anything.

And of course Uraraka couldn’t stop blushing whenever she and Iida were out about the city with the rest of the squad, and without fail she would nearly burst into tears and nearly start to blubber whenever they would be out to get food. Iida would ask them what they want, and every time she would say “S-sorry Iida but I don’t have any money” he would simply narrow his eyes at her and say “I didn’t ask you if you had any money, I asked what you wanted.”

Of course Tsu would send all three of them knowing looks whenever Iida’s back was turned.

Yaoyorozu and Jirou both loved that whenever Mineta was trying to creep up on the girls or feel them up that Iida would immediately call him out on it, and even that one time he dragged him outside and used recipro burst to kick Mineta into the principal’s office via an open window and yet somehow didn’t get any punishment for.

Of course when the week came to a close Iida happened to be visiting his family for the weekend, so he waved a cheerful goodbye and left a warm fluttery feeling in their chests.

Ojiro watched as the small group quickly dispersed to their respective rooms, Shoji, Tsuyu and Sero all having knowing smirks, (or a knowing glint in his eye in Shoji’s case.) “Man, they’re in deep aren’t they?” His comment drew snickers from the other three.

*Bonus*

“So Tenya, got anything to tell us?”

Tenya looked up from his food to look at Tensei, only to smirk.

“What, you mean that all of a sudden just over half of my classmates have suddenly gained a crush on me?” Kayama let out a cackle. “Looks like the Iida genes strike again!”

Shouta smirked. “So that’s why half of my problem children were a blushing, stuttering mess all week?”

Tenya laughed. “Oh most definitely.”

“Wait wait wait, hold up!” Hitoshi pointed his fork at his cousin. “You’re telling me that you were aware of everything? So Midoriya was texting me about how oblivious you were, only for him to be completely fucking wrong!?”

Tenya nodded. “Absolutely, even their ‘secret group chat’ which is honestly barely even a secret.”

Hitoshi sat back in his chair with a small “huh”.

Hizashi leant over the table eagerly. “What’s the name of the chat?”

Both boys snorted. “You sure you wanna know?” Hitoshi cackled.

Kayama laughed. “Okay, now you have to tell us.”

Tenya smirked. “Tenya Iida Simps Trade Marked.”

A brief bout of silence- then Tensei slammed his head against the table with shaking shoulders while the rest of them let out loud shrieks of laughter that echoed throughout the house.

“THEY CALL THEMSELVES SIMPS, OH MY GOD”

Shouta leaned over to look at Tenya. “You gonna make next week absolute hell for them, aren’t you?”

Tenya laughed. “Oh, absolutely.”

A small crash then pained laughter came up from the floor. “H-HELP, I’VE FALLEN AND I CAN’T GET UUUP!”

Tenya laughed. “Looks like Hitoshi’s died.”

Another small crash and Hizashi’s head disappeared from his seat as he slid to the ground, squeaky wheezes escaping his lungs.

“Aaaand there goes Hizashi-nii.”

Shouta snorted. “Welp, looks like both my husband and son are dead, best get more cats to fill up the now empty space in the house.”

“W-WOW LOOK AT THAT DAD, WE’RE GETTING REPLACED BY F-FUCKING CATS.”

Hizashi wheezed from his place on the carpet.

Tenya smirked. God he loved fucking with his classmates, and if a video was taken of the other three laughing their asses off and stored in the blackmail folder in one of the darker spots of his phones storage, well that was a fact that Tenya would keep to himself with a small smile.

#Based on lanabanana.art's art on insta #my hero academia #bnha #iida tenya #iida appreciation #yes i simp for iida watchya gonna do?

29 notes · View notes