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allmyspideys · 4 years ago

Note

a poe dameron x reader angst that ends with fluff maybe 🥺👉👈

Hi okay so i took this in a little bit of a different way and our “angst” is more like bickering coworkers aka enemies to wounded to… lovers :) i hope this is okay! If it’s not, just ask again and i’ll give you some real angst! Requests are still open btw lovies!!

“Dameron!” You yelled, hopping down from your x-wing, not even waiting for a ladder. Across the hanger Poe Dameron stood with his stupid little hands on his hips with his stupid big head back laughing with the other members of his team.

“Poe!” You yelled again as you marched your way over to him. The little crowd that had grown around him quickly dissipated when they saw you coming. It wasn’t that you had a reputation per se, it was more that you had a reputation with Poe and no one wanted to be close enough to accidentally get caught in the crossfire.

Poe smirked as he saw you coming, trying to ignore the fact that his heart picked up a little bit when he saw you jump out of your x-wing and immediately call his name. He liked the way his name sounded coming out of your mouth, but he would never tell you that.

“Captain,” he said cooly, “that was some good flying out there today”.

“Yeah,” you chided, voice thick with sarcasm and spite, “well I was the only team leader that had some good flying”.

Poe gave a little chuckle before turning and beginning to walk away. He unzipped his flight suit and tied the sleeves around his waist. You faltered for a second, caught up by the way Poe’s tanned and shiny skin rippled over his muscles as he pulled down the sleeves. You couldn’t help but ogle at the contrast between his soft black tank top stretching across the peak of his shoulder. Just for a second you allowed yourself to imagine those arms wrapped around you in comfort, or being used to pin you against something harder, but you shook yourself out of that daydream. It was Poe Dameron after all and there were nicer men in the Resistance than him.

“Don’t you walk away from me Dameron,” you spat, falling in step closely behind, ignoring the voice in your head that told you to flat tire your Commander, “you could have killed someone today! You were reckless and dangerous-”

“Listen Gold Leader, I knew what I was doing and I knew where you were. It was just a flyby,” Poe said, maintaining his cool attitude, “Now go get a few drinks with your team. I know they miss you”.

You tried to hold your tongue, you really did, but there was just something about Poe Dameron and chilled out attitude to everything stupid and cocky he did. It had been building for a while, but mentioning your team was the last straw and you just snapped.

“Well Black Leader, maybe someone else should be leading your team,” you spat, voice full of venom, “instead of someone with a superiority complex with the sole focus on himself”.

Poe spun around and his face was just as angry as yours. It surprised you and caused you to stumble back a little bit, but Poe’s arm reached out around your waist and pulled you close. If it were any other situation, both you and Poe would be reveling in the mutual warmth raiding off of one another and committing the closeness of one another to memory.

“Enough Captain,” Poe noted the way your face showed a flash of fear before returning to stubborn anger, “I am your Commander and you will respect my orders. Now go be with your team and don’t speak to me like that again,” the tension was palpable, but only the quick flick of your eyes to Poe’s lips would have given away that it was because of anything other than the argument you were having, “Is that understood?”. Poe leaned closer on each word, so that his breath was hot on your face and hand warm around your back. In any other situation it could have been hot and enjoyable to have him that close.

You gave a dry chuckle, “Pulling rank,” you leaned closer to Poe’s face, “You only do this because you know I’m right”.

Poe tried to think of a retort, but his mind was consumed by the fact that your lips were mere centimeters away from his. He could only think about the way your nose was flaring out of anger in the same way it flared when you laughed with your team. He wanted to say something, but the notice of your hand on his chest radiating warmth short circuited his brain and he just could think of anything other than you. Poe’s eyes scanned your face for any indication that you were feeling the same way he was and landed on your lips.

At that moment, BB-8 bumped into Poe’s feet, causing him to let go and pull away. He looked over you one last time before turning away again.

“Go be with your team Commander,” he said, sauntering away.

You were both so stubborn and hotheaded, though it showed in different ways. For every instance that you were organized, Poe was impulsive and for every time that Poe was calculating, you were there to point out every flaw. There was a time that Leia thought you’d make a good team. That’s why she appointed you Gold Leader to work with Poe as Black Leader, but the first time she saw you in a meeting, she quickly realized that she was wrong. All you did was bicker, both needing to be right, but Leia knew that one day you’d agree and make one hell of a stubborn decisive team. She knew that Poe would run headfirst into battle if you were hurt and you’d lay down entire armies if it meant getting to Poe. Leia wasn’t the only one to see it, but she was the first to see that behind all the bitterness, there was so much care and concern for the other. It just needed to be brought out, and one day it would.

It happened for Poe first. Poe knew he cared about you, and that he was attracted to you, but he also knew that your moments of stubbornness were very annoying. In that though, you were the only person he allowed to speak to him as you did. Maybe no one else had a reason to yell at him or maybe no one else had the guts, but if anyone else tried, Poe knew that he wouldn’t like it because that was reserved for you. He liked that about you, but he also really didn’t like that too.

Poe knew that you needed to work on your x-wing and he did too, so after asking around your team, he found out exactly when you’d be in the hanger. So the night before, he moved his x-wing right next to yours, so you’d have to share a toolbox and at least talk about that.

You were still pissed off about Poe pulling rank on you and hadn’t spoken to him more than you had to in the weeks following and Poe missed you. He missed talking about new x-wing parts and upgrades. He missed the way your eyes would light up when you talked about your home planet. He even missed the teasing bickering. It all brought so much joy to him. He was going to make sure that his plan worked and that he got to talk to you again.

Poe was working on his x-wing long before you were; he wanted to look like he had planned it before you did, so he could tease you about always finding him. Poe liked to tease you to watch you roll your eyes and flash him a little smirk.

Poe looked up at the sound of your footsteps across the hanger. He was beautiful. The way his wild curls were fully unruly and fluffy made you want to run to him and just run your fingers through his hair. His fingers were covered in grease and arms glistening with sweat. He was wearing that stupid black tank top again that fully showed off his arms and numbed your brain a little bit. As you got closer, you could see the glint of happiness in Poe’s eyes as he tried to shove down the smile that was threatening to burst out of him purely from seeing you.

As you walked by him, Poe called out to you, “When I saw your x-wing parked next to mine I knew you’d come running to see me,” he finally flashed you his big grin causing you to smile a little too, “you just couldn’t help yourself huh.”

“Not when it comes to you, baby,” you quipped back, giving Poe a little bump. Calling him baby was a common joke between you two, but every time it gave a flurry of flutters in Poe’s stomach and he longed for you to call him baby for real. He wanted to hear you call him baby when you woke up in the middle of the night and wanted more cuddles. He wanted you to call him baby as you held his head against your chest after a long mission. He didn’t know that you wanted that too.

Very quickly you fell into a gentle conversation, talking about everything from BB-8 asking for a new antenna and the droid you were looking at getting, to telling Poe more about your homeland and him telling you about his mom. Every now and then you’d ask Poe, “could you pass me …” and every time Poe’s breath would stop for the split second that his hand brushed yours and you gave him a wide smile and a thanks.

As you reached into your x-wing, something sliced your hand and you immediately jumped back, clamping your other hand over it, trying to stop the bleeding before it started.

“Oh dear Maker!” you shouted, face scrunching up in pain. Immediately, Poe was at your side, hands already starting to run over yours, looking for anything that was wrong.

“Here, use my bandanna to hold pressure,” he said, trying to move your hands out of the way to see the cut. You held the bandana over your finger, but started trying to move away from Poe. Every step and turn you took, Poe countered.

“Could you just stop and go get me the first aid kit,” you yelled at him. Poe ran to grab it and came back to you immediately trying to fix you up again.

“Poe stop!” Poe’s deep brown eyes flicked up to yours and you could see the concern in his eyes. You’d never actually seen Poe worried about you. Sure, you had heard about Poe asking your teammates how you were doing or how a mission went, but it was never to your face. Seeing it sparked something deep inside of you, a warmth that made you regret snapping at him.

“I can do it myself,” you whispered, looking down, unable to look him in the eye.

“I know,” Poe tilted your chin up, so he could see your beautiful face, “but you don’t have to”. Poe’s voice was so warm and full of care, that you looked back up at him to see something more than just concern, but you couldn’t quite tell what it was. Poe knew what it was. He hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself for a long time, but finally, the love he had for you broke through. Poe loved you and he wanted you to know.

Poe put as much love as he possibly could into gently wiping away the blood and cleaning up your wound, muttering a small “sorry” when you hissed at the pain. The love he was feeling fueled his hands wrapping yours in gauze and fueled his lips as he gave your palm a small kiss.

“All better,” he said, resisting the urge to lean down and give your head a small kiss too as he put away the first aid kit.

Poe knew that he loved you, but you just felt warm and fuzzy and confused, unwilling to let yourself think that Poe Dameron could view you as anything other than his inferior that he shoved in your face only a few weeks prior. Part of you wanted to hold onto that feeling, letting the warmth from Poe’s hands on yours linger, but the other part wanted to shove the warmth spreading through your chest from the care that Poe gave you so far down. You thought you had, but every now and again, Poe would flash you a smile from across a hanger and your cheeks would get warm with the spreading warmth from your heart.

You’d never tell anyone, but you really didn’t need to. Leia saw it immediately. She saw the way that Poe would gently grab your wrist as you yelled at him for something stupid he had done. She watched the way he would lean back in his chair, resigned to accept whatever you were giving him. She saw that meetings started to go more and more smoothly as you would actually listen to each other and build a plan, together. Leia even saw the few times Poe pulled you aside to apologize for getting too heated when you two did disagree.

Is kind of sad that it took Poe getting seriously hurt for you to willingly admit it, but all is fair in love and war. You were never told what actually happened, but the second that Snap ran into your room telling you that Poe was hurt, you set off running. Snap followed closely behind rattling off the whole story, but all you heard were words. You heard him say “Poe was fixing your ship” and that was the last thing that registered; you’re only thought was getting to Poe.

After pushing your way through people and mumbling excuse me, you finally saw him. Poe was laying on a little cot, right above the ground in the hanger. His whole arm was covered in blood from a gash that no one could get to stop bleeding. You heard someone say that Medical was on their way, but when you locked eyes with Poe, it was like everyone else completely disappeared. You heard your heart beating in your ears as that familiar warmth started to consume your chest.

Poe looked into your eyes and saw that same look you saw in his. It was concern and a little something more, but this time, Poe knew exactly what that little something was. It was love. He knew it and now you knew it too.

“Captain,” he said, still using that annoying chill attitude, “come to see me off?”

You knew it was a joke and that he was talking about Medical guaranteeably grounding him for a while, but it felt too much like death. Tears sprung to your eyes as you thought about losing the love so soon after you finally admitted it.

“Shut up Dameron,” you commanded with a sad chuckle. You got on the ground to lean in close to Poe’s face. “You’re gonna be fine”.

Poe gave you his infamous smile, warming your whole body once again. You noted the way Poe’s eyes crinkled and nose scrunched up a little bit when he smiled. You wanted to see that face everyday. You wanted to wake up next to that face and jump out of your x-wing just to see that face grinning at you across the hanger. You wanted Poe.

“Careful Gold Leader, someone might think you actually like me,” Poe chided. Poe’s grin grew wider as he saw you break out into a little smirk. He would do anything to see that smile, even if it meant teasing you when just breathing was taking up so much of his energy.

You reached out to lace your fingers with Poe’s and gave him a little squeeze. Of course you liked him, everyone knew that, but not everyone knew that you loved him. Though if they looked at the two of you sitting there, they’d know immediately. Poe’s eyes were bright, staring deep into your loving ones, both with a wide smile despite the physical pain, your hands now bloody from trying to help as much as you could, and most importantly, the complete bliss of being that near each other. It may have taken you far longer than it should have to admit to yourself that you loved Poe Dameron, but once you did, there was no going back, and honestly, you didn’t want to.

“And what if I wanted someone to know that I love you,” you asked. Your eyes were still so full of love, but your nervous smile gave you away. Poe felt like he was floating; he knew you loved him because he felt it every time you interacted, but finally hearing you say it made his whole world seem better. Poe reached up to cup your face, but pulled back slightly because he didn’t want to get any blood on you, but blood washes off and your love did not, so you leaned your face into his palm, recognizing the radiating care that flowed from all of Poe’s touches.

“Then I would tell someone that I love you too,” Poe’s voice was laced with love and adoration. It made you feel so incredibly warm and fuzzy, loved and supported, and lucky. It may have taken a long time full of bickering and frustration, but Poe Dameron was guaranteeably your best friend, and you were so happy to be in love with him.

As Leia looked onto the scene unfolding in front of her, she knew that you were finally the team you were meant to be. She knew that you would hunt across the galaxy if it meant finding Poe. There would still be bickering and teasing, but that’s where the love began, and at the end of the day, Poe would hold you in his arms and remind you of all the sweet things he loved about you.

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kamotoshi · 4 years ago

Text

reminders [fushiguro tōji x reader]

pairing: fushiguro tōji x fem reader

genre: fluff

warnings: a bit of swearing; brief mentions of past trauma, manipulation, and financial instability/struggles

word count: 2.3k

overview: a sunset picnic reminds him to stop for a moment and remind his wife how he truly feels about her

note: just another fic to serve as evidence for my obsession with making big, beefy 2d men with tough exteriors completely soft for their significant others (wives especially)

“Aren’t we just the cutest couple ever?”

Tōji’s eyes move from the spread of food laid out across the patterned blanket beneath the two of you over to either side of him, where a few other couples and families have set up their picnic spots for the evening, then, to your phone. A glance at the screen displaying the timed photo you’d just spent the past five to ten minutes setting the scene for and perfecting brings a smirk to his face.

“Just the right amount of nauseating.”

“Like, to the point where people are a little envious, but they don’t think we’re being too over the top, right?”

“Right.”

You hum in understanding as you pop a piece of fruit into your mouth.

“But, I would say err on the side of caution and don’t post the super lovey-dovey ones. Actually, please don’t. That’s a request now.”

Your hand flies to your chest to match the look of feigned shock on your face at his words. He doesn’t miss how the diamond on your finger sparkles in the amber glow of the setting sun. The thought crosses his mind that he wants to buy you a bigger one when he has enough money to set aside—something that would shine just a bit brighter. Almost as brightly as that beautiful smile of yours he had the pleasure of seeing each day, if he was lucky.

“You mean… I can actually post a picture that I took with my notoriously elusive husband?”

With a nod, he shifts his gaze to the horizon—or whatever he can see of it peeking around the sides of each building—for a moment. “Just know it’ll probably end my job,” is his response given with a sigh, “Nobody’ll fear me after they see that I enjoy sunset picnics with my adorable wife, now, will they?”

“Or,” you offer with a grin, scooting closer to him so his arm can snake around your waist, “it could give you an advantage, people thinking you’re kinda sweet. Like, oh, he’s a cold-blooded killer who takes care of business, but he’s got a soft side, too. And then, bam! You swoop in and they’ll never even know what hit ‘em.” Sweeping a hand dramatically across the landscape in front of you, as if you want him to picture the scene in your head, you add, “Suddenly, you’re the talk of the town. Women want you. Men want to be you. Hell, they’d probably want you too.”

“And that’s the story of how I end up on the front covers of magazines, right?”

“Exactly. This is just the start of your success story, baby.” Tenderly, you place a hand on the side of his face to bring it closer to your lips. After pecking him on the cheek, you whisper, “Just try not to forget about me when you’re famous, okay?”

He turns to look directly at you, his eyebrow raised with incredulousness in an expression you’ve seen many times before. “You kidding me? I would never. Be famous, I mean.”

The teasing smack you land on his chest doesn’t deter him from leaning down towards you to press a kiss against your lips that you readily return in spite of your complaints at his devious comment. He relishes in the sweet taste lingering on his tongue when he pulls away, and the affection present in your half-lidded gaze brings a comforting warmth over him akin to the feeling of finally crawling into bed after a long day. In his moment of distraction, you’re able to sneak in another meeting of your lips before grabbing one of the snack boxes you’d meticulously crafted and dropping it into his lap.

“Since I’m nice, unlike you, I’ll still let you eat the food lovingly prepared by your loving wife.”

“C’mon, baby,” he murmurs, giving your thigh an appreciative squeeze, “You know I love you.”

“I mean, I hope you do. You did marry me, and stick with me all these years, after all, you weirdo.”

He chuckles and pats your leg before shifting his attention to the delicious food you’d put together for the two of you, and you settle down beside him after collecting your own. His free hand plants on the ground beside your opposite hip, closing the gap between you.

Each day that he gets to spend with you he’s thankful for. But there’s something different about those where the sight of the sun slowly descending toward the horizon is beautiful enough to draw both of you out of the house to sit and watch it. He can’t quite explain it, but everything about these days feels different. The harshness of the city seems to fade away for a bit. The air smells sweeter. His breaths come a bit more deeply. The absence of your body against his in some way is felt more intensely.

In between gazing ahead at the sunset—allowing his eyes to flicker to his meal, the kids zipping past every now and then on their bikes, or other passersby—he finds his attention being drawn back to you. Each feature of your face bathed in the golden light of the sun’s last rays brings an unexpected flutter to his heart. He’s never surprised by how gorgeous you are, but, still finds himself in awe of just how lucky he is each time he stops to take it all in.

Lucky that he gets to wake up next to you and see you in those quiet moments of the morning when your eyes are still struggling to focus and your cheek is stamped with each wrinkle of your pillowcase, but you look beautiful all the same. Lucky that the arms and legs he has draped around him until you both wake up sweaty in the middle of the night are yours. Lucky to be offered a refuge wherever you are. Lucky you’re one he promised to love for the rest of his life.

In the busyness of your days, sometimes things are assumed rather than said. He assumes the parting kiss he presses to your lips each time he leaves the house translates into a small, “I love you, I’ll be back soon.” Just like he assumes the way he pulls you onto his lap while you’re sitting together, watching a movie, sends a small message of, “I need you here, close to me.” Or the pause he takes to gaze into your eyes after your more passionate displays of affection means, “I love you more than I know how to say.”

He realizes, given the risky nature of his work, that thought alone isn’t enough, though. Maybe he’s too afraid of saying something that’ll curse you for his lips to form the words he’s thinking as often as they should, but if he was one to let his life be ruled by fear, he wouldn’t be sitting with you in the first place. He would’ve let his family wreak havoc on him for the entirety of his life, weighing it down with constant reminders of his failures. He would’ve let his fear of being vulnerable keep him from getting close enough to you to fall in love with you.

Yet, here he is, making relaxed conversation with you—his wife—as the two of you sit together beneath a sea of brilliant oranges, candied pinks, and the gentlest hues of lavender. With the way you use your steadily built and strongly maintained trust in him to speak so freely and be so vulnerable without fear of judgment, he feels it’s only fair that he shows his trust in you by doing the same. That he reminds you of his feelings rather than lets the implications behind his actions speak for him.

When he decides to mention it, most of the sky has lost its fire and quite a few of the other picknickers have packed up and returned home. But the two of you choose to remain out just a bit longer in the warmth of the summer night, bathed in the sound of cicadas chirping incessantly. “Hey babe?” he calls, giving your hand resting in his a gentle squeeze as his cheek drops to the blanket so he can look at you.

“Mm?” You shift onto your side and scoot closer to him, moving your interlaced hands to your chest, holding the back of his against your gently beating heart. On instinct, your other set of fingers find his face to brush a few strands of dark hair away from his eyes, and he presses feathery kisses to your palm.

Sighing against your skin, he asks, “Do I tell you I love you enough?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you assure him, “I know you do.”

“Because I say it?”

You hum with uncertainty, fingers gliding from the scar at the side of his mouth down his neck, and to one of his broad shoulders. “More because I can see it in the way you look at me. But, then again, I also see you look at a really good meal the same way. Makes me kinda jealous sometimes,” is your answer given with a small, teasing smile, “Besides, I feel like I can safely assume that you’ve stayed with me all these years because you love me, right?”

“Of course,” he says, the strength in his voice contrasting the subtle, pained look behind his eyes, “But I don’t say it enough, do I?”

There’s a short pause before you murmur, “Not usually unless I say it first. But it tends to be more of a reflex for both of us, anyway. Like, ‘I’m heading out now, love you!’ or, ‘Goodnight, I love you,’ y’know?”

A gentle tug on your wrist pulls you towards him, until you’re propped up on both elbows, body leaning over his. Wrapping an arm around your waist brings your chests flush against one another and your faces mere centimeters apart. The way he’s regarding you as nothing else is as important as you are to him in this moment has you melting into the kiss he plants on your lips.

“You’re the love of my life.” Heat radiates from your chest all the way up to your face at his tenderly spoken words accompanied by his thumb skimming along your cheekbone. “And you deserve to hear me tell you how much I care about you more often because you’re the only person who’s made me feel deserving of love.”

The hand on your back slowly moves up and down, his fingers tracing along your spine. It was once deemed as a mindless behavior in your eyes, but after many years with him, you’ve come to learn that sometimes it’s a means of comforting himself or finding the courage to speak about something that’s been on his mind. To reassure him, you place a soft peck against the corner of his mouth and run your fingertips across his jaw.

He seems to find the strength he needs to speak the rest of his truth, since he continues, “I remember being terrified when I first realized how much I loved you. Because here I was, thinking I was only gonna marry someone as a way of erasing my connections to my family, and that falling in love would weaken me—make me easier to be manipulated—but you changed my mind. And I don’t think there’s a damn thing that could ever happen to make me wish I did things differently, even though we got married young, when we barely had enough money to our names to get ourselves through the week.”

A pang of somewhat bittersweet nostalgia ripples through you at the memories of sleeping on the floor, clinging to one another to keep warm during the cold, winter nights. Of how you’d both worked so tirelessly to make a living that sometimes all you’d do was cry into his shoulder when you got home. But soon, there was a couch. A bed. A table. A lamp that didn’t flicker. Then, a new place in a safer part of the city, filled with all the furniture and appliances you could need. Jobs that paid enough for the tears to subside.

The impulsiveness the two of you had displayed in your early twenties had gotten you into a lot of sometimes unbearable situations, but you wouldn’t have changed a thing had you somehow been granted the power to alter the past. While unpleasant, those events had helped the two of you get to where you are today, happier and more in love than ever.

“After all we’ve been through, and that you’ve stuck with me through, I at least owe it to you to remind you how much you mean to me instead of just assuming you know. Because you really do mean the world to me. So, this is me telling you that I love and appreciate you a lot more than I might feel capable of saying sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try.”

With that same, bright smile of yours that he adores, you take your weight off your elbows to wrap your arms around him while he gives your body a tight squeeze in return. “I love you so much, Tōji,” you hum, heart swelling with joy.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

There’s a few moments of peaceful silence while the two of you remain wrapped up in a tight and much-needed embrace. Eventually, a deep exhale fans across your neck before he mentions, “That was pretty cheesy, huh?”

“Just a bit. But I promise not to tell anyone you’re secretly a bit of a sap, okay?” you comment, sending the two of you into a small fit of snickers. Your tone is more serious, however, when you mention, “It made me really happy to hear, though.”

“Good,” is his response as he moves his head so he can press his mouth to your temple. His next words are spoken quietly, as if just to himself, and nearly lost beneath the layers of environmental noise surrounding you, but you’re glad you hear them.

“That’s all that matters to me.”

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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nanasparadise · 3 years ago

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Hiya! Can i have either (aged up) Narancia or Abbacchio [you choose!] and with prompt [28, 25, 24, 19, and/or16*] Thx so much luv <3 {*if you wanna really impress us all... us them all ;3}

Hiya love! Sorry for the wait, I’m still quite busy with school, but that should be over soon (hopefully). Please enjoy! <3

“Shadow” Yan! Abbacchio x gender-neutral reader

16. I will protect you from everything.

25. You shouldn’t have tested my limits.

28. You have no idea how much I have been holding myself back for you.

Summary: Abbacchio has been following around for a while. After a rather unfortunate incident, he finally gets closer to you.

TW: toxic relationship, homicide, slight gore, stalking, mentions of retching, angst, intoxication, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI

I do not condone any yandere behaviour in real life.

Word count: 4467

Beta-read by the lovely @dear-yandere

Abbacchio loved watching you from afar. The smile painted across your face gave him purpose, a meaning, in his quite miserable life. Even if it was directed towards your date.

The Italian mobster tried to tell himself he didn’t mind. The intimate chatter as the two of you leaned over the table, the staring into each other’s eyes, his hand brushing over your forearm, his lips dangerously close to yours- Abbacchio suddenly averted his gaze from the window he had been watching you. No, he did care. As much as he wanted to see you happy, he couldn’t help but feel jealousy rising up inside of him, infesting his mind like a parasite. “You have no right to be jealous, Leone,” he reprimanded himself, “they don’t even know your name.” This thought alone put the white-haired man into a state of sulking, making him wish he had a bottle of wine with him to dwell on and drink away the pain.

In the end, Abbacchio could only blame himself. After all, he chose to not approach you, seeing himself unworthy of your presence and affection. Besides, who could truly love him after what he’d done? What he still had been doing? Accepting briberies, being unable to protect his police partner, becoming the very thing he’d sworn he would save the city from, it all took a toll on the young man and his self-esteem. He couldn’t drag you down in his world of crime and bitterness, not wanting to tarnish the very happiness you radiated and he cherished so much.

But seeing you all flustered and bashful because of someone who wasn’t him made Abbacchio reconsider his initial avoidance. The mafioso couldn’t handle the scene unfolding in front of him anymore, resentment boiling inside him. Would it really satisfy him remaining your unknown shadow? On the other hand, could he be so selfish and worm his way into your life, risking your safety and maybe even your happiness? Yes, he loved to observe you from afar, but he would so much more prefer for you to see him, recognise him, touch him. Just like you did with your date. With all these bitter feelings still clinging onto him, Abbacchio turned around to leave this area of the city. But not before stopping by a store to buy a bottle or two of red wine…

Meanwhile, you were blissfully unaware of your shadow’s internal struggle. Instead, you enjoyed the mild evening breeze of Naples hitting gently your face as the sun was slowly setting, giggling like a love-struck teenager with your date while you exited the restaurant. The rendezvous you had spent with the man by your side had passed so fast, his funny stories and dashing charm having made you lose track of the time. The two of you chuckled some more at one of his jokes as you eventually bid farewell. Though before you truly could depart, you took heart and pressed a sweet goodbye kiss onto your date’s mouth. Pleasantly surprised by your action, he leaned into your touch. When you both eventually let go of each other, he offered you a sincere and dazzling smile. “Let’s do this again, alright?”

Despite his better judgment, Abbacchio couldn’t bring himself to walk immediately home after having bought the booze. Instead, he had finished three quarters of the first wine bottle while strolling through Naples. He could feel the slight fuzziness of his intoxication manifesting in his body and mind. Sluggishly, the Italian continued his walk, his steps weighing just as heavy as the thoughts occupying his head. After a while, without noticing, he had stopped in front of your flat. “Are you home by now, Y/N?”, he wondered quietly. He couldn’t see any lights turned on in your apartment (of course he knew where to locate your exact housing after having… observed you for a while), meaning you already slept or you hadn’t returned yet. You couldn’t have possibly gone back to this guy’s place, could you? Bile rose up his oesophagus and his face turned into a dark scowl as Abbacchio dwelled on that thought. His grip around the wine bottle tightened, threatening to break it into pieces. Though before that could happen, the mobster guided the bottle to his lips and let the tart crimson liquid travel down his throat in an attempt to drown his dark musing. How could he let this happen? How could you have already gone this far with that man? Why hadn’t he just reached out to you? If you were to end up with that guy, he wouldn’t be able to look at you again, not without thinking of himself as a failure. Abbacchio harshly squinted his eyes while downing the remaining wine, trying to chase his thoughts away. Maybe, if he was lucky enough, his hangover would be so big the next morning, he would have forgotten about this whole situation.

From a few metres distance, you carefully watched the tall man in front of your apartment complex clinging to his bottle. “Great,” you mumbled exasperatedly, “I definitely needed a drunkard now.” Not only did he seem to be intoxicated, but also potentially dangerous, as you could make out all the muscles under his tight and partially revealing outfit. “Deep breaths, Y/N,” you reminded yourself, attempting to stay calm, “you’re just going to pass him and then rush straight to your flat.” As you tried to make your plan reality, you felt the stare of the stranger glued onto your form. Nervously, you swallowed the gulp of saliva building in your mouth. You nearly reached the front door of the complex as you heard a voice utter your name. No one was around you, except for that man, so it must had been him. But how would he know your name? Deciding that your anxious mind just made that up, you fumbled for your keys. But again, you heard the same voice repeating your name. With a flabbergasted expression, you turned around to meet the stranger’s face. His sharp features were highlighted beautifully under the neon lights of the street you must admit, and his long white hair with a lavender hue almost appeared to glow. Only the bloodshot golden eyes indicated his current pitiful condition.

“Excuse me Sir, do we know each other?”, you eventually asked tentatively. Multiple emotions crossed over his face in a matter of seconds, as if he wasn’t sure he could reply to such a simple question. Little did you know about how hard it actually was for him.

“No,” the stranger managed to spit out an answer, “but we will soon enough.” Incredulous, you tightly knitted your eyebrows together.

“What do you mean?,” you countered, “And how do you- HEY!” Before you managed to say more, the man turned around to leave you on your own. Deciding it was best not following him, you just let him vanish into the darkness of a near alley. “What a creep,” you whispered to yourself, “I just hope he won’t come back.” At last, you entered the complex and made your way to your home, leaving this weird encounter a concern you had to face tomorrow.

Abbacchio couldn’t believe seeing you walk past him as he finally pulled the bottle away from his mouth, previously closed eyes now wide open and fixated on you. Having been so convinced that you were by now in your date’s bed, he didn’t trust his slightly drunk mind to not play tricks on him. But undoubtedly, it was you who tensely rushed to the front door of the building. It pained the gangster to see you stressed out because of his presence, but what else should you think about him? He was just a complete stranger to you and drunk on top of that, a potential threat. A sudden realisation dawned then on Abbacchio. If you weren’t with that guy now, it meant he still had a chance with you, right? He could still become a part of your life and make you forget about that pest’s existence, no? Then, you surely wouldn’t perceive him as a stranger. Maybe as an acquaintance, maybe as a friend, maybe – hopefully – even as a lover. The excitement of a possible future with you made the Italian instinctively whisper out your name, enjoying how it rolled off his tongue. Though he wasn’t the only one who had heard the sound of his voice as you stopped in your tracks for a moment and then proceeded to nervously look for your keys. Offended by your ignorance the man repeated your name, this time louder and with more force. Would you still ignore him? Was he doomed to be your quiet observer, a mere shadow? Not if he could change it. “There’s still a chance.” Finally, you were looking at him, a surprised expression scampering over your face as you truly saw him for the first time. With your lips slightly parted, you stared at his form, interest and wary dancing in your eyes. Did you think he looked attractive? Abbacchio internally smiled at that thought, his heartbeat increasing ever so slightly, hoping it to be true. When you eventually talked to him and asked, if you two knew each other, the Italian felt as if his brain completely stopped working. Of course you knew each other! Well, maybe not you, but he for sure knew you better than anyone else. Though he couldn’t exactly tell you this… “No,” the mobster opted to say instead, “but we will soon enough.” Abbacchio failed to realise that this too sounded creepy... Despite your questions, he promptly made his way into the narrow dark streets of Naples until he disappeared from your view.

And while wandering through these gloomy alleys, Abbacchio noticed the tears gently rolling down his cheeks. Why was he crying? After all, the two of you had finally met. “But under which conditions?”, he lamented. He was so eager to contact you again, to really connect with you. Would you give him that chance? Or would you only remember him as a drunk brute? His tears grew bigger as he continued pondering. “You have no idea how much I have been holding myself back for you, Y/N,” he whispered, voice cracking due to his intense emotions, “I’ve always contended myself with seeing you happy, but I can’t do it anymore. I just want to feel your warmth, want to know that I do deserve you, that I’m not scum…”

Eventually, Abbacchio managed to arrive home, feeling drained out of any energy to continue crying. Instead, he made his way to his bed, not even bothering to change out of his clothes, and closed his eyes until sweet darkness surrounded him, welcoming the young man into a numbing sleep.

•

The next couple days, Abbacchio distanced himself from you. He knew better to pester you after your first encounter, so despite his obsessive need to see you, he left you alone for about two weeks. In the meantime, he made a plan as to how he could approach you again.

You went on with your life. Keeping up with work, entertaining yourself with your hobbies and above all, seeing your date more regularly with whom things worked out more than great. All things considered, you were truly happy, enjoying most moments in your life. The long-haired stranger with the wine bottles had been long forgotten, only an obscure memory in the back of your mind. Call it ignorance or naiveté, but you really wanted to believe he was just some confused drunkard who would leave you alone after having slept off his intoxication.

That was why it hit you double hard when you saw him this Saturday morning in front of your favourite bakery.

Undoubtedly, it was him. He wore the same attire and kept his hair in the same style. Only did he appear to be sober now, his golden eyes radiating in the soft Neapolitan sunlight. No trace of drunkenness was clouding his features this time. “Thank God”, you thought.

Upon noticing your form, Abbacchio slowly approached you. He’d been waiting for half an hour now, hoping you’d get your favourite pastries like you did most weekends, so that he could catch you. An uncharacteristic nervousness spread inside his stomach. He had seen you countless times, but never had he experienced such an intense uneasiness. There you were again, just a couple of steps away from him and yet completely out of his reach, as the wary expression on your face revealed. But the Italian would change your attitude, he was sure of it.

“It seems you remember me from last time”, Abbacchio eventually said, hoping to not come across as shady. He carefully scanned you: the way your eyebrows furrowed together in disbelief, your lips pressed into a thin line, your body slightly leaned away from him. Under different circumstances, he would have deemed your cautious behaviour as adorable, even praised it. But not when it involved him.

“Yes, I remember,” you replied, still wary about the stranger, “and I don’t know if that’s a good thing.” The man was now close to you, too close for your liking. You could see all the details in his face, such as the dark long eyelashes contrasting his light hair and the tint of purple in his irises. Hastily, you moved back a few steps from him.

“I think I owe you an explanation,” the man uttered upon perceiving your reaction, “and an apology as well.”

“I agree”, you answered, trying to not sound too brazen.

Abbacchio sighed deeply, gathering his thoughts. “Quite obviously, I was drunk and landed by your apartment complex by accident.” Well, that wasn’t too much of a lie. “I’ve seen you several times here in this bakery grabbing your pastries, that’s why I know you. During some conversations you had with the baker, I heard your name as well. I’ve never had the courage to approach you. I hope you can forgive my inappropriate behaviour.” The nervousness inside his guts only intensified. Would you believe his explanation? Or would you see right through the lie?

For a couple of moments, you just stood there, eyebrows still knitted together, and pondered on his words. “I don’t remember ever seeing you in the bakery”, you muttered, trying to think of an occasion where you saw the stranger before that incident. Abbacchio slightly gulped at hearing your answer.

“I tend to stick in the shadows,” he replied, wanting to save his cover-up, “I’m not that social, you see.” Oh God, would you really buy that? Did he now ruin his only chance with you?

“Hm,” you hummed absent-mindedly, still mulling over his dubious explanation. Would a guy like him not stick out like a sore thumb in the small bakery? Or had you never properly checked out your surroundings? As strange as his reasoning sounded, it was the only one you had. “To be honest with you, I don’t know if I should completely believe you”, you said. Before he could interject, you continued. “But I’m inclined to give you another chance. Under the conditions that you don’t behave creepily anymore and don’t show up randomly and drunk at my place.”

Abbacchio’s eyes widened at your words. You truly gave him another chance! This was finally his opportunity to be with you, proving his worthiness. “Of course”, he quickly answered, nodding slightly along his words.

“But, I just want to make clear that I’m currently seeing someone, just in case you expected more from me.” Those words coming from you did sour his mood a little and dropped him from his high. Of course you were still dating that guy, why wouldn’t you? But maybe, he could turn the tables, now that you gave him permission, even encouraged him, to enter in your life. So the mafioso swallowed his feelings of bitterness and tried to keep up with the politeness.

“I think I should introduce myself properly to you. My name is Leone Abbacchio and it’s nice to formally meet you.”

“Well, since we’re already here at the bakery, why don’t we have breakfast together?”

•

To your surprise, you became quite close with Abbacchio. The two of you had met numerous times and by now, you felt at ease around him. Under his harsh appearance and demeanour was actually a very caring and understanding man, who was always there for you. Though he kept some secrets from you, he never failed to let you confide in him, a steady presence during rough times. Your friends and date – who was now your partner – didn’t trust the Italian as much as you did. Every time you mentioned him in a conversation, they never ceased to point out his cryptic attitude and your weird encounter. Some of them even suggested he might be part of the mafia, but you always brushed these accusations off with a laugh. Just because he had one bad night the time you met and was a bit gloomy didn’t imply he was a mafioso! Plus, he had told you he used to be a police officer, surely he wouldn’t have turned into a criminal then, right? You couldn’t imagine him hurting, much less killing, someone when he acted so tender around you. Constantly checking up on you through calls when you couldn’t meet, buying your favourite food when you felt down, making sure you felt comfortable.

So the pain you felt when you had found out your loved ones were right about Abbacchio was intolerable.

It was a normal day, like most times. After work, you met with Abbacchio to catch up with him before going on a dinner date with your significant other. The pair consisting of you currently sat on a terrace of a bistro, sipping on a drink. You stared with interest at the people passing the narrow streets of Naples, a mosaic of faces and feelings. From your peripheral vision, you noticed Abbacchio gaze at you, an unusual soft expression marking his stoic face. Despite having repeated multiple times that you were happy with your current relationship, it seemed that the Italian’s promise to not pursue you didn’t always align with his true feelings. Uncomfortable, you cleared your throat before looking back at the man seated in front of you. Immediately, Abbacchio schooled his expression into one of impassivity again.

“So, you have anything planned this evening?”, Abbacchio inquired seemingly nonchalant.

“Actually yes,” you replied, your lips turning into a smile at the thought of seeing your partner, “we’re gonna go out for dinner. I can’t wait to meet him again, you know how his work kept him busy all week.”

“Oh yeah, must be great to hear him talking shit about me again”, your friend barked back, sarcasm dripping from his voice. You rolled your eyes at his snarky comment.

“I’d really appreciate if you two could behave like adults for once and leave this childish distrust behind. And no, he actually intends on telling me ‘big news’ and not bad-mouthing you.”

Abbacchio perked up his ears at your words? ‘Big news’? What was that bastard planning? “He can shove those news up his ass”, he thought gloomily. The young man had finally gained your full trust, he couldn’t let that guy ruin it. Even though you might not admit to yourself, Abbacchio knew you felt the same affection he harboured for you. He saw it in the way you radiated this warmth he had longed for so long when you two were together. Finally, he knew he had worth and a purpose aside his work at Passione, and it was to be with you. So, why would he let that little boyfriend of yours destroy that with his stupid news? He wasn’t going to propose to you, was he? Not that early in the relationship, right?

“What do you think he plans on telling you?”, the Italian asked you, genuine worry now coating his voice, though you remained oblivious to his concerns. You brooded for a moment over his question.

“Well,” you replied eventually, “I think he’s got a promotion at work and might suggest to me to move in with him soon. But I’m not sure though, that’s only a speculation.”

“And would you do that? Move in with him, I mean,” Abbacchio pressed on, nervousness spreading through his body.

“I think so? I guess it would be nice to live with him”, you answered truthfully. You looked away from your friend’s intense gaze, instead opting to stare at the people surrounding you again.

When you glanced back at Abbacchio, you didn’t expect his face to be adorned with such darkness. He was practically scowling at you, his usually shining golden eyes now oddly sombre. You gasped slightly at his reaction, his trusting atmosphere now completely gone.

But how couldn’t he react like that? Your confession felt like a hard slap in his face, more painful than any attack he had witnessed. You couldn’t move in with that man. He knew it would mean the end of all his plans. Once you’d live with him, you two would see each other less and less (especially since your lovely partner seemed to despise Abbacchio as much as he despised him) and eventually you’d break contact. The mafioso had been your quiet observer before and he couldn’t go back to that role, that was sure. So he needed to craft another plan, one where your significant other wasn’t an obstacle anymore…

“Leone?”, you hesitantly tried to break Abbacchio’s eerie silence. As if awoken from a state of trance, he snapped back into reality. The sight offered in front of him truly broke his heart: your eyes were wide, your lips slightly parted, short breaths escaping them. You were scared and he was the cause of it. Just like during your first encounter. Abruptly, Abbacchio stood up from his chair.

“I’m sorry Y/N,” he murmured softly, “I just need to go now.” Throwing some money on the table and already distancing himself from you, he turned around one more time at your surprised form and managed to say while smiling through gritted teeth: “I hope you’re going to be happy living with him.” Of course he didn’t mean any single word.

•

You were patiently waiting for your boyfriend to pick you up. Meanwhile, Abbacchio’s behaviour from the afternoon still haunted you. Did you do something to anger him? No, you just told him your honest opinion. But still, he had been so enraged, as if you had done him wrong. Maybe he did feel even more towards you than had initially assumed and unintentionally hurt his feelings. But still, that wouldn’t justify him abandoning you like that since you had never lead him on. Sighing, you took a look at your watch again. Your partner still hadn’t arrived, even though he should have been there thirty minutes ago. Deciding that your patience had been sufficiently tested, you gave him a call. After the sixth ringing, he still hadn’t picked up. Slowly, anxiety made itself visible in your body as your phone began trembling in your hand. Your boyfriend was a punctual person, he wouldn’t show up this late without a good reason. And not notifying you? That also seemed very atypical for him. Suddenly, pictures of him being involved in a horrible motorbike accident flashed in front of your eyes, spurring your fear of an ominous evil taking hold of him. That was it. You were going to his place right now.

After twenty minutes, which had been dragged into painful length for you, you had finally arrived at your partner’s flat. Wanting to be polite, you first rang the bell. “Are you there?”, you called anxiously, “It’s me, Y/N!” When no one opened the door or answered you, you hastily fumbled for the spare key he gave you in case of an emergency. Practically yanking the door open, you rapidly entered the apartment. Though the unexpected sight in front of you made you quickly want to run away.

There he was, your boyfriend, laying on the floor, all covered in blood that had dripped from the big cut on the throat. The slightly brown discolouration of the liquid indicated that he had been dead for a while. Your hand found its way to your mouth, trying to repress your retching caused by smell of the decomposition process. Tears pricked in your eyes as you realised your partner was truly dead, murdered even. “Who could do such a horrible thing?”, you mumbled in shock.

As if the killer had heard you, he walked from your significant other’s door to the living room. Familiar long white hair and golden eyes appeared close to your form. Your eyes widened impossibly further as you immediately recognised the murderer. The suppressed sobs finally escaped your mouth, not being able to handle this nightmarish scene.

“I wondered how long it would take you to arrive”, Abbacchio said with his usual nonchalance.

“Why?”, you managed to croak in between your hiccups, “Why would you do that to him? To me?”

“You shouldn’t have tested my limits, Y/N”, he replied as he moved closer to you. You retreated more and more, scared of what he would do to you, until your back hit a wall. Trepidation overtook your senses as he now towered in front of you, your breath coming out shallow and your whole body trembling like a leaf. “I’ve tried to hold back, tried to let you see on your own that you should be with me instead. But the minute you told me you would move in with him if given the chance, I didn’t wanna take a risk anymore.” Suddenly, tears rolled from his eyes as well. With a mixture of disgust and despair, you kept staring at him, too scared to actually react. “You’re all I have left. You’re the only reason worth living for. I couldn’t let him take you away from me, I’m sorry.” A pair of arms encircled your middle, pulling you in an inescapable embrace, as Abbacchio continued crying into your shoulder, a train of endless ‘I’m sorry’s' following along. The hug, which you once had considered as reassuring and comforting, petrified you now, your skin seemingly burning from his touch. “I’m really sorry,” the man repeated for the millionth time, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll build a nice life for us, I’ll protect you from everything, just please don’t leave me.”

You continued standing there while looking at the rotting corpse of your partner. “You’ll protect me from everything, huh?”, you whispered so quietly, you doubted Abbacchio actually heard you under his sobs. “But who will protect me from you?”

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #yandere jjba #yandere x reader #yandere abbacchio #yandere abbacchio x reader #golden wind #yandere jojo #tw: yandere #tw: homicide #tw: slight gore #tw: blood #tw: corpse #tw: stalking #tw: retching #minors dni

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alfredosauce50 · 3 years ago

Text

Of beasts and men [Hybrid 2p! America x reader]

Synopsis: And to think that godforsaken animal rescue center was to blame. You were supposed to find a dog to adopt, not a creepy furry who showed up naked at your door! Turns out, his shapeshifting abilities got him in some hot water with the police. And the rescue center owner. It’s pretty self-explanatory. Wordcount: 3, 290 The reader is referred to as she/her.

“You’re fired!” A gruff voice screamed outside a diner a few blocks down. “And don't come crawling back to me when you need my help! Not again!”

The shouts caused his ears to prick up, so he turned his head to the sound and flipped the man off. Though one had to wonder if he was a man. Yes, he stood on two legs, but he was covered head to toe with shaggy brown fur, and he had the head of a bull.

“No, I quit! Nobody fires me. Your loss, baby!” He yelled, baring his canines in a wide smile. When the other fumed in response, a jet of steam shot through his nostrils to blow his gold nose ring forward. Then, they stomped their foot and kicked the dirt below. He froze. “Oh shit.”

“I'll skewer you like a kebab!” They roared, rearing their head back before lunging forward to start charging at him. A single glance of those sharp horns was enough to send him running. So he fled, dashing through the narrow marketplace while gritting his teeth. Pushing past members of the public, he never stopped knocking over random objects in his way.

Crates, baskets, and fruit stalls in his path were bulldozed, alerting nearby swordsmen in blue jackets.

“Hey, you there! Stop running!”

He could hear their paws and hooves hot on his tail, so he lowered himself onto all fours and morphed. Sprinting all the way to the edge of the city, he disappeared into an alleyway. His life was a culmination of terrible decisions, but this probably took the cake. He knew exactly where this system of alleys led to, but he never slowed down to look back.

There was nothing left for him in the beast kingdom.

Dashing out of the enclosure of walls, he rammed into a dumpster and fell to the ground with a heavy thump. “Ah, shit...” He rolled onto his back and outstretched a paw to stare at it. “Maybe it isn't too late to be adopted. Ha!” The thought made him laugh, but it came out as a high-pitched wheeze. “Who am I kidding? I'm not a damn pet.”

“Hey, is that a red Doberman?”

He widened his eyes and sprung up on all fours. Pricking his ears to the two men standing at the street outside, he shook his head in regret. Like a deer caught in the headlights, they shined their torch on him and lit up his black irises with fear.

“Wow, you're right! Look at its fur! It's got a beautiful rusted color to it!”

“I can't believe it's a stray. We should take it back to the rescue center.”

The next thing he knew, he was sitting in a small cell. A metal gate slammed shut and locked him in. A few minutes later, he was still processing everything that had happened. He just got caught by a bunch of humans. “Did I jinx myself?” Jumping up and scrambling to the gate, he pressed his snout against the wires and held it with his paws--a rather human-like action and odd sight.

“Let me out, let me out dammit!” He yelled, pulling the wires back and forth to make it rattle. “This is a beast rights violation! I demand a lawyer!” What should have been coherent sentences left his mouth as a string of violent barks.

An attendant entered the hall and smashed a baton against a pole. “Oi, settle down! Keep that up and nobody will want you!”

The dog pulled away and fell onto his behind. Then, it let out a defeated scoff. “Nobody would want me anyways. Just do yourself a favor and let me rot on the streets.”

Upon hearing those soft whines, the attendant lowered his arm and walked off. “Atta’boy. Now go take a nap or something.”

And nap he did, having given up on escaping--for now. Laying his head on the cold, hard ground, he fluttered his tired eyes to a close. The next morning when he came to, his nose twitched to an unfamiliar scent. It radiated in waves from the fingers on the other side of the gate. Human fingers.

When he glanced up, someone was crouching in front of him and holding out their hand. “What about this one, Jerry? Is he up for adoption?” They asked with a small smile decorating their lips. Sitting up excitedly at that, he wagged his tail. Anything to get out of here. I'll figure out where to go later. “Aw, I think he understands me!”

“Hm, I suppose he is. But he's got a nasty temper, that one. You might wanna rethink your choice.”

He watched the hope fade from their eyes. “Oh, seriously? That's too bad...” Then, they stood up with a sigh. His tail swished to a stop and slumped. That attendant was right in the end, after all.

“And I thought I could get scary dog privileges. Maybe I should stick with smaller sizes...”

The pair made their way down the hall to look at the other species the center housed, much to his disappointment. “Cheer up! We've got tonnes of other big dogs for you to consider. Not all of them will be fussy living in small spaces. You said you lived alone, didn't you?” His ears perked up at that.

“So long as you take them out on walks, they'll be fine.”

“Maybe. But I might have to go home and take some measurements. These dogs were a little bigger than I expected.” Soft laughs echoed, followed by a door creaking open.

“Totally understandable. You come back another day, eh?”

The door clicked shut, leaving him to his own devices. A single thought occurred to him, and it repeated in his head over and over until it drove him mad. He needed to get out of here. Before some other human set their eyes on him. But how? That question was promptly answered when a chill ran down his spine.

His fur shivered and puffed up as he slowly grew in size.

“Oh crap, I'm out of juice!” As his limbs began to stretch, so did his paws. Soon, they began to resemble fingers, and his panic reached an all-time-high when he realized he was standing on two feet again. That wouldn't have been a problem if he wasn't where he was.

He was stranded in the human world in his beast form.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” Looking down to the spot between his legs, he gawked at another unwelcome discovery. Not only was he locked in a tiny cell, but he was also buck naked! It was only a matter of time before the attendant returned and found him like this. Regardless of his appearance, he was more than certain this warranted the police getting involved.

He already screwed up enough as it was. He definitely couldn't afford to get in trouble with the law in the human world too.

So he resorted to escaping by force. Taking a few steps back, he rammed into the lock. After a few attempts, he smashed through the gate and skidded to a stop. Without a shred of hesitation, he whipped his head to the door and charged right through it. Bursting into the front office, the receptionist screamed at his sudden arrival.

Then, they screamed even louder when they processed just what they were seeing. A humanoid dog.

The sheer volume of their shrieks made his ears tremble. “Oh my god, would you shut up already? I have good hearing, you know?”

Upon hearing him speak--a surefire sign he was indeed human--they reached for the phone beside them. Then, they talked frantically into the speaker, mentioning something along the lines of a naked creep in a fursuit. Now, he had no idea what that strange device was, but he was pretty sure they were alerting the authorities.

“Uh oh.”

For the second day in a row, he was chased by cops through a public sphere. That was one thing that didn't change, even if his setting certainly did. Towering buildings and skyscrapers loomed over him from all directions. Strange lights, posters, and moving pictures bombarded him with seizure-inducing colors.

Even then, he had no chance to take it all in when he was too busy fleeing. “Gah, get out of the way, get out of the way!” He barked.

Shoving through the people crowding the edges of the wide street, he stumbled right in front of a heavy-duty truck barreling at him at thirty miles an hour. He had been so determined to get away from the hoard of humans, he never realized where he wound up.

Before he could be sent flying, he gritted his teeth and jumped out of the way while it swerved into a telephone pole.

Briefly turning back to process the damage he'd done, shock filled him to the brim as he processed the scene of devastation that unfolded before him. But he couldn't linger on it for too long.

“That's the guy! Get him!”

He had to get out of here. But where was he supposed to go?

His nose twitched to a familiar scent. It was the person from this morning! And if he wasn't wrong, he recalled that they lived alone. So he followed the smell, finding himself standing outside of an apartment complex of some kind.

Setting down your things after that short and unproductive trip, you flopped down on the couch and turned on the TV. Police sirens wailed in the distance, but you paid them no mind. Whoever they were chasing, the fugitive was sure to be caught soon enough. Little did you know, you were about to become their accomplice.

A few crisp knocks sounded on the other side of your front door. Without tearing your gaze from the screen, you slid on your slippers. “Coming!” You called. Slowly making your way to answer it, whoever it was that decided to bother you on this fine Sunday morning, you peeked through the peephole to see a pair of tall red ears. Dog ears.

“Huh?” Unlocking the door and creaking it open, albeit only slightly, you poked your head out in confusion. Standing there in all his glory, or its glory, was an anthropomorphic Doberman. If it weren't for these circumstances you met them under, you would have noticed they were a spitting image to the red Doberman in the rescue center. Instead, you were more compelled to fixate on other details.

When he realized where you were staring, he covered himself and grinned sheepishly.

“Uh... Happy birthday?”

The color drained from your face until you were paler than a sheet of paper. Then, you screamed.

He reflected a similar panic, and before you could shut the door in his face, he lunged forward into the frame and pried it open. “Wait, just hear me out! I'm in a bit of a tight spot here!” Given his physical advantages, he triumphed rather easily and forced himself into your home. All you could do was watch, but that didn't mean you couldn't keep screaming.

Rearing his head back as he covered his trembling ears, he shot his arms around you and clamped a hand over your mouth. “Stop screaming for God's sake! I've had it enough with the screaming today!” When you felt his fur against your lips, you only struggled and thrashed harder out of fear.

Regardless of his strength and stature, he couldn't do this all day.

So he tried morphing again. Rather than changing into the dog you saw earlier in the morning, he assumed a form closer to yours. His rusted red fur disappeared along with his tail. The long snout that pressed against your face shortened, and eventually, the arms that held you hostage were human. Or at least, they gave off that impression with his tanned, hairless skin.

You could argue that his transformation made the situation a little less bizarre. A little more manageable. So yes, you stopped moving. Now that you weren't resisting, he assumed you calmed down enough for him to let you go. What a big mistake that was.

The second you were freed, you punched him square in the jaw.

“Gh-!” An explosion of pain spread through his cheek. Turning back to you with teary eyes, he gripped the spot you took the liberty to abuse. “What the hell was that for?!” He spluttered.

“For being naked, you idiot!” You fumed through a blush.

“I thought we already moved past that!”

“We'll move past it once you put some clothes on!”

A little less bizarre? Who were you kidding? His sudden change in appearance only signaled to you he wasn't just your typical creep in a fursuit. As you mulled over the thought, a grim expression contorted at your features. Was this karma for changing your mind about that Doberman? A supernatural reckoning you so deserved for walking away? Needless to say, it was something worth discussing over some food.

“Thanks for the sweatpants, by the way! I'll return it to you later.” Kicking back in a chair, he started snacking on what he found in your pantry.

You avoided his gaze. He stood at least five inches taller than you, and he was certainly bigger than you were. And in more ways than one. “... You can keep it.”

Watching a dog munch on chocolate was not the most comfortable thing to see, either. The same could be said for his hands that picked through a candy box. “Wow, these are great! We don't have stuff like this back where I live.” He mused, throwing another chocolate-covered almond into his mouth. You tensed up.

“Wait, are you saying you've never had chocolate before?” Leaning forward and slamming your hands down on the dining table, you darted your eyes over his unreadable expression for any signs of discomfort. “I can't believe I let you eat it! Just because you can talk and everything!”

“Wha'dya mean I can talk? Of course I can talk!”

Maybe letting him rummage through your pantry was a bad idea.

He licked around his snout and huffed. “Anyway, sure I've eaten it before. Just nothing this good. What did you guys do to this, huh?” You breathed out a sigh of relief at that and sat back down. So you didn't accidentally poison your guest. Some guest he was, though. His name was strangely more down-to-earth than his otherworldly origins.

“Well, it's processed.”

“Processed, huh? I have no idea what that means.” He turned the box over and squinted at the label. “Huh? What language is this?”

“Japanese.”

His brows knitted together and he looked deep in thought. “Hm. I don't know what that is either.”

You laughed under your breath. “Duh. From what you've told me, it wouldn't be wrong to say you were born yesterday.”

“Oi, I'll have you know I was born at least a year ago!”

Allen, the runaway beast, had left his homeworld for the human one. Though chased out was the more accurate way to put it. There was nothing left for him back there, and his only hope of starting over was to take refuge in a foreign land. Perhaps not forever, but at least until he figured out where to go from here. That was what he had in mind.

“I'm not too concerned about you learning anything new. You'll be leaving soon, so.” Standing up with a content smile, you made your way to his side and patted him on the shoulder. The action prompted him to glance up at you with a full mouth. What you said next, however, would make him spit everything out. “You can't stay the night, Allen.”

He spewed almond bits all over the table, much to your disgust. “Wait, what?! I thought you were gonna let me stay! And not even just for a night, maybe for a week or two!”

You gawked in disbelief. “Are you crazy?! I'm not taking you in just because of your sob story. I'm not made of money, you know!” But that wasn't quite it, either. You were prepared to raise a dog, a big one at that, for protection purposes. The problem wasn't money.

The problem was that he wasn't human.

His ears drooped and he shot you his best puppy dog eyes he could muster. But you stayed strong. It was what he later added that jabbed at your strong resolve. “Aw, come on. Weren't you planning to adopt a dog like me? What's the difference?” Allen pouted. The sound of him reiterating exactly what was on your mind made you freeze up.

“It'll be the same as having a pet, I swear! Maybe even better--I know how to use a toilet!”

“Of course you know how to use a toilet!” You interjected, pulling away shortly to let out a sharp, frustrated sigh. “You're not a pet, Allen. You're a person, well, a dog person. You're not helpless without an owner! And what if somebody hunts me down and for keeping you here?” As much of a point you had, he didn't stop there.

Everything in his life boiled down to this moment. If he couldn't convince you to let him stay, there was no saying where he would end up. So he would do everything in his power to give you that one last push.

Standing up from his chair, he morphed into a human. Or tried with what was left of his energy. While his red ears and tail remained, there was nothing else reminiscent of the beast he was. “If you're worried about what I am, then I'll stay like this. Without the ears and tail, I mean.” His furry appendage swished at that.

“And I'll help you with house chores. I'm more capable than I look, I promise!”

You furrowed your brows and sighed for what felt like the tenth time that day. You couldn't believe it, but he was steadily chipping away at your resolve. So you turned away. “Mm, I don't know. This is a lot to ask from someone, especially if you aren't helping with the bills.”

Allen lit up, sensing your change of heart. So he jumped in front of you. “I'll do anything to make up for it!” He grinned, his energetic outburst catching you off-guard. There was something about his body language and attitude that perfectly embodied a loyal dog eager to please its owner. It was probably because of that tail of his that wagged with great gusto.

Among other things, you supposed.

“I'll be everything you need! A pet, a bodyguard, househusband, whatever you like!” Your attention was piqued at the mention of bodyguard. But when you processed the rest of his sentence, you lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Who said I needed a househusband?” You frowned.

Allen blinked. “Was that too much?” He grinned toothily. “Then how about a live-in boyfriend?”

With every shred of your willpower, you held back the urge to punch him. You already bruised him enough for today. “If you want me to consider taking you in, make me something for lunch! If it's acceptable, I might let you stay.” Shoving him into the kitchen at that, you pulled your apron off its hook and tossed it his way. “And do the dishes, too!”

“Alright, alright, jeez! Have some faith in me, won't you? I used to work in a diner, ya know?” The man swatted you gently with his tail. But you only pulled it much to his surprise.

“Used to. You probably got fired.”

Allen ignored that comment. “Watch where you touch, babe. You're moving a little too fast, even for me--Ow!”

#hetalia fanfiction #hetalia fanfic #axis powers ヘタリア #hetalia world series #2p!americaxreader #2p america #2p america x reader #x reader #beast #boy and the beast #bakemono no ko #hybrid #inu #allen jones #fantasy

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aobakukkii · 4 years ago

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✬Bokuto Relationship Headcanons✬

Bokuto x Gender Neutral Reader

(+small male reader bonus part at the end because the guys deserve it)

✬

Just really fluffy stuff for you and best boy

✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬

- Having someone like Bokuto as your partner will be an incredibly rewarding experience, if you are willing to adapt to his antics. He actively seeks out fun, excitement and chances to grow and expects you to be his personal portable power bank on his journey. For him, one must always try to become the most ideal version of oneself and this also involves moving someone out of their comfort zone because boy does not like feeling restrained. He picks up cues on how to handle people extremely well and makes sure that both of you feel happy and secure on your path. Most of the time Bokuto radiates positive energy and hype, so his s/o really does not have to worry and just put faith into his skills.

- Bokuto likes to express his feelings through physical affection. He is awfully touchy with people he is close with and his s/o gets to feel it double. Bokuto is build for the greatest of cuddles and hugs and he just finds it so easy and convenient to hold his s/o close or touch any given part of their body throughout the day to say “I love you and I deeply care about you”, although his s/o could always ask him to say it out loud and he would shower them with sweet-nothings and compliments.

In return, he wants his s/o to accept his affection, return it in their way and finally their attention. He’s not per se the most jealous person (only to a certain extent) and completely understand that sometimes people need their alone time, but he’s self-absorbed to a degree that he wants and needs to be the center of your love and attention at least a little bit everyday. Otherwise he can become really whiny. To stop him just do something (in his eyes) really cute and everything is forgiven.

- One word that Bokuto does not know of is shame. He wants to show off and attention and this has an impact on how he displays PDA when you don’t stop him. He prides himself a lot on having the best s/o ever and sadly won’t accept nothing as an option because he can’t help himself. He is fine with keeping it on a low level like holding hands, leaning onto each other or throwing his arm around your shoulder, but if you let him go as he pleases him he may just make you sit on his lap or pick you up and spin you around once you guys meet.

- Contrary to what some might think, Bokuto does appreciates relaxed dates to recharge. The most common quality time with him is chilling at one of your places after work/university/school and just play video games or binge shows. However daily responsibilities won’t stop him from dragging you out at night for some “late-night adventures” like getting some food and/or taking a walk and talking about random stuff while appreciating the privacy and beauty of the dark so hopefully you’re into that as well.

He regularly checks for new or popular spots in and around town for you guys to visit on your days off. A popular restaurant, local sightseeing spots, an interesting exhibition, any amusement park (probably his favorite date spot) or some escape room, he wants to see them all. He also really loves to travel to near and far with you and take cheesy, but cute, couple selfies. However his schedule sadly limits his abilities to do so often besides local stuff and short trips.

- When you guys are apart, especially for a longer period of time, he quite literally trashes your phone with the amount of notifications and videos he sends you throughout the day. He begs you to install Snapchat (if you don’t already have it) and vlogs you his training, things you might find interesting and bad jokes in hopes of making you smile. Speaking of bad jokes, expect a lot of memes for another cheap laugh. If you’re somewhat responsible you should not produce content at a similar rate (you both need to get something done after all), but as long as you reply ever so often you make his day.

- In a relationship with Bokuto, you will receive a lot of support but also have to give a lot of support. He feels like it’s his responsibility to bring you back up and make you feel special and that’s exactly what he needs in return. He is without a doubt resilient and some kisses, hugs and compliments can get him back on track most of the time, but he couldn’t handle if the person he trusts the most does not have his back or rejects him when he needs them.

Nevertheless, his style of love involves a lot of spoiling his s/o rotten and if he gets spoiled in return, you should be well prepared for possible hardships.

- Have I mentioned that he is perfect if you take care of him? He won’t have a problem with including you in his friend-circle (his teammates and you have a lot of passive contact through his vlogs anyway) or inserting himself into yours. He’s ready to indulge in interests you might have as long as he can spend some time with you. It’s pretty easy to get him hooked onto something as long as you love it.

- It’s really important for him that try to cheer him on during his games and that you are active enough to play at least a bit of volleyball with him (not like you could keep up with him otherwise). He’s a patient teacher, but you will probably learn the most about being a setter for countless demonstrations of his straights. If you already play volleyball at any level really, he’s even more satisfied. The experience of playing with you is one of the biggest confidence boosts he can get for his games and he's determined to use the techniques he showed you to win! Another big boost is to wear his merch or even better his spare training clothes (or option 3: both) when you attend the games in person. Show others that you're his #1 fan!

✬

Fanboy BONUS~

Warning: Suggestive, but nothing graphic

- If you guys speak English (don’t worry, he passed his English exams), expect him to use surprisingly creative yet lame bro pick-up lines. You just know that he practices those with Kuroo.

- Remember the show off part? With a boyfriend he adds an “own the haters” attitude on top of it. When gushing about you, he can’t stop saying how HIS BOYFRIEND is the most fantastic thing in existence. He’s maybe a bit overbearing sometimes, but his motivation is just so pure that barely anyone minds.

- He’s a top, deal with it. You can learn it the easy or the hard way, but he will assert it in your relationship in any way he wants.

#bokuto x reader #bokuto x male reader #haikyuu x reader #bokuto imagines #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanon #haikyuu x you #bokuto x you #haikyuu #koutarou bokuto #himbo #haikyuu x y/n #bokuto #haikyuu fluff #fluff

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kookingtae · 4 years ago

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the equation of love (pt. 10)

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7 | pt 8 | pt 9 | pt. 10

professor yoongi x uni student reader

→scenario: When you met Yoongi in a club, you thought it was fate that brought the two of you together. But after you walked into your college math class for the very first time, you weren’t so sure anymore.

→genre: smut | fluff | angst

→word count: 10.5k

→a/n: alternatively: fuck it, it’s been five years and this wip has been staring at me for three of them, so im just gonna post it. i have not read this over since 2018, so pls dont judge me too harshly hhsdg it’s unedited and probably a bit cringy, but then again what ch of teol isnt? this is NOT all that i have planned for the series, but i figured something is better than nothing, right? and perhaps the saying better later than never applies here, too. maybe one day i’ll finally get around to finishing it (by then im sure no one will even be around to remember what teol is lmao) but until then, enjoy what ive been sitting on! and as always, if you’re still here, thank you for your endless patience and support with this series <3

→another a/n: after this will probably be an epilogue!

→tw: mentions of blackmail, r*pe and sexual assault (we mostly just get closure on the whole professor lee & jun situation!!)

→warning: this chapter is not a happy ending, but it’s not necessarily a BAD one either, so for those who don’t like to finish on an unhappy note, it’s up to you on whether you’d like to read it or wait for the epilogue to be posted!

Running water.

It was such a simple yet fascinating concept—atoms and molecules coming together to form the only substance on earth that has a natural state in all forms, while having the power to kill in three different ways. Solid, by hypothermia; liquid, by drowning; gas, by suffocation. This substance can take three different forms, yet it's most commonly a liquid, covering nearly 71% of the world with translucent bodies of water. Oceans, ponds, lakes—though the most enchanting of them all were rivers. They were always moving, crashing beyond rocks and bustling with the flow of the current and gravitational pull of the earth. Rivers were passionate, and strong, and no matter how hard one tried they couldn't break the whipping tide that was pushing against them. Nothing could cause the powerful force to falter.

But, like most things, even rivers must come to an end. The current stops flowing, and the waves stop breaking around the jagged rocks, and the powerful force that seemed it would never end dulls to a still, calm lull, as if the river was nothing more than a brief yet raging storm. All the passion, all the fight—over in a blink of an eye, left to dissipate into the mysteries of the vast ocean.

Staring down at the picture on the cell phone screen in front of me was like getting pulled by the current of a river; down, down, down I flowed until there was no river left around me and I was left stranded in the middle of the sea. Yoongi and I were once raging, and passionate, and ready to fight against anyone who tried to tear us down, but now the fight was over. We had been dragged too far, fading into a body of water that was not our own. This was bigger than us.

Yes, like the flow of a river, all things must come to an end.

"That's it," Yoongi gritted his teeth, and I felt the dip of the mattress beneath me as he rose to his feet in anger.

"Yoongi," I called his name in a warning tone, warily standing up from the bed and watching him move around the room. "What are you doing?"

"I'm over it," he said, hastily throwing the first articles of clothing he could grab from his drawers over his body. "I'm done dealing with all of this, Y/N! I'm going up to the school."

Despite the flare of determination that sparked in my heart at his words, his rage seeming to radiate off of him and onto me as well, I couldn't help the trepidation that I was also filled with; Yoongi didn't have a history of making rational decisions out of anger.

"Don't you think you should calm down first?" I offered, trying my best to match his pace around the room.

"No!" Yoongi suddenly skidded to a halt in front of me, his eyes wild and crazed. "I'm going to find her and I'm going to fucking kill her!"

I could only stand with a gaping mouth and watch as he stormed out of the room, leaving me with no choice but to pull on my old clothes and chase his stomping foot steps. He grabbed his keys before storming out of the apartment, down the stairs, and outside into the parking lot. I tried to ignore the blindingly bright sunlight as I squinted my eyes and continued after him.

"Follow me up to the school," Yoongi barked as he hopped into his car.

"Yoongi–" I started, but my consoling voice was cut off by the slam of his door. I frowned, scrambling to unlock my vehicle as his engine roared to life.

The drive to the university was a nerve-wracking one. I kept a watchful eye on Yoongi to make sure he wasn't speeding or swerving all over the road; they say you're not supposed to operate a vehicle while you're upset. Though it would seem my efforts were futile, because he did in fact speed and swerve, and all I could do was frown and try to keep up.

It wasn't that I wasn't angered by Professor Lee; I was furious, rage and disgust and frustration all stewing inside of me like a pot of water that was ready to boil over. But I just couldn't help but worry for Yoongi. I had always been the non-confrontational type, always hoping that with a little time things would get better if they were ignored long enough. But it would seem that my method was proven inefficient today, because as much as I had tried to ignore her antics, that wicked woman wouldn't stop at anything to make sure Yoongi and I were properly dragged through the mud and going down like a ship engulfed in flames. Yet as much as that angered me, I couldn't bare the thought of the turmoil it was causing Yoongi. I didn't know when I had started casting my own feelings aside and putting his above—it was a gradual thing rather than one, defining moment—but it was only another factor that proved how much I actually loved this man. And that very thought instilled a fear that shook me to the very bone.

We had a lot more to lose now than just his job and my education. We could be losing us. And that was more important now than it had ever been before.

Once we arrived at the university there were a lot of screeching brakes, messy parking and fumbling hands as I scrambled to catch up to his looming figure that seemed to stalk towards the building at an unnatural pace. The pounding of my heavy heartbeat was what drove me forward, anxiety rising with each quickened step that I took.

"Yoongi!" I yelled once I had lessened the distance between us, now dead center on the campus sidewalk. "Yoongi, wait!"

All of a sudden he whirled around, his abrupt halt causing me to crash straight into his chest. I let out a yelp in surprise, eyes wide and ready to interrogate him, before I felt the smooth curvature of his palms on either side of my face as he tilted my head up to his and slammed his mouth onto mine.

The world stopped spinning for a moment, everything around me fading into the motions of his plush skin, his soft lips exploding with flavor and spilling over my tastebuds, satisfying my thirst in a way that no water ever could. I didn't even question it for a second before I was melting into him, quite literally becoming putty in his hands as the rest of the world instantaneously escaped my mind.

It's funny the way that worked—the way he was able to completely erase everything that had once existed in the blink of an eye, just by his simple touch. Whether it was magic, or I was just that fucking whipped, I didn't know. But either way, I didn't possess the power to stop it even if I wanted to.

When Yoongi finally broke away, he was breathing heavily, his breath fanning across my face in cool puffs of air. "I don't care what anyone thinks anymore," he spoke onto my lips, his forehead pressing against mine with a firm force. "Let them see. The only thing I care about is you."

It was then that I was suddenly aware of our surroundings, the reality of our world crashing down around me as I glanced around at all the eyes watching us. It varied; there were those choosing to spare us a glance as they walked to and from their classes, those who stalled their current actions to lift their heads to us not once, not twice, but three times, and then there were those who stopped altogether, their widened eyes and slackened jaws dead giveaways that they knew exactly who Yoongi was: Professor Min, Algebra 101 instructor.

A stroke of his thumb across my cheek brought my attention back to him; I stared up into his eyes, the desperate look in them captivating me and making it impossible to look away. His chest was rising and falling beneath his shirt, his fingers were grappling at my face as he brushed my wisps of hair out of the way, silently begging me to understand, to agree with him.

And in that moment, I knew what I had to do.

My lungs were filled with a breath of newfound determination, dazed and driven by Yoongi's words and embrace. "I love you," I spoke with conviction, caressing the nape of his neck as if to give him more reassurance. "Let's go.”

With that I grabbed his hand, holding my head high for the rest of the campus to see as I started up Yoongi's stride towards the school's building. He was right beside me, weaving his fingers through mine and giving my hand an extra squeeze as if to say that he was here, that he was proud to let the world know that I was his and he was mine, and that he wasn't going anywhere.

We were going to take down Professor Lee.

The seminar room was empty of students when we stormed in. Seats were placed throughout the floor, papers were scattered on the desks, and Professor Lee was at the front of the room, fiddling with the cords from the projector screen.

At the sound of the door opening, her head snapped up. "Well well well, look what we have here," she smirked when she saw us, making no plans to move as she saw me marching over to her. "You know, I really don't think–"

Slap!

The impact of my palm to her face cut off her words, skin on skin contact crackling through the room and echoing into a deafening silence.

Professor Lee gasped, immediately grasping where a red mark was now forming on her cheek before looking up at me with wild eyes. "You just slapped me!" She cried in disbelief.

"You're damn right I did," I gritted my teeth, taking a threatening step towards her and raising my palm. "Want me to do it again?"

It was then that I felt Yoongi's hand on my back, the feeling having an instant calming effect over my senses whether he wanted it to or not. I sighed before visibly relaxing and lowering my hand.

"You're barbaric!" Professor Lee was foaming at the mouth, still holding her face with a slack jaw. "Are you forgetting that I'm a professor? When Dr. Kim finds out about this, I swear he'll–"

"Tell him!" I roared as loud as my vocal chords would let me. "Tell whoever, tell the whole world, I don't fucking care! I'm done with your bullshit, you selfish psychotic witch!"

With that I gave her one final shove against her shoulders, and when both of her hands flew out to grab ahold her surroundings in an effort to keep from falling over, I planted another slap right across her face. The impact stung my hand, but I didn't care. Seeing Professor Lee stumble through the air was worth it.

"Baby," Yoongi spoke in a gentle yet warning tone next to me, and I had almost forgotten he was there until I felt his grip slightly tighten around my waist. It was a comforting hold, as if to say he completely trusted and supported whatever I chose to do in this situation, but still a protective hold nonetheless. He wanted to make sure I wasn't going to get myself hurt.

"You know, what is your problem, exactly?" I tilted my head at her as she struggled to get her bearings straight. "Is there an actual reason you're doing all of this, or are you just mentally insane?"

"It–it's not right!" Professor Lee stuttered with wide eyes, raising a shaky finger to point at me and Yoongi. "Your relationship, it's–"

"Oh cut the bullshit, Sara," Yoongi let out a sound of disgust from beside me. "We all know that's not why."

"I... I..." she stumbled for words, wide eyes glancing back and forth between the two of us. "Who do you guys think you are? You can't just storm in here and start attacking me–"

I took a menacing step forward, pure rage making up for what I lacked in intimidation. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I fumed, reaching out to grab her again.

"No, please!" She suddenly cowered before I could get to her, shielding her head away from me with her arms. "I—Yoongi, I'm in love with you!"

Her confession sent me reeling backwards in a downwards spiral, my body instantly going limp as I watched her with a dumbfounded expression. A vast silence echoed throughout the room that could be cut with a knife before she finally spoke again.

"Ever since you started working here, I knew you were the one. I just knew it." Her voice was sad, exhausted now, and a look of defeat washed over her features.

"What?" Yoongi gaped in disbelief. "Sara, that was two years ago!"

"I know!" She spat harshly. "You don't think I know that? For two years, I had to deal with this silly crush I had on you. I had to spend every day with you, watching it bloom into love overtime, and there was nothing I could do about it."

"You could've just told me!" Yoongi exclaimed as if that was the obvious answer.

Professor Lee snorted humorlessly. "Yeah, and be made a fool of? No thanks." She lowered her eyes to the ground.

"Sara, we're grown adults. You could've acted like one and fucking said something to me about it, made a move, anything but drag my career under the bus!" Yoongi's voice was strained now, his eyes wide as if silently begging her to understand him while he was equally trying to understand her.

"I was going to!" She lashed out again while whipping her head up towards him. "I was working up the courage to ask you out on a date, and then I see that fucking slut on your lap and I–"

"Don't you dare call Y/N that," Yoongi suddenly growled, pushing past me and stepping towards her intimidatingly. "One more thing out of your mouth about her and I swear to god I will kill you right here, right now."

My breath hitched in my throat at his threat and I couldn't help but weave my arm around his to grab his hand, intertwining our fingers and squeezing tightly. He gripped mine back even tighter, as if he was desperately trying to latch onto whatever calming effect I seemed to have over him.

Professor Lee swallowed, choosing to stay silent and watch him carefully as jagged breaths rose and fell from her chest. "The point is," she continued on, "I saw you with someone else—someone who wasn't me. And that completely tore my heart to shreds."

"So the only solution is to ruin our lives," I chimed in sarcastically.

"I may not have gone about it the best way," she quickly gritted her teeth and shot me a glare before turning her attention back to Yoongi, "but I had to act on instinct. I still wanted to be with you, so I figured that maybe if I split the two of you up, you would have no one else to turn to but me."

Yoongi just stared at her, his face scrunched up in a mix of confusion and disgust. "Do you know how sick and twisted that is?" He asked.

"All I ever wanted was to be with you, Yoongi," she pleaded, her tone vulnerable now as she took a tentative step towards him and started to raise her hand up to caress his cheek. "I still do. It's not too late; we can leave now, just you and me and forget this whole thing–"

"Don't fucking touch me," he knocked her hand away with his forearm just before it could reach his face. "If you think I'm going anywhere with you, you're even crazier than I thought." He then stepped back to wrap his arm around my waist and pull me securely into his side. "I'm in love with Y/N, and I don't give a shit what rumors you or anyone else wants to spread about it. You're fucking pathetic."

At that moment there was the sound of a door bursting open, causing the three of us to turn our attention to the entrance of the room. There, standing in the doorway, was Dr. Kim.

The sight of him immediately deflated the elation I was feeling from Yoongi's words, instantly replacing them with a sense of anxiety and fear that lodged its way into my throat until I was sure I would die from suffocation. This was it; according to the text from Professor Lee, he had already seen the picture of me and Yoongi kissing. This was the moment that would decide our future forever.

I just hoped we had enough evidence against Professor Lee for him to take our side.

"So let me get this straight." Dr. Kim folded his hands on the dark oak wood of his office desk. "Professor Min and Y/N had relations before Y/N became a student here, while Yoongi was unaware of her age?"

"Yes sir," Yoongi nodded his head in assurance.

"And then you continued your relationship, even after finding out that she was your student."

"He didn't at first," I interjected in hopes of getting some of the heat off of Yoongi. "He tried to call it off, but I kept pushing it. The reason we got back together during school was my fault, not his."

Yoongi's eyes met mine from the chair next to me, his gaze seeming to hold the words that silently spoke that's not true, and I instantly knew what he was thinking. In actuality, he had been the one to give me after-school tutoring on that Saturday during the homecoming football game, not I. He had been the one to kiss me first that day. But there was no way in hell I would ever tell that to the dean.

"I don't care whose fault it is; all that matters is that it happened," Dr. Kim frowned. "And it's still happening if I'm not mistaken, correct?"

"I... um," my eyes flickered to Yoongi, every fiber of my being starting to fill with panic. Shit, we should've discussed this beforehand. I wasn't going to willingly rat Yoongi out, no matter how many times he's said he didn't care anymore if people knew about us.

Suddenly I felt the warm, soft sensation of skin wrapping around the curvature of my hand that was resting atop the wooden armrest. "Yes, it's still happening," Yoongi spoke, and then his fingers were intertwining with mine.

I practically choked on my own spit at his words; did this boy have a death wish? A cough came sputtering out of my lungs, the sound causing everyone in the room to look at me until I'd settled down. Even Professor Lee leaned forward from her seat on the other side of Yoongi, bewilderment written all over her expression as she gave me a look of disgust.

"Well there's your proof right there." She threw her hands up in defeat before gesturing to the two of us. "What more do you need? Expel them, Dr. Kim."

"B–but that's not it!" I suddenly exclaimed and lurched forward, feeling the heat of everyone's stare on our embraced hands, which in turn only made me grip him even harder for support. "Dr. Kim, you have to believe me when I tell you that Professor Lee has worked hard to make my life a living hell ever since I got to this school. She had a vendetta against me; she's in love with Yoongi, and so she–"

"That's not true!" Professor Lee screeched.

"She worked to turn people against us rather than coming to you because she wanted to blackmail Yoongi into being with her," I ignored her interjection and continued. "She even made a seminar about it—the mandatory seminar that everyone attended today!"

The dean turned his attention towards her. "The seminar about the importance of practicing safe sex?" He questioned in bewilderment.

My eyes practically bulged out of my head at his words; that's what she was telling everyone it was about?

"It was!" She scrambled in defense. "I mean I... I may have brought up Yoongi and Y/N as an example, but that's only because they fit the part! Y/N had a pregnancy scare not too long ago, and I didn't want the same thing to happen to our students!"

I felt the color draining from my face, blanching it a stone cold white and decimating any feeling I had left in my body.

How the fuck did she know about the pregnancy?

My head instantly whipped towards Yoongi to see if he had any logical explanation for this, and his face was as poised and stoic as ever in front of his two colleagues—but I could see through it. I knew him well enough to catch onto the slightest falter in his blinking, the increase in heat that collected between our palms, the small twitch of his mouth that would've gone unnoticed by anyone else who observed him. I knew there was no way he could've told Professor Lee about the pregnancy, because he was just as blindsided as I was.

Dr. Kim simply raised his eyebrows in interest before turning back to Yoongi and me.

"Dr. Kim," Yoongi spoke, his voice dripping with amusement, "I mean no disrespect, but do you honestly think that if Y/N had a pregnancy scare, we would tell Sara about it? Come on; not after all she did to us."

"They—they didn't tell me!" Professor Lee huffed out a desperate breath. "I overheard them while I was–"

"While you were what?" I interrupted with a raise of my eyebrow. "While you were spying on us to find any blackmail you could use on Yoongi?"

"N–no!" She stuttered, though at this point it was obvious that she was making up lies on the spot. "While I was walking past the classroom!"

"Why would we be talking about that with the door open?!"

"Enough!" Dr. Kim barked, his deep voice rumbling throughout the small office. We all grew silent as we turned our attention to him. "There will be no arguing of he said/she said in my office," he scolded, then turned his attention to Yoongi before speaking. "I understand that there was someone you wanted me to see?"

Yoongi, who had remained calm during all of this, simply nodded his head before releasing my hand. "Yes, sir," he said as he stood up and walked towards the door.

My eyebrows were knitted in confusion as I watched it all transpire: the words exchanged between the two men, Yoongi rising out of his seat, the sight of my biology professor being revealed behind the closed door. The whole thing came as a surprise to me, and my emotions seemed to be having a war between the shock and relief that I felt raging like a storm in the pit of my stomach.

Why didn't Yoongi tell me about Professor Park being involved in this discussion? When did he have time to ask her to come? Did it even matter at this point?

"Professor Park," Dr. Kim widened his eyes, his frame physically reclining back in his seat. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"As am I to be here," she smiled though her voice was venomous, eyes flashing to a very alarmed Professor Lee.

"Mia?!" The woman barked in disbelief at her friend's entrance. "What are you doing here?"

"Something I should've done a long time ago," Professor Park replied, and with that she turned towards the dean and opened her mouth to speak.

"I'm here to testify on the behalf of Min Yoongi and Y/N."

Earth-shattering elation rippled through me from the inside out, starting at the base of my toes and spiraling to the top of my head and the tips of my fingers, causing them to tingle and buzz with a newfound sense of hope. We might actually have a chance!

"What?!" Professor Lee's voice ripped through the air in a deafening screech. "This isn't a court case! You don't get to play witness!"

"Actually, if Professor Park has witnessed anything, I would definitely like to know," Dr. Kim chimed in, raising an eyebrow towards my biology professor.

Professor Park nodded her head towards him in appreciation before speaking. "A few months ago Sara approached me in my classroom to tell me about the nasty rumors that were surrounding her and a student. She singled the student out, saying to purposely damage their grades because they were treating her unfairly and disrespecting her rules and authority as a professor; she even went so far as to say that they were sending her death threats"

"What?!" The word ripped from my throat faster than I could blink as I stared jaw-dropped at the women in the room.

"That's not true!" Professor Lee instantly protested as expected. "Sir, I can assure you that I never–"

"I have the text messages if you want," Professor Park offered in a tone so nonchalant one would've thought she was conversing about the weather.

Dr. Kim raised an eyebrow. "Text messages? I thought you said she came by your class?"

"She did, sir." Mia interlaced her fingers in front of her and bowed her head politely. "We spoke about it on multiple occasions. I asked why she wouldn't just go to you, or even the authorities if the student was making death threats, but Sara was adamant. She didn't want any scandals revolving around her so that she could maintain the level of professionalism that she had developed here."

I heard a snort coming from next to me, and it was with a swollen heart of pride that I realized the sound came from Yoongi trying to hold in a laugh.

Professionalism? Her? I had never heard anything so far fetched in my life.

Sara simply glared as Mia ignored him and continued. "She assured me that the best way to deal with this pesky student was to slowly start to fail them, and I'll admit, I was angry for her. Sara was my friend, and I respected her enough to believe what she was telling me and follow her requests." She turned her head to where I sat on the other side of Yoongi. "That student was you, Y/N. And I just wanted to say that I am so sorry for the way I handled things. You were treated unfairly and poorly due to false information."

"It wasn't false!" Professor Lee jumped in to defend herself, but everyone was pretty much ignoring her. Even the dean could tell she was playing the part of the boy who cried wolf at this point.

"I'd like to see those text messages, if you don't mind." Dr. Kim reached his hand out expectantly.

There was a brief moment of silence while Professor Park nodded and tapped away on her phone before handing it to him. His cold and calculated eyes scanned the screen while saying nothing, all three of us waiting with bated breath for him to come to a decision in his mind.

There was no where left for her to run. With these text messages, all the constant denying that Professor Lee has done will be proven false and she will be exposed for all the hell she's put me through this semester. My heart was practically bursting at the thought.

"Well I would've appreciated it if you ladies had come to me with this information instead of handling it amongst yourselves, true or not," Dr. Kim finally sighed before giving Sara his full attention. "Ms. Lee, you have three people accusing you. Even if you didn't do it, there's obviously something that's turning them against you. And here at this university we strive to hold cooperation and communication above all else. If you don't get along with the fellow staff here, then why should I believe that they're the problem and not you?"

"Um, because Min Yoongi is fucking his student?!" Professor Lee was fuming now, her upper body lurching forward in her seat and her hands gripping the arm rests for dear life. "He literally just admitted to it!"

"Language, Ms. Lee," Dr. Kim scolded calmly. "I still like to maintain a professional attitude here in my office."

"I apologize sir, but that's beside the point." She was sitting back in her seat now, though her tone was no less frantic. "Min Yoongi is in a relationship with his student, and staff cooperation or not, I don't really think that's in the teacher handbook." She raised a snarky eyebrow at us as if believing that she had finally won.

I knitted my eyebrows, my palms feeling slick with a nervous sweat against Yoongi's as I realized the bigger problem here. It wasn't whatever lies and schemes Professor Lee had cooked up with my biology teacher; it wasn't even Professor Lee herself. It was the fact that Yoongi and I were in a relationship, and that was going to have enough consequences alone to shake me to my very core with fear.

"She's right," Dr. Kim uttered the words that I was silently hoping he wouldn't say, my grip tightening on Yoongi as I anticipated whatever outcome he's decided. Our fate was in his hands.

"Of course I am." Professor Lee crossed her arms and sat back in her seat with a smug grin.

"I'm afraid I have no choice." He was shaking his head, frowning at us apologetically though the sentiment didn't reach his eyes. "Mr. Min, I am sorry to inform you that you will have to be forced to resign from our university."

The color instantly drained from my face, and with it pulling all five senses that I have into the depths of the earth until I couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't speak—I could barely even breathe. There was a lump that was forming in my throat and settling deep within my gut, all of this feeling fake, too fake to be real.

Yoongi was fired, and it was all because of me.

"I understand, sir."

It was Yoongi's words that were pulling me from my fog of disbelief and devastation, my eyes blinking in an effort to snap back to reality as I looked from him to the dean. "No. No, there has to be something we can do, please!" I begged, my voice starting to get frantic the more the severity of the situation hit me. "I–I'll drop out! You don't have to worry about me ever coming near here again, just please, please don't fire him!"

"Y/N..." Yoongi's voice was quiet and full of resignation, defeat, but I wasn't giving up.

"Yoongi is an amazing professor who has worked here for, what, two years? He's extraordinary at what he does and students love him. It's not easy to find a professor like that everyday." I was staring into the eyes of the dean now, trying to move him with my words. "You shouldn't throw away someone as great as him just because of some stupid 18 year old's mistake! Please, Dr Kim." I leaned forward in my seat, the room silent as I spoke. "He wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for me. Please, let me suffer the consequences, not him."

I continued to stare in Dr. Kim's eyes, silently channeling my emotions through the pleading expression in my eyes, and it wasn't until I felt a comforting hand on my back that I was instantly drawn away into a more calm state in my chair. I gazed over at the owner of the hand, and he flashed back that smile I loved except it was sad, and it didn't reach his eyes, and I could tell there was so much he wanted to say to me right now if we weren't in the confinement of his boss' office.

"I understand your efforts, Y/N, but there's nothing I can do." Dr. Kim shook his head, and it was as if the world around me was shattering into blades of glass, scraping at my skin and leaving bloody wounds that I knew would never heal. "Mr. Min was involved in this relationship as well, and no matter whose fault it is, the professor needs to be held accountable. There is a level of professionalism and maturity that he must possess in order to work here; he's your superior, a respectable authority figure, and so he should've known better."

It was all I could do to keep from crying as I lowered my eyes and shook my head, every inch of my heart breaking for Yoongi until all that was left were tiny fragments to scatter in the wind. I couldn't believe I'd done this to him. The very thing he'd been worried about from the start—I had ruined his career.

"It is our goal as a university to see our students succeed," he continued, though I could barely hear a thing. "As for you, Y/N, I see no reason as to why you shouldn't keep attending this university."

I blinked a few times, confused. "You want me to... what?"

"You will have a suspension on your student records, mind you, and one more of those will lead to expulsion," he explained. "Though that doesn't mean that you can't keep going to school here. You will have to meet with an advisor every two weeks, though, who will be keeping a close watch on your behavior."

I could barely even believe my ears; had my hearing been completely lost due to the shock of the situation? "That's totally a double standard!" I gestured to Yoongi in disbelief.

"Y/N, it's okay..." Yoongi tried to calm me down.

"No, it's not okay!" I roared, eyes wide and brows furrowed in disbelief as I glanced at him before turning back to the dean. "Where do you think you can get off by treating people like this? This is his career—his life!"

"That will be enough from you, Ms. Y/N," Dr. Kim bellowed in a stern voice as he frowned. "I'm doing you a favor here by letting you continue your education. Speak out against me one more time and I will be revoking that offer."

His words were deafening throughout the office; it was suddenly understandable why he was so feared by those who worked under him. Yoongi started to run his hand along my spine in a soothing manner, and though it helped relax my fiery nerves and clear my foggy mind, I was still just as upset—if not more, now that the information was beginning to settle in.

"So that's it then?" Professor Lee spoke for the first time in a while, her lips pressed into a firm line, obviously disappointed by the turn of events though she didn't dare to speak out against Dr. Kim as he had warned. "Yoongi gets fired and Y/N gets a free ride?"

"Not so fast, Ms. Lee." The dean turned to her. "What you did was beyond unprofessional. You violated several school policies as well as bullied a student! Do you think that type of behavior is acceptable as a professor?"

Professor Lee opened her mouth as if to protest before slowly shutting it again, realizing that she had nothing left that she hadn't already denied. It was obvious that the evidence given to him by Professor Park, who stood silent in the corner of the room, was incriminating enough to sway his decision.

"I'm sorry to have to inform you that you will be fired as well."

"What?!" Her shrill voice screeched through the air, tearing whatever I had left of my eardrums and rendering me deaf here in this office. "What I did was no where near as bad as Yoongi and Y/N!"

"If anything, it was worse." Dr. Kim folded his hands over his desk. "Let's not forget that you managed to involve the entire student body in a false seminar that maliciously exposed one of our students and professors," he raised an eyebrow at her, "and that was just today."

"Yeah, not to mention all the other shit you did behind my back to make my life a living hell," I couldn't help from interjecting in a heated tone, though I backed off upon seeing the dean's stern gaze.

He redirected his attention back to Sara. "Here at this university, we strive to have a professional relationship, safe environment, and healthy lifestyle for our students. Neither of you achieved those three goals, so both of you will have to be let go."

Yoongi's expression simply remained placid and free of any emotion while Professor Lee's reaction was practically visceral, though neither spoke a word as heavy silence fell over the small office.

"Am I... am I still needed, sir?" It was Professor Park whose voice broke through the tension, everyone having forgotten she was there in the midst of the emotion-filled chaos. "Because if not, then I'm going to go."

"No, I'm just about finished here." Dr. Kim let out a sigh, as if what just transpired had been hard on him out of all people in the room. My blood boiled just looking at him, though I know I had to learn when to speak out and when to bite my tongue as Yoongi had taught me.

"Dr. Kim, is there any way you can reconsi–"

"That will be enough from you, Ms. Lee," his booming voice interrupted the frantic professor. "I've said all that I need to say on the matter. I'm not changing my mind."

"Dr. Kim?" I spoke up just as Professor Lee and Professor Park were getting ready to walk out the door. "I–I have something else to tell you. Un-related to this," I threw in when I saw him throw a glance in Lee's direction.

The man sighed before waving them out, leaving his office empty of visitors other than me and Yoongi in the chairs. I wasn't going to let that boy go anywhere.

"Y/N, I'm sorry that the outcome isn't exactly what you wanted but I'm afraid there's nothing I can–"

"Choi Junwoo tried to rape me," I blurted out.

There was a moment's pause as the dean was stunned silent with wide eyes, and out of my peripheral vision I could see Yoongi tense up and inhale sharply next to me.

"W–what–"

"Choi Junwoo," I spoke slowly for him so that he'd understand, "a student here at this university, tried to rape me at a frat party."

I couldn't leave the office without saying it. I couldn't leave the office without telling him. This wasn't just about me or the turmoil or trauma he caused; this was for every other girl in the future who might be a victim of Jun. Though in my heart I truthfully believed he was a good person, and that he really was just intoxicated beyond belief that night, it was still no excuse. If he had rape-tendencies while he was drunk and I didn't speak out about it, then I would be no better when it came to helping other sexual assault victims.

"Are you sure–"

"I found them at the party while he was mid-act," Yoongi jumped in, probably figuring he was already fired so there was nothing left for him to lose when it came to revealing details about our relationship outside of school. "It was... disgusting. I got her out of there immediately, but not before punching that bastard in the face."

"Metaphorically, of course!" I couldn't help but chime in, not wanting an assault charge to be on his record as well.

Thankfully Dr. Kim simply brushed off that minuet detail in favor for the more important issue at hand. "Y/N, what you're telling me will ruin this student's future. Are you absolutely sure you want to file this?"

Despite the anger that swelled up inside of me from him questioning my accusation, I still couldn't help the little trickle of doubt that crept in as I considered his words. At one point, Jun had been a friend... maybe even a potential lover had Yoongi not been in the picture. Dr. Kim was right, this information could potentially ruin his reputation, his education, his record... was I ready to carry the weight of knowledge that I've ruined someone's life forever?

"What are you talking about? Of course!" Yoongi spat an answer before I even had a chance to finish my thoughts. "She told you what happened, didn't she? Why would she speak out about something like this if she was making it up?"

"Maybe a personal vendetta?" The dean shrugged his shoulders. "People will do crazy things for revenge."

Now that got me heated. "The only one who wanted revenge here was Junwoo!" I stood up from my seat to yell. "He liked me and was mad that I turned him down. As if I owed my feelings to him or something! And when I told him no, he forced himself on me?! Is that really the type of message you want to send at this college? You know, since you're so high and mighty on "cooperation"," I did air quotes of sarcasm around my last words, my ears practically steaming with boiling rage.

"We will come out about this story, by the way," Yoongi added in, his voice full of venom. "And how will that look if you tried to keep us silent?"

"You can forget about me attending this university," I hissed.

"Alright, alright, settle down, the both of you," Dr. Kim lowered his hands in a calming manner. "I was not suggesting I buy your silence or anything of that nature. I was simply making sure you wanted to go through with this."

"Yes," Yoongi and I both answered in unison.

The dean nodded his head before clasping his hands together. "Alright."

The rest of the time in the office with spent filling on paperwork on a claim against Junwoo. I'd been given the option to be kept in the loop or even present when everything went down, though I politely declined. I wanted nothing more to do with that boy.

Though it would seem Professor Lee didn't share the same sentiment when it came to me, because as soon as soon as the two of us walked hand in hand into the hallway and Dr. Kim's door was securely shut, she sprung into action.

"You bitch!" She shrieked, not wasting another second as she leaped through the air and onto my body like a crouched tiger that was waiting for the right moment to attack. I felt the pressure of her weight against my chest and the sting of her nails scraping against my cheek, and before I knew it I was stumbling down, down onto the ground with another vicious blow to my jaw that was accompanied by her fist.

It all happened within a matter of seconds, but it wasn't long until I heard Yoongi yell Sara! and then her weight vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.

All I could do was stare with wide eyes as Yoongi slammed her shoulders back against the wall, though it was the look in his eyes that caught my attention. I had seen that expression before.

He was about to throw a punch.

"Yoongi, stop!" I cried, summoning all the strength I possessed to push myself to my feet and stumble over to the pair.

Yoongi whipped his head towards me with exasperated, almost wild eyes and his brows knitted in confusion and disbelief. "Y/N, she attacked you!"

"She isn't worth it," I spoke firmly in an attempt to get through to him. "Yoongi, just let it go. She isn't worth the trouble anymore."

It was when I placed a soothing hand against his back that Yoongi finally sighed, his stance visibly relaxing and his hands dropping from Professor Lee's shoulders. "She's right," he spit in a low, venomous tone as he turned back to her and grit his teeth. "Thanks to Dr. Kim, you already got what you deserve."

"Yoongi," there were sudden sobs that were tearing through the hallway, and it took me a moment to realize that Professor Lee was now... crying.

"Yoongi," she continued as she clung onto his shoulders. "Yoongi, I loved you!"

Somewhere deep inside of me, past all the burning hatred for what this woman has done to my life out of pure jealousy, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for her. This was once me, heartbroken over the effects of unrequited love. Yoongi was a very sought-after man, I'd come to realize, and it wasn't about my feelings or Professor Lee's or anyone else's. It was about his.

"Sara," Yoongi sighed, and there was almost a wince in his tone from how hard he was trying to make her understand. "It's over."

"W–what?" The woman was scrambling now. "It doesn't have to be! We can go back to the way things were–"

"There never was a ‘we’!" He ripped her hands from his shoulders. "We were friends, and then you sabotaged my career and Y/N's education. You never once spoke out about your feelings, came forward, handled things like adults," he stressed the last line. "You never once did any of those things! Instead you belittled another woman and cost yourself your job all for a man—someone who until now, was your friend." Yoongi sighed again and shook his head. "I hope you get the help you need, Sara. I'm sure there is someone out there who will love you unconditionally... but that person is not me."

And with that, he put a gentle hand on my back and we walked away.

“Oh my god.”

Those were the first words out of my mouth the second we exited the building, my hands resting on my head in disbelief as I turned to Yoongi. “Holy shit, Yoongi–“

“Shhh,” he instantly consoled me, his arms engulfing me in a comforting hug and my face tucking underneath his chin as he held me close. “We did it, Y/N. It’s all over.”

I stayed in his embrace for a few moments as his words sunk in. It was all over. No more secrets, no more Professor Lee—no more anything.

“B–but your job...” I pulled away to look up at him with a shaky tone, my brows furrowed in concern. “Dr. Kim fired you, he–“

“I resigned, Y/N. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?” I couldn’t help but look up at him with a hopeless expression.

Yoongi simply nodded his head, the picture of nonchalance as if his career hadn’t just changed forever. “Yes. If I had gotten fired, it would look terrible on my resumé should I apply for another teaching position. However, given the circumstances of our arrangement...” he paused, no doubt thinking of Professor Lee, “I suppose he decided to take it easy on us all.”

My shoulders deflated in relief. “Well thank god for that...” I sighed, not even wanting to think of what could’ve happened if Dr. Kim had given us the harshest punishment. In an ironic, twisted way, I suppose I have Professor Lee to thank for that. If she wouldn’t have made my life a living hell, it would’ve been that much worse if Dr. Kim ever found out on his own.

“But none of that even matters to me right now,” Yoongi suddenly snapped, and then in the time it took me to raise an questioning eyebrow he had already grabbed both sides of my face and rammed his lips into mine, the same as he did before we went inside to confront Professor Lee.

Only this time, the kiss was different. It didn’t hold promises and potential; it held freedom. It held the success of finally getting through everything by the skin of our teeth, the relief and the pride and the pure love that we have for each other after overcoming everything that we’ve been through together. I kissed him and I didn’t care who saw—because he wasn’t my professor anymore. There were no invisible chains that bounded us apart. It was just me and him sticking together against all odds. Never in my life did I think I would ever be a part of a relationship so committed, so passionate, so determined. He and I would never stop fighting for each other.

“I love you, Min Yoongi,” I murmured against his mouth with a grin on my features that was hard to disguise—especially when I felt the corners of his lips pull up into that gummy smile that I adored with all of my heart.

“God, I love you too, Y/N,” he replied back with a content sigh, and then he continued to kiss me on the busy campus sidewalk until we were both breathless and blue in the face.

Because we now had nothing to lose.

Despite finally being released from the clutches that school had on us, the days following the meeting with Dr. Kim were not easy.

Other than having to put on a fake smile and continue attending a university where practically everyone knew about my relationship with now-former Professor Min (my mother would never let me drop out—not that I could ever tell her the reason I'd want to, anyways), there were the stresses that Yoongi was dealing with of now being unemployed. And what with all but abandoning my dorm room to instead spend my nights with him at his apartment, it was impossible to not feel the weight of his problems on my shoulders as well. No matter how many times Yoongi tried to put up a façade and reassure me that he was okay, I couldn't help but feel like this was my fault.

"If I just never would've made you dance with me at that club..." I'd say at times, unable to keep from tracing back each and every one of our interactions and blaming myself.

"Cut that out," Yoongi would snap.

"What? It's true!"

"You know I don't like it when you talk like that!" He'd turn to me with a stern tone. "I don't regret anything that happened between us, okay? Not one single bit." There was a heavy silence as his words would hang in the air. "If you wouldn't have asked me to dance, then who knows if I ever would've worked up the courage to kiss you? And I wouldn't be here, sharing this bed with the love of my life."

"Aw, Yoongi..."

And the two of us would make love, again and again until we'd have a similar argument some time later and repeat the whole process all over again. I'd feel guilty, Yoongi would remind me of exactly how much he doesn't regret meeting me, and we'd get lost in each other's embrace.

That is, until a simple Sunday morning suddenly changed everything.

"I got it."

I casually peered over at the sound of him from my spot in the living room, sitting criss crossed on the couch in my pajamas with a laptop in my lap. "What?"

"The job." Yoongi's voice was low, serious as he stared at the paper in his hands that had previously been so carelessly disregarded on the kitchen island along with the Sunday paper. "At the university in Seoul."

"Wait." He had all of my attention now as I sat the laptop on the coffee table and rose to my feet. "Like the Seoul National University university?"

"Yeah," he let out a single chuckle of disbelief before he pressed the paper against the counter and turned to me. "I got the job."

"Oh my god, Yoongi!" I exclaimed with my own chuckle of disbelief before running forward and wrapping my arms around his neck. His arms immediately engulfed my waist and lifted me off the ground as we spun around in place, my lips instantly finding his in a searing kiss that was full of passion and excitement to match our current mood. "That's amazing!"

"I know," he replied as he placed me down. A tentative smile was frozen on his lips as he stared off into the distance before letting out another sound of disbelief, his head shaking before his palm slid down his face. "I can't believe it!"

"I'm so proud of you!" I mirrored the grin of pure elation on his features, my chest swelling with joy and relief and most of all, pride.

I was so, so proud of Yoongi. I knew how much his job meant to him, and the feeling of guilt that weighed down on me from knowing that I was the one who inadvertently took that away from him, that I was the one who inadvertently caused all this stress of job hunting was instantly lifted off my shoulders. I knew how much he wanted this. I knew how hard he had worked to get this job at such a prestigious school, and god damn it, I knew how much he deserved it. If Yoongi was anything, apart from being an amazing person and a wonderful lover, he was great at his job. He was a natural born teacher.

Though no matter how many times I've willingly showered him with endless compliments about his work, he'd blush sheepishly and simply swat away all of my words with a simple kiss, or an "if you don't shut up your food is going to get cold. We're unemployed now; we need all the nutrition we can get. Haven't you ever heard of the Great Depression?"

So instead, I just chose to beam at him while he basked in the euphoria of the moment that this job acceptance brought on. After all, I knew he was well aware of how proud of him I was and how supportive I'd always be when it came to anything he wanted to accomplish.

Though the bliss was short lived.

I watched as Yoongi's expression slowly fell, the smile on his face slipping into a deep frown and his eyes turning to stone. "No."

"What?" I furrowed my brows, concern filling me and etching onto my features as I cupped his cheek in my hand, trying to figure out why his mood had changed so suddenly. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not taking it." His tone was cold, definitive, as if the subject wasn't even up for debate as he grabbed the letter.

"Wait wait wait," I hurried to stop him from tearing it in half. "What are you talking about? Why not?"

He turned to look at me with cold, incredulous eyes, as if he couldn't believe I was even asking a question so stupid. "The university is in Seoul, Y/N."

"Okay...?" I shook my head in confusion, still not understanding what the issue was. "And?"

"I'd have to move." He was taking the paper back out of my hands and ripping it right down the middle before I got the chance to stop him.

I suddenly deflated, the severity of his words dropping in my stomach and wrapping around the anchor of my heart, sending it down, down, down through the floor of his apartment and hurdling towards the center of the earth.

"...What?"

"I'd have to move away from you."

And there is was, the bomb detonating an explosion and demolishing whatever was left of my heart.

"No... t–there has to be another way, there has to–"

"Seoul is hours away from here, Y/N," Yoongi barked out, his tone angry and harsh as it always was when he was upset. "It's on the other side of the country; there's no way I'd be able to commute without living there."

"Okay, so why did you apply then?" I couldn't help but snap back defensively. "You knew the distance to Seoul prior to applying for the job. Why even bother if you're just going to get pissed about not taking it?!"

"Because I didn't think I'd get accepted!" His voice was loud, almost yelling now. "It's the most sought after, prestigious school in the fucking country and I didn't think some young idiot who got fired from his last job would be able to get in!"

It was silent as his words settled over the atmosphere, clinging to the air that filled the room around us and encasing my lungs until it was impossible to breathe.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I finally hissed. "You're a great teacher, and you know it. If anyone's a young idiot here, it's me!"

Yoongi scoffed with a shake of his head. "I'm the one who kissed you again during that tutoring session after telling you to stay away. I'm the one who fucked you against that desk." His tone was low now, and his eyes seemed to grow harder in realization with each step that he took towards me. "I'm the one who asked to take you out on that fucking date and I'm the one who pulled you onto my lap when Sara caught us in my classroom! God damn it, I'm the one who tracked you down at a fucking frat party and punched one of my students!"

His voice slowly raised until he was yelling again, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was now standing chest to chest and cornering me up against the countertop of the island, I would've winced at the loud volume so close to my ears.

"Stop blaming yourself, Y/N, when I'm the one who was the authority figure. I'm the one who should've had my shit together, but I just couldn't around you!"

I felt myself soften at that. As angry and intimidating as he seemed right now, surely frightening whoever would come into contact with him when he was like this, I knew that it was all a front. Yoongi wasn't the best at dealing with emotional situations—he'd all but bite my head off any time I even tried to mention his father—and sometimes lashed out in anger when he was upset or hurting inside. I knew how badly he wanted this job; I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice when he'd first submitted the application. And now, when the career position of his dreams was finally right under his nose, he couldn't have it. Because I was holding him back.

"You have to take it." My voice was solemn and steady as I stared him in the eyes.

He instantly frowned. "What? No, I–"

"Yoongi."

He fell silent, all signs of anger and malice wiped from his features once he saw just how serious I was being. A soft, bittersweet smile that had nothing to do with happiness slowly tugged at my lips as my eyes gleamed with pain. My heart was breaking with every word I was speaking, but I knew it was something I needed to do.

"You have to take the job."

The silence that ensued my words only further proved my point, simultaneously stabbing a knife into my chest with each passing second. He knew I was right. He knew it. He just didn't want to hear it.

"You don't..." He sounded smaller, more pitiful and confused as he tried to make sense of what I was saying. "You don't want me to stay?"

The hurt, the sadness, the utter hopelessness in his voice absolutely crushed me. I couldn't help but fall into his embrace, wrapping my arms around his chest and squeezing tightly as if I could somehow hold the pieces of him together that I knew were breaking. The severity of what was happening, of what I was doing started to settle within me the moment I heard his voice break.

"I do, baby," I replied, the sound muffled by the skin of his neck that my face was buried in as a sob threatened to claw its way out of my throat and swallow me whole. "God, you know I do. But you can't."

"Y–you can come with me." He was shaking his head now, his hands gripping at the shirt on my back with closed fists while he desperately tried to hold onto me, as if I would disappear beneath him at any moment. "We can move together to Seoul and you can–"

"You know I can't, Yoongi." It was my turn to shake my head, and with it came a heavy tear that fell down my cheek. "I have to go to school. I have a family who's helping pay for my tuition, and my mom— you know it's not all up to me."

I heard him sniffle as he pulled away, and even though I felt no evidence of tears from him against my skin or my shirt, his eyes were bright red when he stared back at me.

"I'm not leaving you, Y/N."

The sheer determination in his voice had me shattering like broken glass. "I'm not letting you do this, Yoongi. I'm not letting you waste this opportunity. Do you know how many people are waiting to work at Seoul University? How many professors would kill to be in your position?" I kept my gaze steadily on his as I slowly shook my head. "I care about you... so fucking much. I've never loved someone so much before... not like this." I paused, asking myself one last time if this was really the decision I wanted to make as my words settled in. I took in the sight of his beautiful, breathtaking features silently begging me not to do this. "I'm putting you above my selfishness," I finally decided with another shake of my head. "You need to do this Yoongi, for you. You know you do."

Yoongi slowly shook his head, though the expression on his face told me he knew I was right. "I don't want to lose you," he spoke as a tear spilled over the brim of his eye, dampening his lashes and leaving a wet streak in its wake as it rolled down his cheek, and the sight was the final breaking point that had me bursting into tears.

"Neither do I."

His fingers dug into my skin as he tightened his grip on my body, his forehead leaning against mine as the only sounds exchanged between the two of us were the unspoken words of labored breaths and soft sobs.

Sometimes when you love someone, you have to do what's best for them.

And I knew this was what's best for Yoongi.

#yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #lmao why am i so impulsive #i decided i was gonna post this all of ten minutes ago and here we are #anyways this will help my peace of mind to know that at least SOMETHING is out there #some sort of closure to the series #not everything i had planned but #it'll do for now #i hope u guys can forgive me for whatever tf this is fjshgdkfd

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the-great-imagines-of-1812 · 4 years ago

Text

Through The Years Pt. 10

A/N: feedback is so so appreciated! THANK YOU SO SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO WAS KEPT THEIR PATIENCE WHILE I WROTE THIS! (also, this is kind of short, my apoligies)

tags: @a-girl-who-loves-disney @the-romanian-is-bae @bihoeofmanyfandoms

@thicc101q

takes place during: The Avengers

Italics= flashbacks

~~~~~~~

NEW YORK, 1942

SSR HQ

“As you all know, a threat has risen. Commander Johann Schmidt has his eyes on something new; they call it the Tesseract. The power it holds is unlimited and unknown. If it falls into the wrong hands, especially in times like these, this is a war we won’t win. Meeting dismissed.” Dr. Erksine said, as all the agents seated around the table got up, desperate to go home.

You had dozed out ages ago, and would’ve practically fallen asleep if it weren’t for Howard. He laid a hand on your shoulder and shook you.

“Y/N/N, it’s time to go. C’mon. I heard your favorite radio show is on tonight.”

“Thanks, Howwie. It’s just, there’s something-”

“This Tesseract thing? I know were supposed to believe everything Dr. Erksine tells us, but this is a stretch-”

“Except it isn’t, Howard. I got a bad feeling about this one. You know how strong my intuition is.”

“I know. That’s what worries me.”

~~~~~~

PRESENT DAY, 2012

BRUCE BANNER’S LAB ON THE HELLICARRIER

The Hellicarrier is quiet as it floats across the night sky, and you absentmindedly type some data that Tony had given you a few minutes ago. You weren’t going to lie; you were scared then, and you are scared now. It seems like history is repeating itself; some bad dude wants to get his hands on the Tesseract and if he isn’t stopped, a lot of people will die.

Only difference was, you didn’t have a brother this time.

Blinking back the tears that were about to escape, you kept typing as Dr. Banner was scanning the scepter for gamma radiation, and Tony was solving several different equations and theorems and god knows what all at once.

“Well, we’re going somewhere now. The gamma readings are definitely consistent with Selvig's reports on the Tesseract. But it's gonna take weeks to process.” Banner said, letting out a sigh, laying down the object he was using to measure gamma readings on Loki’s scepter.

“We bypass their mainframe and direct route to the Homer Cluster we can clock this at around 600 teraflops.” Tony replied from across the room.

“And all I packed was a toothbrush.” Bruce said, going back to the computer.

“You know you should come by Stark tower sometime. Top ten floors, all R and D. You’d love it, it’s Candy Land. I’m talking to you too, Auntie. Paris must be as boring as-”

“How- Tony, I can promise you its not. Paris is fine.”

“But Pepper and I miss you in New York. Think about it, will you?”

“Sure will, hun.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Stark. But last time I was in New York- I sort of broke Harlem.” Dr. Banner said.

“Well I promise it’s a stress-free environment. No distractions, no surprises.” Tony says, while poking Bruce in his side with an electric current.

“Tony, leave him be!” you say, taking the current away from him.

“Hey! Are you two nuts?” Steve says, scolding Tony as he walks in.

“Oops. Jury’s here. Tell em your secret, Dr. Banner. Bongo drums, mellow jazz, bag of weed?”

“You think is is funny, Mr. Stark? Threatening the safety of everyone on this ship? No offense, Dr. Banner. You neither, Y/N.

“None taken, sir.” Bruce says, while still working on the scepter.

“Don’t worry about it, cap.” you say, while finally snatching the current from Tony’s hand and placing it down on the countertop to continue working.

“You- you don’t have to worry, capsicle. Last time I checked, you spent over 66 years stuck in the ice. You don’t know how anything works here. This little gadget-” he getsures to the comm in his hand. “will let us know everything S.H.I.E.L.D has been hiding from us since the beginning of it’s existence.”

“This is going to cause trouble.”

“Ding, ding, ding. We got a winner. Congratulations, you’ve just won a free box of popsicles. Or is that too cold?”

“What have you three been doing all this time?” Fury’s voice cuts in as he walks into the lab. “You’re supposed to be locating the Tesseract.”

“We are. The model’s locked and we’re sweeping for the signature now. When we get a hit, we’ll have the location within have a mile.”

“You’ll get your cube back, director.” You say, crossing your arms, after hopping to sit on the table with Tony.

“No muss, no fuss.” he passes you the blueberry bag, then looks at the screen “What is ‘Phase 2′ anyway?”

At this point, Steve has had enough and decided to intervene. “Phase 2 is S.H.I.E.L.D uses the cube to make weapons. Sorry, the computer was moving a little too slowly for my taste.”

“Captain Rogers, we have gathered every part of information possible related to the Tesseract. This does not mean-” He’s interrupted by none other than Tony.

“What about this Nick? What were you lying?” Tony said, turning the computer so Fury could see it clearly.

Steve takes one look between the two men, but keeps his gaze on Tony, and says “I was wrong director. The world hasn’t changed a bit.”

Thor and Natasha enter the room and Bruce asks them “Did you two know about this?”

“Dr. Banner, you might want to think about removing yourself from the premises.” Natasha said.

“I was in Calcutta, I’m pretty sure I can handle this, Ms. Romanoff.”

“Loki’s been manipulating you.”

“And you’ve been doing what exactly?”

“Dr. Banner, You didn’t come here because I batted my eyelashes at you.” She fired back, crossing her arms.

You hopped off the table, and on the hilt of the sword on your left side, if tensions just so happened to go to another level.

“And I’m not leaving because you’re getting a little twitchy. What I do want to know is why S.H.I.E.L.D is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction!”

~~~~~~

NEW YORK, JANUARY 1943

SSR HQ

“Starks, Ms. Carter, General Philipps, should the case arise that we get our hands on this - ‘Tesseract’ - as it appears, it shall not, under any circumstances, be used for weapons of mass destruction. It goes against everything we stand for. Everything the SSR stands for.” Erksine says, addressing the group.

“But Dr. Erksine, The rise of facism in Europe is a threat to our national security, and if the SSR can not make weapons of not necessarily of mass destruction, but weapons to protect the country, how are we to protect the nation?” General Philipps said from across the table.

“Excellent question, General. That’s were Y/N and comes in. Y/N, if you will.” Erksine said, gesturing to you.

Straightening yourself up, you opened a file. “I’ve thought of this concept for the past couple of months- although just a concept, It would, has General Philipps mentioned, make weapons not of destruction, but of protection. This is why, I’ve decided to name the concept- S.H.I.E.L.D. Get it? A shield is supposed to protect, and that’s what this will do.”

“And what does it stand for, Y/N?” Peggy asks.

“Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.”

“And it’s purpose?”

“To Protect and Serve, Dr. Erksine.”

“I like it, but we will discuss it further on Monday. Meeting Adjourned.”

~~~~~~

PRESENT DAY, 2012

BRUCE BANNER’S LAB ON THE HELLICARRIER

“And I’m not leaving because you’re getting a little twitchy. What I do want to know is why S.H.I.E.L.D is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction!”

“Banner, calm down.” Natasha said cautiously.

“No, Romanoff. He had every right to be mad and confused. With all respect, director, me and my brother did not start S.H.I.E.L.D so we could pull stuff like this.” you said.

“But we have a reason, Stark. It’s because-” Fury points to Thor “him.”

“Me?” Thor questions.

“Yes, you. Last year Earth had a visitor from another planet who held a grudge on a small town. We learned then that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously, outgunned.” He finishes, diverting his eye to you, but saying nothing.

“Your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it, and his allies, as a signal to all the realms that Earth is ready for a higher form of war.” Thor booms.

“A higher form of war?” Steve questions.

“You had us in a corner, Thor, we had no choice. We had to come up with something.” Nick fired back.

“A nuclear deterrent. Cause that always calms everything down.” said Tony.

“Remind me again how you made your fortune, Mr. Stark?” Fury asked.

“I’m sure if Stark industries still made weapons you both would be knee-deep in-” Steve was cut off by you.

“That’s enough, Steve! Leave it alone!” you exclaimed.

“No, hold up capsicle, how is this about us?” Tony asked, in a tempting manner.

“Are you midgardians really this naïve?” Thor asked.

“Oh please, are you that immature?” Natasha said, looking between Thor and Fury.

“Everyone, we’re a mixture for chaos. A ticking time bomb waiting to explode.” Bruce said.

“You should step away, Doctor.” Fury said to Bruce, before being overlapped by Tony. “Why shouldn’t the guy let off a little steam?” Tony asked, putting a ahnd on Steve’s shoulder.

“You know damn well why!” Steve yelled.

“I’m starting to want you to make me.” Tony said, coming face to face with Steve.

“Big man in a suit of armor, take that off and what are you?”

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

“He’s not wrong-” Natasha said, shrugging her shoulders.

“Thank you, Romanoff! Someone with sense on this ship.” Tony said, thanking Natasha.

“I’ve seen guys none of that worth ten of what you are. The only person you fight for is yourself. You’re not one to make sacrifice play, to lay down your life for someone else. You better stop playing the hero.”

“Steve-” you began, now both hands on both swords, both of them on your waist.

“No! You better stop acting so cocky, Rogers. You’re a lab rat, everything special about you came out of a bottle.” Tony fires back.

“If you think your think you’re so special, put on the suit then, lets go a few rounds.”

“I’m not afraid to hit an old man.”

“Stop it you two! You’re acting like children!” You yelled, cutting both of them off.

“You are ALL acting like children, man up, all of you!” Fury said.

Bruce kept his eyes firm on Loki’s scepter. It seemed to glow even more now, but all of you had to resolve the argument first.

“Something’s coming. Something bad.” Bruce muttered. “I can feel it.”

“Keep calm, Banner.” Natasha said, and both her and Fury put a hand of the holster of their gun.

“Dr. Banner, please-” You began.

You were once again cut off, but not by anyone talking. Thor, Natasha, Bruce, Fury, Tony, Steve and yourself were knocked down to the floor, scattered all over the room.

“What the hell was that?” Natasha asked.

“Engine’s been blown off. I didn’t want to say I told you so, Agent Romanoff.” Bruce said, while helping you up from the floor.

“You alright, Tony?” you ask, as You help Tony up.

“Just fine, aunty. You?”

“Barely hurts, tones.”

“What the hell was that, Fury?” Natasha asked.

Fury looks out the window before running out of the room.

“Agent Barton.”

#marvel #marvel x reader #avengers #avengers x reader #tony stark #tony stark x aunt reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #thor #thor odinson x reader #steve rogers x reader

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tansypoisoning · 5 years ago

Text

(Un)Conditional - Part 1

Truce

You didn’t remember how or why you found yourself in Ransom’s bed in the first place, but now, poor, pregnant and desperate, you had your reasons for putting up with him, and they weren’t noble. His reasons for staying with you weren’t noble either.

Me 🤝 The Reader Insert making stupid decisions

In which the reader is pregnant with Ransom’s baby and he sees that as an opportunity for personal enrichment. Big changes to the original plot, but Idk where this is going, so stay tuned for my brain farts, and I accept suggestions (Ransom redemption arc? Or should I make him even shittier? I haven’t decided yet!). I still want to have Benoit Blanc in the story somehow, because he’s my jam, my jelly, my peanut butter and my peanuts. This chapter is safe for anyone who hasn’t watched the movie but THERE WILL BE SPOILERS in the future.

Chapter 2 - I Came Out to Have a Good Time and I’m Honestly Feeling So Attacked Right Now

Fandoms: Knives Out

Genre: *surprised Pikachu face*

Ships: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Smut, some light choking, some daddy kink, mentions of past sexual assault, talk of abortion, unhealthy relationships, Ransom is an asshole, a fuckboy and also verbally abusive tbh.

You were such an idiot.

Many were the times you had come home after terrible dates, or left parties in your friends’ arms after a guy tried to finger-bang you when you were passed out on the couch, and yet you still let your guard down around men you knew to be assholes. You could always tell; you weren’t sure whether it was thanks to familiarity ,or if you had a knack for reading people, but you still let terrible men in when you knew them to be terrible. Bad habits, hard to break, yadda yadda yadda. All that made for piss poor comfort when you looked at the five little plastics sticks in front of you.

Feet tapping against the ground and your phone held in between your cheek and shoulder, you typed on your laptop. Planned Parenthood. You should’ve done this sooner, way sooner, when you could get an IUD, or the pill, or the shot, or whatever the fuck else, instead of trusting your reliably unreliable partners and your nonexistent backbone. Birth control was expensive, but it was nowhere near as expensive as a baby, and you were going to get the same amount of help with either, which was to say, none.

No… That wasn’t quite true. Your brother and your friends would pitch in if you asked, you knew, but, as previously established, you were an idiot.

You knew there were people who loved you and would support you no matter what, but you didn’t want to burden them with your problems. This mess was on you, on you and…

Mailbox. Of course he didn’t pick up. He got what he wanted from you, and was now moving on to another woman who was equally as gullible and equally as “passable” as you. You couldn't believe his negging had worked on you, you were so fucked.

Deep breathes. It wasn’t over yet, you could fix this. The… the thing was still only two months, you could get rid of it, with a pill, even. But should you?

You tossed your phone to the side and opened another tab. Fetus two months. You clicked the first result that mentioned the development of the thing growing inside you and read the section entitled “Baby”. Internal organs already in place… wiggling and waving like mad? Distinct facial features?!

Your hands found their way to your mouth as a sob found its way past your lips. No way. This was some forced-birther propaganda, it had to be.

You left that shitty website and opened usually trustworthy Wikipedia, but it was of no help. It didn’t exactly contradict the information the other website had given you – the difference between “waving” and “twitches” was negligible to your addled brain.

You closed your laptop with a little more force than it was wise. You stood and began pacing, one hand over your face and another resting on your abdomen. It was just your luck to have your eggs dodge the sperm of every jerk you could get to pay child support, only for you to end up carrying the Antichrist – and the Devil could afford the best lawyers.

Damned be the day you let Hugh RaNsOm Drysdale in your bed without a condom, and damned be you for being so fucking stupid. You deserved whatever suffering that came from this, and you could accept them with some grace if it didn’t feel like you were dragging an innocent along with you.

You stopped and looked down at the row of pregnancy tests arranged over the bathroom counter, all of them positive. You couldn't do this. You regretted that one night of meaningless sex more than you regretted anything in your life, and maybe you’d regret your current decision even more but you couldn't do the thing you knew you should do.

You swiped all the tests into your arms and dumped them in your bag. You grabbed your keys and walked out of your pitiful apartment and into your pitiful car. You had barely enough money to take care of yourself, let alone a child. Abortion could be the best thing you could do as a mother, but…

You pushed the keys into the ignition and shook your head. You were emotional, that was all. If you just gave yourself a little more time you’d stop thinking of it as more than the parasite it actually was, but for now… For now you needed to get things straight with the sperm donor, no matter how much it could hurt, and you were under no illusions – it would hurt like a motherfucker.

You had been in Ransom’s unfairly cool house a grand total of three times. He didn’t like having you over, much preferring fucking at your house even if he turned up his nose at the building and everything inside it. Maybe he didn’t like having to disinfect his furniture every time it got into contact with your poor people germs.

Yeah, like he cleaned anything.

You parked in front of the contemporary building and made your way to the front door, ringing the bell four times because Ransom never answered when people rang only once or twice, and then another because you were filled with dread, and manic energy, and the powerful desire to punch him in his perfect face until it wasn’t quite so perfect anymore.

You waited several minutes but there was no answer. It wasn’t surprising; if he was inside you’d have seen him through one of the outrageously large windows that covered almost every wall of the house.

You sat down on the steps to the entrance and pulled out your phone. You were done with work for the day, and you weren’t sure when he would want to pick up your calls again. You could wait.

And wait you did.

It was two in the morning when Ransom’s BMW pulled up in front of the building, activating the motion sensor lights. He walked out of the car with the confidence of a man who knew he owned everything he surveyed.

Fucking dipshit.

“Wow,” he laughed, opening his arms then dropping them to his side again, lest he appear too inviting. “You want it bad.”

You started rummaging through your bag for the pregnancy test as not to waste your time with pointless conversation. That should tell him everything you wanted to say.

“Sorry, I’m not in the mood today,” he said pulling his keys from his stupid suede coat only he could make look hot “long day, you know how it is. You can suck my cock and stay over, if you want.”

He had unlocked the door and was nudging you with his foot when you found what you were looking for and got up with a jump.

You waved the stick in the air victoriously. Even though you were the one who was the worst off in this scenario, you could at least use the source of your misery to wipe the smirk off his dumb, gorgeous face.

Done and did. Once Ransom caught on, the corner of his mouth dropped, free falling. Your life had been thrown in disarray, and the medical bills, if you chose to keep the thing, would ensure you would end up homeless in a couple of months, but at least you could rejoice in the fact you had ruined his eternal party in a spectacular fashion.

“What do you want?” He snarled. “Can’t pay the abortion? How much is it?”

You recoiled as if he had just swung a knife in your direction. This was new. You’d seen him angry before, sure, but this… the curl of his lips, the look in his eyes– it had you second guessing your decision to come see him.

You struggled to find your voice for a few seconds “I don’t… I haven’t decided what I want to do yet.”

Regret pierced you through like a lance. You knew he didn’t care about you – he didn’t “do monogamy”, he never asked you about your day, it was a struggle to get him to even buy you a coffee, and he only bothered to make you come if he could use it to feed his pride somehow – but all his disinterest in your well-being was nothing compared to the loathing radiating from him, like you were a fat dying cockroach stuck to the bottom of his nice leather shoes.

There was no reason Ransom should be able to make you feel like that. He was an absolute shitheel, a trust-fund baby who had never had a job in his life, never worked to build anything, and didn’t even have the decency to be thankful to his family for all they had done for him, and you didn’t even like him (conceding that he was attractive and you were a masochist was not the same as liking), so his opinion shouldn’t matter to you, someone with a stable source of income and an ounce of moral fiber. That didn’t stop you from writhing under his gaze.

“Get in,” he said, voice devoid of anything that could be considered charming.

You entered, waiting at the side, in fear of walking past the foyer without invitation, while he locked the door behind him.

He walked by you and went right to the kitchen. You followed him with your eyes, watched him grab a glass, fill it with water and down it. He didn’t offer you anything – you figured he didn’t think you deserved it.

“You’re suggesting it’s mine.”

His words startled you from your stupor, and you shook in your spot by the entrance before answering. “I know it’s yours. I haven’t slept with anyone else in almost a year.”

“And you are saying that.”

You bristled at his insinuation. “We can get a paternity test, if you want.”

Ransom lifted his head and inhaled sharply. He paced the length of his high end, open concept, immaculate-because-it-was-never-used kitchen, then opened a drawer, pausing to look up at you, closed it, then moved to the next and repeating the process several more times, while you shifted from one foot to the other.

“Here’s the thing, honey,” he said, and the last word was said with anything but sweetness “I’ll pay for the abortion, and I’ll pay for you to have the abortion. If you’re not gonna do it, then I don’t want to see your dog face again.”

You knew Ransom didn’t like kids – he despised them, even – but you didn’t think he’d react quite this badly. You knew he would want nothing to do with it, but you still thought telling him was the right thing to do. He deserved to know at least, surely.

The feeling you got when he first turned on you that night was a sign; you shouldn’t have come.

“I’m leaving,” you whispered.

Ransom’s cheeks were red and wide, and it seemed as if he was about to argue when he slammed his hand against the counter then stomped towards you.

You shrunk in on yourself, but you needn’t have. He just unlocked the door and pulled it open, holding it for you to walk through. His breathing was heavy and his shoulders were tense, like he was holding himself back.

Once you had rallied your strength and crossed the threshold, you heard your name being called behind you. You turned to see Ransom, still glaring at you with the same awful expression. You couldn't imagine what he had to tell you that hadn’t already been said.

“If you try contacting me again, you’re fucked.”

And then he slammed the door in your face.

You made your way to your car, head hanging low. That had been a disaster, but at least he made it easier for you to choose one of the options.

Fucking dipshit.

You had been right; time had given you helped you think things over.

Three days later and you could refer to the fetus as a fetus without going down a depressive spiral, and the thought of abortion was more palatable to you. In a couple more days you were certain you’d be able to walk into Planned Parenthood with your head held high, get your pill, and walk out, facing the world and the potential crowds of angry protesters with confidence, then move on with your life, promising never to get involved with another shitty guy again. The scare would be enough to make you change your ways, you were sure.

You didn’t want a kid, at least not yet. You were young, living paycheck to paycheck, and any child you had right now would grow up without a father. You were still mulling it over but abortion seemed like the most responsible choice, and if you couldn't make the responsible choice now, you’d make for a terrible mother in the future.

A knock on the door made you look up at the clock. Fifteen past eleven. Maybe the old lady who lived across the hall from you needed help killing a bug or something. You stood, pulled the latch off and unlocked the door, not thinking much of it, and almost walked face first into a hard body you were far too familiar with.

Ransom was there, waiting for you, his face inscrutable. His chest was heaving, and some serious heat emanated from it. You had the urge to hug his waist and burrow into his warmth, but you resisted it bravely. You’d promised yourself you would stop chasing men like him, and you intended on keeping that promise.

“Ransom,” you greeted, trying to keep your voice even.

A flash of pain roamed his face, and then he was putting his hands on you, holding the side of your face in his large palms. You opened your mouth to scream, but the sound was muffled between your lips and his.

A kiss. Ransom was kissing you – and a second ago you were so sure he was paying you a visit just to beat you up.

He maneuvered you into your apartment, still cradling your cheeks with surprising gentleness. You knew you should’ve stopped him, but your feet followed his steps with such ease, and he was so fucking warm and you living room so cold.

As one of his hands slid from your face to the back of your neck, something inside you screamed. It told you to stop now or it would be too late, and you’d fall into the same old hole and not be able to crawl out of it. You surprised yourself by listening to it and pulling away, pushing on his chest to keep a good distance between you. You told yourself you were doing well, even though you were holding onto his white shirt like a lifeline and arching your body into his.

“Ransom, wha-” your words were cut off by another kiss, more heated than the previous.

He pushed you down onto your couch - the creaky old thing he always complained about – and climbed on top of you you, forcing you both into a laying position.

When Ransom pulled away (only to immediately latch his lips to your earlobe) you made to question him before the weakest part of yourself could convince you to just let it happen. It was she who had gotten you into this mess in the first place. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He mumbled against your skin.

“I know what you’re doing,” you huffed, twisting your body beneath him in a half-assed attempt to buck him off “You told me to never contact you again. Why are you here?”

He chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that had your very core thrumming. He removed his hands from you and pushed himself up by the forearms to look down at you. When you saw his smirk, you knew you were going to end up having sex with him no matter what he said next.

“I guess I couldn't keep away.”

And with that he went right back to his station, sucking and nibbling on the spot just behind your ear and running his hand across your waist and belly.

But what about the baby? What about whether you wanted to keep it or not? These questions were lodged in your throat, dying to burst out, but you didn’t want to to ruin this moment. You were so tired; you just wanted to be held, and Ransom was willing to do that for you, so what was the harm in giving in?

You lifted a leg and wrapped it around his thigh, and that Ransom took as acquiescence or defeat. He pulled away to lift your shirt above your breasts and wasted no time diving for them, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth and squeezing the other in between his fingers. You planted your feet on the couch and used them as leverage push your crotch upwards and rub it against his. He was a terrible person, you knew, but he could fuck you so good when he wanted to, and right now you only had the brain space to care about one of those things.

Your hips rocked in tandem with his, driving you closer to that edge you didn’t know you were yearning for until you saw him standing on your doorstep. Entangled in his arms, you remembered your older brother’s words from that night some ten years ago when you were lying on the backseat of his car, a plastic bag filled with your vomit clutched in your hands. You saw his eyes in the rear view mirror, crinkling in a smile that was equal parts amused and concerned.

A pretty boy is going to be the end of you, huh?

Ransom pushed himself into a kneeling position, removed his dark cardigan and tossed it to some forgotten corner of your living room, his shirt receiving the same treatment soon after. For someone who was so averse to working, he sure didn’t skimp on his work outs. He was built like a god, but his smile was that of the devil.

He crashed down on top of you, and his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you to him. You sunk both hands in his perfectly coiffed hair and dragged him up until you were staring into his baby blue eyes. He leaned down to kiss you, and you obliged him. His mouth devoured your own while his hands roamed your body, hungry, desperate almost. You didn’t want to be outdone, both because he was an asshole and you didn’t want to lose to him, and because you were as starved of him as he seemed to be of you, so you wrapped both legs around his waist to pull yourself even closer to him, as close as you could get.

Ransom’s hands abandoned your body in favor of his belt, unbuckling it to shove his pants just past his upper thighs. His eyes were pointed, telling you he expected you to follow his lead. You undid your buttons with heavy fingers, and allowed him to pull your bottoms all the way off. His grin grew in size and insolence when he saw your panties were soaked through.

“You do want it bad.”

Fucking dipshit.

Before you could think of something smarter to say, he was dragging your underwear to the side and spreading your folds. You certainly weren’t going to think of a comeback now, with his fingers up your cunt and your body begging for his attention. You wouldn’t be this aroused with any other man, but you already knew you suffered from a serious case of tastelessness and dumb. Most grievously, it appeared to be terminal.

Ransom stoked the fires inside you with one hand, pulling it out periodically to smear the wetness across your lower lips while he held himself aloft with the other, his usual lazy, confident smile plastered on his face. It made a sudden wave of lucidity wash over you.

What the fuck were you doing? You knew he wasn’t worth your time since the day you met him; Three days ago he had treated you like shit after you told him you were pregnant; Just a few minutes before you were determined not to get involved with him or men like him ever again. All the signs told you to stop now, push him away and tell him to get out under threat of you calling the police, and yet here you were, panting under him and dying to feel his cock stretching you. The mere promise of dick had you going back on your word like a rat, and all you did was make excuses for yourself. You were always too weak or too dumb to resist your urges, weren’t you? That’s why you never bothered trying.

“Wai-”

The air was forcibly expelled from your lungs when his cock entered you. He wasn’t gentle, and he didn’t have to be; your body was more than ready for him. The grunt that came fro you had an air of finality to it. You weren’t going to stop him now.

The screaming part of you let out one final screech, then withered and died.

Ransom panted, rolling his hips against yours. You held onto his arms and looked up at him. This was unusual. Normally he’d be pounding into you when you were this slick, and unusual with Ransom tended to mean ‘bad’.

He brought two wet fingers to your face and tapped your chin with them.

“Get me clean.”

You parted your lips and accepted the appendages into your mouth. Nothing unusual there; he’d made you taste yourself on his fingers a couple of times. He liked to watch you lick them clean, but this was different. His smile was strained and his eyes looked past you. You turned the full powerful of your best puppy impression on him, but he still seemed to be half-there half-somewhere else.

Once you had slurped all your juices and then some, Ransom moved both his hands to your arms, pressing you against the hard surface of the couch. He should’ve started fucking you already, but he only rocked his pelvis side to side, giving you just a hint of friction, nowhere near enough to satisfy you.

You whined and bucked your hips upwards. That got him out of his trance, his eyes regaining their shine and his smile splitting into a grin. There was that asshole you knew and didn’t love.

“What’s with that face?” He asked and moved one of his hands to your neck, applying pressure, not enough to compromise your breathing but enough to leave you light-headed for a different reason “You want something?”

“Ransom,” you clawed at his forearm like you could do anything if he chose to choke you.

“You gotta ask, baby. If you want daddy to fuck you, you gotta ask.”

Your fingers stilled around his arm. The daddy thing was not new either, but you didn’t think he’d bring it up under the present circumstances. Was this intentional, or was he not even aware of what he was saying? Were you wrong to think it was weird for him to say that now?

The fingers around your throat tightened, closing your airway for a moment, then releasing.

“Ask.”

You squirmed, tapping on his arm, but all that got you was another squeeze.

“Please,” you whimpered “Please, fuck me, daddy.”

Ransom’s grin grew even wider, wide enough that light reflected off his canines. He adjusted his position on his knees, and took his other hand from your arm, reaching behind your head to pull you by the hair, further exposing your neck to him.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispered against the top of your head.

He pulled his cock almost all the way out, then slammed back inside you. He pushed into you with shallow thrusts until he tapped a spot that made you gasp. Having found what he was looking for, Ransom diverted most of his attentions to hitting his target over and over again, periodically stopping to grind against it in a torturous slow pace.

You were too aroused to last much longer, and the bastard would be able to finish you off with little effort.

“You close, baby? You wanna cum?” He asked, and you nodded emphatically “Then you gotta do what daddy says. Can you do that?”

God, you’d do anything he asked of you at this point. Someone needed to tattoo ‘Sucker’ on your forehead already.

“Yes, daddy!” You cried, your words devolving into a high-pitched whine “I’ll do anything, please!”

The hand in your neck slid down across your body and delved in between your legs in search of your clit. You squealed when his fingers made contact, and whimpered when they began rubbing. You were aware of your trembling legs, but unable to do anything about them.

Ransom could always dismantle you with ease, but now more so than ever. You came in record time, with short little moans that culminated in an embarrassing howl. You were just coming down from your high when he picked up his pace, grunting and huffing above you. He gave you no warning before spilling into you, swaying back and forth and groaning as his own orgasm ebbed away. The fact that this was the least concerning thing he’d done all evening didn’t escape you.

He held you to him for a few seconds as both your breaths evened out, then rolled over, leaning against the backrest and lying you down by the outer edge of the couch. Ransom was always more tractable after sex, but he’d go back to being his dismissive self come the morning, and then you’d bitch and moan to yourself. This was a familiar dance you couldn't seem to stop repeating.

You were ready to recommence your self-pitying when Ransom spoke, interrupting the flow of your lamentations.

“I thought about what you said the other day,” he said. The pregnancy? Why would he bring that up now? “and if you want to keep it, I’ll help you.”

A tremor ran through your spine and you lost your precarious balance on the couch, falling to the carpet with a loud thud.

There was laughter – because of course there was – then Ransom was peering down at you. His lips were pressed together, as if he was still fighting to rein in his amusement.

“You… you want to help me?” You asked when you found your voice again.

He nodded. “I do.”

“You want to help me raise a kid?”

“Yeah,” he rolled his eyes “I thought that was obvious the first two times I said it.”

“You don’t like kids.”

“I like to think I would like my kids,” Ransom said, stretching across your couch like a lazy cat.

“Why?” You said, then, realizing that question was more for yourself than it was for him, you rephrased your question “What made you change your mind? Cause you seemed pretty sure when I saw you last.”

“And I was,” he agreed “I never wanted kids, and… And I was pissed,” he chuckled and shook his head “I don’t know who I was pissed at. All I know is I couldn't think straight. When I saw the pregnancy test… I don’t know, I could see my entire life crumbling.”

You could’ve asked him ‘what life?’ but decided against it.

“So, cut to a few days later, and I had this… Clarity. I realized there was nothing I could do if you wanted to keep it, and maybe,” he paused to take a deep breath “maybe I should take responsibility.”

You sat up and made a point of frowning at him. “Seriously, what happened?”

“I told you already. Just… boom – clarity.”

You knew Ransom was sharper than a first impression would lead one to believe, but self-awareness was not his forte. Could he have had a change of heart in such a short period of time? Did you believe him? You wanted to believe him.

“Do you seriously want to raise a kid with me?”

He laughed and threw his hands up in the air “How many times do I gotta say it?”

“Do you even know what that entails?”

“Hey, I babysat my cousins a couple times,” he said, picking at the foam peeking through a hole in the upholstery of your couch “I bet I’d do better than you.”

Being a parent had to be harder than watching children for a few hours, but as far as experience with children went… well, maybe he was onto something.

A palm emerged in front of you, rousing you from your thoughts.

“Truce?” Ransom asked. There was something about the way he looked at you gave you hope.

Earnest, he looked earnest.

You took his hand in yours and shook once.

“Truce.”

Part 2: I Came Out to Have a Good Time and I’m Honestly Feeling So Attacked Right Now

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fic #ransom thrombrey #ransom drysdale #knives out fanfic #none stopped me #TREASON MOST FOUL #one of the chapters will be titled 'Harlan Shake' and y'all will have deserved it #i almost named this chapter 'Fucking Dipshit' too #mine #(Un)Conditional

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tres-spades-hotel · 4 years ago

Text

The Adventures of Avaline

Chapter 1 – A Star Crossed Myth

I remember the last moments of my life. I was walking the streets of Tokyo, a city that I had recently called home. For 2 years, the hustle and bustle of life in the city was no different to my home in England. Anywhere and everywhere was something new and something big. All the time. You could never really get a break in a world expecting you to be obedient and loud.

Introverted as I was, I never found a place I could call home. A real home. I was too shy, too quiet, too little, too… me. My name was Olivia, it means an olive tree oddly enough. A caring, mature woman who didn’t take risks because she didn’t want to get hurt. I had many chances to do something meaningful with my life, to help the world be a better place, to help people, to help humans, and I blew it. Literally.

That day, I was walking without knowing that my life would end. Two cars were out of control. Drunk drivers I guess… or maybe it was all preordained. Two red cars were speeding from opposite directions. One of them was in the wrong lane, that’s how they both crashed.

She was a small girl though. Couldn’t have been more than 5 years old. I have never done anything in my life that meant I would be remembered but I suppose in my last few minutes, I really did do something good.

Crossing the street, she followed her mother slowly who was too engrossed in her phone conversation and the baby sibling in the buggy. That girl was in danger and I acted. I don’t know what came over me but the next thing I knew, I had dropped my bag and ran for her. I screamed something and the girl turned around at the maniac scrambling towards her. I twisted my ankle because of my heels but I was able to push her backwards just in time.

Her eyes held fear and confusion. But she was also curious. I may never see those eyes again. The cars crashed, destroying the bonnets and my skull was smashed to smithereens.

What could I do but think that she will live on, remembering what it is that I had died for. Her survival in a cut-throat world where cars are the animals and money is the meat that you fight for. It will be a very long time before I see that society again.

…

……..

…………………

What?

Where am I?

A blinding light cuts through the darkness like a knife slicing through butter. My eyelids flutter open. A beautiful golden palace stands before me with pillars and statues and a large staircase up to the entrance. But why does it look so familiar?

A thin river slithers across the ground in front of the building. Gorgeous flowers and grass and insects live freely in the warm sun. It’s not too hot and it’s not too cold, it is just the right temperature to stand and soak in the sunlight. I would love to live here if I could.

Wait.

Wait, hold on a second!

Isn’t that…?

This palace couldn’t be the one from Star Crossed Myth… could it? It looks just like the CG whenever the MC or the gods came to the….

Am I in the Heavens?

But that’s impossible! For one, I died. I remember that clearly. And two, SCM is just a visual novel. A game to read and make choices and fall in love with the characters. It’s a fantasy story which doesn’t exist.

Does it?

I try to take a step forward, but my foot accidently pulls the hem of a material. Looking down, I see a golden cream dress with a lace bodice and three-quarter sleeves. My hands wear golden accessories. My fingers feel my ears which are adorned with large earrings and they make their way to my silky soft black hair tied back in a braided crown. Even my skin feels flawlessly smooth.

My body seems to have changed too. I’ve become thinner and more curvy, although my chest is still as large as ever. But my back and shoulders aren’t aching because of the weight. My bum’s a little bit rounder and my legs are close to being twigs. That’s probably why I feel taller. On my feet are high heels but I stand perfectly on the dirt.

What the heck is going on? Who am I? Am I still me? Was I… reborn?

Well, if I remember correctly, the MC was reborn too but that was only because Huedhaut was the one who sacrificed the stars in his eyes to recycle her soul. And she was a goddess to begin with. But there’s no way that happened to me. I don’t know any gods. I’m not a goddess.

Looking at the palace, it no longer seems beautiful but a mysterious building with answers to questions I have yet to discover. I take a deep breath and head towards the Palace of the Heavens.

Inside, the hallways are exactly as they are in SCM. Everything is connected with doors and corners. The windows are really amazing, just about bringing together the ceiling and the floor. The hallways are also very, very, very wide. So many people… oh I mean gods…. in one hallway at once.

As I walk through the Palace, I start to hear murmurs and whispers of the gods who pass me.

‘Who is that?’

‘I don’t know but she is beautiful.’

Some goddess’ pass by and I hear more whispers.

‘I thought it was Lord Leon but it’s a goddess.’

‘She does seem very powerful, who is she?’ Shamelessly gossiping about a woman they’ve never seen before is rude, no? And did they say Lord Leon? And did they just call me powerful? There’s no way that’s true though. I still don’t know what I look like yet, so I have no idea if I look even remotely ‘beautiful’.

Ignoring them, I notice that many of them wear uniforms, most of which are Wishes and Punishments but there are some that I do not recognise. Some which have never been mentioned in the stories of Star Crossed Myth.

I wonder how many of the twelve zodiac gods are here in the palace at the moment. Has The Dark King waged his war on the Heavens? Did Leon become King? Has the MC been reborn? Is Clotho, the Goddess of Fate, even alive right now? So many questions and the only being in this world who I can ask is the King of the Heavens. I really hope he exists here.

Upon turning a corner, however, I stop when I hear a voice.

‘Lord Leon, are you going somewhere? May I accompany you?’

‘Sorry, I’d like to be alone.’

I slowly peek around the corner and see the one and only Wild Lion of the Heavens strolling through a jungle of babbling gods. My breath hitches in my throat as I contain my cough. Leon, the God of Leo, stops for no one at all, only passing by and rejecting the advances of the goddess’ around him. That’s right, in Leon’s Musings on Love, he showed the MC his past. A very lonely past. Gods and goddess’ spoke freely about Leon as if he were an object, like he was invisible to them. But because he doesn’t say anything, they continue to do so and fill the hallways with gossip and rumour. The MC felt bad for him and I do too. He’s loved and hated by all, feared and respected by all, but who knows his heart? Who knows his mind? Who knows his fears? His thoughts?

As he comes around the corner, I hide behind a god in front of me. Somehow, Leon passes by without taking notice of me. Maybe he’s too immersed in his thoughts to see me.

But…

Even though his back and shoulders seem so strong, they also look so alone to me. I can’t help myself. I’m going to follow him. I know where he’s going anyway.

The church. The door is left slightly ajar, so I press my ear against it.

‘… A divine minister, huh? Me… as powerful as the king…?’ His whispers are carried to me by a silent messenger of the air. To have so much responsibility and expectations put on him, Leon had no one to confine in.

I try to sneak in undetected, but it doesn’t work. The door sends a creek into the hollow church which echoes far more dramatically than it should. Sitting on a bench at the front, the auburn hair whips around at the sudden sound. I tumble out and awkwardly stand as Leon rises, the confusion evident on his face. He seems pretty young, so he looks a lot cuter and more adorable. I smile naturally at the thought but that makes Leon glare at me.

‘What are you doing here?’ His words sting as they bounce towards me and I flinch. His voice is deep and strong and straight to the point. No beating around the bush.

Oh.

Maybe he thinks I follo- wait I did follow him. What am I saying? I did follow him but not for what he is thinking. Maybe he thinks I am going to come onto him or something. I walk a little closer so that we can see each other clearer. His uniform is just like his sprite in the title and his facial features are perfect. But when I look into his eyes, I’m awe-struck. The stars in his eyes are beautiful. They’re in the shape of the Leo star sign. The stars shine bright in his copper eyes and now it’s hard to look away. I’ve always found it difficult to keep eye contact with anyone but with him, it feels so natural.

His eyes suddenly widen. He looks surprised and more confused somehow. I wonder what he is thinking. What should I say though? He wasn’t expecting anyone, and this never happened in the story so what do I do?! Should I introduce myself? Tell him I was mistaken and that I’ll leave?

The longer the silence surrounds us, the more nervous I feel. He’s not saying anything, and I never answered his question. What am I doing here?

Actually.

I have an idea.

My heels click-clack quickly on the marbled floor of the church. Before I know it, I’ve crossed the distance between us. My arms encircle his torso and I hug him for dear life. His body tenses under my touch and I can tell his arms are hovering in the air. Leon’s body feels muscular underneath the clothes he wears, and his warmth encapsulates me completely. My head rests perfectly over his chest. The sound of his heartbeat thunders in my ears as I take in the sweet scent of flowers radiating from him. I hug him a little bit tighter as I try to take all the warmth that I can. I’ve never been so intimate with a man, let alone a god, before so this affection that I give Leon is surprising to me too.

I loosen my death grip ever so slightly and look up at him. He looks down with his eyes narrowed.

‘You know, it’s said that if you hug someone for 30 seconds, they begin to feel better.’ Leon’s confusion grows but I think he knows what I mean.

‘That’s ridiculous, how can a simple hug make someone feel better?’ His words seem harsh, but I feel his arms embrace me. I smile into his chest, happy to know that he’s not completely heartless.

‘I don’t really know how to explain it in a way that you will understand but you seemed… sad, for lack of a better word, so I wanted to help.’ I hug him again tighter than before. His body relaxes a bit after my semi-explanation.

I hear him mumble something, but I don’t catch it in time.

Thirty seconds seems far too short. I should have said thirty minutes! Reluctantly, I let go of Leon fully and put a few feet of distance between us. The cool air in the church fill in the gaps and I feel cold without him.

‘If you ever feel lonely or need a hug to feel better, then I am here for you. You don’t have to bear everything on your own, Leon.’ I accidently say his name more casually than I should in this world so I give a quick smile and a wave and dash out as quickly as I can.

I hope he believes me.

I need to see the King right away. Now that I know what part of the SCM timeline I am in, I now know that Zyglavis must also be here in the Palace. Although, if I come across him I might clam up. What should I say? I don’t know who I am, what I am, why I am here. If I’m a goddess, what am I the goddess of? What’s my special ability? How do I-

‘Ah!’ I bump into a god who is almost double my height and I immediately recognise who he is. Zyglavis stands tall, very tall in fact, in front of me and the nerves take over.

‘Please watch where you are going, the hallways can be very busy at this time.’ His stern attitude makes me stand up a little straighter. I almost salute to him military style.

‘Um, I’m sorry. I am looking for the throne room.’ He raises his eyebrows.

‘Oh, and for what purpose?’ Wait, what should I say now?

‘I, uh, I have… an urgent matter to speak with the King.’ I say but he doesn’t seem convinced.

‘What kind of urgent matter?’

‘I-It’s for the King’s ears only…’ I reply and he narrows his eyes at me. He is truly terrifying when being questioned.

‘Very well, I will take you to His Highness. Follow me.’ Zyglavis turns quickly and I scramble to obey. Even rushing behind him, I feel his powerful aura.

Hard to believe that right now, he’s the Vice Minister of Punishments. And he’s right, everybody seems pretty busy. I wonder if it’s a holiday or something on Earth, maybe that’s why they’re rushing around.

‘Um…’ I start to say but then it hits me that I don’t have a name to give. I can’t give my human name in case I already have one.

‘What?’

‘Oh, um, what is your name?’ I hurry to walk beside him, and I hear him sigh.

‘My name is Zyglavis, the God of Libra and the Vice Minister of the Department of Punishments.’

‘That… sounds like a big responsibility.’

‘It is, but I am glad to have it if it means protecting the humans on Earth.’

‘You must really love the humans. I’m sure they’re very lucky to have you as their protector.’ I compliment him but I do mean it. Once he’s promoted, he’ll do a lot more good things.

He doesn’t say anything, so I look up, but he is already looking at me. I notice the stars in his eyes look just like the Libra star sign. They look equally as beautiful as Leon’s.

‘Are you new here?’ He asks.

‘Well, yes. I need to speak to the King… about which Department I’ll be joining…’ I say hesitantly.

‘Then why didn’t you say that before?’

‘Well, I’m still struggling to believe that I’m here, you know?’

‘I understand. The Palace can be a busy place, so I suggest you take care not to become entangled in gossip. Make sure to work hard at your best.’

‘I will… Lord Zyglavis.’ I smile up and he continues walking.

Eventually, we reach a hallway that’s different to the others in the Palace. There are large pillars and images are etched into the surfaces.

‘What are these images? Are they of the past?’ I ask, pointing to one of a man holding up the sun.

‘In a way, yes. Now come, the King must be waiting for you.’

‘Ah, okay!’ I hurry to follow but make a mental note to come back and study the pictures some more.

The double doors open to the throne room. A long red carpet leads all the way to the throne where the King of the Heavens sits. I stop myself from smiling out of nervousness.

‘Your Highness, this young goddess is here to work under your guidance.’ Zyglavis says, bowing. I quickly follow his lead and hear a voice reverberate in the quiet room.

‘Thank you Zyglavis for bringing her to me. You may leave.’

‘I understand.’ He bows again, looks at me and leaves. I smile again at him before turning to the King. He is as beautiful in person as he is in the stories. His overwhelming power fills the throne room even though he is only sitting in his throne lazily.

‘Um, your Highness…’ I begin but he holds up his hand to stop me.

‘Do not worry, I know of your situation, Olivia.’ OMG.

‘Seriously?! You know that I-‘

‘Come with me, we must speak privately.’ The King snaps his fingers, and a flash of light blinds me. The next thing I know, I’m in the King’s private chambers.

‘Oh wow!’ A large bed looks as if its suspended in animation. Stars cover my entire vision as if I’m in space. There is no floor, but I am definitely standing on something.

‘Sit down, please.’

‘Oh, okay.’ I sit down beside the King, positioning myself so that I am facing him. His power is immense. I feel even more anxious just being beside him. The King smiles at me.

‘There is no need to be nervous. I know that you have been through a lot. Can you tell me how you died?’

‘Well, it will be hard to explain since I believe the Earth here is not caught up in certain technology yet…’

‘That is fine, tell me how you remember it.’

I recount my last memories and tell the King how I died, while attempting to describe the car accident and leaving out any modern concepts.

‘The cars must have crushed my skull upon impact and killed me. I hope that the girl is safe though. That I didn’t die for nothing.’

‘She has told me that the girl lived. You have nothing to fear.’

‘She?’ I ask.

‘I assume you know much about our world.’

‘That’s one way to put it I guess. I know that there are Departments here and that you are the King of the Heavens who is the most powerful and omnipresent being in the universe and-‘ His chuckle stops me from continuing.

‘It is true that I am the most powerful god to the knowledge of those living here in the Heavens. However,’ he looks away.

‘There is someone far more magnificent than me.’

‘Seriously? You mean that there is actually somebody out there who is even more powerful than you?’

‘Yes, but she will reveal herself to you when the time is right.’

‘What!? Why all the build-up if you weren’t going to tell me?’ I huff. He laughs at my childishness.

‘You will understand in time. She brought you here for a special reason. But for now, reacquaint yourself with the act of living. You have been reborn as a goddess after all.’

‘Really? How is that possible though?’

‘To put it simply, you have been reborn into a different dimension. This world that you see before does not exist in your world.’ Wow, so I’m not even in the same dimension as the Earth that I know.

‘Do you know what my name is? What powers I have?’ I ask eagerly.

‘Your name is Avaline, the Goddess of Destiny.’

‘Avaline. Of destiny?’ I repeat back.

‘You have the ability to know the destiny of any god or human. And the ability allows you to change it to whatever you wish.’

‘That sounds… like a big responsibility though.’

‘She assures me that you are worthy of such a power. But there is another.’

‘I have two abilities?!’ He nods.

‘Avaline, you have the ability to copy the abilities of others.’

‘… Um, what?’

‘I will give an example: Zyglavis has the ability to manipulate shadows, detach his own shadow and see through his shadow. Simply seeing the ability and knowing how it works will allow you to copy it. However, the ability will not be the exact identical as it is when Zyglavis uses it.’ I nod then shake my head.

‘I’m lost.’

‘You have unlimited use of your ability to use others, but the ability will change to suit you.’

‘That’s insane. Are you sure I really have this power?’ He chuckles at me and nods, but then he frowns.

‘There is something else. This ability of use comes at a cost.’

‘Of course it does.’ I sigh.

‘Do you know of the reflecting pools?’

‘Yes, they’re fountains filled with pure water which show reflections of Earth. Like a mirror.’

‘Exactly so. The pure water in the reflecting pools cannot be consumed because of their purity. However, you will need to.’

‘Really? Why?’

‘The more abilities you acquire, the more the power inside of you becomes imbalanced. Drinking the water of the reflecting pools will correct the balance.’

‘An unlimited quantity of power only to become disastrous to the one who uses them.’ I conclude.

‘Do not be mistaken. You can use the abilities whenever you wish. Gods do not get sick like humans but if you fail to drink the water daily then your life will be in danger.’

‘That’s not at all daunting.’

‘It is a power that has been chosen for you, Avaline.’

‘Avaline, huh. For some reason, it feels weird hearing you say this name.’

‘You will get used it in time. Now for your position here at the Palace.’ I sit up straighter.

‘You will work in the Department of Souls.’ I slump down in confusion.

‘Souls?’

‘Your Department Minister is Evelyn, and she will show you what to do. For now, a room has been created for you, go and rest.’

‘Okay, thank you, Your Highness.’ I stand up and bow in gratitude. I turn to leave and turn around again to him.

‘I have a question. How much of the future do you know?’

He only gives me a knowing smile.

‘I know that you will do great things for us here in the Heavens. Remember: you have been given tremendous powers, use them wisely.’ He leaves me with a smile. Suddenly, a blinding light transports me back to the throne room.

#star crossed myth #god of leo #scm leon #self insert #scm #scm the king #the adventures of avaline

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aka-indulgence · 5 years ago

Text

Nighttime Surprise

Not exactly a ‘usual’ stress-relief, but also.. yes? Not in the usual sense, though I may have self projected. Maybe. Something I wrote that wouldn’t strain my one month unused writing muscles... And enjoy it too

Summary: You don’t know what your relationship with (HT!)Sans is. Just that it’s close and intimate... And it’s going to get much more so when you suddenly find the guy in front of your shoebox apartment door.

It was night. You were tired. And having a heavy case of the tension headaches.

You were feeling thoroughly like a piece of garbage. You hadn’t done anything today.

You had called in sick, when you were thinking to do so many of those “adult responsibility things”. Like going to the bank before your work started, and going to to the party after the work that your colleague was having. It wasn’t a party really- just that friends had invited to go drinking at a bar. You weren’t that big of a drinker- maybe just drinking on celebratory nights or when you were invited, never looking for it on your own.

But when you woke up to feel that grogginess in your eyes, the chills and slight shivers when you shifted around in your bed, the tenderness of your muscles and the fact you felt too hot when you had the blanket over you, but started getting more chills when you took it off- You’re sure if you didn’t get proper rest, you’d get a fever, and you didn’t want that.

Forcing yourself to work won’t solve anything.

You sighed as you watched the clock tick, getting past midnight.

You groaned.

Why… Were you… Still awake?

You may have heard enough medical advice to tell you about things. You’re supposed to rest so you’d feel better the next day. But… Throughout the day, while you were just lying in your bed, staring at the ceiling, you thought how much more productive you could be.

But instead, you just sat there. Every time you moved, you felt like gravity had gotten twice more stronger than it should be. You had so many things you could do.

You were also a side reporter. More freelancing than an official one really. Occassionally writing up something in day to day that was worth mentioning to the public, whether it was something interesting that the average person don’t know but might get interested in- to more serious things like when an accident had happened near you.

You never had a schedule, you weren't obliged to keep writing for them every day- but you could send in a piece of your work to be published by them.

Other than that, you had actual snail-mail letters sent to you from family members that you should get to. They take time to deliver, and doing it faster, the better it’d be for them as well. Sure, you’ve all gotten smartphones and could use a messaging program, but there was something special about sending real, tangible things they could touch that needed thought before it gets sent off.

…

And you didn’t do any of that.

Or… Not exactly.

You did try something. You did try writing a report on the amazing ‘job’ a 65 year old man was doing just down the street that everyone undermines- cleaning up leaf litter and just downright litter every day on the road, without getting paid. You did try thinking of things to reply to your cousin who lived seas away from you.

… But everything you did, just seemed not as good as you thought it’d be.

So you groaned, thinking you’re just going to do it another day. But all this… waiting has gotten you stressed.

You know you shouldn’t dwell but… You just tossed and turned in bed, like some kind of annoying purgatory of wanting to do something and can’t, and getting stressed when you don’t do something and just stay lying awake, trying your best to. Fall. Asleep.

“Oh, I didn’t even take a long nap for god’s sake…” You say to yourself, putting a dramatic hand on your forehead.

On top of everything, you were so bored!

You didn’t want to look at your phone, because you worry it’s just going to keep you up. But now you’re just staring at the wall, the ceiling, back to the other wall… And your mind had gotten so numb that you’ve resorted to making weird convulsion-like movement in your bed.

You make a particularly loud groan afterwards, sounding thoroughly miserable. You didn;t do work, didn’t socialize, and even more… You didn’t actually rest, and now your brain seems to be against you in trying to make you sleep.

Just as you attempt to close your eyes again, lying on the bed with a pissed-off look to your face, you suddenly hear three, slow knocks on your door.

Tap.

… You almost screamed a ghastly scream at that, if you weren’t actually just choking yourself so you don’t make the noise.

What the hell was THAT?!

You stand up from your bed, slowly opening the door without the lock that was in front of your front apartment door- Why didn’t these have locks too, what’s the point?!- And leaning in the peephole, praying that you don’t see an eyeball peering back at you.

…

It wasn’t an eye. It was an eye socket. With an eye light inside of it. Red and big, and casting a dim light on the peephole.

“… Sans?!” You almost shout when you realize who he is. Any other human would probably shriek at the mere sight of him in the dramatic darkness of the apartment hallway. What ‘with those skeletal features that most grandparents described death, the creepy’eyelight, and the hole in his skull.’

… Someone had actually said that to you when you were out with him once.

That person had quickly gained a nosebleed from your fist.

You swung open the door to him, the soft look on his face, his smile non-present. Neutral, his eyelight dilated as he took the sight of you that was… Pretty unsightly even to yourself.

“… angel hair?” His face fell a bit at the sight of you.

“Um… Hi, Sans.” You siad simply. “Uh… Didn’t expect you to come so late tonight.”

“… you didn’t come today.”

You know he was talking about work.

You don’t quite sure know about the relationship you had with Sans, just that it was more… Intimate than what you’d call ‘friends’. Nothing explicitly romantic yet, but… Sans doesn’t talk much to people outside of his brother, and you. He doesn’t work with you, but you’d met him in a little restaurant near the building. He worked in a vegetarian restaurant his brother built- you started making small talk to him, and the rest is pretty much history.

You don’t quite know at what point you clicked with him- it just happened gradually, everyday he was talking more and more with you, as you had started going to the restaurant solely to meet him and he started to take closer steps to you… Going to your house, inviting you to his, laughing together on the sofa…

Never making a move on each other.

Just that you know… You both really, really cared about each other. Like right now.

“Sorry… I didn’t tell you.” You frown, yet again slapping yourself mentally, forgetting to tell your really close friend who brought you to work and home, hung out extensively in the your home, and had no problem giving physical affections… That may or may not last longer than they’re supposed to.

“I got sick.. Maybe.”

You didn’t have to explain much more.

He had walked in silently into your apartment flat which wasn’t anything impressive- he always gave it a disapproving stare at the walls around you. Basically only having two rooms minus the entrance ‘room’- bedroom/kitchen, and bathroom.

He had picked you up, closing the door gently before locking it, walking back to your bedroom, plopping you in your bed.

“tell me what you need, pumpkin.” He said as he opened the cabinets, turning out the small light in the ‘kitchen’ area.

“Sans…” You tried to protest.

“you’re hungry.”

… Quickly ending in failure.

You’d let him make you a simple corn soup, worried about the state of your stomach, knowing it might be sensitive. He had sat you up in your bed, helped feed you, giving encouraging waves whenever you went still for a few seconds, the sleepiness seeming to come when he was near you.

Sans being a cook, had made the corn stock soup you had tucked away in your drawer into something restaurant level. The longer you ate the more lively you felt, and as he put the small bowl away in the sink, washing quietly to himself without a word to you… You felt more comfortable just lying on the side with the soft yellow light in the corner of your room, with silent dishwashing in the other corner, than being in the dark with no sound.

The sight of him just wringing his hands and drying them in the tower… Made you smile, thinking how he had come all this way to take care of you the moment you told him you were kind of sick.

After going to the bathroom to collect warm water in a rubber bottle, he came back, placed the water bottle on top of your stomach, and…

He climbed into the bed, arms curling around you, legs wrapped around your lower half. He pressed his skull to the side of your face… A sound similar to the rev of a truck engine slowly but surely getting heard from his ribcage.

… Was that…

Purring?

Well- arguing whether Sans was actually just a big cat or just a monster skeleton- wasn’t the only thing that had made you as stiff as a board, eyes wide.

… This.. Has never happened before.

Sure, you’ve held hands, hugged him, real tight too- but Sans had never just climbed onto your bed, laid in it with you and snuggled close to you. Not that you could remember, at least.

It made your heart beat fast, and you wondered if you were feeling hot because of the warmth that was just radiating off of his body, or… You’re just really, really flushed.

Must be both.

Sans looks completely relaxed while he held you like either a big teddy bear or a body pillow… And you just couldn’t do that. Your heart wouldn’t let that, as well as your tired groginess being pushed to the back of your mind at the closeness.

“… Sans?”

“mmm…?”

Oh GOD his voice sounded really husky right now.

“…” This shouldn’t be an appropriate time but- if anything happens, you’ll just blame it on your non-existent fever. “What are you doing?”

“snuggling you in your bed.” He says simply, as if it was the easiest question he’s ever heard that needed answering. “why?”

“… That’s what I wanted to ask you.” You say meekly… Slowly turning your body to him so you could hug him back, to which he gratefully taken a snugger hold on you. It wasn’t very comfortable with thick bones under your spine right? Not because… You wanted to get closer to the skeleton, no…

“… what do you mean?” He asks, and you see that red eyelight, looking down at you. You’ve never seen it so dilated before.

“… Uh… You came here, made me soup, helped me eat the soup, and now you’re in my bed, h-holding me like this…” Was that the ‘fever’ or your embarrassment making your cheeks burn? “… Why did you come all this way?”

Sans go silent for awhile, as he seems to be thinking.

“… a sweet little human who is gentle and kind to me, hadn’t come to get her lunch of the day… no news, asked her work, told me she called sick. didn’t get a text from her, i got worried. i don’t like not knowing what’s wrong with my little honeypot.” As his gaze seem to fall on you again, you note how fuzzy and soft they were… Radiating adoration at your face.

“when i see the exhaustion just radiating off of her… i can’t just leave her be…. gotta… gotta take care of the ones i love.” He gives you a smile, small and genuine.

“you look like you didn’t sleep.”

“… I didn’t. I couldn’t.” You quickly added, as he shushed you, petting your hair.

“you have me with you. if you need anything, just tell me. i’ll be here, sugar lump.”

… He really did just come in the middle of the night, worried how you were doing despite the fact you didn’t text him… Probably because he was contemplating whether to come to your apartment or not, since you didn’t tell him anything. It’s getting better day by day, but you know how afraid Sans could be at… Losing someone. Making them run away and fear him.

You guess you being sick just overridden all that, now with him openly purring and tucking your head under his chin, curling around you some more.

…

Your relationship just got all the more closer…

And the blooming warmth on your chest, the happy noises he was making the closer he felt he was to you, and the smile on both of yours and his faces told you it was just going to get better from now on.

#stress relief #ht!sans/reader #haven't been writing 'properly' in awhile #thought to make a practice with this #it ain't perfect but...#it's got fluff in the end with big warm boi.#short fic #snippet #guess who read a VERY good ht!sans fic today

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wickwackity · 4 years ago

Note

ok ok i got it could i get some uhh i will punish your friend for your failure w/ a side of bloodstained clothes for talbotson thx 👀

sorry it took me so long aihdjdnf

word count: 1192

prompt: i will punish your friend for your failure

warnings: blood, injuries, ptsd mention

————————————————————

She should have known there were trails on them. Should have known Gerard would have people follow her, have them wait out until Dallas left. He always knew exactly where to hit her where it hurt the most.

This was entirely her fault. God, how could she have been so stupid? Letting herself lull into a sense of security like that. Exactly what Argent had wanted.

And now. Now Brett was in danger and possibly hurt. Again.

Alright, alright. Dallas had to focus on finding Brett, she could chastise herself after she made sure he was safe.

Her main concern was how he was mentally. He hadn’t finished healing since the car crash, just a week earlier, and she knew - despite Brett saying otherwise - that he’d been feeling the effects of PTSD. While Josh’s workshop was hidden decently enough, screeches of tires and honking could still be heard from the road. Dallas would watch as Brett would snap to attention, unable to keep his chemosignals in check and briefly allowing panic to seep through his scent.

They tended to sleep in the same bed now - for Dallas’s comfort just as much as it was Brett’s, though she’d never admit that - and Dallas knew he would consistently wake up in a cold sweat. He’d slip away into the bathroom, and wouldn’t come out until morning, acting like everything was ok. It clearly wasn’t, and now Dallas worried she had let him get away with lying for too long. She should have helped.

Looking around the now-messy workshop, it didn’t look like there was much of a struggle to get Brett out. Which wasn’t much of a surprise to Dallas, he might be incredibly tall, but he didn’t hurt people. Something she respected about the taller wolf.

She also couldn’t see any blood, a good thing, but Dallas knew better than to assume it meant Brett wasn’t hurt. He could have a concussion, or something worse.

Dallas walked to the metal table in the center of the room, finding a note sitting on top. She narrowed her eyes, picking it up.

‘Sinema, and don’t be too long now Dallas. You wouldn’t want your little wolf toy to get too badly hurt, now would you?

Your friend, Gerard’

The note was crumpled up and thrown on the floor on her way out.

——————————————————

It was a swift drive to Sinema, with Dallas breaking pretty much every single road law out there, but that wasn’t her priority. She had to find Brett before they could do something - or something worse - to him.

As she haphazardly parked her car near the entrance to the club, she noticed a distinct lack of music coming from inside. Of course. Argent and his people must have cleared out the building earlier.

Briefly she remembered her training, how you were never supposed to enter a situation without knowing your enemy completely. Making sure you knew the layout of the scene, which luckily she knew it well enough, but she didn’t know how many of Gerard’s people were inside.

Dallas pushed that aside. It would be ok, she was prepared to face any amount of hunters that could be waiting for her inside. She would save Brett, failure wasn’t an option.

She made sure her footsteps fell slowly on the concrete, trying to mask her approach as best as she could. Any amount of surprise she could get against Gerard the better.

Dallas pushed the door open, cringing at the groaning of the steel. She cautiously made her way to the main area, the lack of people making the club look strange. She started to the side, hugging the far wall near the bar to get a better view of the whole area.

She could smell the faint scent of blood. Brett. It had to be.

Dallas made her way to a side room off the dance floor, following the scent to where it was the strongest. He was in there. She couldn’t tell how many people were in with him, but she couldn’t care less. He was right behind this door, too close to think about all the things that could go wrong.

She got her weapon ready, preparing herself for the near inevitable ambush waiting for her inside. Dallas took a deep breath. She shifted her weight getting ready to slam the door open and-

Shit.

Brett was tied to a chair in the middle of the room, but there wasn’t anyone else. That was definitely a bad sign. They had to be here, it was too easy.

He looked up and fuck, it wasn’t pretty. Dallas looked at what Gerard had done to him - done to him again - and she couldn’t help but cringe. They must have poisoned him to slow his healing, because none of his injuries had. His left eye was swollen shut, his lower lip split, and a mean looking bruise that sat on his cheek.

“Dallas?” She could hear the weaver in his voice, the pain he must be in making it difficult to speak.

“I’m here, Brett. I’m so sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”

Dallas rushed to his side, taking more of him in. There were bruises and cuts on his arms, and a deep gash on his side, visible through his torn shirt. Just like what Monroe had done. She knelt down to his side, cradling his hand in hers.

“I’ve got you now. I promise.” Tears welled in his eyes, and Dallas knew there were some gathering in hers as well. God, she hated this. Hated being weak, especially in front of Brett. Normally she would stop herself from letting her emotions go like this, but Dallas knew Brett needed this - and although she’d never admit it, she did too.

Dallas carefully untied the ropes around his wrists and ankles, making sure to avoid the bruises littered around the area. When she finished, she carefully pulled him to his feet. They stared at each other for a moment before Brett was crashing into her arms. His tall form trying its best to fit as much as possible into her hold. She could feel the heat radiating off of his body, calming her slightly, as he let himself come unraveled.

As much as she didn’t want to, Dallas pulled away from Brett enough to look him in the eyes again.

“Let’s get out of here, ok?”

When he nodded slightly in response, she moved to his side to help support his weight. Dallas started moving him towards the door, and out into the main room.

She saw something out of the corner of her eye, coming in from the side. Before she could even think, she threw Brett to the ground - wincing at the moan of pain he let out as he fell on his injured side - and turned around.

“Hello, Dallas. So glad you could join us.”

Fuck.

#bad things happen bingo #Im sorry for the pain #I HOPE IT WAS OK????????#LIKE THAT I USED THE PROMPTS ALRIGHT?#i could only do one at a time so i mained the first #can you tell im better at setting scene than dialogue 😔#also sorry about the open ending i genuinly had no idea how to finish it #teen wolf #brett talbot #dallas branson #talbotson #gerard argent

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murdershegoat · 5 years ago

Text

(based on this art from the incomparable @battenthecrosshatches)

(also on ao3)

Visiting the childrens hospital was a good idea, her people had said, because then the public could see how the Luthor brand did immense good alongside the terrible evils caused by her brother. At the time, she had trusted them.

But now? Now she’s surrounded by very small people whose eyes are too sad and fingers too sticky. Lena isn’t heartless, not by any means. It’s just she’s never really been good with children. She was always the youngest in the family and nobody she knows had babies. Hell, she didn’t talk to Ruby Arias until she was four years old, and even that was too soon. One time she said good morning to a teenager who lived in her building and the teenager had just laughed in her face, and another time some hooligans had egged her front door because she ran out of candy on halloween. Now she makes a considerable effort to avoid the young school groups who visit LCorp and she interacts with the high school interns sparingly and she dreads the day her future partner brings up having kids in any way, shape or form. It’s not that she’s scared of them, per se, it’s just that she’s completely terrified to interact with somebody under the age of eighteen in any way, shape or form.

‘As you can see, Ms. Luthor, your foundation has changed this hospital immeasurably,’ the administrator-slash-tour-guide tells her. ‘We’re able to care for about double the amount of patients than before, not to mention our technology has put us on the map as leaders in pre- and neonatal care, paedeatric cardiology, oncology, neurology and mental health care.’

‘That’s quite the accomplishment,’ Lena says, trying her best not to sound nervous or scared around the children who potter around the rec room. ‘And how’re the research facilities doing?’

‘Better than we ever could have hoped,’ they reply. ‘We’re changing the world here, Ms. Luthor.’

At that, Lena smiles genuinely. ‘That’s what I like to hear.’

She allows the administrator to lead her around the other parts of the hospital, always staying a step behind them, always using them as a shield between her and the children. When they tell her they’re about to reach the nursery, Lena almost cancels the rest of the tour. Babies?? Tiny, crying, helpless babies?????? No, thank you.

But as they near the nursery, Lena doesn’t hear crying babies. She hears a melodic, angelic voice and the soft strumming of a ukelele or something. She shoots the administrator a look, her brow furrowed.

‘You’ll see,’ they smile. As they round the corner, Lena’s eyes fall on the angel in question. A woman around her own age with blonde hair in a shaggy bob sat in the nursery, playing her ukelele to the variety of babies stationed around her in their plastic bassinets, and singing with such care and joy in her voice, Lena felt as though if she stared directly at this wonderful stranger’s face, her own face would melt off like an Indiana Jones nazi.

‘Good morning, Kara!’ says the administrator, and Kara turns and faces them, her smile blinding Lena from across the room.

‘Hi, Ollie!’ she replies happily, gently placing the ukelele on the floor, before standing to greet them.

‘Kara, this is--’

‘Gosh, you’re Lena Luthor!’ Kara exclaims, and Lena steels herself, ready for the torrent of vitriol she’s used to receiving from strangers. ‘Your work with both biotechnology and quantam physics is unparalleled! I’ve admired your work for years!’

Lena thinks she’s in love. In love with this woman in a tight white t-shirt and skinny jeans, in love with her glasses. Obsessed, obsessed, obsessed.

Stop thinking about the L word, Lena thinks.

‘I’m Kara Danvers,’ the angel continues, holding out a hand, which Lena takes much pleasure in shaking.

‘Kara is our expert cuddler,’ Ollie explains. ‘She volunteers and gives skin to skin contact to some of our abandoned newborns, as well as some extra TLC to some of our other babies.’

‘The singing is a new thing,’ Kara says. ‘It seemed to calm a whole bunch of them down at once and made things easier on the nurses.’

‘Well you know what they say about efficiency!’ Lena says.

‘No, what do they say?’

Lena goes completely blank.

‘I... uh.... they say something, I’m sure.’

She’s flatlining in front of this gorgeous woman (a person who volunteers! to hug babies!) who expects her brain to be brilliant. And instead all it can do is yell Kiss her, bitch!!!!!!!!!!!

‘We should get a move on, Ms. Luthor,’ Ollie says, and Lena should use it as an out, to save herself from more embarrassment. But instead, like the absolute fool she is, Lena finds herself saying,

‘Actually, I was hoping Ms. Danvers could show me exactly what it is she does as a volunteer?’ Ollie looks surprised; this is the first time Lena’s actually seemed interested in the children.

‘Well, it’s quite simple,’ Kara says, leading her towards the babies. ‘You just... cuddle them. Some of their parents can’t be around as much as they’d like, and some don’t have any parents, and there’s loads of studies about the impact touch has on infants and young children.’ Kara reaches into one of the bassinets and fishes out one of the tiniest babies Lena has ever seen. The baby fusses for a second at the disturbance, before settling into Kara’s warm (totally ripped, Lena notices) arms.

‘This is Daisy,’ Kara says, her voice softer. ‘Her biological mom left her on the doorsteps of the fire station over on Fifth and Ninth, and she almost didn’t make it. She just got her cannula taken out yesterday, so the fact she’s breathing by herself is a big deal.’

Lena watches Kara as she holds Daisy, at the love written all over Kara’s perfect face. She thinks maybe she feels jealous. She wishes she could be this sort of kind, the type that lets you love and care for the small and the helpless. The type that radiates from deep within you and brightens everything you come in contact with.

And then Lena remembers why she had refrained from visiting the hospital for so long. A siren sounds from deep in the building, and she watches in confusion as every pager in the vicinity goes off at the same time. Suddenly, her bodyguard appears out of nowhere.

‘We need to go, Ms. Luthor,’ he mutters in her ear. ‘There’s been an attack on the building; they’re targeting you.’

Lena’s heart sinks. She wonders who could be this evil, who could hate her enough to endanger the lives of thousands of children just to bring her down?

She makes a mental note to Lillian off the Christmas card list.

‘We can’t just leave,’ Lena says, feeling some residual goodness from Kara. ‘We can’t leave these babies here!’ She turns to Kara. ‘What can I do?’

Kara, who is now donning a yellow vest with three large pockets on the front and back, hands a matching one to Lena.

‘What do I do with this?’ Lena asks, panic starting to seep in.

‘You fill it with babies,’ Kara instructs, already lifting babies from their cribs and putting them in her own vest. Ollie puts them in Kara’s back pockets. Lena thinks she’s getting punk’d.

‘Hurry!’ one of the nurses says as a large ‘boom’ shakes the building.

Lena puts on the damn vest.

She feels weighed down by the wiggly, squirmy, crying babies, but all she can really focus on is Kara’s hand in her own (Kara’s other hand holds Daisy against her chest like a pro) as she leads Lena down the fire escape. They’ve descended several flights of stairs and Lena is feeling thoroughly Puffed Out but she can see the light of outside just ahead of her.

‘Luthor!’ she hears a booming voice say. She turns, finding a very nondescript bad guy standing with a wicked smile on his face, and some fancy weapon in his arms. ‘I have regards for you, from--’

‘From my mother, I know.’

His smile grows even more sinister than before.

‘She asked me to give you a little gift--’ he stops short, his smile slipping. ‘Are you wearing babies?’

She stands up a little straighter. ‘And what about it?’

‘I can’t- I can’t, like, shoot babies,’ he says, clearly uncomfortable.

‘Well then I suggest you leave here before somebody makes you leave,’ Kara growls, depositing Daisy into Lena’s arms, and stepping in between them and the mercenary. Lena ignores how turned on Kara’s voice makes her, more concerned at the baby she now holds in her arms.

Before the mercenary can say anything else, he’s being punched in the side of the head by Lena’s bodyguard, who is also wearing a baby vest.

‘Right,’ Kara says matter-of-factly as she takes little Daisy back from a grateful, aroused Lena. She does a sort of weird, light bounce and jiggle, clearly trying to keep the babies in her vest calm. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

///

Hours later, after being questioned by the police, getting the babies back upstairs, and making sure everything was running properly again, Lena’s ready to go home and wash the smell of hospital off her. But she has one last thing to do.

She finds Kara where they first met, with Daisy in her arms.

‘You’re quite remarkable, you know?’ Lena says, and Kara’s head whips up as she hears her voice, a huge grin on her face.

‘Back atcha,’ Kara says, her gaze returning to Daisy.

‘What’s going to happen to her?’ Lena asks, approaching them both. She stands just behind Kara, peering down over her arms at the now-sleeping baby.

‘She’ll find a family who loves her very much and hopefully grow up to be a smart, independent, funny little girl.’

‘And what’s going to happen to you?’ Lena asks, looking up at Kara.

‘I’ll find another baby that needs a cuddle,’ she says. And she hesitates before adding, ‘And hopefully I’ll get to see you again. Maybe something a little less chaotic for our second date.’

Lena laughs loudly, and Daisy stirs momentarily, and Kara rocks her.

For just a moment, Lena can see this for herself: Kara looking at her with sunshine smile, with her love and kindness. Kara holding very small things that inherit Lena’s brains and Kara’s bright blue eyes. For just a moment, her future seems incredibly, overwhelmingly clear.

She slips her card into Kara’s back pocket, and she kisses her on the cheek. Her hand hovers just above Daisy’s crown, her tiny tufts of hair brushing Lena’s palm.

‘I better be hearing from you,’ she tells Kara with a raised eyebrow.

‘Promise,’ Kara says, breathless.

As Lena leaves, she can feel Kara’s eyes on her.

Damn right.

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

i started a ko-fi account a few months ago when somebody wanted to commission a story, and i feel really weird about posting it here but i guess if you want to help me with my coffee addiction you can lob me a couple bucks on ko-fi?

#supercorp #supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor

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thecorteztwins · 5 years ago

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Alt-Marauders update! It’s pretty much the Shinobi Feels edition, so tagging @esteicy-blog in case you wanna read your boy’s bits (it’s fine if not!) and @sammysdewysensitiveeyes and @littlemeangreen since you guys are regular readers! CONTENTS “Weakness” - Shinobi/Haven “Instinct” - Sebastian/Madelyne “Nature” - Sebastian/Haven “Saturn’s Children” - Shinobi/Alice

”WEAKNESS” They’d been captured, and placed in a power-dampening cell. They being Haven and Shinobi, the latter of whom was wounded, deep in his right side. Their captors had stabilized him---they wanted them alive for now, especially since they knew that letting Shinobi die just ensured he’d be revived on Krakoa with information that could defeat them---but given him nothing for the pain before tossing him back in the cell. Literally. He did not hit the floor. Haven’s arms caught him expertly and with strength that would have surprised him if he’d been thinking about anything but how much this hurt. Not the pain in his side---but the helplessness. Shinobi did not like being trapped. Shinobi did not like being at the mercy of others. It had bad memories. Perversely, Haven’s comforting presence made it worse. Because that was part of those same memories. His mother, holding him like she was, asking if he was alright, trying to soothe the pain away. He’d treasured her as a sanctuary then, but the fact was that it always came after the pain, and thus tied to it in his mind. That was the only reason he tried, feebly, to push Haven away, even when what he wanted was to sink into her, to curl up against her, to let her stroke his hair and whisper comforting assurances. He wanted that so bad but he also couldn’t, wouldn’t, be that weak little boy again who needed Mommy, who needed Mommy because Daddy had-- “Shinobi, Shinobi it’s me,” she said, “It’s Haven, Radha, it’s alright, you’re alright, I’m here, I’m right here.” She thought the reason for his weak thrashing, his trying to push himself away, was because he was confused, disoriented, thinking he was still in the hands of their enemies. But he was somewhere far worse---in the past. “I--I know,” he finally said as he got ahold of himself, “I’m fine.” He tried to push himself up on his arms. The pain was terrible for his body. But it’d be worse inside if he failed. If he was weak. He felt her gentle hands on him again, “Don’t try to move, Shinobi. You’re still hurt. They only stopped bleeding, but the wound is still--” “Don’t!” he barked, “Don’t---don’t---I’m not a child!” As much as Haven wanted to pull him to her, she was as respectful as she was compassionate. If someone was shouting at her not to touch them, she wasn’t going to; it would only do more harm than good. A comforting embrace could turn traumatic if forced, no matter how gentle, and Shinobi had been traumatized enough today. But she did not merely abandon the issue either. She looked at him with sympathetically scrutinizing eyes as he huffed and strained in his attempt to give every appearance of strength. This was...unusual. Shinobi was someone who craved attention, and though he desired more for it to be praise, she’d seen that he would settle for negative attention if nothing else would do, such as when Claudine and Madelyne waved him away in irritation at his amorous antics. He liked to show off, and was also...Haven was too kind to ever think of him as a coward, but when he realized there was real danger afoot, he tended to run. Which Haven could hardly blame him for, she was no combatant himself. He avoided pain. He sought attention. Yet now, when she was offering attention, he put himself in pain to refuse it. Something was amiss here. There was a piece of the puzzle that she was not seeing, a piece that would explain this. People were like puzzles, in their way---you could look at two pieces that seemed like they could never fit together in the same person, but that was only because you weren’t seeing the other pieces that linked them together. And while Haven tried not to think of other human beings as something to be solved, to be analyzed, to be worked out and put under a microscope---they were so much more than that, and deserving of dignity, of privacy, of keeping their hidden pieces to themselves if they so chose---she could not help SEEING these things when they came to light for her. She could not help the pieces connecting in her own mind. As these new pieces connected with pre-existing ones in her mind, the information coming together in a cohesive whole, integrating with what she already had known or at least suspected. “Shinobi,” she said very softly, but her voice seemed to echo to him, and it wasn’t because of their small cell. “Shinobi....by your father’s standards, I’m the weakest person he knows. He’s said as much. I believe you’ve heard him.” Shinobi turned to look at her, confused where this was going, and anxious at the mention of his father, the mere mention of the man when he was already in this pained, panicked state making his skin feel like it was tightening around him in anticipation of a blow. Where was she going with this. “So therefore, Shinobi, being as that is...it should be absolutely safe, should it not, to let yourself be weak around me?” She had not EXACTLY guessed what was going on. But she had gotten close. And Shinobi let himself collapse into her lap. *** "INSTINCT” “You know, I never asked you,” said Madelyne as they walked along the beach. It was nothing romantic, they were just on their way to the ship. “How’d you know it was me?” Sebastian looked at her oddly, and she clarified, “I mean when we first met. When Selene introduced me and I pulled down that drama queen cloak and there you see, the spitting image of---you know, her. I didn’t know it at the time, but you two had quite the past. How was SHE not your first thought?” “How do you know she was not?” Madelyne rolled her eyes, “You scoffed at me and called me an “unknown being”, you knew who I was---or at least who I WASN’T. If you’d thought I was Jean you would have---I don’t know but you wouldn’t say THAT.” “Perhaps I simply didn’t recognize the face without the Black Queen costume to go with it.” “Sebastian!” “You know that’s as liable an answer as any.” “You’re dodging the question.” Madelyne held out her arms to the sides, “Look, you’re basically the most morally bankrupt person I’ve ever met who wasn’t a literal demon—and I count Mr Sinister in that category—but you also gave me the kindness of individuality even BEFORE I started treating you as my personal bone machine. And I know the k-word doesn’t come easy to you Sebastian so what gives? More specifically, what did I give away that told you instantly who I WASNT?” There was a long pause. At last, Sebastian answered, and he didn’t sound sure in it at all, which was what let Madelyne know he was being honest. “I confess, spitfire, I really don’t know. Gut instinct, perhaps. “ “So Scott had no guts. Big surprise.” “Mr. Summers knew Ms. Grey in all her incarnations. I only ever knew your hated counterpart as the Black Queen, the Dark Phoenix. We never met when she was NOT that, NOT possessed by the Phoenix Force, not radiating with that strange cosmic energy.” Shaw did not know that the ‘Jean’ he had known had actually BEEN that cosmic energy and not Jean at all, nor did Madelyne, but that was besides the point. He continued, “I am no psychic---I did not have to be, to feel that power. It was more distinct than a face or form, and you lacked it. So much a difference did that make that I did NOT recognize face nor form without it. So if you are searching for some romantic reason concerning seeing your true self or some such sentimental claptr---” “No, that’s the thing, I KNOW it’s not that,” Madelyne cut him off sharply, insulted he’d think she’d ever be so deluded, “I know you didn’t love me. And I’m fine with that, I didn’t love you---did love your dick and money though. But that’s why it was crazy to me that the man who didn’t love me, saw more than the man who was supposed to.” “Well, I do hope that satisfied your curiosity,” Sebastian said, then smirked, “Now tell me again that first thing you loved about me?” Madelyne tried to push him into the water. *** “NATURE” “That’s how it is in nature, after all,” Sebastian finished, “Adversity builds strength. Look at the animals. Red in tooth and claw. Do you know what happens to the weak ones, Ms. Dastoor? They are devoured. As it should be.” “I don’t believe looking to animals as a model for our own behavior is a very good argument, Mr. Shaw,” said Haven, setting her teacup primly on her saucer, “After all, no animals wear clothing, and while I understand you find some articles...restrictive...it seems to be something you overall practice. Animals do not use boats either. Or teasets. Or currency.” “Fair enough. But simply because not EVERYTHING from the animal kingdom should be emulated, does not mean nothing should be.” “I do agree with that. I merely suspect we would differ on what should be.” “Quite correct. I think you can guess which I find most admirable. As I can guess your preferred models of behavior. Cows and dogs and such nursing their young, am I correct?” “You are, Mr. Shaw. But I think that my preferred models are actually just as conducive to your ideals of strength.” “Explain.” he leaned forward. He sounded genuinely interested, if only mildly. “I’m no zoological expert but I can tell you...it varies with species. Some, like sharks, don’t raise their young--they’ll in fact devour them. But in mammals, the strong species all nurse and nurture their young, at least the mothers do. Sometimes both parents, I think, as with wolf packs. But, let us take tigers, one of the greatest predators on the planet, surely a species that appeals to the ‘red in tooth and claw’ paradigm of power, the apex predator who devours the ones beneath it. These creatures, mighty as they are, begin as helpless cubs, blind and barely mobile. If their mothers abandoned them to adversity as you suggest they must, or worse, hurt them in order to make them strong, the cubs would die. Even if they did manage to fend for themselves in the wild without help, they’d be malnourished as cubs, resulting in stunted adults. And they wouldn’t learn how to hunt or behave. They need to loving guidance of their mother in order to be the powerful killers they become. I don’t think the father stays, but I imagine they would not be worse for it if he contributed. Therefore, I think the most successful species in your worldview, owe their success to the greatest traits in my worldview.” “Point to you, Ms. Dastoor,” said Sebastian, lifting his cup, “Though, as you yourself state---this does not apply to ALL great predators, and the tiger still does teach the cubs to hunt what is weaker than themselves. She does not nurture them forever. Surely at some point the juveniles are driven away from her, and by her own claws?” “I believe they do, when it is time. But I would not think you approved of that aspect of their behavior.” “Whyever not?” “Your son is an adult, yet you still have him taking orders at your side, do you not?” There was a very tense silence, and then Shaw smiled. “You say you’re no zoologist. Why do you know so much about tigers?” She smiled back, “Well, Mr. Shaw, it’s actually a bit spiteful, I suppose---I heard arguments like yours over and over, using ‘survival of the fittes’, to justify hurting or neglecting others. I decided to look into just how true it actually was that this was the “natural” order.” His smile became a grin, “Ah, so it is not about love of animals, but a love of refuting me.” "No, Mr. Shaw. It’s for love of the people hurt by beliefs like yours. But,” and her own smile became a grin as well, something that, despite its technical closeness to a smile, was a far cry from anything Sebastian had ever grlimpsed on her face before, “I will level with you---it is a little fun when someone doesn’t have an answer to my tiger example." *** SATURN’S CHILDREN “She was my mom, you know,” said Alice as they approached the wall of rubble. They were in the remains of the underground children where Alice and the other children had lived with Miss Sinister. Shinobi’s mission had been to get in using his phasing abilities, gather data, and get out. Alice, of course, had not been part of the plan. But when it was just her and him, she’d begged to come, and he’d...fuck, he didn’t know why he gave in. “I loved her. I still love her. And I thought she loved me,” Alice continued, as though in a trance, as though talking to the rubble and not to Shinobi, “And she did, I guess, just---just not how I thought. Like you love a car. Something you can use. Or more like, I guess, I guess---” Her voice broke, “A set of new clothes.” Shinobi, really just wanting her to shut up, grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her through with him. They were in the remains of the entryway when they went solid again, and as Shinobi tried to reconcile the digital map Claudine had given him with the ruins before him. Alice quieted down as they searched, but then something else set her off, she was touching something---a broken cloning tank. Again, she was talking to it, not to Shinobi. “She loved me for what she wanted me to be for her, she loved what I could do for her.” Shinobi stepped up behind her, “Uh, Ally?” “Alice.” “Right, Alison, listen, maybe uh talk to Madelyne or Haven or somebody about this later.” “Well they’re not here!” she shouted over her shoulder at him, and she sounded both angry and in pain, taking Shinobi aback, “They’re not here and you are and you...I know you understand me!” Shinobi froze, “The hell do you mean?” “You may be dumb but I’m not! I have eyes! All you want to do is party and have fun and get drunk with Pyro! No way you’re doing all this Black Bishop businessman stuff except for your dad!” “Hey, not true!” Shinobi returned, “The Hellfire Club is power, money is power, and power is everything! And I want everything!” “You don’t want power, you don’t even wanna get out of bed in the morning! “It’s called a hangover you stupid little snot!” “Exactly!” “Wh---what does that even mean?! Shut up, I’m not going to engage with a CHILD! And after I was nice enough to bring you here! I have half a mind to leave you now, if you love it so much! That would teach you some manners!” He just might have to, if he still didn’t need to look for the data. Alice at least was helpful with that---she had lived in this place, she knew it well, even in ruins. They walked in silence at first as she lead the way to where the supercomputer’s chamber would be, until, goddammit, she started up again. “Look I wasn’t trying to be mean to you. But I mean...you’re just a kid, really, like me. You just wanna have fun. And I see how your dad talks to you. Everybody does. Even if only Ms. Haven says anything. “And Pyro,” Shinobi pointed out. “Well, Ms. Haven covers my ears when HE says anything to your dad.” “Yeah, because you’re a kid and I’M NOT,” Shinobi said petulantly. And indeed he wasn’t a kid, he wasn’t some scared little boy anymore, he was black bishop of the hellfire club, partner to black king, his father, his father’s right hand man. Emphasis on MAN. Adult. Grown-up. Powerful. “Do you love him?” “Pyro? Nah, we’re just, uh...the adult kind of friends, you’ll understand when you’re older and more mature like m--” “Nooooo, dummy, your dad!” SHinobi tripped over the high heels of his costume, “What kind of question is that?” Alice looked down, not at Shinobi but at her sneakers, “I still love my mom. Claudine, I mean.” Shinobi didn’t answer her. He didn’t even look back at her. And she didn’t ask anymore questions, or talk about their parents anymore. They made it to the wrecked remains of the supercomputer, they got the wrecked remains of the data, and they returned to the rubble blocking the entrance. And as they phased out through it and stepped back into the outside world, Shinobi looked down at her and said, “I love what he can do for me.”

#alt marauders #fic #writing #out of cortez

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authorgirl1111 · 4 years ago

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A/N Couple of things.

1. Spike has a soul. If I do continue details of how he got it and why will be revealed.

2. I know Spike doesn't show up until School Hard. But for reasons, this story starts 1 week before school starts. Before 2x01.

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer and affiliated works.

***

Welcome to Sunnydale (Home Sweet Home)

Oops, Aisling thought when she drove over the ‘Welcome to Sunnydale’ sign. Beside her her bleach blond adoptive father chuckled softly. Instead of staying to survey the damage done to the sign, she made a turn and drove down until she found the street she needed.

To be honest, the absolute last place she wanted to be was in another town that had a Hellmouth, (Cleveland had been a mess and a half) but this Hellmouth also had The Slayer, and if she had to choose between a Hellmouth with the slayer and one without- well it wasn’t exactly a hard decision. Though if it hadn’t been for the fact that a Hellmouth could supposedly help her father heal, she wouldn’t have even entertained the notion.

She stopped at the building she had been searching for, an apartment building a few blocks away from the school. For a moment she stayed still her hands clasping the steering wheel.

Then a pale cool hand reached out and held hers.

She turned to face the man, bleached blonde hair and blue eyes and covered neck to feet in black. She took a deep breath at his concern. "We're here." She said, he voice held a light irish accent, undoing her seatbelt.

Her father shook his head. “Wait here.” He said.

She wanted to argue and leave with him but he levelled her with a stare that had her backing down. When he was sure that she was going to do as he said he undid his seatbelt, opened the car door and left leaving him behind.

She locked the door behind him and waited. The moment her father had left she let out a breath she hadn’t realized that she had been holding since they left Prague.

She should never have suggested going to Prague. France would have been better, or Rome, or Ireland (where she had chosen to go every other year), literally any other place but Prague.

Every summer they travelled for summer vacation. Every year they switched on who got to decide where they vacationed. Her dad had been reminiscing about Prague and Aisling had figured that it would be nice to see, so that’s what she had suggested.

Aisling shook her head Idiot.

She leaned her head against the steering wheel. She would have given anything to take back that summer, to suggest any other place.

Someone knocked on the door and she turned to see Spike waving at her to come out. She took another deep breath and unlocked the door and stepped out of the cool September air. Together they walked to the back of the car and opened the truck.

Aisling reached out and pulled out two suitcases while Spike pulled out another. Aisling sighed as she watched him struggle.

“I can make multiple trips, it’s fine.”

Her dad stared at her before ruffling her hair and kissing her forehead and instead reached into the backseat and pulled out a backpack. Aisling rolled her eyes, the backpack contained most of his food.

“Want you to eat when we get inside,” Aisling said. “You haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Bit”

“So you say,” Aisling said then she switched tactics. “Still… I don’t want that to expire, so please. Eat.”

Dad sighed. “Point.”

Aisling smiled at the win, then it slipped when she looked at the suitcase her father had been unable to lift before she turned and walked with her Dad toward the landlord.

The landlord was not human, though the exact species of the demon was completely lost on her. He smiled down at her and she smiled back, but she could tell that both her father and the landlord could tell that she was forcing it.

“She’s tired.” Dad covered. “Bit’s been up since dawn.”

The landlord wisely did not mention that Aisling was carrying more than her father was. He walked them over to the main entrance and walked them through the passcode needed to enter. Then with a glance at the young human girl he explained that if they were bringing human company, there was a second code they had to enter, that worked as a kind of warning system so the demons living there could hide out of sight.

“Course, the girl here doesn’t count, since she’s living here. I take it she’s used to demons?”

“She is,” Aisling said tired of the landlord talking to her father like she wasn’t capable of understanding speech. “Living with a vampire will do that.”

“Have to say, I’ve seen a fair number of humans and demons living here together, but a human and a vampire living together is new.”

Dad wrapped an arm around Aisling. “She’s my daughter, found her when she was just a wee young thing.”

“I was 7.” Aisling cut in. “He found me when I was 7.”

“And how old are you now?” Landlord asked finally turning his attention to her.

“Turned sixteen this June.”

Landlord whistled. “Almost a lady.”

She wanted to gag at the almost patronizing tone the Landlord adopted. Her father must have sensed her ire because he quickly changed the subject.

“Will the other tenants mind?” Her father asked referring to Aisling bringing friends over.

The Landlord shook his head. “Nah, a good number of demons have kids that are human or human passing, and they like bringing human friends over. We just ask that you and your... daughter give us a heads up.”

Aisling nodded, though she had no interest in bringing friends over. “Thank you.” She said anyway.

The Landlord walked the two of them to the elevator, pressed the button and it led them up to the fifth floor.

“Have to say, Spike, when vampires do rent an apartment here, they tend to take the basement; fewer chances of sun exposure. Yet you specifically asked for an apartment with east-facing windows." The Landlord said as he led them through the building.

Aisling's father, Spike, shrugged. “Aisling likes watching the sunrise.”

“I also like not having my dad burst into flames,” Aisling said.

Her dad rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

“Uh-huh,” Aisling said rolling her eyes. “You always say that.”

Dad smiled. “And It’s always true.”

Not always. Not that Aisling was going to out her father’s injuries to a stranger.

“Here’s your room.” The Landlord said as he unlocked the door. “Rents due at the beginning of every month, though if you need more time we can work something out.”

“Thank you,” Spike said, Aisling nodded along.

The Landlord handed Spike the key before leaving. He closed the door with a soft click.

Fortunately, the apartment already had furniture. So they didn’t have to worry about sleeping on the floor, especially considering they had sold their last house and everything in it to afford to come there.

Aisling placed her bags on the floor and turned to stare at her father, who looked ready to keel over.

Aisling hurried forward and steadied him before leading him to the couch and gently pushed him onto it; then she removed his coat before she did so. Gently she took the backpack from him pulled out a thermos, opened it and handed it to him.

The smell of blood nearly undid him- even if it was two days old and nearly expired-, Aisling could tell he was holding himself together just enough that he wouldn’t vamp out as he guzzled down the thermos of blood.

Once he was done he put the thermos down, his mouth now blood red. He licked his lips and stared down at her.

“You don’t have to hide when you feed,” Aisling said. “I’ve seen you vamp out before, I’m not scared.”

“It’s not you Bit,” Spike said. “You know I have less control when I vamp out.”

She did, she also knew that Spike had the best control out of any vampire she knew. “Are you still hungry?”

Spike hesitated and Aisling pulled out another thermos and handed it to him. “Drink, I’m gonna go get the rest of the stuff.”

“Ash-“

“It’ll be fine,” Aisling said with a smile as she rummaged through the pockets of Spike’s leather duster to find the keys. “Have a little faith in me, will ya?” she said clasping the keys in her hand and hurrying out of the room before Spike could argue.

***

For as much as Aisling tried to hide, Spike always knew when she was scared, or worried, or in pain. Her heartbeat tended to always give her away, and if not her heartbeat then he tended to be able to smell the fear, or pain that would radiate off her in waves.

The last time Aisling had been near a Hellmouth had been when she was 12, they’d stayed there for six months before they’d packed up and left.

At least this one had The Slayer which would mean that there was some level of protection. It was the only reason he’d agreed to come to Sunnydale in the first place, and even then he’d raised concerns, but Aisling had been adamant, arguing that Spike’s job depended on him being in top physical health.

When Spike had still declined arguing that they would find another way to make money, that it wasn't the first time that they had landed on hard times. Aisling had brought up Her. Arguing that now that he was weak, she would likely know and would be heading straight for them. At least if they left for Sunnydale, they had the added protection of the Slayer, and with any luck it would detour Her, from making her way over.

He hated it. Hated that even after 8 years She was still a threat.

Spike was not the type to run. Every time She had come he'd been able to get her out of town, but now that he was weakened he had been forced to leave Los Vegas and come to the HellMouth in the hopes that the Slayer was somewhat competent (Though the fact that she'd survived the Master and Lothos suggested that she was), and able to deal with a vampire's whose mental abilities was on par with Lothos.

It helped to know that he had personally seen to Aisling's training, that he had taught her every conceivable way to kill vampires and demons. Trained her in techniques that would hopefully protect her from mental attacks. Training that saved her life multiple times, that saved his own life in Prague.

It also helped that the Master was dead, and the leader of the Order of Aurelius was some child fledge that had only been a vampire for a few months.

It helped that they were living close to the active Slayer. For however long that Slayer had left she would at least make sure that as many vampires and demons as possible died and stayed dead.

Still living so close to a Hell Mouth, while making him stronger, was very dangerous to the young human girl living with him, and he didn’t know if the Hellmouth would ever truly revive him to full strength.

He heard the sound of someone turning the doorknob and turned his head just as Aisling walked through carrying two more suitcases.

“Before you head back out.” Spike started stalling her. “Choose a room?”

Aisling paused and stepped forward and headed to the first door that was right beside the living room. She opened the door and looked inside it. It was small but not cramped there was still a bed from the previous owners, though it was completely stripped of sheets. A small dresser and a closet off to the right.

The east wall had a large window that gave her a perfect view of the town Skyline and would allow her to see the sun as it rose.

Despite its very deadly effect on her father, she always found the sight of the dawn to be beautiful. With a sigh, she turned and walked down the mini hallway and opened the second door and entered what was so obviously the master bedroom. Around twice the size of the other room with a walk-in closet, that Aisling was tempted to suggest to Spike that he convert it into his bedroom, so he didn’t risk waking up every morning burning to death. Oddly enough the window here was a lot smaller and had blinds already up.

“I’ll take the other one,” Aisling said.

“Are you sure?” Spike asked.

Aisling smiled. “I don’t need a lot of room.” She said.

“Neither do I Ash.”

Aisling shrugged. “The other room has bigger windows,” Ash said. “You're less likely to fry here. Also, the walk-in closet could be better for you… if you want to convert it into a smaller bedroom so your even less likely to fry during the day.”

“Ha, bloody ha,” Spike said dryly.

Ash rolled her eyes. “There are a few extra bags in the car, I’m going to go get them.” She said turning to walk away.

“Aisling.” Aisling paused and turned around.

Spike hugged her. “I love you alright? Please don’t ever forget that.”

Aisling smiled a little to herself. “Never have.”

Aisling sat down on the floor after she had brought in the last of the luggage. Her arms hurting Spike poked his head out of the room that Aisling had claimed as her own and knelt by her side. “Time for bed little one.” He said a hand on her shoulder. “You can finish unpacking tomorrow.”

Aisling stared at him for a long moment. “Can I just sleep here?” She asked. “ ‘m too tired to move.”

“Aisling.”

“Worth a shot.” Aisling yawned before she stood. “Don’t forget to put the curtains up before daybreak, I so do not want to wake up with a pile of ash as my father.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “I won’t.”

“Good,” Aisling said before she stood up and walked to her room. “Night, Dad.” She said before she closed the door.

Once she closed the door she sighed and rummaged through her suitcase to find a white lacy short-sleeved nightgown. Slowly she peeled off her day clothes and slipped her nightgown over her head.

She sat on the bed, that Spike had made up for her, for a moment just taking in her new room and sighed. “Home Sweet Home.” She said softly before she lay down and pulled the covers up to her chin.

Within moments she was asleep.

Outside the door, Spike looked around his apartment and sighed. “Home sweet home” He echoed.

***

A/N if you want more please review. Knowing that people like it gives me one more reason to update.

#buffy the vampire slayer #Spike #Original Character #Vampire and his human child

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