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privateanxieties · 3 years ago

Text

you sure you don’t have superpowers? Part 2 (final)

Synopsis: On the matter of restraint, Peter would place himself on the god tier, except when it comes to her. He’s never dealt with it before, this feeling, but what he can’t deny is that they’re both in the same boat. After all, she did just say she wants to eat him.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader (she/her pronouns); fluff, friends to lovers, romance, just a tiny bit steamy but no overtly sexual content.

Words: 5.5K

Part 1

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In all the years he's been alive, Peter's never known a spider to be capable of holding one's gaze.

Except this one seems to be fucking blinking at him, almost in challenge.

Or that's what it looks like from the glass jar in which they encased the little beast, anyway.

There they were, back at his place to figure this entire mess out, when she very visibly froze in the middle of the conversation, eyes fixed on a spot behind him.

He doesn't want to linger on how the creature made a fool out of every one of his reflexes; it's enough that the endeavor of catching it took the greater part of an hour to finalize.

The first major problem is that this spider has not died like the one that bit him did mere hours, maybe less, after injecting its venom into his bloodstream.

And now? Now he's subtly trying to conceal a mind stretched thin by the disturbing implications of this entire affair.

His best friend. Another genetically engineered spider. The uncertain future.

Peter doesn't know how to calm her. He tried explaining things, starting from the very beginning, but that only accentuated the sense of doom. He recognizes the stress on her face as a type he hasn't felt in a long time: oversensitivity is kicking in.

He doesn't understand the delay between the bite and the appearance of mutations, but he isn't ruling out differences in gene manipulation. After all, he got bit over six years ago. Oscorp has had time to reorganize and improve.

The biggest problem of all is that they seem to have figured out a way to replicate his dad's spiders without making use of Parker DNA.

He hopes they have. Because if it isn't the case, then the situation is much worse than he even dares to think.

It's why he can't reveal the entire truth to her - the possibility of her DNA disintegrating from incompatibility with the spider gene is just not something he wants to consider, let alone inform her about.

Still, she looks fine. She looks healthy, especially to his eyes. He's noticing changes in her appearance the same way he noticed them in his own: strengthened muscles beneath smooth skin, an increased heart rate, and better dexterity.

Shinier hair. Sparkling eyes. An intoxicating scent whenever she walks by.

In short, the odds are stacked against him in every way. He can't fix this, he definitely couldn't prevent it, and now he can barely think his way through their options with her standing so close.

Why is she standing so close? And why does he like her exactly where she is?

She hid behind him minutes ago, using him as a human shield against the spider, but she has yet to leave his side as he looks through his father's old papers. He knows there's nothing of use in there, but he has no other avenues to explore.

Well, not any he can reasonably propose.

"Anything?"

Her voice is soft. It, too, has changed a bit in the past few hours. She hasn't said much in a normal tone, and he fears it's because she's getting a little lost in her thoughts. He knows how she is - once something has gone wrong, she believes everything else in a series of events will too. He can't imagine what her mind might be weaving -

Fuck's sake. Get it together Parker. Weaving? Really?

He shakes the thoughts out of focus, and it doubles as an answer to her question.

"Oh"

He sighs.

"Look, bud… I'm sorry. This is my mess. I never thought you'd get tangled up in it. I'm sor -"

"Peter… stop. You've apologized a million times already. There's nothing to forgive. I don't think there is, and if I'm saying it's ok, then you can at least believe me. We're ok, right? We'll figure this out. You're my best friend; if you can't help me through this, then who can?", she says. There's kindness infused in every word, but also fatigue.

He allows a smile to form, momentarily abandoning the documents he's sifting through in favor of taking her hands in his. They're on the floor of his bedroom, not face to face but side by side. It's reminiscent of ancient times, only, their challenges back then were things like passing P.E.

It's weird to think that both of them could now run the dreaded mile in a minute.

In theory. He's only going off of his own tested abilities, and he'd be a really bad scientist if he just assumed hers are the same.

"I'm here for you, you know that. We're gonna figure it out. Just wish it didn't happen to you.", he confesses.

If he had been more thorough, and if he had pushed further when Oscorp advanced its experiments, they wouldn't be here. He let them get away from him, and now she's suffering the consequences of inaction.

"Hey… look at me."

A hand comes to rest on his cheek, and he leans into her touch without thinking, eyes closed and breath slowing. Still, he decides to grant her request.

She shuffles even closer, left knee touching his right and her other hand finding its way to the side of his neck. He doesn't think it should feel this compelling, her touch. It's almost mesmerizing, how alert to her presence he is.

Her eyes search his insistently, but they're as soft and comforting as ever.

"It's not the end of the world. Whatever this is, you're gonna teach me and I'm gonna learn. Just like school, yeah? Get your tutoring cap back on.", she jokes.

When he replies, his words are muffled into her palm.

"Doin' pretty well already."

"Yeah?", she lights up at his assessment.

"Yeah. My first day, I broke so many things. I freaked out at every noise. You're holding up great.", he speaks quietly, bringing his hand up to cover her own on his cheek. He feels calm, almost serene.

"Well, I did break some stuff. And I freaked out earlier.", she points out.

"Mmhm… you did. Never heard you scream like that."

She bumps his knee with her own in admonishment.

"Don't make fun of the underdog. I'm extremely vulnerable right now.", she pouts.

"I could throw a car at you and you'd be ok."

She blinks once or twice, head tilting to the side in thought. He hopes she isn't getting any ideas, because he's seen that look many times in his life, and never have things ended well for either of them.

"You've had cars thrown at you.", is what she says however.

"Yeah?"

"Peter!"

"What?"

"You're in mortal danger. All the time. Oh my god… I just realized - that time Spider-Man had a building dropped on him? Or when he caught the tail end of that helicopter - oh my god, Peter!"

A forced huff escapes when she tackles him, and compared to her other hugs, this one feels… a little tight. Somewhat bone-crushing, he's even say. He suspects that her bursts of strength might be emotion-triggered.

"It's alright - I'm super durable, I promise.", he manages, though breathing isn't as easy as it was before.

She responds by burrowing further into his shoulder, and it strikes him without notice: a strange sensation, but irresistibly powerful. His arms come up to wrap around her, maybe tighter than they usually would. His nostrils are filled with her scent. He can smell nothing other than her, warm and familiar.

A surge of intense possessiveness takes hold of his brain the instant he catches the scent from the crook of her neck. His entire body feels electrified, eyes closing in foggy bliss.

Terrible mistake.

Too abruptly for it to be a normal reaction, his thoughts veer into scandalous territory. Her touch is so vivid over every inch of his skin that it's covering, but the worst of it is centered in his shoulder. His shirt has somewhat scrunched up, allowing a faint trace of her cheek and lips to come into direct contact with bare skin.

It feels like fire.

"Pete?"

Her voice vibrates through his entire body, bringing every nerve to attention. He realizes with half a brain working that he'd do anything she asked in that moment. Anything.

That should be enough to shock him out of his stupor, but it isn't. He's completely at the mercy of whatever she chooses to do next.

"I don't think I can let go.", come her uncertain words, driving another dagger into his every vein.

It's perfectly fine if she can't let go from his perspective.

"I think I'm stuck… to you. I don't know what I did. I'm sorry."

She sounds adorable. His mind is dancing on a cloud made of the same stuff as her sweet voice. He's losing his grip on sanity with every passing moment. What is happening to him?

"Please don't be mad. I really don't know how to let go. Help me."

Tires screech in his brain. He's just been dunked into a freezing pool. He moves with purpose he's never felt this strongly.

"You need to relax. Think of something that makes you feel safe, yeah? Let your muscles loosen up.", he instructs gently.

His voice is rougher than he's ever heard it, and the shiver that runs through her replicates throughout himself. It takes a few tries of her squirming and sighing, but she does eventually remove herself from him limb by limb. Moving back to her own spot on the floor, she sighs a final time.

"Whew… that was wild. I felt like a magnet. Is that how you feel?"

He feels… cold. Uncomfortable. Empty.

"Peter?"

He gets up with a jolt, backing away until he can't feel her scent pervading the air in his immediate vicinity. Moments pass in uncertainty, but little by little, he comes back to himself. Somewhat.

He's so fucked.

"Is everything ok? Talk to me."

No. No, no, no. This isn't happening. His eyes can't look away from her.

"Something's wrong. This… there's this - you can't feel anything?", he asks, fumbling over his words and feeling like ripping his hair out just to be able to concentrate.

Every single one of her gestures is picked up on and registered in his mind, but he isn't processing anything. He just knows how she's feeling without wondering or deciphering body language. What is this?!

She raises both brows, but soon breaks eye contact with a tisk.

"Um… I mean, there's a lot going on, right?", she asks, and he knows she's dodging the question. He knows she noticed something too.

"No. No, sweetheart - I need you to be honest with me. How are you feeling?", he presses, already losing his patience. All the possibilities are torturing his analytic mind.

She seems to ponder his desperate request, looking anywhere but at him and chewing on her bottom lip. She's restless too, he can tell.

"Well, um… When I hugged you just now? And I couldn't - let go? I think I…", she begins, pausing and frowning.

"Yes?", Peter urges.

When she looks at him abruptly, his heart freezes at what he sees in her eyes.

"I felt like I wanted to eat you."

A forced laugh escapes his lips unbidden, and he's just a little closer to insanity.

"What?!", he exclaims, shock coloring every letter of the word. It doesn't resemble a sound a human might make. He can see that she isn't joking, and nor is she smiling. She is one hundred percent serious.

"I don't know what's happening. I promise it wasn't like, a conscious decision. I just felt so weird, like it - like you - pff. I was so close to you, and you smell like nothing I've ever smelled before, and I just had this urge to bite -"

She doesn't finish, clamping a hand over her mouth, eyes wide and unblinking.

Whining starts a fraction of a second later.

"Oh my god! Oh my god, Peter, I am so sorry, I don't know what's going on with me. I don't know why I said that! Hmph, this is so bad… so bad.", she rambles, and he notices that her pulse is through the roof without even paying attention to it. He's automatically, at some point, tuned in to her every signal of distress.

He's going to burn Oscorp to the ground.

Well. After he's made sure this situation is under control.

He doesn't know how to go about doing that, however, except for one way that may or may not have just occurred to him. With decisive steps, he heads back to the kitchen, where the spider has been isolated per her request. He hears her follow after him some seconds later, and he wonders if it's due to the same ludicrous urge to not be too far away. He's actively fighting that urge right now.

There it is.

The worst creature to grace the earth since the very one that bit him. Little shit devil.

It rests unassuming on the bottom of the glass jar, though to Peter's great surprise, it does turn when he approaches and goes to grab the clear cylinder. Holding it up to eye level, he glares with all his might, as if that is somehow going to fix the problem they're facing. Well, at the very least, he hopes there's some unknown communication pathway between arachnids, and he hopes he can access it so as to direct many expletives at this particular spider.

Funnily enough, the spider doesn't seem to understand when death is wished upon it.

No matter. Death will be coming all the same, when Peter dissects its insides and makes an antidote from whatever he finds in there. Grabbing a knife from a nearby drawer, he punches a small hole through the aluminum lid of the jar before heading over to the sink.

"What are you doing?", she asks from the doorway.

He pauses, turning to look over his shoulder with annoyance. It isn't meant for her, but he can't help it.

"Drowning it. I need to open it up and figure out if there's something to reverse this - "

"No.", she interrupts, but he isn't sure he heard her correctly.

"I'm sorry?"

"I said, no. You're not drowning her."

"Excuse me? Her?"

Has she lost her mind, or has he? Is this real?

Why is she coming towards him like that? Why - why is the hair on his arms standing up?

She stops only half a foot away, arms crossed and expression harsh.

"You heard me, Peter. You're not drowning her. Give her here."

Oh no. No… this - she isn't herself. This is beyond his understanding. Not an hour ago, she wouldn't even look at the fucking thing, and now she's asking to hold it? This is something else, something terrifying.

And he's still fighting against himself to resist giving her what she asks for. Just like earlier, whatever she says in the imperative, he feels he has to accomplish.

It's horrific, the thought that Oscorp may have engineered something of this sort. Mind control.

But it isn't just mind control, is it? No, because it doesn't seem to work the other way around. It's only her, having this effect on him.

"Look, if you don't want to see, that's fine. You can go back to my room, but I need to figure this out. You said it yourself, this is bad, yeah? Look at what's happening to us. I feel like you're a second away from hitting me. You just called a spider whose species we don't even know a she. How do you know the gender of the spider, sweetheart? Think about it!", he tries, but when her face falls even further into determination, he knows the battle is already lost. He isn't reasoning his way out of this with her.

"You can figure this out without hurting anyone. You're brilliant, and I trust you, but I'm not letting you do that."

They're locked in a stalemate for what feels like hours, staring each other down with increasing intensity.

She lunges for the jar he's still holding above the sink.

Dodging proves harder than he's used to anticipating from her, because her movements are lightning quick and even, dare he say, more nimble than his. He hates to admit, but it makes sense, in a very traditional sort of way. Are they really reverting to baser instincts now, where males are stronger but females more agile?

Way to make this even worse.

Although, his theory of mind control is proven correct: no amount of demanding that she stop pursuing him around the kitchen deters her, yet her own exclamations that he give it here and stop moving have a really terrible effect on his psyche. He's playing this on hard mode, a game of tug-o-war unfolding in his brain between what he knows is best and his desire to just do whatever she says.

It's that acute struggle that distracts him for just a second, but alas, a second is all it takes.

When she lunges forward again, it's with considerable strength behind it, spotting an opening in his concentration and seizing it. Peter doesn't move away in time, but he does attempt to switch hands, throwing the jar in the air from right to left and lifting his arm up high to catch it.

It's a futile attempt, because her reflexes counter it. Midway through her jump, she reaches an outstretched hand for the jar, managing to divert its path before it can reach Peter's left hand.

It goes flying somewhere behind him, and she attempts to catch it, forgetting that she also needs to catch herself.

There's a clash of broken glass, and a grunt from the force with which she barrels into him. Still, he's fast on his feet, sticking to the floor before she can topple them. His arms come around her waist, chin lifting to avoid collision with her forehead.

What happens next is a chain reaction.

Her harsh breaths resound in his ears, and her scent is once again all around him. When moments pass with no inclination to separate, despite the obvious disaster that just occurred a couple feet away from them, he heaves a sigh into her hair.

It's comfortable here. It's also scorching.

With her palms spread out on his chest and her face hiding between them, he's beginning to feel another surge like the one from before, only this time, it's tinged with something more than possessiveness.

Gulping discreetly when she lifts her head, he steels himself in order to meet her gaze. It's an unnecessary action, because her eyes hold no anger, nor do they regard him with disappointment.

No, the way she's looking at him subconsciously works his brain into a frenzy, albeit a vague one. He can't pinpoint any specific feeling, only an instinct brought about by her sparkling orbs.

Kiss her.

He falls prey to the command.

Peter's lips crash onto hers with passion he's never shown before, moving over the soft flesh with fervor that consumes every inch of his mind. His arms pull her impossibly closer, molding her to him and stealing a gasp from her chest. Her arms come up to lock around his neck, a tiny whimper escaping that he swallows greedily, tilting his head for better access. It isn't enough. He needs more, and his body moves of its own accord, tongue peeking out to lick her top lip, moaning in contentment when she parts them.

He'd suck the air from her lungs if he could, he realizes with detached horror, but he's too far gone to stop himself. He's never felt anything of this magnitude, and it doesn't help that a fantasy he's had for years turns out to crumble next to the real thing.

Her lips moving in tandem with his sends pulses of electricity down his back, or maybe it's her nails scratching at the nape of his neck and stirring trouble in other places. When he sucks on her bottom lip and plunges his tongue back into her mouth without warning, her moan ends him.

She's pressed against him, everywhere. Her skin is searing hot even through her clothes; it's worse beneath, he finds, one hand from her back moving under the thin blouse she's wearing.

He notes with delight that her lower back is extremely sensitive, because the noises that singular touch produces make him want to do more.

More, more, more.

He needs -

"Ow!", she exclaims, parting from his lips but moving no further.

Peter feels like crawling over broken glass.

"What is it? Did I hurt you? I'm sorry, baby."

She shakes her head, but she isn't looking at him. Rather, she's staring down at their feet, and what he can see of her face doesn't reassure him. Neither do her next words.

"I think the fucking thing bit me again."

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

The spider is dead.

It is most definitely, one hundred percent deceased, belly up on the kitchen floor, where it's been forgotten in favor of another crisis.

Over on the couch, she's having full body shivers like she's just been dunked into a frozen river. The three blankets he swaddled her in do nothing to help, and neither does the tea, because she can't stop vibrating for long enough to sip any.

At least she's fully conscious this time, because he cannot bring her to the hospital again. Twice in under 48 hours is cause for suspicion, and it's not like they could do anything for her anyway, just like last time.

Still, it doesn't mean Peter is any less inclined to panic. He's asked about seventeen questions with regard to her state already, and she's only answered eight or nine, pointedly looking away when they veered into the realm of ridiculousness.

Now, he doesn't know what to do or how to help, watching her like one might watch a wounded puppy they can't assist in any way.

"I'm not - dying. Stop looking at me - like that.", she asks, but the chattering of her teeth is severe enough to impede her speech. Thankfully, he's right next to her on the couch.

"What am I supposed to do? Look at you! I feel useless. How could I let this happen twice? It's my fault you're like this, and now who knows what'll happen? This is serious!", he defends, wanting to impress upon her just how fucked the situation is.

"I know that, P-Parker. What do you think, that this - is a picnic for me?", she glares, holding the blankets even tighter when another bout of violent shivers travels her body.

"No! That's the opposite of what I think!"

"Then - make y-yourself useful and - hold me.", she whines.

Peter does nothing.

He's shocked that he does nothing, but mostly he's shocked that there is no more ringing in his mind at her words.

"Say that again.", he asks. His serious face doesn't get the point across, but he doesn't blame her in her state.

"What, you want me to beg? Classy.", she scowls.

"Sweetheart, I'll hold you all night if you want, but I really need you to ask again. Trust me. It's important.", Peter explains, eyes boring into hers. She rolls them once before doing as he said.

Nothing. There is nothing happening anywhere in the corners of his subconscious, and for the first time since yesterday, he feels a glimmer of hope, even if she doesn't appear happy at his smile.

"Come here"

Two of the blankets need to be removed in order to make room in his arms, but the shivering doesn't amplify - another good sign. He isn't even sure she's entirely cold; rather, this might be more than a somatic symptom. Nudging her to stretch her legs out on the sofa, he tightens his arms around her upper body as she lays across his thighs.

Some shuffling later, she's finally comfortable, and she blinks up at him, leaning her head against his stomach.

"Better?"

"Mmhm. A little."

She's still shivering, although now it's less hypothermia and more… wet cat.

"What's gonna happen to me?"

The question pulls at his heart none too gently, and he struggles to put together an adequate response. He doesn't know, and he can't lie to her.

"I'll fix this. I promise. Even if I have to web up every scientist at Oscorp, I'll make this right.", he vows, running a hand over hers.

"You can't leave me here."

He wouldn't. Not in a million years. As long as she's in pain, or distressed, or even just in mildly low spirits, Peter isn't going anywhere, and he says as much. His promise curls her lips upwards in a gentle smile, and she nuzzles the side of her face into his shirt. The action doesn't provoke the same response out of him; there's no more electrifying prickles all along his spine. At least… not any more than usual.

He's back to being regularly flustered at her touch.

The realization does nothing for his nerves, however, when he thinks of the conversation they'll inevitably have. For now, though, he stays focused on the present so he can keep an eye on the progression of her condition.

They remain like that until her trembling subsides, and it isn't long before a yawn has her blinking slow and disoriented. He can't resist mirroring her, contagious sleepiness infecting him, but he shakes it off in favor of a check-in. He has hope for improvement.

Before her eyes fall shut, he wakes her with a squeeze of his arms and pulls her to sit up, drawing yet another yawn from her lips.

"What is it?", she mumbles.

He shifts in order to face her better, bringing up an arm between them - his left, just in case he's wrong about this.

"I need you to grip my arm, as hard as you can."

She's nonplussed.

"Grip your arm… for reasons?"

"It's called the scientific method.", he corrects, seeing a smile corrupting her composure.

"The science of stupid, you mean. What good is a broken arm? You saw what I did to the TV. You bragged about bench pressing police cars.”

"Just trust me. I have a feeling. I'm 83 percent sure you're back to normal.", he assures.

"That's still a giant margin of error. I'm not doing it.", she shakes her head.

"Ok, well - how about this: just start easy, and increase pressure gradually. I'll stop you if it's too much."

She considers it with a full pout, and he's endeared by the fact that she's so hesitant to hurt him. Earlier, she was just about ready to impale him over the attempted murder of a spider.

Removing the blanket from her shoulders, she lets it fall around her waist and takes his arm in both hands, one near the other in the middle of his forearm. Checking one more time by looking into his eyes, she starts squeezing with great concentration.

It's adorable.

That, and her touch is feather-like, a smirk forming on Peter's lips when he sees the realization slowly dawn on her face.

"You don't feel fluffy anymore!"

He sputters, caught off guard by her surprised remark.

"Excuse me? I'm not fluffy."

"I never said you were, I said you felt fluffy. Now you're back to… rock, or steel or whatever tickles your ego more.", she teases. Maybe he was too obvious when he puffed up his chest.

Tone it down, Parker.

He makes a face in response, and in a moment of childishness, she sticks her tongue out at him, but it's not the right move. It's not the right move, because he remembers that he now knows what she tastes like. What it feels like to kiss her. He knows exactly what that tongue can do, and he looks away in embarrassment. Maybe a good amount of shame, too.

He feels like he took advantage of her, because she wasn't herself earlier. It's quite obvious he wasn’t himself either, but between the two of them, the experience fell on his shoulders. He is the one who should've known better, who should've exercised more caution and not let himself lose his mind to the rhythm of her lips.

However delightful they may be.

He kissed his best friend. The woman he cares about more than he'll admit to her, and more than he even should, now knows that he isn't perfectly innocent or as gentlemanly as she always accuses him of being. No, Peter Parker had a moment of weakness and now -

"I'm sorry I kissed you… you know, earlier. It's uhm - it was on instinct, really. It's just that… that feeling came back and I couldn't stop, but I understand if you feel uncomfortable."

He's shaking his head before she's even finished talking.

"Sweetheart. I kissed you. I promise you this, that was on me. And if you were feeling out of control, then I definitely shouldn’t have been kissing you. The only one here who has reason to be uncomfortable is you. I'm sorry."

Hey eyes are fixed on his as if looking for a flaw in his words or maybe his entire being; he isn't sure, because he can't tell what she's thinking at all. He doesn't recognize this new honesty in her, if that's even what it is. She just seems to be regarding him with unprecedented openness, her body completely angled towards him, arms resting on either side of her thighs.

"I don't feel uncomfortable."

A pause. He doesn't catch his breath when he has the chance.

"If you kissed me, then I kissed you back. And I wasn't as out of control as you make it seem."

Her whisper reaches the deepest parts of his heart to ravage whatever the words find there. Desperation, shock… hope? They all envelop him at once. She is still holding his gaze captive.

"I wanted to kiss you, Peter. And… I wanted you to want to kiss me."

His lungs are burning, but he dares not give them relief. Not until…

"And I still do."

Some things are difficult, especially when one meanders about, wallowing for years in feelings they can't or won't rid themselves of. Some things take more than they give, and it's only when one breaks that the other finally stops. Some things… take time to blossom.

Nothing is easier, or more equal, or more beautifully complete than the union of their lips.

Slow and soft, it moves them to their core: a passion far superior to the one experienced in their hazy spell.

Yet, Peter has trouble giving himself completely to it.

"You mean that?", he mumbles, out of breath against her mouth, feeling her nod fervently.

"You want me?"

"I want you.", she confirms, barely finishing before he takes her lips again.

His kisses are short and frantic, unable to stop himself from uttering the things he's kept bottled up for years. They come spilling into her mouth, the most intimate place he could confess them.

"God, I love you."

"I was so worried."

"Thought you'd - mmpf - thought you'd hate me"

With a gentle push against his chest, she looks into his eyes, lips swollen and breath uneven.

"Why would I hate you?", she asks, allowing him one more kiss when he doesn't immediately calm. Peter leans his forehead against hers tenderly, caressing her cheekbone with the knuckles of his right hand.

"Because I put you through this. Because I lied about who I am. Because I kissed you when you were vulnerable."

There's a spark in her eye.

"Well first, I bought the berries. The spider was in my crate, that I bought, for a pie I wanted to make with you. Second, mm, yeah - that one's on you, but I'm not holding it against you. I understand, and I support you through it, as long as we promise to not hide things from each other from now on."

It’s his turn to nod like a madman.

"Good. Promise. And third, I don't think this point needs refuting, does it? But if you'd like more peace of mind, I'm giving you permission to kiss me whenever you'd like, because I love you too."

With that, Peter can finally let himself be swept off his feet by the culmination of their attachment, moving back into what was quickly becoming his favorite spot to be.

It's unclear to either of them how long they spend in each other's embrace, or how many more kisses are shared, but it's alright, because they have years of pining to make up for.

Strange, that the most unlikely of events would lead them here. While there are more details to investigate and a meddlesome corporation to topple, Peter can do all that in due time.

For now, he has his favorite girl, and a back catalog of questions he'd like to find the answer to.

She recites them for him all night, bringing both of them just a little closer to enlightenment.

- fin -

A/N: Here it is, the much requested part two. Hope you enjoy! As usual, I welcome your feedback however it may arrive. Thank you for reading, and I hope you all have a great week ahead.

Taglist: @ifilwtmfc ; @edgycatx

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muichiroslover · 3 years ago

Note

Heyo could I request a ban x reader

Where ban and y/n first started dating before elaine so when elaine got into the picture she was a little jealous of their relationship and would try and break them up. And so one day ban and y/n got into an argument, the next day y/n and all of her stuff was gone. Elaine thinking it was a perfect time to take ban tries to comfort him but all he can think about is y/n. So eventually he finds y/n and apologizes in which y/n forgives him.

HAPPY ENDINGG

(Srry If its 2 long u don't have to do it if u dont want 2) (also I do not hate elaine xD)

Hi hi!! Yes I love this idea I love me some angst with happy ending 👀 I hope this is to your liking butterscotch!! <33 enjoy (●’◡’●)ﾉ♥︎♥︎

(Sorry it’s a little late ☹︎)

Pairings: Ban x reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood and wounds (not bad)

Genre: Angst with happy ending

_______________________________________________

You and ban had been a couple for as long as you could remember, at first it was kind of hard to approach him when you guys first met but when you guys had warmed up to each other you guys were absolutely inseparable

You guys did everything together and you were so well known your couple name around towns were “The bandit couple”

As you guys explored the world one night Ban brought up news about this drink that could give you immortality, using the sly line

“Then we can be together forever”

To which you laughed and hit him playfully, but he was entirely serious, you sighed and ended up agreeing to your adventurous boyfriends plan, if it wasn’t real at least you guys would have a fun time

So you guys began your journey to the fairy kings forest, when you guys had finally got to the tree you looked up and groaned

“That’s a huge tree, do we have to climb it?” You ask and he snorts as he already begins getting his hands and legs ready to climb

“You don’t have to, you can wait down here” he says smugly and you glare at the back of his head

“No I’m coming, I might as well see it through” you mutter annoyed to which he laughed

“That’s my girl” he says and you look away in embarrassment, feeling flustered at the comment which almost sent the blue haired man flying off the tree in amusement

As you guys climbed and finally made it to the top a girl, a little one at that looked at you both with a straight face as she puts her hand up and a huge wind blows you guys off

You scream in fear as you get blown far back and far above the ground, Ban grits and teeth and clicks his tongue as he grabs you as you guys start falling and takes the impact

You quickly got off of him and looked at him, tears almost in your eyes

“Oh my god! Ban! Ban I’m so sorry I didn’t mean for you to take the impact! Ban!! Ban-“ you frantically said to the man on the ground who’s eyes were closed

“If you keep calling my name out like that it’d be plain bullying if I didn’t wake up” he groans as he slowly sits up and you quickly hug him to which he chuckles and embraces you back

“Alright let’s try again” he says and your eyes widen slightly

“But ban-“ you begin and he just looks at you with his normal goofy smile you can never turn down, you sigh, deeply may I add and look at him

“Okay..I trust you” you say and he grins even wider as he grabs your hand and stands up as you guys started running towards the tree

The same thing happened a few times, it hurt, a lot but Ban never let you get too injured, always taking the impact of the fall even if you tried to fight with his grip in the air

The last time you guys got up there Ban grabbed his weapon and your eyes widen slightly thinking he was gonna attack the little girl

But he manipulated his staff and instead grabbed the cub with his weapon, You gasped as you two got quickly bounded by trees and the girl took the cup from Bans hand

The girl stands in front of you guys seemingly doing something then she lets us both go, Ban started explaining why you guys wanted immortality and those of such, You didn’t expect him to tell her his whole life’s story but

“Well shes too strong Y/n, let’s just go back” he says smiling at you as he holds out his hand, you smile lightly and nod as you grab it and you both head back down the tree

You guys were camping near the tree those days you were climbing it, you decided you’d stay another week since the fairy kings forest is actually quite pretty and you wanted to explore a bit before leaving since this opportunity may never come again

One night as you laid asleep in your sleeping bag you felt moving, you opened your eyes groggily to see your boyfriend quietly leaving the tent, you thought nothing of it, maybe he was going to pee or he was extra hungry or there was something dangerous nearby

Ignoring it you let yourself fall back into a deep slumber

But as the days and nights continued he kept sneaking out, you started getting suspicious so on the 4th night he snuck out you waited a little bit pretending you were sleeping and after a few minutes you slowly crept out of the tent

You looked around whispering your boyfriends name, this could be a huge misunderstanding after all

You went all around the forest and no sight of Ban

You went back to the tent and looked in, maybe you missed him?? But nope he wasn’t in there

You finally stopped in front of the tree and looked up, remembering the girl that resided there, logically speaking she was older then both of us since fairy’s live longer

“He didn’t” you whisper, you didn’t want to think, no you absolutely were wrong, must be seeing the wrong picture

Your boyfriend of years and hardships is not sneaking out at night to meet up with another girl, no it sounds absurd even thinking about it

‘I’ll just climb and check and I’ll be wrong, I’ll take the wind blow’ you think nodding your head reassuring yourself

You start climbing up the tree as quietly as possible, when you finally made it up and peaked up your mouth fell agape as you saw Ban and the girl chatting and laughing, all close

It surprised you so much that you lost grip on the tree and fell back, you rolled down the tree as if it was a hill, your limbs flying to and fro as you finally hit the bottom

You groaned quietly in pain

“What was that?” Ban says as he stops his conversation with Elaine hearing a soft thump

Elaine looks to the side

“ I didn’t hear anything?” She says and Ban shrugs as they continue to talk

You on the other hand shakily get up as you look at yourself, your arm was bleeding but you don’t know from where, your left ankle was sprained for sure, and your back was killing you it probably had a horrible bruise forming

A tear slipped out as you limped to the tent, you sat down as you grabbed bandages and started cleaning your wounds, the blood was coming from a gash just below your shoulder, probably from a sharp branch

You put a stick in your mouth as you took a deep breath, you grabbed some of Bans alcohol and poured it over the cut, you bit down harshly on the stick but no scream made it through, tears can’t say the same though

You spit out the stick as you breathed hard, every breath of air seeming like you haven’t had oxygen for a while, you take a bandage and wrap it around your arm securely

Usually you would make herbs for wounds and etc, but your hands were shaky, mind a daze and eyes blurry from tears

You wrapped up your sprained ankle and just let your back be in pain because there wasn’t much you could do about the pain back there

You sat silently in the tent waiting for your boyfriend to arrive, he did not arrive till the morning, about an hour and a half before you would usually wake up

When he opened the tent and saw you staring blankly at his empty sleeping bag he went to you and was about to touch your shoulder to ask you what was wrong but you jerked back

He was surprised as you looked at him, your eyes puffy, a huge sign you were crying

“Y/n what-“

“Where were you last night Ban?” You ask and he goes silent

“No in fact where were you the past 4 nights??” You ask and he sighs

“Y/n I just went out to explore and hunt, the foods not gonna come to us-“

You scoff, tears forming up, if he’s lying then is it true that he..

“You’re lying Ban, you’re lying to me” you grit out and he looks at you a little confused but mostly surprised

“What?”

“You were up there in that tree with that girl..” you say dangerously quiet and he sighs his head falling as he realizes he’s been caught and it looks totally wrong too

“Y/n..” he begins and you shake your head

“No no dont Y/n me, why did you lie and why were you sneaking out?!” You shout

“Y/n we were just talking I swear, I lied because I didn’t know how you would react-“

“HOW I WOULD REACT? HOW WOULD YOU REACT IF I WAS SNEAKING OFF LATE AT NIGHT AND MEETING UP WITH SOME GUY BAN?? HUH??!” You ask pushing him back but you wince as the wound near your shoulder moves

Ban notices this then notices the bandage on your arm and ankle

“Y/n what happened?” He asks quickly as he pulls your ankle into his palm to examine it, but you pull it back quickly

“You’re not even answering me, I-I can’t believe this, I can’t.” You say as you lay down in your sleeping bag, you were extremely tired from staying up the whole night already

You laid on the opposite side you usually lay on because of the wound on your other shoulder and thankfully it was the side not facing Ban

You guys didn’t speak for the whole day and when night came you woke up only to see Ban gone

“Y-You’re kidding” you whisper, you quickly get out, you run to the tree as you go up the route you began to remember with your mind at this point

You climbed up skillfully fast ignoring the roaring pain in both your ankle and shoulder, you peaked up and not to your surprise you see Ban and Elaine speaking under the oh so romantic fairy lights

With no sound you climbed back down, you walked to your tent and went in, grabbing your bag you grabbed your herbs, bandages, clothes and canned foods, leaving some for Ban even in your mood

You rolled up your sleeping bag and dig the dirt under as you grabbed your bag of coins, you and Ban always hid your money in case of any intruders, you guys were bandits after all

You take your money and put it in your bag as you get out the tent and leave

Ban returned back in the morning, he had asked Elaine what he should do to fix things and what a girl usually would like in this type of situation, you guys had never fought so bad to the point you didn’t speak the whole entire day

He was scared you were actually done with him, he had a few picked flowers in his hand and he took a deep breath as he opened the tent

But his eyes widen when he sees your stuff gone and your sleeping bag rolled up, he drops the flowers as he looks around frantically

“Y/N?? Y/N WHERE ARE YOU?!” He yelled, he ran everywhere around the forest looking for you, but you were no where in sight

By the time night fell he still couldn’t find you and it felt like his whole world was collapsing in front of him, he couldn’t think and he couldn’t even yell anymore bc he was sure he lost his voice by how loud and long he was screaming your name

He quickly wiped a tear that rolled down his cheek as he quickly climbed the tree, Elaine looked over at him worriedly

“You didn’t come at our usual time I was worried” she said and looks away blushing slightly

“She left Elaine! She left and I can’t find her anywhere” he says as he falls onto his knees and the tears finally come out

“She left me Elaine I-“ he says hoarsely

Elaine frowns sadly as she goes over and hugs him

“Well Ban...maybe she wasn’t the right one..there’s other people who can make you happy” she says

“Her injuries, she had bandages on her right arm and an injury on her ankle as well! She can get really hurt out there I have to find her” he cried

“Ban she left you, maybe it’s time to move on” Elaine says hintfully and lets go of Ban as she flies to the cup, she gives it to Ban and smiles at him

“Really?” He asks and she nods blushing a bit, he drank it slowly and when Elaine wasn’t looking he poured some inside of a glass bottle

“Ban I like-“ Elaine begins but Ban gets up

“I’m sorry Elaine I think this is the last time you’ll be seeing me, I checked every inch of the forest last night so that means Y/n has left the forest, I’m gonna be leaving as soon as I make it to the tent and get my stuff” he says to the girl who’s face falls in despair

“W-What wait but Ban she-“ she began

“She left? She had a good reason, if I was in her position I’d be upset too I can’t blame her” he says running a hand through his hair

“B-BUT SHE-SHE” Elaine tries to plead but stops when she sees Ban smile at her

“No matter what she did or does, she’s the only one my heart races for, in life or in death Y/n is my one true love so...wherever she goes I’ll chase her” he says and with that he jumps off the tree

Elaine falls to her knees as she watches the spot Ban once stood in, her head falling down as tears fell on to the tree

Ban had gotten to the tent and began packing all his stuff he got his money bag from under his sleeping , though he wonders where you hid yours and leaves

He travels for towns and towns looking for you, he had finally found you but much to his dismay you got captured since you were injured and were in a pretty tight situation as you were on death row

He watched as you and other prison mates were in a yard just doing your own things, you were laying on a bench staring at the sky

“Pssst”

You look up quickly and look around not seeing anyone, you were about to lay back down

“Pssst Y/n!”

You look around again noticing the familiar voice

“I must be going crazy” you mutter as you hold your forehead

“You’re not! Look over here!”

You slowly look to the side of the fence you were near and your eyes slowly landed on a bush, soon blue hair popped up from behind the bush and Ban gave you that grin of his

“Ban!” You say, a smile on your face, but you quickly replace it by a scowl and look away from him

He smiles slightly at that

“Y/n come on look at me” he whispers and you begrudgingly look over at him and he smiles, causing you to get flustered and your scowl to shake trying not to smile

“What are you doing here, you better hurry up and escape before they catch you too” you whisper not looking at him, instead watching the guards

He laughs

“As if I would leave you in a jail cell, come on let’s go” he says and you look at him stupidly

“Let’s go? No thanks death row isn’t that bad” you say coldly and he sighs

“Fine, guess we have to do this the hard way” he says shrugging

“HEY GUARDS” He shouts and your eyes widen as you sit up and block him with your body as the guards and inmates look at you

“UHH YEAH GUARDS, UHM YOUR ZIPPERS DOWN” you say and cringe deeply when the guards both look down and one coughs as he zips up his zipper, the inmates laughing

When everything died down you looked at Ban deadly

“Are you crazy?” You whisper

“Crazy for you”

Your mouth closes as you try to not blush but it’s inevitable as your brows unfurrow and a small smile takes over

“There’s that smile I love” he says and you roll your eyes as you huff slightly

“You better explain, I’m not giving you another chance so don’t you lie to me” you say and he nods quickly like a dog, you can basically see the tail behind him wagging

“Now step back babe, you’re boyfriends here to save you” he says smugly and you roll your eyes as you back up

He takes out his staff and in a swift motion breaks the fence, the guards all look over

“HEY” one shouts and you gasp as Ban quickly scoops you up and starts running

“It’s okay! I’ll take this bandit off your hands!” He shouts amused as he runs, he runs into a forest and does many turns eventually losing the guards who had to return back before any other inmates escaped

He puts you down lightly and you cross your arms to which he snorts

“I can run you know” you say and he shakes his head as he leans down and takes out a jar of green stuff

“They’re not as good as yours but they should do” he says and he gently takes your leg as he pulls up the inmate suit and sees your swollen ankle

“Tch stupid guards didn’t even treat it” he mutters as he takes some of the green cream and slowly and gently rubs it over your ankle

You can’t lie this felt really good but

“The first night I went up to try to plead for the youth drink” he says and you look at him

“The second night I went up to try and bribe for the youth drink”

“The third night I spoke to her, I tried to get to know her so she can see we have no bad intentions but one night wasn’t enough”

“The 4th night she had decent trust in me, so we continued talking”

He sighed as he started wrapping the bandage around your ankle softly, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Ban this gentle

“And the 5th night?” You ask and he looks to the side, you noticed a slight blush

“The 5th night I asked advice on what I should do to make you forgive me..” he mutters and your mouth falls agape slightly, it slowly forms into a small smile

“I’m sorry for not letting you explain..” you say and he shakes his head

“No, I can see how this looked from your perspective” he says as he rolls up your sleeves and switches the old bloodied bandages on your arm

You chuckle softly

“So I guess we can’t be together forever” you say sighing and as he rubs the herb cream on your bruised back he raises his eyebrow and pulls out a glass bottle with pink liquid

“Sorry but you’re not escaping me so easily” he says and you gasp as you grab the bottle and look at it

“This is really it??” You say looking back at him and he nods proudly

You slowly open it and drink it, but you didn’t feel that different

“Did it work?” You ask and he shrugs to which you deadpan

That day you both held hand as you jumped off a cliff, when you landed you guys sat up as you laughed and high fived, it worked

After a few months both you and Ban were caught purposely cause life began to get boring, you both sat in the same cell, after 33 executions you both are still alive in confinement

“I win” you say as you cross an all three X’s on the tic tac toe you made on the dirt in the ground

“You’re cheating” Ban replies and you laugh

Soon the door blows open and you two looked over to see a short man with blonde hair, you both smiled as Meliodas smiled back at you two

“Glad to see you two are still lovebirds”

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idy-ll-ique · 4 years ago

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My Little Secret.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Innocent!F!Reader

Genre : Fluff, little bit of Angst

Warnings: none

Requested: nope

Summary: Y/N listens to music 24/7 on Spotify. At first Ransom is irritated, but now he knows just how to use the application to his benefit. I mean, come on, it can't be considered stalking if it's his wife, right?

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! oml a ransom drysdale fanfiction 😳 if I ever meet this asshole in real life I'd sock him in the jaw but in fiction? mamma mia. enjoy!

---

Does she really love an app more than me?

Ransom scoffed to himself as he opened his laptop, clicking on the music app, Spotify. He rarely used it, but his wife was obsessed with it. She listened to music 24/7; singing along to the soft tunes in her playlists while working, reading, cleaning, cooking, anything. Ransom thought it was insane how submerged she was in the activity.

Until that activity gave him an upper-hand in their relationship.

When he had first opened the app on his laptop, he was a tad bit surprised at the "Friends Activity" feature. He saw her account. Then, as more months passed, he started noticing how when she was happy, she'd always be listening to some happy playlist, when she was sad she'd be listening to sad songs, et cetera. And he started using it to his advantage.

Now, everyday before leaving his office he'd check the app to see what playlist she was listening to. If it was a happy, dance playlist, well and fine. But a sad one? Ransom's mood would also sour because my darling is not feeling okay. While going home, he'd buy something for her; mostly flowers or chocolates, or a nice little trinket that he'd find in the displays of shops that he thought his wife would enjoy.

He never told her about it. What he was doing would be considered stalking but come on, is it stalking if she's your wife? As the app finally loaded, his eyes immediately strayed to the Friends Activity and his heart clenched when he saw her listening to her sad playlist that she had named Melancholy. Sighing, he turned off the laptop and left his office for the night.

As he drove back home, he stopped outside a flower shop and bought an adorable little bouquet of mixed flowers. "She'll love it," the florist assured him, assuming he was buying it for his significant other. He gave her a quick smile and got back into the car, driving home as fast as he could. When he reached home, his heart broke at the sniffle he heard.

"Kitten?" Y/N's head shot up at her husband's voice as she hurriedly wiped her tears, getting up from her spot on the couch. "Hi, welcome home," she whispered, giving him a quick peck on the lips, smiling widely to avoid being caught. "Hello, how was your day?" He wanted to sigh, to chide her for keeping her bad mood from him, but he only smiled at how cute she looked trying to hide her true feelings.

"It wasn't bad! So, shower first and dinner later or dinner first?"

Now was the time. "Kitten, the truth, please. How was your day?" He raised a stern eyebrow when her face fell. How does he always read me so well? Knowing she couldn't hide now, she hung her head low as her shoulders sagged. "It was bad," she muttered. Ransom pulled her close, her head resting on his chest, his chin atop her head. "What happened? I swear if it's those fucking coworkers of yours—"

Her silence gave him the answer. The thing is, when Ransom and Y/N had started going out, everyone in the city was shocked. A cute, innocent little thing like her dating an asshole like him? Why? She had lost quite a few friends when she told them, but Ransom was there for her. "You don't need them, you have me." He was right. While the world saw him as a first-class jerk, he was the softest soul with her.

Her priorities were always placed before his. He took care of her, treated her like no previous boyfriend of hers had, and within 2 years of dating, he had proposed. People were even more shocked. She managed to get him to settle down?! How?! Then the gossip began. "He has to be cheating, I mean look at him. Look at her," she had heard one time after the engagement. That had made her super upset.

"Ransom, they're talking… someone said you were cheating on me…" She had broken down on his chest that night, crying her eyes out. And Ransom had immediately switched off the television. He sat up, holding her close. "You know I'd never do that, angel. Why would I, when you're with me? Do you really think those women out there have the same effect on me that you do? Huh?"

"Well, they said… they said I was ugly."

"What?! Those fucking whores—"

"Ransom, don't call them that," she had chided, swatting his chest. He caught the hand and brought it to his lips, kissing each fingertip. "If it makes you feel better, no, I'm not cheating on you. I love you a little too much to do that. You mean the world to me, Y/N, there's no one on this planet I'd rather be with than you. And you are the most beautiful person I've ever seen, in and out," he told her sincerely.

Her crying ceased. "Thank you." And he held her close the entire night, rubbing her back as she slept on him. People talking about him? He could handle that, God knows he had been handling that for years. But them talking about her? His perfect, angelic, goddess-like fiancée? No, no, he wouldn't handle that. That whole thing was 4 years ago. People still talked.

"What did they say to you, Y/N?" he asked, coming back to the real world.

"They asked me why I was still with you." He exhaled loudly through his nose when Y/N's arms tightened around him. "I told them I loved you. You are nice, you're not what everyone says you are. But then Amy talked about… about how you used to be— what was the word she used? Oh, uh, yeah, she said you were something of a Casanova before you met me. But I told her that was over."

His arms snaked around her waist, his fingers gently dancing over her hips as she continued speaking. "She insisted that people can't just change over a small period of time. I tried ignoring her but then she started gossiping with someone else about you. And then I snapped at her. But you know me…" Ransom hummed, pressing his lips to her forehead.

His wife had a docile soul. Everything from her looks to her mannerisms was soft. She couldn't yell, she couldn't tell people off— she was too pure to do that. The world needed people like her, to be honest. That was also one of the things he liked about her. Sometimes, he thought about how beneficial it would be for her to hold her own in a fight, but his ego shoved the thought down each time.

He liked being her big protector. He loved taking care of her like that. "Yes, I know, angel. You're too good for this world, you know that?" he mumbled, slightly pulling away from her so he could cup her face, looking into her eyes. She huffed and looked away. "I'm too soft. I can't help it. I don't want to be this way." He chuckled and leaned over to kiss her. "Oh no, you should definitely be this way."

"Why?"

"Because it suits you. Don't change for people who don't even care about you. I like you like this; gentle, caring… you have the biggest heart in the world, Y/N. And I want to keep it that way. Don't let people ruin your innocence. Keep being you." He pressed her closer when she started sniffling again. "You're too good to me," she pouted and he laughed. "That's my duty as your husband, kitten. Look, I bought flowers."

He took out the bouquet from his bag, smiling when Y/N's eager hands accepted it. "Thank you! Oh, these are so beautiful! Let me replace the flowers in the vase on the dining table!" Squealing, she walked away from him, leaving him to stare after her with an infatuated smile. You have no idea what you do to me, angel.

---

"Night, Ran," Y/N yawned, keeping her phone away. He held his arm up and Y/N snuggled into his side, allowing him to wrap his arm around her side. "Night, sweetheart," he whispered, leaning down to kiss her nose. He watched TV for some time until the match got boring; then he switched it off and carefully lay down on the bed, about to doze off when Y/N's phone rang. He blinked. Who'd be calling at his hour?

He lifted the phone off the nightstand, grimacing when he saw the Caller ID. Amy. As soon as he picked the phone up, Amy started blabbering. "Hi! Sorry I'm calling so late, Y/N, but I wanted to apologize for how I spoke to you at work today. It was wrong of me, really, I hope you can forgive me!" Ransom stayed silent, his jaw clenched. He had been hearing that line for years.

"Ransom, it's okay, she apologized, she won't be doing it again. She told me so herself!"

It was never the last time.

"Are you done?" he snapped and Amy froze on the other side. "M-Mr Drysdale—" "Listen, I don't want to hear it. I'm not Y/N; she has a heart of gold, God, I wonder why I let her hang out with people whose hearts are made of pure shit. How many times have you apologized for the same thing, huh? Using my girl's pure heart to your fucking advantage like that?"

"You're being—"

"I'm being what? I'm being rude? Who started it? If you ever mention our marriage in front of Y/N again, I'll have your fucking head." Amy bristled on the other side. "Are you threatening me?" Ransom smirked. "If you don't want to be threatened, I suggest you keep your nose out of other people's business. What mine and Y/N's relationship is like is no one's concern."

Amy stayed silent. "Gossiping won't get you anywhere. I have the best lawyers in the city, and I swear, if Y/N comes crying to me one more time about how someone was rude to her, I'll sue. Trust me, I will take legal action. Is that understood?" Amy quaked at his menacing tone. "Y-Yes, sir." Ransom's lips curled into a devious smile. "Great." And he ended the call.

"Ransom, who was that?" Y/N sleepily murmured next to him. She hadn't heard a word of the conversation, but could tell he was on the phone. "No one you need to worry about, sweetheart, go to sleep. I'm here." He lay down next to her, pulling her close. "You know, I have a question." He nodded at her to go on. "How do you always know when I'm going to be in a bad mood?"

"What do you mean?" he smiled, knowing exactly what she meant. "I mean, I have been wondering for years! Everytime I happen to be in a bad mood, you bring home a gift. It's like— it's like you can read my mind! How?! It can't be a coincidence, it has happened a lot of times for it to be a coincidence," she rambled and Ransom's heart fluttered at how innocent and adorable she looked.

"I have my ways," he teased, lightly poking her nose. "You're not gonna tell me, are you?" she pouted and he couldn't help but lean forward, pressing his lips to hers. "Nope, just so I can keep surprising you." She giggled, snuggling further into his arms until her face was pressed into his bare chest. "I love you so much, Ransom," she whispered. "I love you more, my sweet little angel."

Both of them went to sleep with giddy smiles on their faces.

Oh, and the Spotify thing? That was his little secret. Shh, don't tell anyone!

---

A/N: Leave a like if you enjoyed, thanks for reading!

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x female reader #hugh ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fluff #knives out #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans characters #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

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mycrofts-gunbrella · 3 years ago

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Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part Six)

AN- Two chapters in one night... hope you like them! Soft Holmes Brothers scene at the end because, especially after the Eurus situation, the boys truly do love and care for each other! Not proof read either of these yet so apologies if there are mistakes!

Word Count- 4405

The younger brother's eyes had flicked over you both only momentarily, the tiniest flick up of his lips at the side of his mouth that disappeared so quickly it could have been misinterpreted for a twitch.

"Ever the delight, Sherlock." Mycroft spoke, standing straighter, his chin poking up a little higher. Sherlock glanced over his posture and rolled his eyes.

"Oh for God's sake don't start that Mycroft. Had I blamed you for everything I can assure you I wouldn't have bothered opening the door, don't make it so obvious that you care about my opinion of you- it's embarrassing for both of us." And with that he spun around and headed up the stairs to 221B, leaving the door to the flat wide open and disappearing into the bathroom.

"Well that was.."

"Easy? I told you that you shouldn't worry." You nudged Mycroft into the building before ascending the stairs.

"Sherlock Holmes, possibly the only man in the world to forgive somebody for nearly killing him in a heartbeat, but held a 6 month grudge when I took the last custard cream from the biscuit jar when I was 12.." Mycroft muttered, making his way into the flat and sitting beside you on the two seater sofa. John walked into the room from the kitchen shortly after, a tray of tea and biscuits in hand as he said his hellos.

"Figured I'd stick the kettle on when you said you were on your way.. Greg shouldn't be long now." He gave a smile, taking his place in his own armchair. "How have.." He glanced at Mycroft. "How have you been? He won't admit it, but Sherlock's been worried about you." Mycroft took a breath, sending a polite smile in the direction of the army doctor.

"Doctor Watson, I can assure you that I am fine and have been perfectly well looked after." His eyes flickered to you for a moment and then back to the doctor. "I presume the pair of you have held up well as I haven't heard any reports of gunfire towards the wall for a fair bit of time." John grinned, casting his eyes over to the smiley face on the wall that had thankfully been left alone.

"Good. Yeah, uh, things here have been.. good.. too." A blank stare matched with a more thoughtful raise of lips. ".. Very good, actually.."

"Catch." Sherlock came stalking into the room, a damp flannel thrown in Mycroft's general direction which he caught expertly, not allowing a single moist patch to appear on his clothing.

"And this is.."

"A flannel? Christ Mycroft has trauma affected your brain cells that much?" Sherlock quipped, flopping down into his armchair and lazily holding his hand out for his tea that was a mere few inches away from his fingers. John placed the mug in his hand without thought or argument, his fingers brushing over Sherlock's slightly before moving away. A biscuit soon followed, John holding out the digestive while Sherlock partly opened his lips, and shoving the food between them. It was your turn to raise your brow now, but you didn't say anything, instead just nudging Mycroft with your knee to make sure he had seen it too. Of course he had. "It's for your face, Y/N's lip balm is all round your mouth and it's making me feel a bit sick." John's eyes widened as he looked between the pair of you. You shrugged your shoulders and smiled, Mycroft simply sweeping away the slightly pink balm from underneath his lip and folding the wet cloth back up to place on the side. At least he hadn't picked up that you did it on purpose. Before anybody else could speak, the sound of someone bounding up the stairs filled the flat.

"Sorry I'm late, Ms Hudson let me in an- what did I miss?" Greg stood breathless at the door, satchel slung over his shoulder and a carrier bag in his other hand, staring at the apparent awkward glances shared between half the room. You stood from the sofa and headed over towards him, swiftly wrapping your arms around him and placing a small kiss on his cheek to say hello. He made his way into the room and perched on the arm of the sofa closest to Mycroft, casting another look at everybody when his question still hadn't been answered.

"Nothing of importance. Mycroft and Y/N have obviously decided to stop moping around each other like lovesick teenagers and finally admitted they've been infatuated with each other for years.. Now you're all caught up, can we get these papers sorted out so I can be more productive with my time?" Sherlock huffed.

"Nothing of importance? Don't be an arse Sherlock, that's excellent news." Greg clapped Mycroft on his shoulder and shot you a toothy grin. "Declaration in the park was it? Might be a good enough reason for me to not punch you for closing off St James'.." John's eyes widened more, if it were possible.

"You just.. closed off St James'? Can you even do-" The look Mycroft shot John made him cut his sentence short. "Right, yeah. British Government." He nodded, standing to go fetch Greg a coffee (yourself and Mycroft still held a shared judgement against Greg and his hatred for tea) and continuing to ask questions about your newly confirmed relationship. Mycroft sat awkwardly through the encounter- briefly talking about his emotions in front of you was one thing, a whole flat full of people was entirely different- so you gave his knee a quick squeeze and answered for him. "Who bit the bullet then?" John sat down. "Christ I know I mistook the pair of you being together when I met you, so surely these two have been waiting longer for you to get on with it." Greg grinned, nodding in agreement at John's assumption. Sherlock, on the other hand, stay lying on his chair completely unphased by the conversation going on around him.

"To cut a long story short, we were watching telly, I said Stephen Fry was a bit sexy, Mycroft informed me that he used to get told he had a slight resemblance to him, I realised I'd stuck my foot in it and had a ramble.. Went from there. Nothing too exciting, sorry." You left out the parts where the night before you had handled a broken Mycroft to the shower, how he had gripped onto you, how you held him as you slept. You also left out the way he had allowed himself to cry, how you held him while he wept- and, for that, Mycroft was incredibly thankful. Sherlock probably knew though, somehow, in his Sherlock way of knowing things- but he was either too kind to announce it to the room, or didn't care enough to waste his breath.. probably the latter.

"That's disappointing. You've mentioned about fancying Stephen Fry for years, this could have happened ages ago." John teased.

"Nothing compared to Hugh Laurie though. I'm pretty certain that I'm straight but I'd let him-"

"The papers!!" Sherlock's shout cut Greg's ramble off, making the silver haired man jump and grab his satchel, handing out the reports in a way that reminded you of a teacher with test papers.

"Right, yeah. Sorry. Basically the proper forms aren't ready for another week or so so these are just a few basic questions- nothing too in depth yet since I wanted to give you guys time to... yeah just basic for now." Mycroft chose to read through all the questions before answering them, whereas Sherlock hastily scribbled his response to each question as he went along- the smaller details in the Holmes brothers' differences are always interesting to stumble upon. As he held the page in his hands, you carefully leant over to have a glance at the questions, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder and your cheek resting just against your fingers- blissfully unaware at the 2 sets of eyes openly staring at your movements, and the one set that watched from the side. Greg was right, in a way, the questions definitely weren't as overbearing as they could be- but that doesn't mean it was an easy task. The questions targeted Mycroft a lot more than it did John and Sherlock, asking things about scenarios and situations that had occured before they were taken, how long it had been since they had any contact with Eurus prior to that evening/ what they discussed, and a few basic questions about any incentives Eurus may have had, and anything that aided her into her plan. Of course the papers weren't labelled with the sister's name, they were generically printed and typically handed out to anybody involved in any kind of criminal behaviours, but that didn't make it seem any less like these were questions that targeted Mycroft in particular. Mycroft took a deep breath and laid the papers back onto the coffee table in front of him, pulling a pen out of his pocket and beginning to write. In this moment you had noticed the small bounce of his left leg, a movement only ever shown by him in times where he had a particularly stressful day at work, or a troubling encounter with his brother- it was a movement that let you know his brain was running a mile a minute and he felt a little more overwhelmed that usual. Without making a point of it, you move your right hand to rest on his mid thigh, allowing your thumb to rub small shapes into his leg to show your support.

Turning your gaze to the rest of the room, you noticed Greg's eyes on you, a grin on his face that practically stretched to his ears. You rolled your eyes at him, using your other hand to flip him off and smiled.

It had taken just under two hours in total for the boys to finish completely (well, an hour and twenty minutes for the Holmes siblings, an extra forty minutes for John whose brain simply didn't work as fast as theirs to convey the information on the paper). The time had passed fairly quickly, with yourself and Greg not wanting to disturb the silence and instead just drinking your hot drinks and stealing a couple of biscuits from the tray. You gave Mycroft's leg one last squeeze before sitting back against the sofa, stretching a little after finally getting out of that position.

"Thanks again for getting this done today." Greg spoke, taking the papers in and putting them in a plastic folder. "I'd better be off anyway, get these filed in." He stood, heading for the front door and tripping over the carrier bag he had brought in with him earlier. "Shit, yeah I almost forgot." He picked up the bag and handed it to you. "Got your coat, and I may have accidentally read your mind if you had been talking about Stephen and Hugh.." You dug through the bag and grinned as you pulled out the box at the bottom.

"You, Gregory Lestrade, are a bloody legend. God I could kiss you!" Your boxset of 'A Bit of Fry and Laurie' rested in your hands and you showed it to Mycroft, beaming at him. His lips raised at your reaction, showing a small glint in his eye, as you explained how now the pair of you would have to binge watch it since Mycroft had never got round to watching them before. Greg barked out a laugh.

"I wouldn't. I don't fancy being hunted by Mycroft's secret services." Mycroft let out a small laugh himself. And with that, Greg was gone and left the flat to the four of you once more.

***

You hadn't stayed at the flat long before you all made your way to Angelo's restaurant, even managing to convince Mycroft to just take a cab rather than bothering his chauffeur for a 5 minute journey.

"Ahhh Mr Holmes, Doctor Watson!" Angelo greeted, pulling the aforementioned men into an awkward half embrace, half headlock. "Back again so soon? I shall get your usual table set up, grab some candles. Anything for you!" The pair of men awkwardly shifted out of the hold and Sherlock offered a smile.

"Not today Angelo, we need a table for four if that suits your capacities here?" Sherlock peered round at the tables inside.

"Of course, a double date, very lovely to see! Come, come!" He led the four of you inside, you grinning at Mycroft at Angelo's casual mentionings of Sherlock and John's usual 'romantic' set up. You were all ushered inside of a small booth and handed menus, the benches were small but tolerable, your thigh just brushing against Mycroft's, him offering a shy smile at the close contact. "You stay here, I'll get to work on those candles. Just for you, Mr Holmes." Angelo spoke again, clapping Sherlock on his shoulder and disappearing into the back of the restaurant.

"He's.. uh.. a bit enthusiastic sometimes." John spoke, his cheeks burning a little at the memories of previous encounters here.

"Quite. Seems a pleasurable fellow." Came Mycroft's response, glancing over the menu. It had taken no time at all for the restaurant owner to appear back with a handful of small tealight candles in glass jars, and a single flower resting in a vase to lay on the table, taking everybody's orders and leaving once again. Then as the food turned up, Sherlock began to prod at the chips on his plate with his knife.

"What are you doing? Eat your bloody food, Sherlock." John quipped, elbowing the man to his side.

"Don't want it.. whoever decided that dessert was only customary after a meal? I'd much rather wait." John gave Sherlock a look and he spoke again. "Don't give me that look, this was your idea. Who even suggests 'late lunch' as a valid meal time? It's impractical. I didn't eat breakfast because we didn't get out of bed until well past the respected breakfast hour.." 'We'.. you didn't press. "So I had a sandwich at lunch which has ruined my appetite for this. Then I'll be hungry again later, but later than dinner time because of how late this lunch is." Sherlock childishly squashed his chip with his thumb. "It's just ridiculous.. they keep adding new names for new meals at new hours, I feel like we're becoming Bobbits."

"Hobbits, brother mine." Mycroft corrected, the faintest smile playing at the side of his mouth as Sherlock's words sounded alarmingly like the ones he had told you only this morning- it was nice when they just got along.

"That's what I said."

"No, you said Bobbits."

"Boys!" John warned, and you broke out into a small fit of giggles.

"We really can't take you anywhere, can we?" You chimed in. Sherlock just huffed, stabbing a chip and eating it as John gave him a stern look. It was quite sweet, actually, watching them be all domestic. By the time you'd finished your meals, yours and John's plates were clear, Sherlock's leaving only a few chips and a mouthful of burger as he found, after starting to eat the food, that he really enjoyed it and wanted more. Mycroft, on the other hand, had managed to leave little over half of his spaghetti bolognese, making comments about the pasta being far too rubbery, or the sauce being too thin, crossing the cutlery over in the centre and making a dismissive comment about making something to eat when he got home- you all knew he wouldn't.

Sherlock had practically jumped for joy when Angelo came out with a tray of chocolate fudge cake, offering slices around the table which you all, bar Mycroft, accepted happily.

"I shan't spoil my appetite for when I get home." Was his small excuse, raising a hand to prevent Angelo from spouting his claims that he had the best cake in London and that he must have a piece, and instead asking for a coffee. Without words being spoken, John cast his eyes over to you and you offered a small sad smile. Nobody had told John of Mycroft's past, but he was a doctor and always knew when signs were displayed. You had taken an extra fork from Angelo just in case and took a small bite with your own fork, unable to let out the (embarrassingly erotic) moan that had escaped you.

"Christ he wasn't lying, this is incredible." You praised, taking another small piece on the second fork. "Mycroft please give it a try." You offered your hand out towards him, the sliver of cake resting on the tip of the fork's prongs. He looked over at it, his mind telling him to give it a go, at the very least because it had been offered by you, but the image of himself in the mirror this morning came back to mind. He declined the offer and you sighed. Mycroft truly did love cake, and any sweet things, so it was heartbreaking for you to see him turning it away because of the thoughts that ran through his brain. Sherlock had already cleared his plate by this point and stood up abruptly, hoisting his coat back over his shoulders.

"I'm going to go out for a cigarette, care to join me Mycroft?" He had asked, walking past the table. Mycroft creased his eyebrows into a frown.

"Sherlock, the pact? I haven't smoked for three years."

"Neither have I, let's go." Sherlock spoke back quickly, hoisting his brother from the booth and taking the pair of them outside. You raised a brow at John who simply shrugged his shoulders.

"I stopped questioning the pair of them and their motives a long time ago." He reasoned, the pair of you turning your heads to see the two Holmes boys outside resting against the restaurant's window.

"I try my best to.. they just still fascinate me." You spoke back, your eyes lingering on Mycroft a little longer before turning back to the table.

"So.. you and Mycroft. Going well?" John asked, his mouth raising in that side smile he often displayed when he was teasing somebody. "I can count on one hand the amount of times I've seen Mycroft Holmes smile in a non-threatening way, and over half of those were from since you walked into the flat earlier. I think I can only just about count on two hands times where he's pulled an expression that isn't stoic and emotionless."

"Yeah.. I didn't expect it to happen, if I'm completely honest with you. We've spent so many years just avoiding the subject, but after.. Eurus.. I don't know. It flicked something in Myc that made him regret not doing something about it sooner." John nodded, understanding where you were coming from. "You also don't give him enough credit. Everybody just assumes he's this 'iceman' persona, but it's all a front.. I've watched him laugh so hard that tears fall from his eyes, he's one of those people who throws their heads back and lets out an absolute belter of an infectious laugh. I've seen him get angry at the telly if I came over and some stupid reality show came on the telly.. He shouted at Kim Kardashian once on there for some reason or another. I've stayed up all night with him after he had gruelling days at work, him offering to do the same for me if I had a bad case and couldn't sleep. And then, very recently, I watched him cry." You continued on. "Mycroft Holmes is one of the most emotional, caring people I've ever known, he is just incredibly particular at who gets to see it. You're a doctor, John. You know how experiences in life can shape one's emotional stability, how it alters their mental health. Had you grown up without very many people being kind to you, you'd be scared to let somebody else in too." You finished.

"Sorry.. I didn't mean it to come out in a bad way.. I just meant.. It's nice. Seeing Mycroft acting like that, it's.. nice." He apologised. You waved it off. You knew John didn't mean any harm.

"Mycroft and I are old news anyway.. What about you and Sherlock? When did that surface?" You asked, beaming at the deep red John's face had become as he choked on a sip of his drink. "Oh come on, don't act like that. We've all been waiting for this one to happen since you moved in."

"I.. I don't know what you-" Glaring at him, he stopped himself. "Yeah fine, okay. When we got back to the flat that night we went into the front room and Sherlock lost it. I'd never seen him anything like it before, he just.. he just sobbed into a heap on the floor." He explained, the nervous tapping of his fingers against his glass trying to distract him from his eyes watering. "I didn't know what else to do, so I scooped him up and put him in his bed. He begged me to stay with him and I did. Then he apologised to me, for dragging me in all of that mess, for almost getting me killed and he just wouldn't stop apologising.. So I stole the stereotypical movie move and kissed him. Just kind of went from there. I think that night made us realise that beating around the bush all these years wasn't helping either of us, and the thought that we could have lost the other only a few hours beforehand woke us up." He coughed, his voice breaking slightly.

"God look at us.. All the people in the world and we've landed with the Holmes'" You grabbed John's hand from across the table and laughed. "Makes you feel quite special though, doesn't it? That, equally, there were all the people in the world and they chose us?" John grinned, giving your hand a squeeze.

"Could never tell them that though, their egos would go through the bloody roof."

***

"They're talking about us." Sherlock mused, breathing in the London air.

"It seems people do little else." Mycroft returned, casting his glance to you smiling with John at the table.

"She really does like you. I've spent years deducing everything about her to make sure she wasn't a secret Russian spy sent with the motive to kill you." The younger spoke playfully. "You could have eaten the cake."

"Hmm?"

"The cake. I know you wanted it, but you're going back to how you used to be. Now that you're together, you're nervous." Sherlock's voice was nonchalant, simple observations, which didn't ease his older brother at all. "It's pointless. She's entirely infatuated. I thought the childish doe eyes disappeared after being attracted to somebody for a few weeks, but she still looks at you like I look at a triple homicide."

"Resulting to similes now?"

"You need to stop that too. Dismissing it whenever somebody is trying to be... kind... to you. That's just annoying and not a good defence mechanism for insecurities, like a mask made of clingfilm, it's too obvious." Mycroft didn't speak in turn and Sherlock huffed. "She worries for you, she seeks for you to be comfortable in trialling situations, her eyes do that little light up thing every time you open your bloody mouth. Since standing here she's looked over 3 times and smiled to herself seeing you stand here with me without us arguing. I caught her 4 times on the way to the cab from the flat looking at your arse and your legs in that damned suit. You don't have to worry about anything with her- the way she looks at you is so lovesick it makes me queasy."

"And you know this how, Sherlock? Or is this another one of your cruel schemes to embarrass me?"

"Because, Mycroft, it's the same way you've looked at her for as long as I can remember you knowing her. Jesus, Mycroft, I haven't seen you smile this much since we were children.. before we did everything that led us to believe we were any better than anybody else, that we deserved more than sentiment. And it's the same way I.. the same way I look at him." Sherlock's eyes now locked onto John.

"Always did say there would be a happy announcement between the pair of you. Good to see I'm correct once again." Mycroft mused. He remained stoic, but his brother's words were whirring in his brain, leaving him in a state of shock at the curly haired man even displaying this form of kindness towards him.

"You told me once that caring isn't an advantage. But these last few days, no matter how short it has been, have already led me to believe that caring is perhaps the greatest advantage of them all. And I strongly believe you feel the same way, no matter what bull you make up to argue against it." The pair of them watched through the window once more, the image of you and John laughing at whatever joke had been shared between you. "We both have wasted many years fighting against this, and I don't want you to screw yours up. Y/N will remain by your side and feel the same way towards you, whether you wear a bin bag, lose your job, put on weight- she's in it for the long haul. She's spent so many years pining after you that she deserves the best from you and to be happy. And you, brother mine, have been through enough with not good people; you deserve the happiness too." Sherlock trailed the last sentence. It's incredibly rare for them to show it, but Sherlock and Mycroft would always have a particularly close bond, they've been through too much together not to- and so times like this were precious to them. Mycroft simply let out a small cough, reaching his arm over to rest on his younger brother's shoulder to give it a quick squeeze, before patting it twice and letting his arm rest back by his side.

"Sentiment appears to be dwelling well on you." Mycroft spoke, heading back to the door of the restaurant to head inside, holding it open for his brother.

"As it is on you, brother. As it is on you."

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ronsonlywhore · 4 years ago

Note

Draco Malfoy and Exist For Love by Aurora

❛ 𝗲𝘅𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲. ❜ draco malfoy x reader

summary: you lay your head on his shoulder, and in that exact moment draco feels like he lives for nothing else except you. like he exists for nothing else except love.

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of murder and poisoning, drinking

a/n: oh to slow dance to this song with a lover at 3 am...any volunteers? / this songfic was written for my mini 200 follower celebration!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

in draco’s eyes, you were heavenly; the true definition of an angel gifted to earth from the gods above and, like all gifts, he cherished and treasured you like his life depended on it.

loving you was like flying: exhilarating and always leaving him breathless. draco had never felt like this before; his heart knew that he couldn’t. to him, love was something he could admire, something he could long for, but never something he could have for himself. it just wasn’t in a malfoy’s nature to openly devote yourself to someone the way he wanted to devote himself to you.

and he loathed his own name for it.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

your touch was electrifying.

your hands had only grazed his for a moment while passing him an empty cauldron, your fingers there then gone, but those few seconds were enough to have draco floating on a cloud for the rest of the day.

he would never be able to explain the way you made him feel.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

draco felt like he was going to be sick.

“are you okay, malfoy? you look a little pale,” you ask worriedly as draco considers making a run for it. next to you, your friend giggles and murmurs, “malfoy’s always pale, (y/n).”

draco hears a yelp of pain from your friend, you having elbowed her harshly in the ribs. he finally gets the courage to look you directly in the eyes, the same eyes he dreams about, the same eyes that put the entire galaxy to shame.

you’re looking expectantly at him, your friend poorly trying to hold in her laughter. the fact that she’s probably silently judging him sparked something in draco. what was he cowering from? he was a malfoy, and besides, the worst thing you could do was say no.

“iwaswonderingifyoueverwantedtostudyinthelibrarywithmesometime?” draco mumbles. his throat feels dry and he can feel his heart beating in the pits of his stomach; he’s having a hard time swallowing. tongue-tied...that’s another thing he can add to the list of things you cause him to be. not that he keeps one, or anything.

you tilt your head to the side, exposing your neck to the red-orange glow of the sun. draco can’t help but let his eyes trail down your throat and over your collarbone, desperately trying to imagine what it would feel like to ghost his lips over your smooth skin, or breath in your sweet scent, the scent he’s smelled so many times before in his amortentia potion…

“malfoy? malfoy?”

draco breaks out of his trance, cheeks blazing as you say, “i’m sorry, er, i didn’t catch what you said about the library.”

“oh,” draco falters out. if he wanted to chicken out and never attempt to speak to you again, now would be the time to do it. no, he thinks. he promised himself he would go through with this.

he takes a deep breath and tries again, slower this time, “i just...i was wondering if you ever wanted to study with me in the library?”

“oh, are you looking for a tutor?”

your friend finally bursts out laughing, holding her charms book close to her chest in doing so. you ask her what she finds so funny, and she answers, “don’t you see, (y/n)? he’s asking you out.”

you look back to draco, eyebrows raised. “asking me on a date? to the library?”

draco quickly backs away, thinking about how horrible this idea was. why did he ever believe he had a chance with you, the living embodiment of pure bliss?

“never mind. it’s stupid, i know,” he mutters dejectedly as he walks off, planning to find a deep hole he can crawl into and never emerge from again.

he feels a hand on his shoulder and turns around, his eyes meeting yours once more; the same eyes that carry the universe all at once, the same eyes that the sun envies with all her might.

draco can hardly believe the words that come out of your mouth next.

“no! no, i think that sounds quite nice, actually,” you say as you pull back your hand. his skin burns at your touch, and aches when it’s gone.

“you do?” draco asks, surprised and not taking notice of your friend rolling her eyes behind you.

you nod and smile, continuing, “how about this thursday after lessons?

all draco does is nod, not finding the right words to say.

“great! it’s a date, then.” you walk back towards your friend, saying cheerfully, “see you around, draco.”

draco. you had said his name.

mesmerized: another thing he can add to the list. but he definitely doesn’t keep one, or anything.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

“remember when you asked me out?”

draco groans and throws a balled-up piece of parchment towards you. “please, don’t remind me.”

you laugh and try to dodge the flying paper as draco goes back to his essay, his quill scratching against the sheet. you sigh, resting your chin on your hand; draco fights the urge to look up and get hopelessly lost in the mere presence of you.

“you came up to me and said...what was it again?” you say as you scoot closer to him. he feels your lips brush over his cheek, your warm breath fanning his face.

draco turns to face you just as you lean in, but before you can give him a proper kiss, he playfully pushes your face away gently.

“i will never forgive you for assuming that i needed a tutor,” he sniffs dramatically.

you pounce on him, right there in the middle of the library, and draco doesn’t care if everyone is staring or whispering; he lets you pepper kisses all over his neck, anyways.

“i thought i would be forgiven by now,” you whisper into his ear as you prop your chin on his shoulder, your nose brushing against his jaw.

“your apology is still being considered,” draco breathes out before catching your mouth in an amorous kiss.

your kisses always took the air out of his lungs. or maybe that was his body telling him he needed to breathe, and stat.

you and draco eventually go back to your studying, but draco’s far from focused now. you have invaded his mind, taken over his thoughts, so that now all he can see and feel is you: a peaceful oblivion he wants to emerge himself in for eternity.

draco thinks back to a year ago, when he was just contented with your eyes lingering a second too long on him, pleased at just being able to sit next to you in potions. now, he has you; not just your persistent stares or your polite smile. you.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

draco swallows back a bit of bile as he loosens his tie harshly, his fingers getting caught in the intricate knot doing so. his footsteps echo in the empty corridor, and he wipes beads of sweat from his forehead, cursing himself for forgetting to meet you at the lake. now you’ll definitely know something’s up.

he walks through the great hall doors, the soft breeze doing nothing to calm his tension. he had only passed by the hospital wing, had only gotten a glimpse of weasley lying on the bed, unconscious and senseless, but that was enough to set his nerves on a frenzy. he did that. he poisoned weasley, even if it wasn’t directly, even if he didn’t mean to.

he had also cursed katie bell with that wretched necklace. a vexed pendant that wasn’t even meant for her, a bottle of venomous bottle of mead that wasn’t meant to be drank by anyone except him: professor dumbledore.

as draco trudges down to the lake, he finally comprehends how real all of this suddenly feels. he can’t kill dumbledore; he can’t kill anyone. he could barely bring himself to imperio bell, could barely handle gifting that bottle to slughorn. how could he ever be capable of murdering someone and watching them fall dead in front of him?

he tries to compose himself as he nears your silhouette sitting at the edge of the lake, your knees brought up to your chest, your arms wrapped tightly around your legs. draco comes to a stop behind you, berating you in his head for being this careless.

“what have i told you about sitting around like this, (y/n)?” draco asks as he plops down next to you, hoping you didn’t hear that small tremble in his voice. you jump as you turn to him, glaring as you say, “you’re late. and it’s not like death eaters are just going to sneak into hogwarts in the middle of the night and take over. hogwarts is the safest place on earth.”

draco’s stomach churns when he realizes that’s exactly what will happen in approximately a week from now, thanks to him fixing that bloody cabinet. remember, you’re doing this for your parents, draco thinks. for her.

“the stars are shining brightly tonight, are they not?” draco hears you whisper as you take his hand and start tracing patterns on his palm.

“i suppose,” he answers, his mind still on his impossible task.

“my mother used to say the stars shone for me,” you say, choosing to outline different constellations on his hand.

draco smiles slightly and turns to look at you. “that’s because they do.”

you lay your head on his shoulder, and in that exact moment draco feels like he exists for nothing else except you. nothing else except love.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

“father used to say love was nothing but an illusion, something that could fill your heart up but leave it miserably empty.”

“love is anything but, draco...it can be so many things and nothing all at once.”

draco’s back itches from the tree bark scratching at his back, but he stays in the same position and sips from the bottle of firewhiskey, anyways. it was his idea, after all.

he stares at you watching the whomping willow sway in the distance, your hand loosely grasping your own bottle. you had only taken a few gulps of the alcohol, but you looked drowsy and dazed already, the liquor quickly taking effect.

draco doesn’t know if it’s the quiet buzz resonating through his body that makes him do it, but he still asks, “please do tell of all the things love can be, (y/n).”

“long answer or short one?”

“both.”

you sigh contentedly as he watches you bring the bottle to your lips, observing the way your throat moves while swallowing the whiskey. you breathe in deep, then start, “love is like stumbling through life all alone, just passing through the motions, and then that one person walks into your life and suddenly you feel like you’re living, you’re alive…and i’ve heard it’s a very wonderful feeling.”

you pause, take another swig, and continue, “love is like being torn apart the minute you were only born, but that one person is the only one that makes you feel whole and complete...your other half, you could say.”

it finally clicks in draco’s head that you are his ‘one person.’

“love is selflessness, and loyalty, and euphoria. love is fearlessness, and spirit, and earnestness. love is the center of everything but also the center of nothing; we revolve around it but it also revolves around us.” you sigh, this time catching your breath.

draco can’t keep it from you anymore, not after what you told him everything that love could be, what love should be, what love will be.

“is love not keeping secrets?” he murmurs.

“yes, i suppose love is honesty, as well,” you answer back.

he responds to that by pulling back his sleeve and revealing his dark mark in its full, horrid glory. your eyes widen as you scramble back from him, your grasp on the bottle slipping and rolling away in the grass; draco’s heart drops as he realizes you’re scared of not only the mark embellished into his skin, but of him as well by default.

“what did you do?” you whisper, horrified.

“the dark lord was threatening my family...he was threatening to kill you, i had to!” draco’s voice breaks just a little bit; he prays to the gods that you’ll believe him, hopes you’ll see his reasons.

you don’t.

draco’s father was right; love can fill your heart, but only for a little while before leaving it miserably empty..

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

draco’s mother is calling him over, and everyone turns to look at him with judging stares or pitiful expressions. even the dark lord is looking expectantly at him.

harry potter is dead. now everyone will have to choose their sides.

across the destroyed courtyard he can see his father glaring at him. he really doesn’t want to walk over there, doesn’t want to declare his loyalty to them, but what can he do? he has no one to live for on this side, no one to live for him.

he takes a deep breath and starts maneuvering the crowd, walking towards his parents. it feels more like walking into death’s open arms.

“draco.”

he stops, coming to a complete halt. he hasn’t heard his name being spoken in that soft tone in a while. he turns around and you’re there, reaching for him, and he can’t focus on anything except you. you say his name again, and it feels like white horses gliding over the waves or a rushing ocean in his veins.

“love is sacrifice, too,” you whisper.

draco doesn’t walk to his parents. he chooses to stay with you instead.

you, the one person who makes him feel alive and whole. you, the one person he exists for.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

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itsmespicaa · 3 years ago

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Miracle Mask but make it Genshin<3

(Part of the PL Genshin!AU I’m doing with @daysneezes!!)

Hershel took a small sip of the tea he brewed earlier in the day, his Vision perched securely on the velvet ribbon of his top hat.

"What about this, Professor?"

A letter was suddenly thrust in front of him, obstructing his entire view. Already used to the rather unorthodox way his assistant carried herself, he leaned back to properly assess the piece of paper that now warranted his attention, reading it as she explained its content.

"I‘m afraid this one sounds more like something the adventurers should be handling, Emmy."

He nodded to her, hoping she could see the regret in his smile. It was a rather enticing one, and he could see why it would catch her attention…but alas. He only had so much time to spare for those who required help from his...gifted abilities.

Emmy frowned, sharp eyes scanning over the words that covered the entire page once more before sighing.

"I suppose you‘re right. I‘ll see to it that the Guild is informed of this right away."

"That would be much appreciated. Should they need our further assistance, let them know we would be more than happy to lend it to them."

"But of course!"

The hour passed by in relative silence, both of them consumed by the work cut out before them. Emmy continued going through the rest of the letters he had approved for her to read, and after another bout of discussions, they agreed to divide a lot of them to the hands of the authorities and the Adventurer’s Guild, and kept the less dire ones for whenever Hershel had time to spare.

It was at that moment that Luke finally arrived, stumbling as he opened the door to his office. His leather satchel seems to be filled to the brim, his blue Vision as deep the seas hanging on for dear life on its side.

"Sorry I‘m late, Professor!" he cried, "But I had to help a family of ducks cross the road and the mailman left another batch of letters-"

"Now, now. Calm down, Luke. It‘s quite alright," Hershel chuckled. "Come sit and have tea with me. You look like you've been through quite the ordeal."

With a sheepish smile, the young boy crossed the room and handed the letters to Emmy, whining when he failed to dodge her playfully ruffling his hair.

The next hour passed by again comfortably, and Hershel was in the middle of writing back to one of his colleagues when Emmy‘s voice drew him back to the real world.

Or rather, the name she uttered.

"Professor, does the name Angela Ledore ring any bell?"

Time…stopped, for but a small moment. He inwardly shook his head, willing the memories from almost two decades ago out of his mind.

"Why yes…of course. But where did you hear that name?"

More than a little curious and caught off guard, he blinked as Emmy slowly handed the letter in her hand to him.

"It was on the letter." Something in his expression must have betrayed his inner turmoil, because the young woman continued: "It‘s not quite a name I‘m familiar with, nor is it any of the usual ones who would seek your expertise."

Luke reached in before he could grab the letter, "Oh! Let me," nimbly ripping the envelope with a letter opener and with a bright smile handed its content to him.

It was hard not to smile back at how eager the boy was to lend a helping hand. "Thank you very much, Luke," he said warmly, resting a hand briefly on top of his head before directing his focus to the writing in front of him.

When he finished, Hershel was silent. Wordlessly, he gave the letter to Emmy before walking to his open window, breathing in the fresh morning air to try and calm the anxiety creeping up his back.

I do hope you forgive me after all these years. I don‘t know who else to turn to.

We are in desperate need of your help, Hershel.

"After all these years…." he muttered, gently taking off his hat and gazing at the glowing golden Vision staring back at him. Accusing. Unforgiving. He held back a flinch. Why, Angela?

"…Professor? Is everything alright?"

Ah, how careless of him.

"Everything's fine, Luke," he returned his hat where it belonged and sauntered to where both of them crowded around the enigmatic piece of paper. "My apologies, I didn't mean to make you both worry. It‘s just…she’s an old friend of mine, and the content of her letter worries me."

The frown on Emmy‘s face deepened, but she was not his assistant for nothing, knowing well what to prioritize and when. It was moments like these that he was truly glad to have her here.

"So the Mask of Chaos…"

"What is that?" asked young Luke, wide eyes brimming with curiosity and hunger to know more. But before he could reply, Emmy seemed to have beaten him to it.

"According to Donald Rutledge in his book 'Ancient Histories', the mask bestows great power upon those who wear it. Legend says it was left by one of the old gods as a gift to humanity, but no one has been able to prove its existence thus far."

"Indeed, the allure of omnipotence is as old as the Archons themselves." He couldn‘t quite hide his surprise when he said: "You seem to know quite a lot about the mask, Emmy."

The young woman grinned, the fiery red Vision fashioned into her bowtie twinkled along with her eyes. "Well, I did take a few courses here and there before applying to be your assistant. Jumping in blind into the world of archeology doesn‘t seem like the wisest decision, wouldn't you agree?"

That…made perfect sense. "I see…"

"Did I leave something out, Professor?"

"Oh, no, no. You‘re absolutely correct."

Luke continued to ask more about the Mask, and both he and Emmy alternated in explaining it to him, with Hershel more often than not simply adding useful trivias he still remembered from Randall‘s excited chatter many, many years ago.

An old, familiar pain ached in his heart, something difficult to dismiss, but Hershel was determined to lock it away for the time being, at least until he had his answers from Angela.

"So what is your relationship with Ms. Angela, Professor? Is she one of Professor Layton’s lost loves?" Emmy‘s spirits must have been lifted for her to tease him. It wasn‘t unusual for her to do so after a year of working together, and he had come to welcome it each time, albeit with a wry smile more often than not.

This time, however, he could only shake his head, a heavy weight burdening his chest, memories of night escapades and jovial laughter with a certain redhead lost in the callous hands of time and forced distances.

"Hardly," he replied, hoping he did not sound as contrite as he felt then. "I’ve known her since my school days. Our relationship was…complicated, at best."

Despite his attempt to do otherwise, this effectively dampened Emmy‘s countenance, her head bowing slightly in a show of apology. "I see."

They agreed to set out in a few days, Luke having to ask his parents‘ permission, and Emmy freeing up both her and the Professor‘s schedules for the next few weeks and requesting approval from the Dean.

The guilt he felt at being absent from his students was something he had come to know well, and as usual, he made sure to let them know in advance, helping the substitute lecturer get up to date on his last sessions and materials.

Fontaine University had grown accustomed to its esteemed Professor‘s tendencies to conduct sudden research leaves, and this time it was no different. But the mere mention of the Mask of Chaos certainly helped in speeding up the process.

"We look forward to your findings, Hershel," said Dean Delmona, nodding at him with pride. Hershel tipped his head with a polite curve of his lips.

"I will do my very best, sir," he said. "And I do hope the agreed upon terms of confidentiality will be respected, as per usual."

"Naturally, my dear boy," he laughed, "we know how you operate. Don‘t let us get in your way."

"Many thanks, sir."

#pl genshin au #professor layton #miracle mask #genshin impact #hershel layton #emmy altava #luke triton #Spica writes #doodles #this was really fun to write so i had to share it here hehe #MORE FANFIC BABEH #but yea if u have any questions feel free to ask us!!

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shortprince-cos · 4 years ago

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Patton's Normal And Totally Not Angsty Birthday

Summary: Patton was fully expecting to spend his birthday with his stuffed animals and pictures instead of actual people, but his famILY had other secret plans.

Warnings: Crying, being alone for an extended period of time, angst, slight innuendo. Tell me if I need to add anything else!

Pairings: Platonic DRLAMP (all)

{Masterlist}

~~~~~

Patton was fully expecting to spend his birthday with his stuffed animals and pictures instead of actual people.

It wasn't a far-fetched idea, considering what had happened earlier last year. Everyone was still on their toes from the...fight.

It wasn't a fight though! It was more like a...big disagreement. That kind of maybe split everyone apart and left Patton alone...

But it was fine! Everyone just needed some alone time! Even if it had been awhile - a long while - since the incident. They just needed to think about things, and when they were ready, Patton would apologize and they would hopefully accept!

Hopefully...

Patton turned in his bed again, trying to sleep for the umpteenth time that night.

He sighed and eventually sat up, glancing at the clock. It said it was 4:16 in the morning, now it was technically January fifteenth.

Happy birthday to him.

Patton wiped the tears off his face and put on his glasses and his cat hoodie. Well, if it was his birthday, he might as well have a cupcake and make a wish. He'd probably need it, to be fully honest.

Patton meandered through the hallway, glancing at everyone's different colored doors. Everyone was probably asleep.

He remembers when it used to be just three doors in the hallway. Just Morality, Creativity, and Logic. Was it simpler then? Or were they just living in ignorance?

"No one knows you better than yourself, am I right, Tony?"

"I know big words too! Ssssssaxophone-"

"Who knows what'll happen if you don't adopt them, and they need a good home!"

"Anything he darn well pleases!"

...Maybe he was the only one not taking things seriously. They say ignorance is...better to live in, and Patton was basically swimming in it before his wake up call.

"We need actual contributions from you, now and then."

Is that why this happened? Maybe he's been ignorant of all the actual dilemmas this entire time. That's how everything went wrong! He didn't just suddenly not know what to do, he never knew what to do! He just hid it with jokes and puns and silly commentary to 'lighten the mood', but really he was just a distraction from their actual problems.

Patton hugged himself as he stood in the hallway, surrounded by the doors of his friends. Well, if they still wanted to be his friend.

Patton glanced at the dark purple door in the hall, cringing at the memories that came with it.

"Now Anxiety, if you don't want to participate, you can just sit this one out."

"Awww you poor little anxious baby!"

"And what about Anxiety, he always seems to get you down."

Patton swiped his tears away, hurriedly making his way down the hall to the staircase.

Janus didn't have a door here yet; he said he'd rather stay with the others in the hidden side of the mindscape.

Probably because of how awful they all were to him.

"Deceit, standing in the spot of one of my four best friends."

"Um, you're in my spot."

"Because Thomas gave his word, but you wouldn't know anything about words, would'ja mister?"

"I may be amphibian, but I can't say that I am fibbin'!"

God, they were so terrible to him. No wonder he doesn't like being around any of them.

Patton's hands shook as he gripped the banister at the top of the stairs, holding in his silent sobs.

All of this is his fault. He caused the rift in his famILY.

Suddenly he heard voices from downstairs. Wasn't everyone in bed? It was four in the morning, who would be up right now?

Patton wiped the tears off his face for the umpteenth time and took deep breaths, trying to steady himself.

He stalked down the top stairs slowly, trying to listen in onto what the voice was saying.

"Listen," A voice whispered. "I'm just pointing out all the possibilities."

"More like all the negabilities, seeing how all of them are negative." Another snarked.

"Just- does he even wanna see us? We basically ghosted him for months. We didn't even include him on the Nico situation. Why didn't we do that, he's the heart! He's like, the most important side for that!"

Oh. They were talking about him.

Patton debated leaving, going down there, or keep on listening before another voice spoke up.

"I doubt he would not wish to see us. If anything, I believe he would like to talk about what happened."

"Logan, we're talking about Patton here. If we talk, he'll just say he's fine when he's clearly not fine."

"That's not true." One obviously lied.

So all four of them were downstairs talking about him. Wait, isn't there supposed to be five-

"Hi Potty-cakes!" Remus suddenly shouted from behind him.

Patton shrieked in surprise, before almost tumbling down the stairs before someone caught him.

"Pat! Are you okay?!" Virgil said, slowly helping Patton to his feet.

"Y-Yeah, I'm perfect!" He said, plastering his Patton-ted fake smile.

Virgil squinted at him. "Pat, have you been crying?"

Ah. Guess the smile didn't work.

Patton noticed that everyone was crowded around him, including Janus, which meant that lying was out of the question.

"Uh- kinda?" Another smile.

Someone swore under their breath as Logan spoke up. "Patton, what are you doing awake at this hour? Don't you normally get up at seven?"

Patton stood up straightly instead of leaning on Virgil. "Oh, I just woke up and couldn't fall back asleep! What're you guys...?" Patton started as he finally looked around the room, noticing the balloons, streamers, and a banner that they had used for every birthday Patton had had.

"...doing?" He finished.

"Uh-" Roman started. "Well uh- we were kind of...surprising you with a birthday party?" He shrugged nervously.

Patton stood shocked for a moment. They were throwing him a surprise birthday party? Why? Why would they do that- weren't they mad at him? There's no way they would just suddenly not be mad at him! What was happening?!

"Pat, what's wrong?" Janus suddenly asked, putting a gloved hand on Patton's shoulder.

"I'm fine, why?" He answered on instinct.

"Padre, you're crying." Roman explained.

Patton touched his cheek, and sure enough, he was crying. "O-Oh. I guess I am."

Another hand gripped his wrist. "Pop-star, are you okay?" Virgil asked with concern and sincerity in his voice.

Patton immediately started sobbing. "No, no I'm not."

Some tentacles wrapped around him from behind - probably Remus - as a bunch of arms started surrounding him as well, securely trapping him in a hug.

Patton kept crying into someone's shoulder as multiple people kept whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

Eventually, Patton had stopped crying, just enjoying the feeling of a hug - a hug! - surrounding him.

Then, they started pulling away, leaving Patton with traces of warmth left over.

"Patton, are you alright?" Logan asked with concern in his eyes.

Patton rubbed at his eyes again and sniffled. "Y-Yeah. I'm just overwhelmed, I guess. I kinda expected to spend today alone..."

Everyone made a noise of either surprise or concern.

"Patton I..." Roman started, looking at the ground in guilt. "I didn't mean to make you feel alone, I just-" He sighed. "I talked to De-Janus, and he helped me realize that it wasn't like you were trying to make me the bad guy, you were just trying to tell me that Janus wasn't one either. So, I planned a party to apologize to you, and well, I guess the surprise is ruined."

Patton immediately hugged Roman the minute he stopped talking. Roman chuckled, but Patton could hear the tears in his voice.

"I'm- I'm so sorry I-"

"Shh, don't be." Roman comforted. "We all forgive you."

After another minute of hugging, Logan cleared his throat.

"While this moment is very touching and much needed, it is currently almost five in the morning, so I suggest we all take a nap before we get into the festivities."

Everyone made noises of agreement, when Patton interrupted.

"Um- could we-?" Patton started before cutting himself off.

"What's up, Pat?" Virgil asked.

"Uh- I-I just thought that maybe we could..."

"Cuddle on the couch?" Janus finished with a smirk on his face.

Patton nodded with blush on his face.

"Ooo sexy~"

"Remus, I swear to all things princely-" Roman started before the twins started arguing and Logan had to break them up before they could brawl in the living room.

Eventually, everyone on the was cuddled up on the couch and snuggling in one way or another, and Patton couldn't be more content.

~~~~~

Whoo! I finished on time!!!!!!!! I'm so proud of myself for writing this in one day! Though, I think it's a bit rushed, I forgive myself for that tho because it was written in one day lol

Ty for reading! I really enjoyed writing Patton angst again lol!

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Reblogs are appreciated!💖

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #patton angst #platonic drlamp #pattons birthday #ts patton #patton sanders #ts logan #ts roman #ts virgil #ts janus #ts remus

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btsqualityy · 4 years ago

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Assuage: Chapter 18

Yoongi x Reader

Genre: ABO (Alpha/Beta/Omega) dynamics, angst, fluff, smut, enemies to lovers

Warnings: Multiple threats of violence and threats to kill people, and heartbreak lol

Within ten minutes of Hobi coming to tell Namjoon that Seo-hyun was on his way, Namjoon was stationed near the front of your territory which was right in front of the Head Hall. You, Yoongi, Jungkook, Hobi, and several other Alphas and Omegas were standing right alongside him as well.

“Alright, you guys will let him talk and none of you will throw any blows first,” Namjoon instructed you all.

“Oh, throwing blows isn’t all I wanna do,” Hobi scoffed.

“Agreed,” you muttered.

“I know that but this pack doesn’t start wars, we only finish them if need be,” Namjoon stated firmly and everyone knew from his tone of voice that the best thing to do was to not argue. As you all waited, you reached out and grabbed Yoongi’s hand, intertwining your fingers with his as you bounced up and down on your tip toes.

“God, I feel like vomiting,” you whispered to him.

“It’ll be ok baby, I’ll be right here with you,” he assured you. “Me and Namjoon and Taehyung too.”

“I know,” you nodded, sending him a small smile. Just then, the loud sounds of hooping and hollering made you turn your head back to face front, the frown on your face immediately appearing when you saw a large group of people walking towards the Head Hall.

“Remember what I said everyone,” Namjoon said and you all nodded. As the group got closer, you had to will yourself not to either turn and run away or try to run forward and murder the man who was leading the group.

“Well, well, well, look’s like we have an audience waiting for us!” Seo-hyun cackled happily as he stopped to stand right in front of Namjoon, the rest of his pack standing behind him.

“Well, when you decide to just show up on someone else’s territory, this is what you can expect,” Namjoon shrugged.

“Don’t you mean my soon to be territory, Namjoonie?” Seo-hyun smirked.

“That’s Pack Alpha Kim to you,” Hobi corrected him. “You disrespectful waste of space.”

“Aw, is this your Head Fighter?” Seo-hyun asked Namjoon before turning to look at Hobi. “You know, you are a dead ringer for your mother.” Hobi immediately tried to walk towards him but Namjoon stuck his arm out, stopping him.

“Keep it together,” Namjoon whispered to him and after hesitating for a moment, Hobi nodded and stepped back to his original spot.

“I guess the little Alpha does have control over his pack,” Seo-hyun chuckled.

“What do you want Seo-hyun?” Namjoon questioned him firmly.

“What do I want? Well, it’s very simple really,” Seo-hyun replied. “I want your pack and the territory that comes with it.”

“Don’t you remember what happened the last time that you decided that you wanted to take over other packs and their territories?” Namjoon asked. “Your Alpha pride caused you to lose not only the war but also your territory and most of your pack that you obviously had to spend the last seven years rebuilding. Don’t ruin your second opportunity to be a decent Pack Alpha for once in your life.”

“You know what, you don’t need to concern yourself with that because I’m a better Alpha than you’ll ever be, little pup,” Seo-hyun seethed. “You’re weak.”

“And what would make him strong?” You spat, anger laced throughout your voice. “Starting unnecessary wars just to satisfy his own bloodlust?”

“Oh, it’s the ever elusive Prime Omega,” Seo-hyun smirked as he looked at you. “You know, since it seems like your big brother is gonna be too stupid to just give me your pack, I do hope I get the pleasure of feeling your body up against mines on the battle field. That is, before I pry it from your brother’s cold, dead hands.”

“You threaten him one more time, you’re gonna have your own cold, dead hands to worry about,” Hobi snapped.

“And you don’t fucking talk to her like that,” Yoongi spoke up, not missing how Seo-hyun’s eyes widened when he looked at him. “She’s spoken for.”

“I see you took in my weak little Prime Alpha,” Seo-hyun said.

“Yours?” You echoed, turning to look at Yoongi. “What is he talking about?”

“Oh, don’t tell me that you didn’t do your research on a lone wolf before taking him in?” Seo-hyun cackled. “He was in my pack until I kicked him out for being a weakling. Actually, he’s just like you Namjoonie, so I can understand why you took him in.”

“What?” You whispered and Yoongi could literally hear the hurt in your voice as your hand slipped out of his.

“Look, let’s just make this easy on everyone, huh?” Seo-hyun suggested. “Namjoon, you can just step down and give me the pack and territory, or I can kill you before taking it. Your choice.”

“I guess you’ll have to try to kill me, because I’ll be damned if you take this pack from me while I’m living and breathing,” Namjoon stated firmly.

“It’s your death,” Seo-hyun smiled. “One week from today, I’ll be back to claim your territory.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Namjoon scoffed and that’s the last thing that was said before Seo-hyun turned around and walked off, his pack following closely behind him. As soon as they were out of sight, you turned and ran away, not even giving Yoongi the chance to say anything to you. Knowing that he needed to talk to you, Yoongi immediately ran after you, only hoping that you wouldn’t hate him too much.

...................................

When Yoongi finally found you after looking around almost the entire territory, you were near the stream, sitting on top of your favorite rock as you looked down at the water.

“Y/N-ah,” he called out as he walked over to you and you lifted your head, scowling when you saw him.

“Go the fuck away Yoongi,” you grumbled.

“I need to talk to you,” he insisted.

“Oh, now you wanna fucking talk?!” You exploded as you sat up straight, hopping down off of the rock. “Unless you can tell me that Seo-hyun was lying just now, then I don’t want to hear it.”

“He wasn’t lying but it’s not what you think,” he tried to say.

“It’s not what I think?” You chuckled in disbelief. “What I think is that I fucking trusted you and all this time, I’ve been sleeping next to and with someone who is from the pack that killed my parents and so many others from my pack.”

“Baby, it’s not like that,” Yoongi tried to explain and he moved forward, his hand reaching out to touch you but you quickly stepped away from him.

“If you try to touch me right now, I can’t be held liable for what I’d do to you,” you fumed.

“Ok, I’m sorry,” he apologized, holding his hands up in mock surrender. You then began to pace back and forth, doing your best to try and keep your anger at bay.

“Is this what you were trying to tell me earlier?” You asked as you looked over at him.

“Yes,” he nodded. “And I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you for days now.”

“Obviously not hard enough,” you huffed. “I accepted your gift and let you spend my heat with me. Don’t you think this is something that I deserved to know?”

“Of course, which is why I was trying to tell you,” Yoongi repeated. “I respect you Y/N-ah, I really do and I don’t take you accepting my gift or letting me spend your heat with you lightly. You have to believe me when I say that.”

“Well, forgive me if that’s a little fucking hard right now,” you scoffed. You continued to pace, trying to work through the jumble of thoughts that were currently buzzing around in your head.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Yoongi said. “I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know? Then what the fuck were you trying to tell me?” You demanded to know. Before Yoongi could open his mouth to answer, you held your hand up.

“You know what, I just have one question,” you said as you stopped pacing and looked at him. “Did you know he was the one who killed my parents? Like, him specifically.”

“Y/N-ah,-”

“Don't you dare lie to me,” you ordered. “Not while I have your gift around my neck.” Yoongi then looked down at the necklace that rested against your skin, which had basically become a part of you ever since he had given it to you, and Yoongi hated himself because he knew exactly what was going to happen after he let the answer to your question slip out of his mouth.

“Yes,” he replied and the tears that had been welling up in your eyes spilled over onto your cheeks.

“I can’t believe you,” you whimpered.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he told you.

“I’m sorry too, sorry that I fell in love with a lone wolf,” you spat, reaching up and snatching the necklace off of your neck, throwing at him afterwards. “I never wanna see you again.”

“Y/N,-” he tried to call out but you were already running away from him, back to where the cabins were. Knowing that there would be no good to come out of going after you this time, he decided to walk back towards the front of the territory.

Just as he made it past the Head Hall, a hard punch to his jaw knocked him down onto the ground. Before he could even react, there was a body on top of his, holding him down with an elbow to his throat.

“Joon-ah, get off him!” Hobi shouted as he tried to grab Namjoon’s arm and when Yoongi was finally able to focus his eyes again, he saw Namjoon glaring down at him.

“Joon hyung, he could kill you!” Jungkook hollered as he tried to grab Namjoon’s other arm, and Namjoon turned his head to look at them over his shoulder.

“Either of you touch me again, I won’t hesitate to give you exactly what I’m going to give this dumbass,” he growled, referring to Yoongi and with a lot of hesitation, both Hobi and Jungkook slowly left him go and backed off.

“You might want to listen to them,” Yoongi mumbled and Namjoon looked back down at him. “I could kill you.” As soon as the words had registered, Namjoon didn’t hesitate to raise his free hand and punch Yoongi dead in the eye.

“I’d love to see you try me right now,” Namjoon snarled, putting more pressure on Yoongi’s throat and Yoongi’s eyes widened, realizing that Namjoon was deadly serious. “Now, did Seo-hyun send you here?”

“What?” Yoongi huffed. “No, he didn’t.”

“Because it’s real convenient that you were ‘kicked out’ of your old pack near our territory,” Namjoon continued. “Have you been giving him information?”

“I’d never do that,” Yoongi insisted.

“I smell bullshit,” Namjoon hissed.

“He beat me and left me for dead,” Yoongi reminded him. “He’s treated me just as badly as anyone else.”

“Listen to him hyung,” Jungkook spoke up.

“Shut up and let Namjoon deal with this,” Hobi snapped at him.

“You were just trying to get him off Yoongi a minute ago too, you know?” Jungkook pointed out.

“Because he just punched him out of nowhere and I didn’t know why he was doing it but his reasoning makes sense,” Hobi responded.

“Let me go Namjoon,” Yoongi grumbled as he began to struggle underneath him.

“Do you realize that I could genuinely kill you right now?” Namjoon sneered. “Not only did you put my entire pack at risk, you fucking hurt my sister and betrayed the trust of both her and my brother, who’s the only reason why I even took you in to begin with.”

“I understand that.”

“Do you?” Namjoon questioned harshly as he pressed down harder on Yoongi’s throat. “I understand that coming from Seo-hyun’s pack, you probably don’t relate to the concept of loyalty but this pack lives by it and you went against that.”

“Joon hyung, you’re gonna choke him out!” Jungkook exclaimed.

“That’s the point Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon replied.

“Hobi hyung, don’t let him do this,” Jungkook pleaded as he turned to look at Hobi. “He’s just angry right now but he’ll hate himself for it later.”

“The kid’s right Joon-ah,” Hobi sighed as he stepped over to them, reaching down and gently setting his hand on Namjoon’s shoulder. “You shouldnt kill him, let me do it.”

“Hobi hyung!” Jungkook exclaimed.

“Please Namjoon,” Yoongi whispered, his breathing not coming as easily because of Namjoon’s elbow. Namjoon glared at him for a little while longer before taking his elbow away from Yoongi’s throat, standing up off of his body. Yoongi coughed as he sat up, holding onto his throat.

“You get the fuck off of my territory and away from my pack,” Namjoon commanded.

“N-no,” Yoongi mumbled.

“Hyung,” Jungkook gasped but Namjoon held up his hand, silencing him.

“He’s too close to them, so he’s untrustworthy,” Namjoon explained before looking at Yoongi again. “Get your things and go. You’re no longer welcome here.” Namjoon then turned and walked away, Hobi following behind him. Jungkook hesitated, mouthing ‘sorry’ to Yoongi before running off behind Namjoon.

As Yoongi sat there, taking in the gravity of everything that had just happened in the last hour, his eyes widened in horror when he realized that he had just lost his family again; for the third time in his life and that realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

...................................

Tag List: @jikook-enthusiasts @veryuniquenamegoeshere @seolarsyj @littlrmills14-blog @preciouschimine @kt-rny @copenhagenspiritQueuePost

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madswritingvoid · 4 years ago

Text

Say You’re Sorry

Pairing: Max Phillips x f!reader

Words: 3k (oops haha)

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ only. Oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, p in v sex, fingering, swearing, slight choking, first time writing smut should probably be a warning itself, sexism, Max Phillips is a warning probably.

You knew it was a bad idea. Well, actually, no you didn’t. Not fully. The voice in your head was just screaming at you to stop - there were other ways to get his attention. Other ways to make Max feel bad for what he did during the Synersavers presentation that didn’t require you stooping this low. Fuck it, you figured, if he can go around and do whatever he wants to get his way then so can I.

Fixing your hair and outfit in the mirror one last time, you went back into the office looking for the desk you usually avoid like the plague. Max Phillips, fuck you.

Earlier That Day

“So you see, Mr. Jacobson, our third quarter projections have us coming in on top by two million dollars and the fourth quarter is looking even better. I mean really champ, if these numbers were anymore amazing they’d be as hot as your associate there in that fetching skirt,” Max winks at the woman taking meeting minutes for your potential new client, causing her skin to blotch, “fucking unreal. Pardon my French,” he finishes, earning a big laugh from the CEO of Synersavers, the new bullshit placebo pill that was supposed to alter the brain’s natural neural pathways to promote synergy. You weren’t sure what dreams synergy was helping pathetic humans to achieve, but it meant a bonus if they signed on so you made sure that PowerPoint presentation was the best slides of your career.

You scoff, worried that if you roll your eyes they’ll get stuck. You know Max Phillips was quite the charmer, you knew better than anyone in the office. This past year saw him go from being just your hot vampire boss you had a crush on, to your hot vampire boss that was now your boyfriend.

While you never made an official statement to your coworkers, you quietly signed the papers Amanda in HR needed signed and let the sound of you screaming Max’s name in his office while he was balls deep inside you let the rest of your coworkers know of your relationship. Overall, Max was a great boyfriend. Better than expected even - attentive, caring, protective to a fault, all while still being that loveable (?) piece of shit frat boy extraordinaire he had been at the beginning.

You knew he still had to lay on the charm to close sales from time to time, never actually violating your relationship in any way, but after the fight you had this morning you didn’t think flirting with the only person in the meeting who did not actually control whether or not this partnership was going to happen right in front of you was the best move.

“Mr. Phillips,” Jacobson says, once again only acknowledging Max and completely ignoring you as he had been for the entire presentation, “you got quite the silver tongue. But I like that about ya, I think you get what our product is all about and I wanna make this partnership work. I’m surprised your presentation is as good as it was, because if you’ll pardon my French, if my secretary looked as delicious as yours does I’d be too busy fucking her left, right, and centre to even think about the fourth quarter anything!” He laughs and claps Max on the shoulder and you tense up, sure that Max is going to say something. Not even because he’s your boyfriend, but because he landed the sale and doesn’t have to be as sleazy as this dickhead is.

“See that’s where you’re wrong Jacobson, it’s almost like I’m working double to avoid her. Just doesn’t get the mojo flowing, y’know? Maybe we should switch, what do you think sweetheart?” He looks over at the still flustered secretary, “Come on and work for me and we’ll work on some new ways of making synergy happen,” he wags his eyebrows and you’re surprised this poor woman hasn’t slid right off her seat. You’re stunned. Even as Mr. Jacobson laughs and brings a laughing Max into some sort of capitalist bro hug, you can’t bring yourself to move. It isn’t until you hear the squeak of the wheels from the chair Mr. Jacobson’s secretary was sitting against the shitty meeting room carpet that you snap back to the present and shut everything down. By the time you finish everyone is long gone, leaving you to stew in your rage.

A hesitant knock on the meeting room door makes you jump as you’re met with a sheepish looking Evan in the doorway. You were never a big fan of Evan when you started, kind of thought he was a wimp but he was nice enough. After getting with Max and learning their shared history, you couldn’t stand Evan, but were able to be far more professional when needed until Max.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was still in here after Max and the Synersavers people left,” he shrugged. “What the fuck do you mean Max left with them?” You asked through clenched teeth. Scratching the back of his neck nervously, Evan took a deep breath before telling you, “yeah, um. They left for a late liquid lunch from what it sounded like, Max said you would be too busy learning how to make a paper clip bracelet to join them… Sorry, he’s such an asshole. You don’t deserve that, especially not from that bastard,” He couldn’t meet your eyes. Even though he still tried to tell you to leave Max every single day, you appreciate him being there this time.

There were many things you could be mean to Evan for, but deep down you knew he didn’t deserve the wrath of your anger this time.

Later That Afternoon

After taking the elevator up to the office to mentally cleanse his mind from that mindless lunch with that absolute creep Jacobson, Max was trying to come up with the best apology for you. He knew he didn’t have to be so forward flirting with that secretary, what the fuck was her name anyways, in order to win the sexist CEO over. But he was feeling petty after your fight while you were getting ready for work he figured it wouldn’t hurt to remind you that many other women find him quite the catch.

“You’re lying! You have to be lying!! There’s no way that happened oh my god,” Max stops dead in his tracks as he hears your giggles from inside the office. “It is! I totally saw Tim practising the dance moves the day after that Kelly Clarkson concert in the men’s washroom. I didn’t even know she had dancers, but from what I saw it really must have been a hell of a show,” Evan says as you throw your head back and let out another over-the-top cackle. You’re sitting on top of Evan’s desk, resting your hand on his shoulder as he sits in between your open legs, clearly enjoying the attention.

You’re hamming it up, he knows that, he knows that’s not what your real laugh sounds like - the laugh he gets to hear when he really does something that you like. He knows you don’t mean it but he’s immediately flooded with anger and guilt. He obviously didn’t realize how much the day had taken a toll on you and now you must be really mad if you’re going to Evan to get back at him.

“Oh my god Evan that’s too funny,” you giggle and place a hand on his shoulder, “you just made my day! I won’t tell Tim anything, it’ll be our little secret,” you wink. Evan’s blush deepens at the touch, maybe you weren’t so bad after all and if Max (and Amanda at this point) didn’t look out he would maybe ask you out for a drink sometime soon. Bring you back to the land of the living.

Deciding he’s absolutely had enough, Max quietly comes up behind Evan and slaps both hands on his shoulders after seeing you move yours back to your lap, causing him to freeze and let out a little squeak. “Slugger, I’m sure whatever’s going on here is just too funny, but didn’t I ask you to finish up that presentation for tomorrow’s meeting with NuevaWeight?” he pouts, “I really thought you were taking this job seriously buddy, but maybe I should just get Andrew to take over…”

“N-no Max, sorry. Yeah the presentation is almost done, it’ll be ready before the end of the day,” Evan stammers. Max finally meets your eyes and smirks, “and you can meet me in my office. Apparently you think you can stop doing your job and distracting my employees.”

You can’t even speak, your jaw set and eyes burning from the absolute rage you feel right now. Yeah you’ll meet him in his office, but it won’t be so he can lecture you about whatever bullshit he’s already thought of. “Of course Mr. Phillips, meet you there,” you manage to snap back, calmly making your way to his office. Anyone walking by you immediately gets out of your way, your anger coming off in waves making your undead coworkers shiver.

Clapping Evan on the shoulder one more time, Max saunters over to his office, ready to make you beg for his forgiveness after that little stunt. As soon as he opens his office door he realizes that won’t be happening.

You’re sitting in his chair, legs propped up on his desk in a way that makes your skirt ride up and expose more thigh than what HR might deem office appropriate. “Ah, Mr. Phillips, so nice of you to make it,” you smirk. “Sweets, I think there must be some sort of misunderstandi-'' you cut him off with a dark look and stand up. Walking up to him you close his office door and push him against it, “No champ,” you sneer, “I think you’re confused here. I’m not the one who decided to be a very, very bad boy by flirting with someone else and insulting me in front of new clients.” Chest to chest, your hand slithers up to grab Max’s throat. Even though he is a vampire who could toss you around like a ragdoll, you know he’s letting you be in control. He likes it.

“While you were out entertaining I’ve been thinking about what I could do to make you really sorry, baby. You were already on thin ice from this morning, but now you’re drowning,” you squeeze a little harder on his throat making his eyes roll back. “What are you gonna do? I’m so sorry,” he whispers. You take a moment, just looking into those eyes you love so much, before answering.

“Maybe I’ll sit on your cock. Let you fill my pussy up but not let you cum, because only good boys get to come, you know that Maxie. Maybe I’ll just use you like my own walking, talking dildo. If I’m so replaceable you won’t mind not getting to fill me up? Right?” You smirk again as he whines, his hands clenching because all he wants to do is make you feel good now.

“You wanna run that mouth, Phillips? You wanna make everything think you’re so fucking special when I know you’re really just a scared little vamp, huh?” You say with a pout. Grabbing his hair, you force his head up so you can look right into his eyes that are now almost completely black from lust. “Come on big shot, if you wanna be a big boy then you gotta show me that mouth can do something other than just spew bullshit, slugger.”

That’s all the permission he needs. He hoists you up in his arms and thanks to vampire speed you’re now sat on his leather couch, skirt up around your waist, underwear ripped clean off, fully exposed to his hungry eyes. “Baby, I’m so sorry,” he pouts, “let me make you feel good. I just want you-” You’ve heard enough, pushing him down so his mouth finally reaches your core. Moaning at finally tasting you, Max wastes no time taking your clit and sucking hard, already teasing your entrance with one of his long fingers.

“Y-Yes Max, fuck! Be a good boy and make me cum just like this,” you moan and clench around the finger inside of you, knowing you’re absolutely dripping onto the couch underneath you. He adds a second, then a third, making you arch your back until you’re almost sitting up from how good he’s fucking you with his hands. His mouth doesn’t stop, sucking and licking, spelling out his apologies against your body. Knowing you’re close, he starts focusing on that spot inside of you that drives you wild.

“Oh! Oh, Maxie yes. Such a g-good boy,” you pant, meeting his hand thrust for thrust trying to reach your high, “make me feel so good please please please baby I’m right there, I-” you can’t finish that sentence as your vision goes white and all you can do is let out a strangled moan that sounds like his name.

Once your legs start shaking you pull both of you up, undoing his belt and pushing him onto the couch so you can straddle his waist. You wrap a hand around his neck and start nipping at the area, rocking your soaked pussy along his aching cock that was now free from the confines of his dress pants a few times before sinking down on him. A wicked grin stretches across your face as his moans get louder. He chokes when he feels you gush around him, not expecting you to come again so soon but you were still sensitive from his mouth, the hair above his cock rubbing deliciously against your clit, but you wanted more still.

Picking up the pace, you squeeze around his throat again and start taunting him, “You gonna replace me baby? Yeah? You gonna find a pussy that takes you this good? Be my guest. Go right now and find something better, or show me how goddamn sorry you are.”

Granting him permission to take over, Max flips you on your back, making sure your head is supported by one of the couch cushions. He immediately wraps your legs around his waist, angling one leg to let him sink even deep inside of you, your moans mixing together as you both revel in the feeling of him finally being inside of you. Wanting to prove himself he wastes no time pulling out just to start slamming back into you.

You moan and clench around him, making him hiss and he doesn’t let up. Watching him disappear inside of you over and over again, he starts babbling his apologies. “N-Never baby. Could never replace you. Never gonna find a pu-pussy this fucking good. Look at you, so perfect, so so perfect taking my cock like that. I’m sorry. You’re so good. I don’t deserve it, it’s- fuck it’s so fucking good. Best pussy of all time,” he moans as you clamp down on him, your third orgasm ripping through you.

“Yes - yes Max, that’s fucking r-right. I’m the best pussy you’ll ever have,” you moan again from being so full. You know he’s sorry so you decide to let him finish after all. Taking your hands off his shoulders, you start tangling your fingers in his hair and bring his face close to your so your lips are almost touching, “you did so good Maxie,” you coo, “you cock made me feel so fucking good I know you’re sorry now.” He shudders at your words but keeps his steady pace, trying to make you cum again, still holding back his own impending orgasm. “Thank you baby, ‘m so so sorry, I love you and I just wanna be good for you-” “shhh shhh Maxie, I know I know. You did good baby, now show me how good you are and cum inside of me.”

That’s all he needs.

Something between a groan and growl comes deep from within Max as he finally lets go, pushing himself as far as he can inside of you as he starts painting your walls. Coming down from his high, he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck as you start peppering him with kisses wherever you can reach, carding your fingers through his hair.

“I’m really sorry baby,” you hear him mumble into your neck, “I love you.” He kisses along your throat and you hum, moving your head to give him more access. “I know Max, I love you too. I forgive you. But try that again and I’ll cut your dick off in front of the whole office,” you laugh.

He chuckles too, continuing to shower you with love. “As much as I want to stay right here forever baby, let’s go home and I can keep showing you how sorry I am,” he suggests, wiggling his eyebrows to earn a giggle from you, “sounds good Maxie, you’re lucky I’m just sooooo forgiving.”

Untangling from each other and making yourselves as presentable as you care to be, you leave the office hand-in-hand, ready to see what the rest of the night has in store.

#max phillips #max phillips x reader #max phillips x y/n #max phillips x you #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal imagines #bloodsucking bastards

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apocalypseornaw · 4 years ago

Text

Walk Away-3

After so long apart you finally agree to see Sam and tell him the truth

You groaned as you sat back against the wall hoping this newest wave of nausea would pass.. It was normal according to the obgyn Tasha had helped you get into. You had just entered into your second trimester and found out the gender of the baby at your last appointment. She was growing perfectly and doing a number on your insides in the process. You heard someone clear their throat and looked up to see Max leaned against the doorway leading into the bathroom with a cup of tea in his hand. He held it out to you with a smile “Ginger tea with honey and lemon” You thanked him as you took the cup and allowed yourself a small sip of the warm liquid.

He walked a little further into the room before sitting down next to you his long legs stretched out in front of him “Donna Hanscum called again” you nodded before saying “That doesn’t really surprise me..has Jody and the girls started their rounds again?” he let out a sharp laugh “Not yet, it holds them off when they can talk with you but I had to tell Donna you weren’t here considering you don’t want Sam to know you’re currently starting to move past smuggling a basketball into smuggling a beach ball” “He doesn’t need to know” you mumbled but Max shook his head “He loves you Y/N. I don’t know what happened but he wouldn’t be trying this hard to get you to talk to him if he didn’t”

You leaned your head back against the wall then rolled your head over to look at Max “If and it’s a big if but if I was to agree to see him and Dean could you put a glamour on me?” his eyes went to your ever growing stomach “Oh you mean to hide the bump?” you nodded and he scratched his chin in thought then nodded “I think I can manage that with Alicia’s help. I’ll call Erik too, he's better at stuff along those lines” “Thanks Max and thank Erik for me too” he stood to go call Erik who was his boyfriend of a little over three years. You’d known him for a while but had gotten to know him better over the last few weeks considering his mom was your doctor. “When are you going to call Sam?” he asked from the door so you shrugged “When Jody calls I’ll tell her it’s fine to give Dean my new number then go from there” he nodded then walked out the room.

------

Sam was sitting at the table in the kitchen nursing a cup of coffee and trying to ignore just how much the bunker itself seemed to miss your presence. How had he messed everything up this bad? How had Dean been able to see just how much pain you were in but he couldn’t? Christ he was an idiot. If he could do it over he would have never gone on that very first hunt where all of you met Lila.

She didn’t hold a candle to you. You were...hell you were a force of nature. Everyone who knew you was drawn to you. You were caring but strong, courageous but smart. You would dive in feet first to help someone you cared about and even strangers. He’d seen you go toe to toe with more than one demon just to save a life. You were a soft touch when needed but also was the first to make someone shake off any self doubt and get their fire back.

When Alex had needed help paying for college you’d found grants seemingly out of thin air. When Patience would get upset about her broken relationship with her father she’d call you. You were one of the few people Claire would take advice from without rolling her eyes.

As for the way you’d changed not only his life but Dean and Cas’ as well he didn’t have the words for. Dean never got a chance to withdraw into himself with you around because you’d be at his door slipping new cds under it or bribing him out with food and western movie marathons. Cas always seemed to brighten up when you walked into a room because you never let a day pass without reminding him just how important he was to what you called your family group.

When you’d come into Sam’s life you’d knocked him flat on his ass metaphorically speaking and literally speaking. He’d ended up catching a punch from you on accident. Dean had teased him that your right hook was what made him fall in love with you. Looking up to see a woman as beautiful as you were apologizing but calling him an idiot for getting in your way at the same time did help matters. From that day forward you were all he could think about. The day you finally moved into the bunker was the happiest day of his life.

The dreams of a so-called normal life was behind him but with you a new normal started to form in his mind. He never felt more whole than when you were in his arms. Waking up to you curled against his chest or with his arm around your waist was the most peace he’d ever felt. He loved you more than he ever dreamed possible to love someone after losing Jess. He felt like such a failure because he had apparently not shown you that. When you started to talk with Donna, Jody and the girls at least he knew you were alive,healthy and indeed staying with the Banes twins.

He knew they lived near a small town on the upper west coast but that was all he did know. He wanted nothing more than to track them down and beg for the chance to see you but for now at least knowing you were ok was the best compromise he was going to get. He sighed and looked down at his laptop. He had a few news websites up but his heart wasn’t in trying to find a case, his heart was wherever you were. He could hear Dean talking to someone in the library and thought maybe he had a case until he heard Dean say your name.

He quickly moved around the corner to see Dean pacing across the floor as he spoke on the phone. He caught a few words of what Dean was saying “Are you sure?...Yeah I promise...look you have my word...I will...ok...and sweetheart it’s good to hear from you” Was Dean talking to you? Why had you called Dean? Was something wrong? Were you hurt? He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts he hadn’t realized Dean had not only hung up but had called his name three times.

“SAM!” Dean spoke harshly and he blinked a few times glancing at the phone still in his brother’s hand “Was that Y/N?” Dean nodded “Yeah she told Jody it was ok to pass her new number on to me..She’s willing to see you but she has a few conditions” “Anything, I’ll agree to anything” Sam answered quickly his mind going into overdrive at the thought of seeing you.

Dean nodded again then said “Grab your stuff. I’ll text her and let her know we’re hitting the road. I’ve got to call Max when we get close enough and he’ll come meet us to lead us up to their place”

------

“Are you sure you can’t tell?” you asked Erik for the sixth time since he’d finished the glamour. He sighed and shook his head “I’m sure. I’ve hid entire buildings, your little baby bump isn’t even a challenge” you smiled then smoothed the shirt you were wearing self consciously.

“Alicia why did I agree to talk to Sam again?” She walked in behind you and held out a bottle of water “Because you’re still in love with him, it’s blaringly obvious no matter what happened he’s still in love with you because they’ve made the trip from Lebanon in record time. Even if today doesn’t go well at least you know you tried” you took a deep breath and nodded. She was right of course. When Erik’s phone went off you nearly jumped out of your skin but his hand on your arm kept you in place “Calm down Y/N, that was just Max. They’re coming up the driveway”

No sooner than the words came out of Erik’s mouth you heard the familiar rumble of the Impala’s engine. Any other time that was music to your ears but now it made you a little queasy. Erik shot you a smile before grabbing his jacket “Me and Max are headed into town but when you want to lower the glamour I showed Alicia how ok?” you nodded “Thanks again Erik” “Anytime”

------

You took a deep breath when you heard the boots on the porch so Alicia moved to answer the door. You weren’t in direct eyesight so you heard Dean first say “Alicia, good to see you” she greeted him then said “Hi Sam” you felt your heart flip when he said “Hey Alicia, I um thank you for being a place she could come to” “She’s always welcome wherever me and Max are and we make sure she knows it” that was one of the many things you loved about Alicia. Her words and tone of voice was friendly but the underlying venom of having comforted a hurt friend was still very much there.

“Y/N?” Alicia called out as she shut the door behind the boys as if she didn’t know for a fact you were hiding in the small hallway between the front door and kitchen. “Right here” you replied stepping around the corner. Dean smiled when he saw you “Well you’re a sight for sore eyes” you were glad when he just hugged you with one arm around your shoulders on the off chance of him brushing against your stomach.

“I see you’ve actually managed to stay alive without me which is a miracle in itself” you teased with a tense smile trying to calm your nerves before meeting Sam’s eyes. God those fucking eyes of his. You stood there for a second staring at each other before Dean turned to Alicia “You got something to drink? Alcoholic or otherwise. I’d settle for tea or coffee” she gave him a small smile before winking at you and herding him towards the kitchen.

Once the two of you were alone you both started to speak at the same time. You laughed nervously “You want to go first?” he nodded then let out a harsh breath “I’m sorry. I know that probably falls flat but I am. You are the most important person in my life. I love you with everything in me and I failed to show you that. I failed to realize how much my actions were hurting you. I made you think I wanted someone else and I pushed you away. I don’t expect you to forgive me and I don’t expect you to come back with me but I’m grateful you chose to let me come here and tell you that face to face” You should’ve known with pregnancy hormones on top of everything else that you’d end up in tears. You wiped them away before they could fall before saying “Sam..god just tell me why? Why did you act like that towards her? Was the attachment to me the only thing stopping you? The fear of all our friends taking my side? Of your brother siding with me?”

“Baby no” he breathed and took a step towards you but when you quickly crossed your arms over your chest and stepped back he froze in his tracks. “I guess it was the feeling of losing someone you love to a demon. I’ve been there before then with what happened to her husband. It got me thinking about what happened to Jess happening to you. That’s not an excuse because you told me that you wanted other hunters backing her and I didn’t listen but please baby please know I have never wanted anyone else since the day I met you”

“But you didn’t listen to me Sam. That’s why I left! That’s why I came here and got them to ward me so you couldn’t find me. I couldn’t sit around waiting for you to break my heart and I’m not coming back with you no matter how much I want nothing more than to jump into your arms right now. If you want us...If you want a second chance before I tell you something I need a promise that you’ll be ok with it taking time, with me being here and you in Lebanon. I need you to actually think about it before you answer me Sam” you were trying so hard not to cry because you knew for a fact Dean and Alicia were standing just on the other side of that kitchen door waiting to intervene if you needed them to.

“I’d do anything for a second chance for us, to prove to you just how much you mean to me” you nodded slowly then called out “Alicia can you and Dean come here?” the door swung open quickly to both of them nearly stumbling over each other. “Yeah sweetie?” she asked so you braced yourself then said “They need to know” “And you’re sure?” she questioned so you nodded “Yeah I’m sure”

“Need to know what?” Dean asked but Alicia was already repeating the words Erik had told her would drop the glamour. The moment it faded and your stomach was back visibly rounded Dean’s eyes widened and poor Sam looked like he may faint or puke. “Is that why you left?” Sam asked quietly and you shook your head “I didn’t find out until about a month after I left. That’s why I came here”

Dean recovered quicker and held a hand out “Can I?” you nodded “She is your niece after all” “Niece, so it’s a girl?” he asked with a grin. Your hand came to cover Dean’s so you could place it on the light movements but your eyes never left Sam’s as you said “Yeah I just found out last week” a light kick made Dean’s grin get bigger “Look at that. She’s strong already” “Just like her mom” Alicia replied then reached for Dean’s arm “Let’s give them another minute” Dean nodded and kissed your cheek before saying “I love you kid and I’m gonna love her too” then followed her back into the kitchen.

Sam had remained silent so you finally looked up at him “Are you going to say anything?” a slight smile slipped onto his face before he quietly said “Can I touch you now? Because I really want to hug you and feel our daughter move” you moved towards him and he pulled you against his chest without hesitation. One large hand held your back while the other rested on your stomach “I love you Y/N. I’ll prove to you that things will be different. Nothing means more to me than you and her” you smiled up at him through the tears in your eyes “I love you too Sam”

Tags: @delightfullykrispypeach @fofisstilinski @chengukargbo @rosalynshields @hunting-the-grievers @spngirl05

#spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester x female!reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction

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dulafer · 3 years ago

Text

TWIN REVENGE

This is an old one, just thought I’d share..... Its of my shortest stories. Any feedback appreciated - [email protected]

REUNION

I’ve always been the odd twin out. Will and I were both named William C. Witt with the only difference being our middle names – Charles and Conner. I’ve never liked being called ‘Willy’ while William preferred ‘Will’. Growing up, our parents couldn’t tell us apart - we even have the same birthmark on our chins.

I’ve always been jealous of Will for being the favorite. Many times, I’d answer to my brother’s name on purpose or force Will to swap places with me. The first time I was Will was when he was failing algebra in 9th grade and didn’t want our parents to find out. We swapped places so I could take his tests. My condition was that I stay as him for the day – soaking up my parent’s adoration and love. Will was definitely our parent’s favorite which pissed me off the older I got, often lashing out for attention. In high school I started impersonating my brother to get him in trouble. Sometimes, I would get caught because my brother would have an alibi with friends backing him up, or I’d would slip up wearing my hair differently or some other little detail.

By our junior year, I started hanging with another group of friends and dealing drugs. My reputation for trouble followed me as my ‘business’ grew. Will knew what I was up to because people would mistake him for their dealer. Weeks before graduation, the principal caught me selling drugs red handed, thanks to a tip from Will. Since Witts are a powerful family, Dad worked a deal to allow me to graduate on the condition that I spend the summer in rehab. The deal was made and the day after graduation, Dad drove me to the rehab center. I lasted a week before escaping and never being seen again.

My drug pals smuggled me out of Los Angeles to northern California. San Francisco was the perfect spot for me. With my college age looks, I blend in on local high school and college campuses where my business grew exponentially. I wear the college gear that fit the campuses I was working daily. I’ve always been thrifty with my earnings and always a light user myself so I saved my money for a future free of drugs. When I can, I sit in on college classes, mostly political science since my father was always drilling politics into Will and I.

Will on the other hand, was the perfect son. He attended college for political science, becoming a staunch conservative. But Will wasn’t always perfect. After two years in college, he dropped out and was hired at Prager U as a campus correspondent to interview students and follow trends. Will quickly picked up a fan base nationally and within months was buying a condo and new car – with the help of a proud rich father. Will travels the country giving speeches, interviewing people and blogging.

Mom and dad have all but forgotten about me. I faked my own death and changed my name when I heard my family was looking for me. It was convincing enough that the Witts even had a funeral for me.

CAMPUS LIFE

I’m at Stanford University working my regular ‘route’, supporting my boys with product. A few girls spot me, come running over and one screams. “Oh my god, Will! I’m your biggest fan.”

I wonder why they’re calling me Will and fawning over me? “Hi, thank you so much.”

“We can’t wait to hear you speak. You going to do a ‘man on the street’?” the other one squeals.

“Sure am.” Not knowing what that is even. I see one of my boys coming over for his weekly stash. “Excuse me ladies, I’m meeting an old friend.”

Tyler comes over with his usual swagger carrying his backpack. “Do I have competition bro?”

“No, not at all! You know you’re my main man.” We do his frat’s handshake. Anyone watching us would see us both in Stanford gear and just assume we’re students. We take a seat on a nearby bench, talk business, two minutes later, he’s leaving with my backpack full of drugs.

I walk around campus, wondering about those two girls calling me Will. When I get to the campus hub, I see my face plastered all over the board. The flyers reads ‘Will Witt, Prager University, Topic: Campus Diversity’. I pull one off the board, fold it up and place it in my backpack pocket. I’ll be damned, my little brother in town. I have to see this for myself.

I get home and study the flyer, find the Prager U site and start watching my brother’s videos. We’re so alike with our political beliefs – neither of us have fallen far from our father’s tree. We both have the same attitudes and beliefs as good old dad. He even sounds like dad did, around the dinner table our entire life. I then log into his Instagram account, using Will’s password he’s been using for a decade. I’m getting envious of my brother’s life – he’s still the golden boy and I’m sure dad is super proud of him. He’s traveling all over the world thanks to this Prager gig. On top of that, he’s become famous on Fox and other mediums for being very articulate and full of energy.

As I watch him, I’m getting very envious of Will. I’m as smart and talented as my brother. I could have been the favorite son, the celebrity. ‘Should be, could be, will be.’ I think to myself. That should be my life.

The next day, I head to a theater supply store and buy a fake belly, beard/mustache and some make up. I’ve got to see my brother in action today. Will is scheduled to do a ‘man on the street’ interview on campus this afternoon, then the speech later tonight.

I show up for his man on the street interview but hang way back, out of sight of Will. With my disguise, I’ve gained 50lbs, a full beard, sunglasses and wearing a tie dyed hoodie. I watch and listen as Will, his producer and camera man set up everything. I record everything with a shotgun microphone - hearing the back and forth banter between Will, his cameraman Gavi and Mike, his producer. That evening, I attend the lecture in another disguise just to be safe. I’ve haven’t seen Will in over two years but he’s still the same arrogant Will in private. In public he’s very friendly and charming. As I’m listening to Will speak, a plan starts to formulate in the back of my mind. Willy is already dead to the world, so why not become Will. It’s not like I’m inexperienced in doing it. It would always piss Will off when I would steal his identity and fool his girlfriends. While he was taking a shower, I would get dressed first, take his clothes, phone, car and pick up his girlfriend who was clueless. Will would be pissed but I would apologize and he would forgive me. One time Will called his girlfriend while I was impersonating him and couldn’t convince her that he was actually Will – I was that good.

I start tracking my brother via his emails, calendar and social media. Will is flying from Los Angeles to Washington for a week, with Turning Point USA to promote Prager U and himself. Our parents will also be gone on vacation to Europe for months, with plans to hook up with Will in London for lunch and a show in a month.

MOVING TO LOS ANGELES

I need to formulate a detailed plan. Will has lived the good life long enough, it’s my turn now. I start with cleaning up my life here – telling my friends that I need to disappear again. They buy it easily as it has happened before. I clean out my bank account – about $1m, and drive to Hollywood where Will lives.

I rent a furnished apartment across the street from Will’s condo. It’s perfect – from my living room and bedroom, I can see his entrance and garage. I keep my fake beard and baseball cap on all the time, and only use the back entrance to go anywhere. On his departure day, I watch him being picked up by an airport service and confirm his flight took off on schedule. I head to my bathroom and remove my beard and hide my longer hair under a baseball cap. The condo manager gladly provides ‘Will’ with a spare key when I tell him I lost mine.

Will’s condo is very nice with an open floorplan. There’s 3 bedrooms and 3.5 baths. The lower level is a 2 car garage, lots of storage, a large video recording studio and utility room. His silver Porsche 911 Cabrio is parked next to a motorcycle. On the wall is some leather gear, boots and helmet. The 2nd floor has a large living room with exposed brick walls, huge flat screen, fireplace, bar, gourmet kitchen with top end stainless steel appliances and a personal office. The 3rd floor is all bedrooms with a huge master suite with large bathroom and large walk in closet. The one spare bedroom is sparsely decorated with just a bed, dresser and chair. The other bedroom is mostly empty. It’s a great ‘crib’ but I’m certain daddy helped pay for most of it.

I get to work quickly with my plans. I try to check out his studio’s computer but its password protected and I can’t get it to unlock. This isn’t a problem after I plug in a thumb drive with keystroke tracker and some other tricks. In a minute, I gain access to all his computers and social media accounts. The password was his usual password but backwards.

His iMac Pro is a wealth of information – full of his unedited videos, speeches and even a digital diary. I thought he stopped doing a diary in 11th grade but apparently not. He updated it just this morning before leaving. I’m sitting there for hours reviewing his life since I left. His comments about my death and funeral are cruel to say the least. He blames me for fucking up life with my death, how mom & dad are glad it’s over and they’re all better off. Even my father agreed with him. That’s fine by me, they won’t miss Will at all when I take his place.

I decide to spend the night here and continue my studying. In his basement studio there is a green screen, professional video cameras and teleprompters set up in one corner which he uses to make his cutesy videos. I turn on the equipment, click on a file and up pops the words to his last blog on the teleprompter. On another display in front of the green screen pops up the empty stool where he sits. On the stool is a remote I believe is for controlling everything. I plop my ass down, face the camera, and see myself, or Will on the display in front of me. I fuss with my hair to give me Will’s prominent cowlick, press ‘record’ and the words start moving for me to perform. “What’s up guys, Will Witt for Prager U” I repeat his performance, then delete file before passing out at 2am, after seeing his posts on landing in Washington DC.

LOOKING THE PART

My brother prides himself on his hair, especially the huge cowlick that he’s proud of. According to his calendar, he had a haircut a few days before leaving for Washington. I make myself at home taking a shower, and pulling on some of his clothes – dark gray skinny jeans, t-shirt, jacket and his black high top converse sneakers. I’m missing his clunky watch and ring he wears all the time, and also his rope crystal necklace he’s been wearing since he was 15. The one time I was with one of his girlfriends, not having that necklace on, gave away my identity. I jump in Will’s Porsche and find a salon with a great google rating. I ask for my usual and show her pics from two days ago. They’re very close up and detailed. In half an hour, I’m smiling at Will in the mirror, running my hand through his cowlick.

Back home, I pull in to the garage and before I can close the door, some pretty little thing is running over to me.

“Will! Hey there, I’m glad I caught you.”

“Oh hey, you caught me.” I smile and act surprise.

“Tammy and I are having a party tonight.” She hands me a flyer ‘Jen and Tam’s Big Party’.

“That sounds like a blast, ‘Jen’.” Hoping she’s the ‘Jen’ on the flyer.

“I was just going to slip it in your mailbox. Thought you were going to Washington or someplace exotic again.”

“My DC trip was postponed, so I’m here.” I give her a typical Will smile.

“Washington’s lost is our gain. You have to come. Besides you can crawl home if you get drunk like unlike last time.”

“I’ll try my best but super busy here.” I chuckle with her, not sure what she’s referring to but Will’s diary will probably help me remember some of it. I’d love to go but there’ll be lots of iPhones around and plenty of pics/videos posted on social media.

A friend sent me a lot of WiFi HD fiberoptic video cameras and microphones to bug my brother’s place. I place a few in each room then sync them to my iPad. Walking from room to room I test them all for activation. It takes all day to hide them properly. Later on, Will’s latest VLOGs and antics from Washington start appearing on his desktop.

His video reminds me how different our styles are. Will was always conservative dresser while I went for the grunge look. His videos confirm his tastes haven’t changed at all except becoming more expensive. I’m making myself at home – it’s going to be my future home soon anyway. With my new haircut, it only takes a little of his gel to look exactly like him.

It was always fun turning myself into Will when we were younger, it’s still a turn on now. I print out some pics from his PC files, showing various outfit he’s worn. I’ve got to nail his ‘look’ perfectly for my future life. There’s one of him in a sharp black suit, white shirt and black tie playing a piano, with a red lapel thingy at a Prager U gala a month ago. We both took piano lesson but I was always a little better.

It’s easy finding the outfit in his very organized closet. He took it off, left the lapel pin in and probably hasn’t worn it since. There’s a video of the gala in his files that I watch, providing me glimpses of his shoes and watch. I strip out of his jeans, and into the outfit. I couldn’t find his watch – it’s probably in Washington on him but I slip on his pinky ring and a different watch from his jewelry box. Back in the studio, I start a new file – Prager Gala, pretending that I’m Will being interviewed about the night’s events. I sit on the stool, hit record and adlib the event starting with Will’s signature “What’s up Guys” intro, including flashing his two fingers. Being Will is all very natural for me. I’m up half the night learning the equipment, checking out his videos and closet. I just need a few weeks of studying him before I replace him.

To access his cell phone, a friend puts me in contact with a local guy who clones Will’s iPhone. It costs $2000 but I now see his text messages, calendar and listen to his voicemails. I can also listen in on his calls while he’s talking to people. I can’t speak to them, and they can’t hear me but it’s perfect timing. With him in Washington, his entire life is going through his cell phone, providing me with up to the minute information. He’s working on his schedule for the next few months. With access to all this, I’m learning who his coworkers are, listening to work conference calls, what they’re working on and what Will’s job entails as Prager’s ‘social media influencer’.

Will has a spare set of keys for our parent’s place so I visit just to see what changes have been made while I’ve been gone. The most obvious change is the lack of pictures of me. Their mantel has no pics of Will and I together. It almost looks like they have only one son – that I never existed. Everything else is pretty much how it was three years ago. As I was leaving, Mrs. Tarantolo, their neighbor sees “Will” and comes running over to say hello. She thought it was sweet I was keeping an eye on their place while they were away “Such a good son.” She claims to be my biggest fan and hasn’t missed any of my videos. She’s clueless about me, as she should – when even our parents couldn’t tell the difference, I’m not worried about anyone.

My week consists of listening, watching and reading everything he’s up to. I take his Porsche out to grab lunch or dinner to remote places so I’m not seen by anyone that could know him. A few times, fans mistake me for Will and I sign autographs using “What’s Up Guys”. They’re thrilled and its harmless fun for me.

The week flies by and I return to my apartment across the road. I return the spare condo key to the manager after making a duplicate of it. On schedule, Will returns via LAX shuttle service. My surveillance system works perfectly as he moves around his condo. I see him taking a shower, changing into sweats and working in his studio. His buddy Mike arrives later with pizza and they brainstorm in the studio about their next VLOG and ‘man in the street’ topics. Listening to their banter helps me learn the lingo and their personal relationship.

Will has not changed a bit since I left Los Angeles – same old anal retentive asshole. It’s fun watching and learning about him. He’s still an avid runner, and like clockwork, he does five miles around a nearby park most mornings. Prager U is just a few miles away and he’s there daily unless he’s traveling. He has a new girlfriend he casually hooks up with but it’s not serious, so that’ll be easy. He writes about meeting her in his diary. He’s got his work schedule planned for the next few months and I know enough to handle it. After a few weeks, my gut is telling me I’m ready to be Will Witt.

Will’s next major trip is to London for a scheduled Turning Point USA promotion/MOTS and speech at Oxford University – same as he did at Stanford. My plan is to replace him when he arrives home. This gives me another 10 days to get up to speed with his life. I watch him pack, see LAX shuttle service pick him up and confirm his plane took off as scheduled. I make myself at home but keep a low profile, rarely going out.

Between his phone and computer, I’m kept busy 24 hours/day just keeping up with his life. He’s definitely a video freak, not only recording content for Prager but also everything else like his hotel room, what he had for breakfast, his shopping excursions. I can’t wait to wear his new $7000 bespoke suit he purchased during his shopping expedition on Saville Row. I listen in on his phone calls with our parents, his friends and girlfriend Lisa. This helps me get up to speed with what’s going on in his life. Mom & Dad meet Will for lunch at his hotel, then go to see Hamilton. There’s plenty of selfies and videos to make his life mine. He’s spending a fortune on food, wine, clothes, cigars and trinkets.

A few hours before he returns, I’m armed with chloroform, truth serum and various knock out drugs. I hide in his bedroom, ready to pounce with a heavily soaked rag of chloroform. It’s almost enough to knock me out just holding it.

HONEY I’M HOME

The door lock jiggles and Will enters, plopping his luggage inside the door. He makes a beeline to kitchen and opens the refrigerator. He’s there quite a while before I hear him dragging his very large suitcases up the stairs. I’m crotched in the corner, behind the door as he struggles to get both bags through. The perfect moment happens when one of the bags get stuck in the door jam and I hear him say ‘fuck’. In a split second, I pounce and have the chloroform soaked rag over his nose and mouth. A split second after that, he almost falls to the floor as I catch him. I drag him out into the hallway, and finish putting his bags in the bedroom.

“Welcome home Will, have a good trip?” I look down at him passed out and ask.

“Awesome trip man, had fun with the TP USA team, saw Hamilton with the parents, and hit up lots of pubs and cigars. I’ll have to show you all the pics I took.” I respond to myself in Will’s typical enthusiastic lingo.

I drag Will to the empty bedroom and start stripping him. Of course, he’s in a sport coat and tie to travel. It’s so ‘Will’ I think as I carefully remove everything from him, amazed at how alike we still are. I strip off my old sweat pants and t-shirt and put them on him. I pull him up into a metal chair I anchored to the floor, then handcuff his hands and feet so he can’t move an inch. I kneel down next to him, grab his face, then rotate it side to side to check his appearance close up. My sideburns are about a quarter inch too long so I head to my bathroom and trim them to match exactly.

I carry ‘my’ clothes back to my new bedroom and slowly start my transformation into Will. I love pulling on the outfit he’s been wearing all day—his sweat and scents mixing with mine. Everything is still warm as I put on his black briefs and socks. His charcoal dress pants fit perfectly as I pull them up. His shirt has gunmetal gray cufflinks and is monogrammed on the sleeve with our initials ‘WCW’. I pulled the black lace up shoes off his feet without untying them. I wiggle into them, tuck in my shirt and fasten my belt. In the bathroom mirror I put on his tie using the same technique dad taught both of us. I pull on his cool black sport coat with large dark gray plaid patterns. There’s a video of him wearing this outfit for red carpet Oscar interviews. I check his breast pockets, locating his iPhone, keys and wallet. Tucked inside an outside pocket are his glasses. Slipping on his ring, leather wrist band and watch completes my transformation into Will Witt. I adjust my hair using his Cremo hair cream—Will is always fussing with his hair. Staring in the mirror, I only see Will Witt, just as he was traveling first class earlier. I grin at myself as I adjust my shirt cuffs and admire my looks. I do his usual MOTS intro flawlessly – “What’s Up Guys”. From this moment on, I’m Will Witt and no one will have a clue I’m not.

My iPhone buzzes in my suit pocket, it’s Will’s girlfriend, Lisa calling.

“Hey Lisa, I just got in the door babe.” I answer watching myself in the mirror, smiling and playing Will flawlessly.

“I thought you would be, I’ve missed you so much Will.” She whispers seductively.

“Same, may I take you out for dinner?” I ask as charmingly as Will does, remembering their conversation from a day ago, and Will promising dinner and a surprise.

“I would love that.”

“Great, I’ll pick you up at 7, Let’s dress up and go someplace nice. I’ll wear a suit and tie.” This gives me the afternoon to get settled into my new life.

“Okay Will, can’t wait.”

“Bye Babe.” Will’s cutesy name he uses for all his girlfriends.

‘It’s show time’ I think to myself. I head back to my brother who’s finally starting to stir from the chloroform. I start slapping his face and he becomes more aware.

“Wake up Willy, Willy wake up.” I say playfully.

He looks confused, slowly recognizing me, his eyes bug out, then starts to struggle. “But you’re dead?”

“Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. Don’t struggle bro, you’ll only hurt yourself.” I laugh at him.

“What’s going on Willy? Why are you in my clothes?”

“From now on, please call me Will and they’re now my clothes. I just got back from London and I’m really jet lagged.” I stand proudly, straighten my tie then reach into my breast pocket for my new wallet.

“Asshole, what do you think you’re doing?” he yells and gets pissed as he’s now fully awake.

“Well, remember when you planted drugs in my locker, turned me into the school principle and ruined my life?”

“Yeah, that was a good one! They all bought it too. Got rid of you for good.” He laughs.

“Well, laugh all you want. I’m borrowing your life.”

“You’ll never get away with this. Whatever you are planning, won’t work.” He predicts.

“Well I’m taking Lisa out to dinner tonight to celebrate my return. In other words, I need pussy but Will doesn’t talk like that. Let me rephrase it – I’m taking my girlfriend out for dinner and hopefully make love to her. Better?” I leaf through my wallet checking it out, pulling out the debit card. “Bro, is your PIN still 8991? I may need some cash for my date. You only have a $40 in here.”

By the look on his face, I know he never changed is PIN. “Thanks bro, just needed to confirm that.”

“She’ll know you’re not me, don’t even try it.”

“Bro, you’re talking to the guy who fooled all your girlfriends in high school. You’ve been dating her for what? About 6 weeks after meeting her at Jen’s last party where you got wasted and don’t remember getting home.”

“You’ve been reading my private diary?”

“Well, you could say it’s my diary. So, I was just reviewing my life for the past few years.” I laugh at him. “Which brings me to a new issue – where should I take her for dinner, and do afterwards?”

“Fuck yourself.” He yells.

“Bro, I’m hoping to fuck her, not myself. You don’t want me to do something brash, ‘unWill like’ and ruin your relationship do you? I bet she doesn’t even know you have a twin brother, am I right?” I laugh at him.

“Willy, what are you doing? Just untie me and I’ll forget this ever happened. I promise.” Trying to soften me up.

“Let’s get this straight, for the time being, I’m Will Witt, you’re nothing, don’t call me that again.” I yell at him. “Now, you’re going to help me be you or I’m going to really fuck up your life. You know I can do it. If you lie to me, there will be repercussions. Do not test me.”

“Okay.” He responds defeated.

“Okay, what?” I demand.

“Okay Will. Lisa loves Italian and there’s this little family owned restaurant called ‘Papa Joe’s’ near her house. She loves it and so do I. That’s where I was planning on taking her tonight. I always get the ‘Lombardo’ dish with an ice tea of course.” He answers defeated.

“That’s good information bro, I really appreciate that.” I watch his face and have always been able to tell when he was lying. “What after that? What are her limits? I need everything to be you with her. Give me the full history.”

He proceeds to tell me everything I need to know about Lisa – at least I hope so.

“Now I need details about my job. I know where you work, and what you do but more details about the people, office layout, where your office is and how I get in?” He gives me looks that could kill. “What’s up guys?” I mock him with his catch phrase.

“My work ID badge gives me complete access anytime. It’s in the front pocket of my backpack. I have an office on the second floor, just left as you get out of the elevator. My name is on the door. You can’t miss it.”

“What do you do when you first get there, in the morning? Routine? Pals? Coffee? conference room? Where do you go for lunch? I need it all Willy. You don’t want me to mess up your perfect little life, do you?” I subtly threaten him.

Once I pump him for everything, I grab the bag from the corner, pull out a needle and inject him. He screams at me for about two minutes then become docile. I walk him to the bathroom and order him to relieve himself. Once secured back in his chair, I give him dose of Midazolam that will keep him out for 12 hours and put a ball gag in his mouth. I shut and lock the bedroom door, head back to my master bedroom finishing my unpacking.

I slip easily into Will’s routine. My shirts and suits will go to my cleaner per the receipts in the Porsche, the rest go into the washer. Carefully tucked inside his luggage is his new Saville Row Huntsman, a few new dress shirts and the Big Ben charm I bought Lisa in London. I can’t help but try on the new suit, admiring the fit and material. I head downstairs and see Will’s work backpack he has with him all the time. I take it down to the studio office and start going through the content…. A few cameras, my passport, iPad and MacBook Pro. There’s a printout of my next Prager assignments and hand notes he made in the margins. I find his work ID, clip it to my suit, repack his backpack and head to the office.

A DAY IN THE LIFE

I’ve followed Will to Prager U but have never stepped foot inside. I pull into an empty parking lot, and park in his assigned spot. Will says no one is ever there but he sometimes goes in to get a jump on Monday. My ID badge opens the main door. I easily find his office and make myself at home. On the wall I notice the signed photograph of Reagan that dad treasures and wonder how Will has it. I plop my backpack on the chair next to my desk and start exploring. I open my MacBook and it starts syncing with the LAN. I easily log in and upload my videos as Will does after all his events, according to his logs.

I explore the entire building and everything is as he described – Boss’ office, video production, media center, studio, executive conference room etc. I confidently walk around taking in the names of my coworkers. In the men’s room, I smile at Will in the mirror and clean out my coffee mug.

Back in the office, I settle into my desk and go thru my drawers, check my work email and respond to some. I hear someone coming up the stairs, calling my new name, approaching my office. I recognize it immediately as Will’s producer and friend – Mike.

“In here.” I yell out to him.

He pops his head around the corner. “Welcome back, how was your flight?”

“Uneventful, good to be home but jet lag.” I casually answer.

“My flight yesterday was delayed an hour from Chicago but not too bad.”

I heard their last conversation before Will took off this am, and continued it. “I’m good with the final edits from MOTS, just uploaded it so Alexander can add the graphics.”

I pull up the video, knowing Will made a few cuts on the flight over, and show it to him.

“You’ve been busy man, looks great. You want to grab lunch?”

“Sure, you drive and pick.” I can’t resist the thought of testing my ‘Will skills’.

Mike takes me to ‘In & Out’ for burgers. He doesn’t suspect a thing, readily accepting me as his friend and coworker. We talk about the trip, work and future trips. I feel as if I was actually there. He drops me off and I head back to my office and continue to familiarize myself with everything for a few more hours.

My big test will be ‘my’ girlfriend Lisa. I stay in Will’s slick outfit, donning his favorite Ray-Bans for the drive. She’s waiting for me outside and jumps into my car. Her unexpected full tongue kiss surprises me but I quickly adjust and give her full tongue back. We make out for a minute then I take her to Papa Joe’s. Will was telling the truth, Lisa lights up as I pull in front and valet the Porsche. I use my brother’s pics, diary, blogs and text messages to talk about my London trip. When desert comes, I spring the Big Ben charm on her. She leans in tenderly, kisses me deeply and invites me to spend the night.

At her place, we strip and jump right into bed. In minutes, she’s moaning as I work her pussy, slowly penetrating it with the tip of my head. She starts moaning softly ‘oh Will, oohhh Will’ making me harder, pushing deeper into her as she climaxes. I explode in her, then collapse onto my back as she curls up under my arm and we fall to sleep. She wakes me up with a blow job and homemade pancakes – Will’s favorite she notes. I’m not a big pancake fan but eat them eagerly as Will would. I’ve replaced Will completely and now have his sexy girlfriend.

DAY TWO

I check on Willy when I get home and he’s starting to stir. My schedule today calls for video editing at Prager U with Gavi and Mike. I take a quick shower put on an outfit that screams ‘preppy conservative’ – which isn’t difficult as that’s all Will has in his closet, making my job easy.

I pop my head in to the bedroom and see that he’s wide awake.

“Morning sunshine.” I cheerfully say.

“Let me the fuck out of these straps now!” he mumbles as I remove the ballgag.

“Sure thing, but first a little shot so you can take a dump and eat a little something. Hungry?”

“No, don’t drug me, it’s a fucking weird feeling.” He pleas.

“Sorry man, I can’t chance you getting free and having a fake Will running around.”

“You’re the fake Will, ass wipe.” He screams.

“Hmmm Lisa and Mike didn’t think so. I ran into Mike in the office yesterday while uploading my latest VLOG and MOTS video, then had lunch with him. He’s a good friend of mine. Oh, and Lisa… Damn did I hit her sweet spot last night as she moaned my name softly in my ears. She really loved the Big Ben charm I got her and the ‘Big Will’ I gave her. I think I’m in love bro.” I grab my crotch so he knows what I’m talking about.

“You fucking bastard!! Fucking asshole!! You’ll be caught. You can’t slip into my life that easily.” He screams.

“Now, now, Willy. Guess you didn’t notice the video and audio bugs I installed throughout my new condo or the keystroke tracker on your computers. I’ve been catching up with you since Stanford. Your condo manager was gracious enough to give me a key after you lost it.” I run and grab my iPad and play some of the videos for him, then I show him the cloned phone and play his last conversation with Mike.

“Guess I don’t need this cloned phone any longer. I have to admit, you’re quite the busy person. Your phone never stops ringing and beeping but don’t worry, I’m keeping up.”

“Fuck you Willy! When I get free, you’re going to jail or worst.”

“If you get free, which I doubt. If you haven’t noticed, you’re bolted to the floor. Oh, don’t worry, I’ll have new carpet installed at some point. Nice thing bro – between my bank account and yours, I’m quite wealthy with a lot of future potential. In fact, after this gig, I’m thinking of running for office. Dad would love it and back me financially.”

He mutters. “Fucker.”

“Hey bro, don’t worry, I’m taking good care of your life. Enjoying it immensely, especially Lisa. She really knows how to wake me up but I’m not big on the pancakes.”

He thrashes back and forth in the chair screaming more obscenities at me.

“Bro, seriously, how do I look? Do you approve my work outfit? I’ve noticed this sport coat is one of your favorites. Oh, and my new suit from London fits great and feels incredible. I just had to try it on.” I taunt him while adjusting my shirt sleeves and checking my watch.

“What are you doing here?” he quietly demands.

“Well the drug career pays quite well but is extremely dangerous. After seeing you at Stanford, I decided a career change was necessary. Don’t you agree it’s a good career move?”

“You’ll never fool them for long. There are things only I could know. You’ll tripped up. What about mom and dad?”

“Are you serious?” I laugh out loud. “Mom and dad could never tell us apart, you know that. I did visit the house while you were in London and from the pictures displayed, it looks like I, Will, am an only child. They’re the least of my worries.”

“Oh, they’ll know you’re not me.”

“Why would they? Just look at me bro. I was always a better you than you, when I wanted to be. I do have to get fully up to speed with my new life, friends and girlfriend but that’s what all my new drugs are for. I kind of like your style so I’ll only wear what you already have in your closet. I’m enjoying your preppy style. I think I’m rocking the Will look, you have to admit it.” I tug on my sleeves not interested in his rants.

“What about work?” He counters.

“Oh bro, that’ll be easy too. I’ve watched all your videos – the work and personal, edited and unedited. I taught myself iMovie to edit my MOTSs for uploading. I’ve seen you brainstorm with Mike on MOTS topics and question. It’s amazing how we even think alike politically. I’m ahead of schedule for today. Like the anal person you are, I was in the office all afternoon while you were sleeping. I cleaned out my scummy coffee mug, organized my desk and left a note for Alexander on the graphics I’d like to see before the end of today. I can’t wait to meet the boss, have been a fan of his for years.”

“You can’t be me!” He slumps his shoulder in deeper defeat.

“I am you, no one will have a clue I’m not.”

I inject him with truth serum and a powerful muscle relaxer. By the time I come back with breakfast, he’s docile and defeated. A few protein bars, quick trip to bathroom and he’s safely secured again. The truth serum is remarkable. I have a totally different discussion with him.

“Hey bro, how do I look? You like?” I spin around to model my outfit.

“I’ve worn that exact outfit before I think.”

“Thank you, now see, it wasn’t too hard to be nice, now was it?”

He spills his guts to me about all his coworkers, and what he thinks of them. While he’s drugged, I hit him up on family issues and his feelings towards me. He basically threatens to kill me and will since I’m already dead. It’s been on his mind since he woke up chained to the chair. I snicker to myself, knowing he’s the one who’s days are numbered. It’s almost time for work today, so I knock him out for another 12 hours.

My first day of work is a breeze. I visit Alexander and review the graphics I want. Mike and I review the schedule and brainstorm future MOTSs and VLOGs. Will has the easy part and probably makes the most money. Prager’s staff writes his MOTS questions and helps him with upcoming speeches. He provides the topic, they handle it from there. Will was good enough to do my outline for his University of Texas speech next week. I turn them in and talk to Marissa, our content producer. I have the best gig – I just need to be the hip preppy conservative face of Prager U and get to travel all around the world.

When I’m leaving Marrisa’s office, I run into Dennis Prager, the president of Prager University. He puts his arm around me and leads me back to his office.

“Will, good to see you, how was London? I just saw your rough video and it’s great”

“Thank you, Mr. Prager. London was great.” I respond and his face immediately looks puzzled.

“Since when am I Mr. Prager?”

“Dennis, sorry it just came out. I’m still out of sorts with jet lag and the British are so formal.” I try to recover.

“I understand boy, plus you probably had too much wine and cigars I’m sure.”

“I sure did. I brought a few Charatan Robustos back with me” I chuckle knowing their conversations about them and using them to solidify my identity.

“And you’re not sharing? Will, Will, Will, how could you?”

“I’ll bring them in tomorrow.”

“Let’s grab lunch son.”

I can’t believe I’m having lunch with Dennis Prager. He’s thrilled with ‘my’ work, wants me to do more TV appearances like Fox & Friends but also liberal networks. My ratings are through the roof. I talk about my London trip, showing him pics of my parents and selfies I took. We talk politics, going back and forth on issues. We get back to the office and I easily fit in and learn the ropes. By the end of the day, I’m very pleased with my new life. I pass on happy hour claiming I’m still of out sorts due to jet lag.

CHECKING IN

Back home I check Willy. He’s awake but groggy.

“What’s up guy? How was your day?” I ask cockily as I strut in.

“How do you think, you sick fuck.”

“So sorry to hear that. My day was awesome. My latest VLOG and MOTS are killing it. I had lunch with my friend Dennis and he wants me to do more TV spots. It was probably the best day of your life, I mean my life.”

“My life! You fucker, my life.” He screams with pure rage.

“Wow bro, you smell. We’ll have to get you a shower but first I need to change. Be right back.”

I run to my closet and throw on a pair of running shorts and a Prager t-shirt. I keep my cell phone on me as it’s been going off all day. When I get back to Willy, he starts yelling at me.

“What are you up to? Did you get me fired? The truth, you owe me that at least.”

I laugh. “Now why would I mess up my career bro?”

“It’s my life and career. You’re going to pay for this you fucking asshole.” He continues to rant.

“I’ve had enough of you already.” I grab the ball gag, shove it in his mouth and he starts thrashing again. My phone rings, it’s Mike calling.

“Hey Mike, What’s up?” Willy’s eye light up watching me.

“No, I’m fine, it was just jetlag and you know me…I tried all the beers and cigars in the pubs…Yeah buddy…thanks for your concern.” I hang up and look at Willy. “Hey that Jetlag excuse will be good for another few days till I get the groove completely.”

He starts mumbling again but the phone rings again with Lisa calling.

“Hey babe, how was your day?” I sincerely ask. Willy starts squirming and getting louder.

“Hey babe, hang on, I’ve got my producer calling.” I put her on hold, walk over to Willy and gut punch him with all my force. I impale him and he shuts up.

“Sorry babe, did I thank you for last night?...Oh yeah, I’d love to but I’ve got a lot to catch up with…My parents are coming back Wednesday from their European vacation and we’re suppose to do dinner Thursday? Would love for you to meet them….Okay… love ya.”

“Bro, see how easy this gig is for me? I still need you for some additional information like the combination to the safe in your office.” He stares at me but is keeping quiet. I grab my little box of drugs and mellow Willy out. A quick shower, shit and change of clothes and he’s back in his chair. I feed him a sub and water that he quickly inhales.

“Now Willy, what’s the number to my safe?”

“Go fuck yourself.” he mumbles.

“Willy, you know I could give you some truth serum or beat it out of you.”

“17858” he spits out as in disgust.

I head down to his safe and open it up. Inside is a gun, his birth certificate, social security card, and a stack of other seemingly important papers. I grab it all and take head up to review with Willy.

“Nice Glock Willy, let’s review what’s in my safe and why it’s there. Some quality bonding time. Most of this I know but the rest?” I ask nicely.

“My contract with Prager U, noncompete, mom & dad’s will, my will, some stocks dad gave me.”

I leaf through it, reading it all and ignoring Willy. In between docs, I feed him some granola bars from the kitchen. I play with the unloaded gun in front of him, on purpose. I’ll have a use for it soon.

“Ok brother, more work questions. There’s ‘PR shots’ on calendar for tomorrow afternoon. What’s with that?”

“Joel, our CMO set them up. It’s just ‘glamour’ pics for his new marketing campaign.”

“Oh, so that’s what my new suit is for I’m guessing. The email to Joel saying you’re all set after you bought it?”

“Yeah, please don’t fuck things up for me Willy. I’ve worked hard this past year.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m Will.” I gut punch him again.

“I’m sorry Will.” He cries in pain.

“That’s better Willy. So, tell me what to expect.”

“Easy, take suit to work, some of my shirts, ties and jewelry. Collette in our makeup will take care of the rest. Just smile and do what they tell you in front of the camera.” he answers, still in pain.

“Shoes?”

“The black derbies I had on yesterday, I bought for shoot specifically, wanted them broken in. Doesn’t matter though – they only shoot from waist up.”

“Now that’s more like it. Don’t fight me, help me so I don’t fuck up your life.” as if he’s ever getting it back, I think to myself.

“Yes Will.”

HANGING WITH FRIENDS

“Now, my friend Tommy wants to go out tonight, grab dinner. What would ‘Will’ do?”

“He wants to do 71Above – it’s the highest restaurant west of the Mississippi. Tricia, his friend is host there and can get us in. Very high end, suit and tie required.”

“That sounds great.”

“Yeah, he’s picking me up, I’m paying.”

“I’m paying!” I correct him. “What were you going to wear?”

“There’s a black Tom Ford suit with a red lapel pin on it, I’ve only worn it once for a few hours. White shirt and any tie.”

“Oh yes, my outfit from the Prager gala where I played ‘blue moon’ on the piano. What tie, what shirt?” I demand.

He looks at me shocked. “There’s a new gold paisley tie, white spread collar shirt with cufflinks.”

“Why thank you brother. I better go and get ready.” I shove another granola bar in his mouth.

I easily assemble the outfit he was going to wear. After all my spying, I’m sure I would have selected something as tasteful. I skip the gold paisley and decide on a ‘men in black’ look, almost exactly as he had on at the gala. A quick shower, 20 minutes with my hair and another 20 to dress and I’m still 36 minutes early for Tommy.

“How do I look Willy? Now be honest.” I ask walking into the bedroom.

He checks me out head to toe. “You look good Will. You’re wearing my good watch?”

“My good watch brother, remember? You wore your smaller ring at the gala but I stuck with what I had on coming back from London. I think I looks great. Went with the gold black onyx cufflinks. And dude I even had my name embossed inside the suit, sweet!” I open up my jacket.

“You’ve been watching my videos.” He realizes.

“Of course, and reading your diary, all the way back to when dad drove me to ‘New Starts’ and abandoned me. I’m good Willy, been watching you for a month.”

Just then my phone rings in breast pocket. I pull it out and see it’s Tommy.

“Now keep quiet Willy or you know what’ll happen.” I warn him as I answer. “What’s up Tommy? On your way…yeah early is good, I’m ready… Okay, that sounds good, see you soon.”

“Please don’t drug me bro, I’ll be quiet, I promise.”

“Sorry Willy, can’t take any chances. Besides, Tommy mentioned about having a drink when he gets here. Sounds like it’s routine for you guys. What does he drink?”

“Rum and Coke, lots in the fridge just for him.”

I grab the knock out needle and give him a dose. He doesn’t fight me at all.

“Why thank you bro. I’ll see you later tonight maybe, if you’re awake.” I laugh as I leave and lock the door.

Tommy walks in without knocking, making his way to my bar as I make my way down the stairs. He sees me and lifts the glasses.

“The usual?”

“Sure, sounds good to me.” he’s right at home, grabbing the rum and coke.

“Cheers!” he hands me one, we clink glasses and swig.

I follow Tommy’s lead the entire evening but I know enough about Will to discuss his trip, girlfriend and work. Tommy talks about his auditions for a few movies and a commercial. Sadly for him, I’m a bigger celebrity than he is, as a few people ask for my autograph while waiting to be seated. Tricia has seats for us right next to the window with the best view of LA. It a fun night as a few of Tricia’s friends join us. It’s easy playing Will and his friends. I have everything put on my tab. Thank god he has an early audition for a new Marvel movie, so we leave and I’m home by midnight.

MORE WORK

I’m up early but Willy is out cold still. He looks like death, probably from all the injections and being upright on the chair for days. Not that I really care as it gives me more ‘Will Time’. To keep in character, I put on some of his work out gear, grab my iPod and do my usual run around the park. I work up quite the sweat but it probably helps with all the alcohol Tommy and I consumed. I check on Willy and he’s now awake and not happy. A quick injection allows me to get him relieved and toss him in the shower. He’s not putting up any resistance so I give him breakfast, leave him in the tub but making sure to securely handcuff him to a grip bar. I take my morning shower in the same shower so I can keep an eye on him.

Willy is so beaten that he’s stopped resisting completely and is cooperative even. Believing that by helping me, I’ll get what I want from him and leave him to his old life. What he’s doing is sealing his fate faster. Once I no longer need him, we’ll head up to my parent’s cabin in the mountains and he’ll be fertilizer.

After I towel off, I sit on the toilet seat next to Willy.

“How you feeling Willy?” I ask trying to sound concerned.

“Please Will, can I stay here in the tub all day? I promise I’ll be good.”

“I think I can do that but you have to be knocked out. But sure thing. Tommy is a fun guy bro. He sure loves his rum & cokes. We had a blast. I think he was hurt that women were coming up to me for my autograph but not him.”

“Yeah, that’s happened before when we’re out.” He looks really down.

“What is it bro? you look sad.”

“What do you think? I’m chained up and I can’t believe people are falling for your act.” he gets a little feisty.

“Come on bro, how could they not think I was anybody but Will Witt? Don’t worry, no one suspects a thing, so we’re good but I need your help with today’s schedule – sorta of ‘what would Will do’ session just to make sure I don’t fuck anything up for you. Okay?”

“Sure Will, it’s what I live for.” he responds sarcastically.

“How do you come up with the topics for your MOTSs?”

“Who do you think? Dad, you know how opinionated he is. When we had dinner in London, he rattled off six topics for me to cover and things he’d ask these snowflakes.”

“Ah I thought you sounded a lot like dad when interviewing people. That explains the notes on your iPad. By the way, I’m having dinner with the rents Friday night, having them meet Lisa.” I just smile at him. “Now about today’s pics, what should I wear? ‘What would Will wear’?”

“We’ve been through this – my new bespoke suit.”

“Exactly what you’d wear today – into the office and for the shoot. I’m just trying to help you Willy.”

“Dennis is always pushing for me in more suits and ties, to be taken more seriously outside the campus forum. Keep it simple – black button down shirt, my charcoal brooks brothers suit. For the shoot, the bespoke of course and take all my new dress shirts and ties, many pairs of cufflinks. I love my gold paisley tie, the one you wore last night. Hopefully you didn’t ruin it.”

“No, I went with a black tie, so the paisley is fine.”

“There’s a large suit bag in the back of my closet that can hold everything you’ll need.’

“I have to tell you bro, I’m gaining a real appreciation for your closet. My tastes have really matured in the past months. What’s with the glasses though?”

“They’re for eye strain bro, giving my eyes a break now from the contact lenses. I also wear them for important interviews or meetings where I want to look more mature and smarter.”

“Well your glasses and contacts work great for me too. My eyes have been changing but I never had them checked. Now, what about the shoot? Who’s going to be there? How does it work? What does Will do?” I press him.

“It’s a larger version of my down stair studio. Someone will come get me when it’s my turn, take me to changing room, then make up, then to the set – green screen. It’s easy really. There’ll be people in and out all day long.”

“People like who?”

“Candace, Charlie Kirk, Dave Rubin, Guy Benson and many others. It’ll be a few days of craziness.”

“Nice! Do I have any nicknames or personal things with any of them? Like, how do you address Candace? or Charlie?” He stutters and hesitates. “Spill it or more drugs. Besides, you don’t want me to fuck up anything with your friends now do you?”

“Candace is ‘Candy’ jokingly, she’s getting married in a few weeks.” He continues with the others. I’ll use the information but it sounds childish – something a more mature, evolving Will would never use. I’ll phase that nonsense out.

“Good to know. Thanks. I’ve got to get ready for work.” I grin at him.

Dennis Prager alluded to my evolving image during lunch and that I should be wearing more conservative outfits. I agree completely with the boss and love the image. With that in mind, I ignore Willy’s suggestion and go ultra conservative. I remember a beautiful light blue shirt with white contrasting collar and cuffs that ‘I’ve’ worn a few times. It would be ultra conservative with my gray Brooks.

In Will fashion, I lay out my work outfit on the bed, adding all the details. When I’m satisfied, I pull it on my underwear and socks, pull on my pants. After I add the belt, I pull on the Brooks shirt. To keep with the Brooks theme, as Will likes to do, I select the Brooks tie that he wore previously. The whole image screams ultra conservative and looks great. I add white gold cufflinks, his smaller ring and gold watch. I pull on the jacket and stare at myself in the mirror. I put some gel in my hair then fix it exactly as in the pic I found in an old MOTS video. Oh, almost forgot my tie clip. He’s famous on Instagram for his tie clips? I clip one on and it completes my image. I flash a Will smile and fingers. “What’s Up Guys?”.

I must have nailed the look because when I entered the toilet, Willy’s mouth dropped. In the bathroom mirror, I admire myself, tug on my cuffs and adjust my tie. I don’t say a word.

“Well aren’t you Will Witt.” He comments snidely but I ignore him for a few more minutes as I run my hand thru my hair.

“Who else would I be?” I turn around to face him. “What’s Up Guys, Will Witt for Prager U.” flash my peace sign to him, pretending I’m holding a microphone.

“Probably a better choice for today. No pocket square Will?”

“Oh shit, totally didn’t notice.”

“In drawer under jewelry box.” He answers me without even asking. I run to his closet, find a nice silk white one neatly folded in a square. I tuck it in my suit pocket and check myself out in the mirror quickly.

“Better?” He’s silent.

I pull out his preppy glasses and put on and off. “Glasses, no glasses?” I look at him.

“I don’t care, up to you.”

“Know what, think I’ll have pics taken both ways. I think they make me look older, which would kill my ‘frat boy’ image on college campuses but might help me with the older generation.” I turn to look at his expression but he looks broken. “I love this suit bro, it fits me great. I made sure the knot was right by noting the length of the tie, and location of stripes. Not used to wearing one, almost forgot the tie clip – my fans would have blown up over such a faux pas.”

“True, they watch everything I post.”

“Ok bro, I need to get to work, busy day ahead. I’ll probably be late tonight because Mike wants to do Furley’s for happy hour. I’ll let you in the bathtub so you’re comfortable but how about something to help you sleep?”

“No don’t do that please, I’ll be good.” He begs.

I ignore him, grab the needle and knock him out for the day.

I jump in my 911 and head in for another day in the life of Will Witt. The suit bag weighs about 30lbs and takes up the entire seat of my 911. Everyone accepts me and I keep learning more and more. The lingo is coming naturally to me. The routine of emails, small talk and understanding my role is easy.

I hang my suit bag and jacket on the back of my office door, grab my coffee mug and ease into the day. Just before lunch, Nicki, one of the film staff comes for me – it’s my turn. I’m seated in in one of the dressing rooms, in a makeup chair, in front of the mirror. Collette comes in all smiles.

“Will, you’re looking great.”

“You too, so let’s get started. I’ve got a lot to do today on top of these pics.”

“There’s something we’d like to do different this time.”

“Oh yeah? That sounds ominous.”

“Well, how about we cut your hair some?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that Collette, it’s my signature, my “conservative with the best hair”.” Sounding uncertain for effect.

“Well, I was talking to Dennis and Joel, and we feel you should be the focus, not your hair. We’re not talking about shaving your head, just toning down the cowlick some. If you don’t like, it’ll be back in a few months.”

I think about it for a minute, running my hand through my cowlick, looking at Will in the mirror. I’ve seen videos where the wind destroys his giant flop, part of his gig but in the end, I nod in approval and let Prager U redo my image.

The ‘Will’ PR shoot was so simple, but time consuming. They brought in some famous stylist from West Hollywood to cut my hair – it took an hour! They went through my suit bag and laid out a number of outfits but didn’t question my taste. They took multiple pics of me in 5 different outfits including what I wore in this morning. I was there for hours. At the end of the day, we head to Furley’s as planned for happy hour. I left on my new suit and last outfit I was photographed in. What a happy hour – hanging with Charlie Kirk, Ben Shapiro and other famous conservatives was incredible. Thanks to Will’s unedited interview videos, I knew exactly what small talk he had with a number of these conservative celebrities and played them perfectly.

When I get home, my first stop is to taunt Willy still tied up in bathtub.

“Hey bro, this suit is simply amazing. You were right, the shoot was really easy, except for having to change every 20 minutes. Like my haircut?” I tease

“What did you do to my hair?”

“Willy, remember, it’s my hair. It’s a shorter, more mature, conservative cut. Everyone loves it. I still have the best hair of any conservative. I texted it to mom and she loves it too.” I open up the iPhone and scroll thru pics from the shoot, then laugh and leave to change into sweats. Following the same routine, I inject Willy, help him to bathroom, feed him and put him to bed. In just a few days, he’s totally changed from being in control to being dependent. He’s definitely a shadow of himself but I’m now casting his shadow.

Every day as Will gets easier as I seamlessly take over his life. I’m sure I’ve slipped up a few times but since no one knows Will has a twin, who would suspect me? Wednesday at work was incredible. I helped with the rest of the PR shoot, chatted with all of my new conservative friends. I especially liked talking to Dave Rubin and Candace Owens. I had dinner with everyone that evening and it went really late. By the time I got home, Willy had wetted himself. I was so pissed that I shoved a hot pocket in his mouth, hosed him off and drugged him heavily.

On Thursday Gavi and I do a man on the street, at Santa Monica Pier. I nailed it – quickly picking up Will’s attitude and methods. It was easy after watching all his videos from the past year. Back in the office I sit down with Gavi, edit his video and work with Alexander to add the graphics.

Willy is awake when I get home. His eyes scan me from top to bottom then he starts yelling through the ball gag.

“Hang on Willy.” I pop out the ball gag.

“I hate you Willy and I’m done playing your game.” He spits and hits me on my shorts.

I gut punch him with all my force, then inject him to keep him docile. “Now Willy, we’ll get you on the potty and fed quickly. I don’t have a lot of time, Lisa and I are going to dinner at mom and dad’s. I really like her.”

I get Willy settled, take a quick shower and head out to pick up Lisa. Dinner is a breeze as Lisa is the center of attention. There’s no discussion of Willy at all – just about me and how proud they are of everything I’m doing. As I expected, they were totally clueless I wasn’t their precious little Will. I have to admit, it felt great being home. I showed Lisa my old bedroom and got a BJ on Will’s bed. It was like old times, like his other girlfriends I fooled. Mom and dad announced they’re heading to Hawaii to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary and ask me to watch the house while they’re gone. More time to get reacquainted with my new life as their loving son Will. I spend the night at Lisa’s but get up early to take care of things at home, then work.

Willy is awake and pissed more when I check in on him.

“Morning Willy.” I cheerfully announce.

“You’re Willy asswipe.” He yells back.

I gut punch him with all my force. “Don’t make me repeat myself Willy, now who am I?”

“You’re Will, Will Witt.” He’s barely able to speak, I hit him so hard.

“Now that’s much better Willy. Let’s get you to the bathroom and fed.” I inject him and continue talking while it takes effect.

“So, mom and dad love Lisa bro. I think she’s really falling for me. She gave me a BJ in my old bedroom. Sadly, your old bedroom is now a workout room with no trace of you at all. I showed Lisa my swimming and track trophies, tried on my old letterman jacket and gave her the whole Will Witt history. Can you believe mom and dad are celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary? I can’t!” I lay it on thick as the caring son that Will is.

“Fuck off.” The mumbles.

“Oh Willy, don’t make me hurt you more.” I warn him. I can see the drugs have kicked in, and start untying him. Just as I loosen the last night, Willy tries a fast one on me, trying to tackle me to the floor. I’ve wrestled him too many times and know his ‘plays’ and another gut punch and I’m dragging him into the bathroom. A quick shower, shit and breakfast bar and he’s good for another 12 hours.

Once he’s secured, I jump in shower and prep for another day in the office. Fridays are so routine with a team strategy meeting for upcoming projects/videos/content. This is followed by lunch and office time till happy hour at Furley’s. After happy hour, I meet Lisa and a bunch of her friends out for more drinks and dancing, then back to her place.

END OF THE ROAD

I’m up early and skip out of Lisa’s, telling her I have some chores to do for my parents and I’ll be tied up all weekend. Willy is awake and thrashing about trying to get loose. I enter the bedroom smiling, and clap my hands.

“Willy, good news! Road trip bro! We’re going to the cabin to take care of some things for Dad. I thought you’d enjoy it.”

He stares at me, blood shot eyes, a week of facial hair, looking like crap. “Good, could I sleep in one of the bunk beds?”

“Sure thing bro, then we’ll talk about next steps here.” He calms down, feeling better, probably thinking he’s getting his life back. He’s not.

I drug him, give him a shower, get him dressed and fed. The next morning, I get him ready for 4 hour trip to the cabin. The dosage I gave him should keep him out for most of the trip. I pack some clothes and fishing gear in case I get the urge. We leave at 5am to avoid any traffic.

He sleeps the entire journey and I don’t stop once. I’m careful to drive the speed limit to not attract any attention from state police. I pull up to the cabin before 9am. There’s no one around, no one on the lake even – all peaceful and quiet. With Willy securely tied up in the car, I walk around the cabin inspecting the place, reminiscing about our family outings and fishing trips. In the rear about 500 feet from the house is an old well that’s been dry for years. Dad has been talking about filling it in for safety for years, but never did. It’s the perfect place to hide a body.

When I get back to the car, Willy is stirring. I help him out of the car and walk him inside the cabin.

“Will, untie me please. My arms and wrists are killing me.” He pleas.

“Sure thing.” Knowing he’s drugged still and couldn’t run anywhere or harm me.

We walk out to the back porch and I hand him a coke and sandwich. He sits on the step eating and enjoying the partial view of the lake. I laced the coke with enough fentanyl to kill him – he’ll just pass out and die peacefully.

“So what’s the plan Will? I guessing this is it for me. Am I right.” As he takes a large chug of the coke.

“Yeah that’s about it Willy. You won’t feel a thing though, you’ll just fall asleep. Hope you enjoyed the coke, no after taste?”

“Nah, it tasted fine. You know I need a few cokes a day to keep the energy up.”

“Yeah, it’s a habit I’ve had to adopt. You know Willy, I’ve always been a better you and this life is perfect for me. Don’t worry, I love my new life and have seamlessly integrated into it. I’ll take good care of it.”

He’s in a daze now, the drug is kicking in. I help him up and over to an Adirondack chair near the fire pit. He puts his head back and starts breathe erratically. Within minutes he stops breathing. I waste no time stripping and dumping him in the well. I grab a shovel and start shoveling dirt into the well until I can’t see any evidence. For good measure I add another foot of dirt on top of that.

I’m exhausted after that, take a shower and dress in clean clothes. In town I grab a bite at Palmer’s diner – a dive with good food. As I’m sitting there finishing up with a piece of Apple pie, Rob Decker, an old friend of me and Will come up to me. He’s a local who owns a few small businesses, most inherited from his father.

“Will! How are you man? Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?” He grabs my hand and shakes it hard.

“Rob, good to see you! Dad asked me to check on the cabin and I needed a break from LA. I’m heading back to tomorrow.”

“Dude, got your gear?”

“Of course, was going to try the old creek before heading home.”

“I’ll join you, heck, even Tommy will go. He’ll be thrilled to see you. He was talking about your videos on Facebook.”

“Sound great Rob, stop by tomorrow morning whenever.”

Back at the cabin, I start a campfire and relax. Once it’s burning good, I grab Willy’s clothes and toss it all in. I have an overwhelming sense of accomplishment and freedom now. I have a few beers and watch the fire slowly burn out. Sunday morning Rob and Tommy show up at 6am. They don’t even mention my brother Willy even though we were all friends growing up. We have a blast and they want to come to the big city and party with me soon.

I fly back late Sunday afternoon and clean up my condo – unmounting the chair, smoothing over the holes in my carpet, cleaning the bathroom and tossing out the rest of Willy’s clothes. I call Lisa and invite her to my place tomorrow night for dinner and love making.

Monday morning I’m in full Will Witt mode. I wake up and take my run, shower and fuss with my hair for 20 minutes. In keeping with Dennis’ wishes, I up my conservative appearance to match my new haircut. My new bespoke Saville Row suit anchors my identity as the only Will Witt. It’s teamed with my favorite blue Brooks Brothers shirt with white contrasting cuffs and collars. I pair it with my new shoes and favorite tie I’ve worn a few times. Joel loves my new attitude and appearance. At lunch, I pull a typical Will move – I escape to a nearby restaurant, hang out and work on my schedule as is habit.

Life is great now. I have tons of friends and fans. Prager U is very lucrative and I’m in demand across the US and world for speaking appearances. No one suspects I’m not Will. I love the notoriety and acceptance. I even love my preppy wardrobe and new style. It’s grown on me and I’ll maintain it.

#twin #imposter #transformation #revenge #straight sex #stolen identity #evil twin #twin swap

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filmsmakkari · 3 years ago

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Congratulations

Wordcount- 1.7k

Hamilton!Tom Holland x Angelica!Reader

Tom Holland x Princess!Reader

I would recommend listening to the song here!

Full Series Masterlist

Your time in Hasnaa was joyous. You wished you could have stayed there forever, but you most unfortunately had to return to your husband, and your disastrous marriage in London. With him, the days were drab and dull. It felt as if every day dragged on longer than the last, but drag on they did, and before you knew it, five years had passed.

You were sitting at the end of the table what felt like miles away from your husband, when a servant entered with a letter in her hand.

“It’s from Prince Phillip, your grace.” The servant girl curtsied before exiting.

“Thank you,” you said as you opened the letter.

It read:

My Dear Aunt,

Cold is my heart as I reckon with the affects my father’s whims have had on our family name. I’m not sure if word has yet reached you there in London, but I must most regretfully inform you that our dear Duke of Saataun has had a most unfortunate affair with the young Countess Nadia Renoylds. Apparently, it took place when we were visiting grandfather at the Fadar da Hasnaa, a considerable time indeed. He also had the privity and connivance of the count, whom he paid off to not tell mother. Apparently, the entire affair was an elaborate scheme on the Renoylds’ part. Their most intricate plan was for the countess to seduce father into an affair, and then blackmail him. If father did not find himself in a prosperous enough position to put wealth into their pockets, they would tell mother of the affair. Of course, this all took place many years ago, and father did pay the count off. None of this would have come to light if those vultures Anthony Monroe, Christopher Jefferson, and Aaron Blackwell hadn’t accused father of embezzlement. To prove his innocence, father published an essay entitled “The Reynolds Pamphlet”in which he admits the truth of his affair, and how he did not in fact embezzle money, but rather used it to pay off his mistress’s husband. In truth it isn’t much better, but he committed no crimes. He might have mortally wounded his prospects, but his papers are orderly, that is a fact none can deny. I have attached a copy of The Reynolds Pamphlet with this letter so that you may read it yourself. Tis no surprise that my mother is outraged. She has father sleeping in his office, and last night as I was passing her cracked bedroom door, I saw her setting fire to all the hundreds of letters he’s written to her. I know it is much to ask of you, seeing as you are the ruler of a large realm, but if you could journey here to see her, I’m sure it would be much consolation. With our dear Peggy sick in Paris, you are the only of her sisters with the ability to make the journey. Please consider.

Votre neveu le plus adorant et le plus vrai,

Prince Phillip of Saataun

Your heart sank as you read your nephew’s words. You quickly took the “Reynolds Pamphlet” from under his letter and read it.

It Read:

I owe perhaps to my friends an apology for condescending to give a public explanation. A just pride with reluctance stoops to a formal vindication against so despicable a contrivance and is inclined rather to oppose to it the uniform evidence of an upright character.

The charge against me is a connection with one Anthony Reynolds. For purposes of improper speculation, my real crime is an amorous connection with his wife, for a considerable time with his knowing consent, if not originally brought on by a combination between the husband and wife with the design to extort money from me. I had frequent meetings with her, most of them in my own house, the Duchess with our children being absent on a visit to the King.

This confession is not made without a blush. I cannot be the apologist of any vice because the ardour of passion may have made it mine. I can never cease to condemn myself for the pang, which it may inflict in a bosom eminently intitled to all my gratitude, fidelity and love. But that bosom will approve, that even at so great an expence, I should effectually wipe away a more serious stain from a name, which it cherishes with no less elevation than tenderness. The public too will I trust excuse the confession. The necessity of it to my defence against a more heinous charge could alone have extorted from me so painful an indecorum.

The essay went on for several more paragraphs, but you could not bear to read any more. Your heart felt as if it was cracking as you thought of your dear Eliza. Oh, all the pain she must have been in. How could Thomas, your Thomas have done such a thing? How could he have hurt your sister in such a way? The anger must have been clear in your eyes, as your husband suddenly spoke.

“What is it?” his monotone voice asked. He barely even looked up from his newspaper.

“My dear sister, Eliza, and our brother, Thomas seem to have been involved in a scandal. I must return home immediately.”

“Oh, well you do that. I shall remain here.”

Oh, of course, he was. You held back an eye roll as you stood and went to your quarters to begin packing.

You booked passage on a ship that was heading for Saataun the next day and quickly made your way home. Your carriage was awaiting your arrival when you stepped off the docks, and you immediately directed him to Eliza’s palace. When you knocked on the door, to your surprise, it was answered by your nephew, Phillip, now fourteen years old. You hugged him tightly.

“Where is your mother, Phillip?” you asked as you released the boy.

“At the store, I believe. But father’s just upstairs, in his office.”

You thanked the young boy before rushing up the stairs and into Thomas’s office.

His eyes widened at the sight of you. “(Y/N)?”

“I came as soon as I heard,” you said flatly.

“Oh, (Y/N), thank God,” he rose and walked towards you, taking your hands and trying to kiss it “someone who understands what I’m struggling here to do-” he paused as you snatched your hand away from him.

“(Y/N)?”

“Congratulations, Thomas.”

He looked at you confused.

“You have invented a new kind of stupid! A damage you could never undo kind of stupid, an open all the cages in the zoo kind of stupid! Truly, you didn’t think this through, did you?”

You gestured with your hands as you spoke. “Let's review, shall we? You two a rumor a few-what was it, three- people knew and refuted it by sharing an affair of which no one has accused you!” You got close to his face, saying, “Thomas, I begged you to take a break and you refused to.”

Now you were pacing and speaking loudly. “You’re so scared of what your enemies will do to you when in reality you’re the only enemy you ever seem to lose to! Do you know why Jefferson can do as he pleases? He doesn’t dignify schoolyard taunts with a response! So yes, congratulations, Thomas.”

“(Y/N)...”

“You’ve redefined your legacy. No, really! Congratulations,” you said, walking out.

“It was an act of political sacrifice!” he exclaimed.

You stopped in your tracks, looking back at him bewildered. “Sacrifice? Thomas Holland, you know nothing of sacrifice.”

“What does that mean?”

“Thomas, I languished in a loveless marriage in London, I lived only to read your letters. I look at you and think “God, what have we done with our lives, and what did it get us?” It doesn’t wipe all the years or all my tears away, but I’ve returned to Larione, and this time I’m here to stay. Do you know what I’m here to do, Thomas?”

“(Y/N)...” he said, coming close to you and cupping your face.

As much as it pained you to do so, you grabbed his hand, tearing it from your face, and saying, “I’m not here for you.”

Thomas sighed, tears burning in his eyes.

You felt the anger begin to rise again as you spoke, “I know my sister like I know my own mind! You will meet a more gentle, kind, trusting soul. I love my sister more than anything in this life! If it comes to choosing between her happiness and mine, I will choose hers every time! Yelizaveta is the best person in our lives, so never again make the mistake of forgetting that you have been blessed with the best wife! For the rest of your life, every sacrifice you make is for my sister, you be sure to give her the best life!”

You raised your hand and slapped him as hard as humanly possible and turned to leave. You paused in the doorframe, turning back to him. “Putting what we had aside, I’m going to find my sister and I am going to stand by her side. I already know “you could never be satisfied.” God, I hope you’re satisfied.” And with that, you were gone.

Your night was spent whispering comforting words to your younger sister, remarking to her “Oh, my dear Eliza, I fear you have married an Icarus. He has flown too close to the sun.”

You did in fact stay in Larione, just as you had told Thomas you would, choosing to relocate to the Fadar da Zuri. It was frowned upon by the public that you, the Empress of Jimbaari, were staying in a palace outside of your country without a husband or some other guardian, but you didn’t care. Your sister and her happiness were all that mattered to you. You prayed for your sister’s happiness. You also prayed that she’d forgive Thomas. Not, in fact, because of your love for Thomas, but rather as you didn’t want anything weighing on your sister’s gentle soul.

As for your ever most complicated relationship with Thomas, you barely interacted with him, not speaking to him when at their home and not writing to him. Though sometimes, you would catch him staring at you with such deep longing that it made your heart ache. And it pained you so deeply, because you knew you couldn’t have been more in love with him- even after his betrayal. So, pray you did. Prayed for your sister’s inner peace, and your own, prayed for the well being of the children, and prayed begging the lord why in all his goodness, he would cause you the utmost pain by bringing that foolish soldier Thomas Holland into their lives.

#tom holland x princess!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland #hamilton fanfic #hamilton #tom holland angst

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thedevillionaire · 4 years ago

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Invasive Species

~3,000 words of my supernatural soap opera, Demonics Office edition. If you’ve read my fics before, you’ve met Cerberus and Kia already. Other Underworldians briefly appearing or mentioned here: Therion, Demonics Understudy - sort of the same thing as vice president, Crisis (Therion’s BFF, another Demon), Winter (Crisis’s bonded, Sorceress), and Belladonna (Therion’s bonded, Vampire). And of course, any questions, about anything, please do ask.

---

Heading home from the evening’s soiree more than a little later than intended, they’d only decided to take the detour to the Demonics Office last minute, Cerberus reasoning that collecting the necessary documents and notes for the introductory expedition he was directing in two nights’ time might as well be done now rather than waiting until tomorrow. It should be late enough that they wouldn’t be interrupting anything, anyway. They should, in fact, have pretty much the entire department to themselves at this hour – although it was a general truism that if any department was likely to have activity occurring at unorthodox hours, Demonics would be the one. He hoped for the best nonetheless, casually willing a few of the firebrands lining the walls aflame as he and Kia passed by.

Kia nodded towards the Office door upon their arrival. “It’s definitely unoccupied?” she checked again. “I mean, since you’re not expected in tonight at all and… Well, you know. Cat’s away, mice will play, all that.”

“Are you suggesting my Office could be the site of something…in flagrante?” Cerberus chuckled darkly.

“Oh, absolutely, babe. I’m just intending for it to be us.” She gave him a playful smile. “You know. Rather than walking in on it.”

“I’m not sure Therion’s a particularly likely candidate for that sort of thing,” said Cerberus, though he knocked lightly twice before opening the door anyway. “Or at least, if he is, he’s been careful enough to have never been caught.”

He stood aside for Kia to enter before him, and she paused, smirking. “Is that out of chivalry, hon, or are you just hoping that if someone is fucking on your furniture that I’m the one who gets to be the main witness so you won’t have to try to unsee it every time you come in here afterwards for the rest of eternity?”

Laughing, Cerberus kissed her lightly on the top of her head. “I’d not considered it to that degree, but now that you mention it, I hope you’ll forgive me for thinking that’s actually rather a good idea.” He smiled, half-bowed and waved her through.

Kia looked back at him in light-hearted reproach as she entered. “One day I’ll learn to shut up, you know.”

Cerberus closed the door behind them. “Oh, darkling, I very much hope that you don’t.” He paused for a moment, frowning slightly at a subtle, unusual scent that he couldn’t quite place, before disregarding it and following his bonded inside.

Kia semi-leapt with melodramatic abandon onto the couch, lay back and threw her arms wide. “Look! Completely fuck-free!” She grinned wickedly as Cerberus laughed again, and sat up, crossing her legs in a deliberate parody of primness. “Okay, okay, so remind me – what are you actually doing tomorrow or whenever?”

“First year Take direction. Standard introductory procedure. More necessary than interesting, unfortunately,” replied Cerberus, walking over to his desk and searching for the related papers he could have sworn he’d left here specifically, noting also that that wasn’t the only thing that seemed to be out of position or incorrectly placed or…flat out missing. Hmm. The carafe of cognac he kept there was also a significant degree emptier than it ought to be, too. “Something has definitely gone on here tonight,” he said, rubbing his nose absently against a faint but obstinate itch. “There’s been some…sort…” He broke off as the itch became abruptly definite, sneezing. “Hm. Pardon me.”

“Bless you!”

“Thank you, love,” Cerberus said vaguely, distracted by both the absence of the documents he needed and the disturbingly insistent tickle which seemed to have grown in intensity rather than to be at all relieved. He rubbed his nose again. “Why is nothing where it’s supposed to be?” he asked rhetorically, annoyed. “It’s not like it needed to…” he began, but soon lost his thoughts to other concerns. “Oh, excuse m… hh…” Breaking off again, he took a tissue from the box on the table, sneezing into it. “HuhTSCHuu!” He apologised and wiped his nose.

“Mmm, bless, babe.” Kia wandered across the room to meet him, pushing a few books aside to create enough space for her to sit on the desk, facing Cerberus and giving him a soft, suggestive smile as she curled an arm around his waist, the other behind his neck, through his hair. “You know…you could put off the document search for a little while, if you like,” she murmured, kissing him deeply and Mindsending a teasing, sultry :and do someone else instead.:

The rush of desire racing through Cerberus momentarily eclipsing all else, he returned her kiss with a promise Kia could feel, and she purred with pleasure as he drew her closer to him, wrapping one leg around his, feeling him covet her, and all she wanted was more. But it seemed like the fates had other ideas, as Cerberus found himself suddenly, unavoidably torn from the moment. His breath caught and he turned from her in haste, not able to do otherwise.

”HhTSSCHUU! Ah…ahTSCHUU! What the h…hh-AHTSSCHU!” He glanced back at Kia briefly, his brow creased in confusion and his eyes watering, before he had no choice but to surrender again as the need to sneeze again overtook him. “Hhh-hh-TSCHUU! Gods! Pardon me.” Sniffling wetly, he claimed several more tissues, the relentless irritation burning sinus-deep. “W-what…what the hell is…” Another hitch in his breath and he looked at the ceiling, attempting to settle the rapid, shaky inhalations but to no avail and he sneezed again, powerful and demanding. “Huh-ahhHEHTSSCHuu!”

“Oh, bless you! Are you alright?” Kia looked at her bonded in a mixture of concern and captivation, even as she thought to herself that he was clearly not alright and that it was fairly pointless to ask. “I mean, you’re not coming down with something, right? You seemed fine earlier…”

Cerberus, genuinely confounded, gave a brief shake of his head in answer and tried, not successfully, to steady his breathing against the compulsive, overwhelming prickle that simply refused to back down. “No, I…” He sniffled sharply and pressed the back of his hand firmly against his nose. “I…I’m not sick,” he said. “I have no…no idea wh… hhh-TSSCHUU! tshHUU! S-sorry, lov… ah-hh-MMPchh! Ugh.” He winced from the discomfort of stifling, a desperate measure he rarely resorted to, and wiped watering eyes. “Oh, my gods.” Taking yet more tissues, vaporising the used ones in a flash of Combust, he blew his nose and murmured another apology.

Kia leapt neatly down from the desk and half motioned, half physically directed Cerberus to take a seat, which he did, and she moved to stand behind him. “Okay. So, then, in that case…” She smoothed some disordered hair back from his face and kissed the top of his head. “What are you allergic to, hon?”

Cerberus shook his head once more. “Nothi…ii-AHHtchuu! hhtCHUU!” He had no chance of preventing the two rapid sneezes which took him completely without warning, and he blinked rapidly, wiping his eyes again, then his nose, both of which seemed to have no intention of stopping their near constant streaming now. “Nothing th…that I-I… Ah-TSSCH-uu!” He groaned, sniffling uselessly. “Ah, gods, excuse me. Nothing that I can think of, nothing that would…hh-HH…” Focus dissolving unstoppable, he sniffled several times more, uselessly, no respite or relief afforded, hurriedly claimed another few tissues, and sneezed again. “AHH-TSCHUU! Fuck!”

“Bless you, sweetheart.” Kia cast her gaze around the room, considering potential options and not recognising any viable ones. She gently neatened her bonded’s hair and rubbed his shoulders as he caught another convulsive sneeze in the tissues, and another immediately after that. “But maybe you need to think a little harder, okay?”

Other than the occasional reaction to dust, though – something he never let get out of hand in his immaculately kept Office – and of course unexpectedly or unsuitably cold temperatures and the like, again in this instance definitely not the case, Cerberus honestly couldn’t think of anything that could possibly be the cause of this.

“Gods, I-I don’t…” His breathing shaky, untrustworthy, he did his best to concentrate on something other than needing to sneeze and the fierce, unending, crawling itch that just. would. not. subside. “I have no idea. Nothing that should be in…in my Office, damn it,” he managed before an urgent, violent sneeze bent him double, leaving him gasping for breath. “AHHTSSCHHUU! Ugh. Honestly!” Scrubbing a rough hand under his nose, he sniffled strongly, looking back over his shoulder at Kia. He offered her a self-deprecating half smile, raising an eyebrow and giving a quick shake of his head. “I think I can see through time.”

Kia laughed. “Oh, hon. Well, I’m certainly not going to question your…many talents.” She stroked his hair and kissed him again, when her eye was caught by a salt-sketched pentacle on the floor of the ritual workings space in the furthest corner of the room, a small, lightly smouldering ceramic bowl at the pentacle’s apex northern tip, several unfamiliar symbols encircling it.

“Um…I’m no expert or anything, but isn’t that upside down for here?” She gently turned Cerberus’ attention towards it, pointing. “I mean, it’s not upside down but it should be, right? For Demonics.”

Cerberus followed Kia’s direction, finding focus difficult through reddened and watery eyes, but he nevertheless recognised a Sorcery cleansing set-up when he saw one. “What the…”

Before he could explore that thought further, though, the door opened suddenly.

Therion stopped dead in his tracks. Shit. He hadn’t planned on having to explain anything - just tidy up Crisis and Winter’s mess and leave again. “Uh…hey. I didn’t think you were coming in tonight,” he said, more than a little awkwardly. “I, um…” He indicated the pentacle. “That wasn’t me, man. But I am here to sort it…” A powerful sneeze from Cerberus interrupted him, and another following almost immediately.

Sniffling again, Cerberus cursed under his breath and tried to will himself to at least perhaps manage just a modicum of control, just for a moment, damn it, because he was fairly sure that any aura of authority and command, something that usually came so effortlessly to him and something he would very much like to have at least a semblance of right now, was going to be thoroughly undermined by this…ridiculous, unrelenting…sensation that he just...couldn’t… Gods, fuck… “Huh-TSCHHUU!”

Kia blessed him quietly, gave him a reassuring pat on his shoulder and another quick kiss, and left his side to head over to the ritual space, something having occurred to her. :Just a sec, babe: she Mindsent. :I’ll be right back.:

“Gesundheit,” said Therion. “You got a cold?”

Before Cerberus could offer any sort of denial – not that he was in any real state to do so anyway, his concentration primarily on trying not to sneeze again – Kia held up the ceramic bowl, thin tendrils of faintly scented smoke still curling from it. “Therion!” she called, displaying it. “What’s in this?”

“Um…well, it’s Winter’s work, so I’m not really sure. It won’t be anything too fancy, though – it’s just a basic cleansing Sorcery herbal concoction thing, so, um…probably mostly birchbark and…” Therion broke off abruptly, eyes widening in realisation. “Oh… Shit.” He didn’t bother to check anything further and instantly Sent the bowl to Winter’s house, Mindsending her a hurried :Sorry, sorry, I’ll explain later, can’t talk now, tell Crisis we’re probably in deep shit, sorry.:

“It’s… HMPTch!” Appalled, Cerberus stifled another sneeze and winced, sniffling sharply. “It’s what?!” He grabbed a fresh handful of tissues, wiped his eyes and blew his nose, and rounded on Therion in no uncertain terms. “Explain this. Quickly. Now.” His words, though congested, carried enough vehemence in their undertone that Kia, having crossed the room to stand with him again, put a calming hand on his arm to try and call him back from doing anything perhaps more extreme than was necessary.

Therion tried to think of a reasonable starting point. Fuck. “Um…”

“Quickly,” repeated Cerberus tersely, rubbing his nose firmly to try and suppress the irritation still bothering him despite the source having been removed. Damn stuff will have permeated practically everything in here. He sniffled again, emphatically, repeatedly, and pressed the back of his hand against his nose but couldn’t stop two more sneezes, rapid and forceful, and he swore in frustration. Kia softly blessed him again, and he Mindsent her an apology, thanked her between a series of sniffles, stroked her hair.

Exhaling heavily, Therion sent a silent entreaty to the fates to please let Cerberus remember that for the vast majority of the time, he hadn’t made any monumental fuck-ups and they actually worked together really well usually, and hoped against hope for the best. “Okay, um, well, me and Bel and Crisis and Winter were just having some after-shift drinks, and Winter has an advancement thing coming up that she wanted to do a practice invocation for and so me and Bel left her and Crisis here because it…seemed okay at the time, I don’t know, man, we’d been drinking, and I didn’t ask her what she was gonna be doing but how bad could it be, I mean, fuck, she’s only level 7, I told them to clean up before they left but they only did the desk or some shit because they were still drinking after we left and… I fuckin’ don’t know, man. And then I found out they hadn’t sorted the Sorcery ritual space shit and so I came back here to deal with that and…well, you know the rest of it.” He looked at Cerberus in trepidation. “I’m really fucking sorry, man.”

Cerberus cleared his throat, sniffled and blew his nose again, excusing himself with annoyance evident, and tried to steady his breathing, still somewhat erratic. “You will impress upon Crisis without question that the only reason he’s lived through this night is because it’s you telling him the following rather than me. If he or anyone else ever either performs or allows a Sorcery ritual to take place in the Demonics Office again, there will be no…no further warnings such as this one, and I…” He inhaled shakily, another rising itch threatening to derail him, but he pressed a firm hand against his nose in ironhard determination and managed to see it off, at least for the time being. “And I guarantee that repercussions will not be delivered with mercy.”

Therion nodded, chastened but relieved, given what other…significantly worse outcomes could have transpired, and agreed to do as tasked.

Cerberus paused a moment, considering. “And also, Therion? You will do whatever it takes to fumigate this place by tomorrow, and if you ever allow anything like this to occur again, your Understudy position is forfeit. Clear?”

Therion nodded again. “Crystal.”

With a short, sharp sniff, Cerberus pushed several wayward strands of ebony hair from his face and rubbed still-itchy eyes. “I have had entirely enough of tonight,” he said. “By tomorrow, Therion. Oh, and find out where the hell Crisis thought he should file my papers for the Take introduction two nights from now. Because it’s nowhere that makes a-any… Huh-TSCHH-uu! Goddamnit! *SNF!*” He pushed his hair back again, more roughly this time, his tolerance for this nonsense absolutely done. “Any fucking sense.”

He sighed, recentering himself somewhat as he shifted his attention from Therion to Kia, and wrapped an arm around his bonded’s waist, kissing her on the top of her head. “Shall we?” he asked, indicating the door. :I can’t believe I actually would have preferred to walk in on couch sex.:

Kia burst out laughing, shaking her head and reining in her laughter to a degree as Therion looked at her in curiosity. “Nothing,” she said, “nothing.”

Cerberus gave her a wry, knowing smile, claimed a few more tissues, and they left the Office without further ado, Kia stopping him as soon as they were out the door.

“Okay, so, why didn’t you mention birchbark when I asked you about allergies?” She raised her eyebrows at him archly. “Because Therion obviously knew about it.”

“Well, I’m hardly ever in contact with it.” Cerberus wasn’t even sure he’d remembered its existence at the time he’d been asked, anyway. “It’s not used in Demonics, and I’m never involved in cleansing invocations. Ridiculous things, really. I have encountered it in the Sorcery department before, some time ago – though that is probably why Therion recognised it, I suppose.” He looked at Kia in vaguely perplexed apology. “It’s just…I’ve never really thought of it as an allergy. Yes, sometimes it makes me sneeze, but…”

“Sometimes?!” Kia gave him a look of incredulity. “Babe.”

Cerberus chuckled, low and dark, sniffling again. “Alright, I do realise how that sounds, love, but I’ve never—” A catch of breath, brow creased anew, and a momentary pause. “—never had that level of exposure before and… ah-HH…” He inhaled deeply as the burning tickle returned with fresh, demanding insistence. “HAHTSCHH-uu! *SNF!* Gods! Honestly.” He sniffled again, sighed and wiped his nose. “Sorry, love. Pardon me.”

“Bless you, sweetheart. Nice timing.” With a gentle laugh and softvisceral thrill, Kia embraced him. “Tell you what,” she said seductively, trailing a manicured fingernail down his arm and giving him a warm, inviting grin. “If you Teleport us home, I’ll get you out of these clothes and into a hot shower.”

She stood on tiptoe, curled a hand through his hair, kissed him with unmissable promise. :And some hot company.:

----

#snzfic #sneeze fic #my OCs #supernatural soap opera #cerberus #my writing #cerberus and kia #cerbia

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disasterfandoms · 4 years ago

Text

The Sister Becomes Known || A Trent Sawyer One-Shot

this is a continuation of these two stories written by @bravo-four-seal-team and I!

cowritten with @bravo-four-seal-team and @galaxysanduniversesinmymind (bless you for helping me with Brock)

Summary: Trent receives an email from his sister who he hasn’t spoken to in 5 years. Is he ready to forgive her, and what does she mean by “Amelia was right?”

A/N: This contains Two OCs: Amelia Carter, my OC who is in a relationship with Trent; and Ashley, @bravo-four-seal-team’s OC who is Trent’s sister. This is in the same universe of my Full Metal and Trent Sawyer series, and is set slightly before the pilot episode. this got very long and very dramatic, so apologies!

TW: arguments, mentions of torture, mentions of death, implied sexual activity (very brief, like maybe two to three sentences), implied alcohol consumption, hangover, brief mention of nausea, brief mention of vomiting.

Word count: 3,000

Taglist: @twentydavid @a-kate3 @rebelwrites @thegirlwhoisalwayswriting @supervalcsi @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @mrsmarvelous1995 @chibsytelford @velvetcardiganbucky @itsonautopilot @pinkrockstar19 @galaxysanduniversesinmymind @softi92 @abby-splace

Sometimes, Trent really hated his internal alarm clock.

Amelia was fast asleep, cuddled up into his side, with her head and right arm on his chest. He still couldn’t believe that she could sleep all night like that, if it wouldn’t disturb her he would toss and turn every which way during the night. He’s gotta admit, though, he sleeps better when she’s here. He lifts his head off the pillow and looks at the alarm clock: 5:05 AM. Of course it is.

He slowly and very, very carefully tries and untangles himself from the literal sleeping cuddle monster he happened to fall in love with, putting her head on a pillow to try and mimic his chest, found his shorts they threw on the ground and tiptoed downstairs to start some coffee.

Turning the light on, he definitely didn’t expect to see a creature laid out on his couch. He let out a quiet gasp, his hand immediately going to his chest, then squinting to see if he could tell who it was from where he stood.

He took a couple of steps forward, before realizing it was Brock, a nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels still in his hand. He sighs and shakes his head, he can’t even get one night without one of his brothers ending up on his couch. Though, at least Brock didn’t walk in on them yet again, so he’ll take it. He grabs the bottle from Brock’s hand, careful not to wake him, and puts it in the trash. He then starts his coffee, when he hears a soft ding from his computer in his office. Making a mental note to check that, he finishes making the jet fuel, as Ames called it, when he felt a set of hands wrap around his waist, her head leaning against him.

“Did I wake you?” Trent asked quietly, careful not to wake the tall man drunkenly passed out in his living room. All the feels in response is her head nodding against his back. He reaches into the cabinet and pulls out two mugs, putting coffee in both, before he finally feels her arms leave his waist as he turns to hand her the cup. Amelia sleepily nods a thank you, and he finally realizes all she’s in is his t-shirt.

“Might want to go put shorts or something on, love. Had a late-night visitor,” Trent mentioned, motioning towards Brock with his head. She sighed and wiped the sleep from her eyes while nodding, mumbled something that he swore was “shower” and walked upstairs.

Trent, finally remembering the notification sound his computer had made, made his way into his home office, where his computer, bookshelves, and medkits are stored. He lightly taps the Yoda bobblehead on his desk causing the head to shake, before sitting in his chair. He lightly chuckles, checking the notification that he’s received an email. When he opens it up, he instantly freezes.

Ashley?

He feels his entire body fill up with anxiety, shaking his head at the subject line: “Surprise Bitch I lived. (plz open this)”. He would have laughed if this wasn’t the first time he’s heard from her in... what, five years?

He quickly opens the email, reading it in its entirety. He couldn’t believe that she reached out to him at all, let alone to apologize. He keeps rereading it, trying to make sure his eyes weren’t fooling him until his brain finally catches up and realizes that his baby sister was on the same base with him a couple of months ago, and he didn’t even see her.

Wait.

He rereads one more time, and she keeps saying “Amelia was right.” His Amelia? There was no way, he thought, trying to suspend the belief that his girlfriend of almost three years would have met his sister, talked to her, and didn’t tell him.

There’s no way, right?

“Looks like you’re dating again as well, she seems nice (Let her know she was right, honestly, I am not happy about her being right.). You seem super happy which is good to see.” The sentence is one he keeps replaying in his mind. Why wouldn’t she tell him she met his sister? Granted, he doesn’t talk about that fight or what had happened, bad memories full of angry words and regret, but Amelia, a woman who prides herself on being honest and trustworthy, should have never kept this from him.

“Whatcha readin’ sailor?” Amelia says, leaning on the entrance door frame, a piping hot cup of coffee in her hand. God if he wasn’t starting to get angry with her he would be awestruck about how pretty she is, even with her hair up in a towel and no makeup on. Focus Trent, he mentally reminds himself before asking her to come over and read it for herself.

He sits there, feeling her read over his shoulder, before turning to look at her as she realizes what the email said and sees her eyes widen. He can feel the anger rise in his body, as well as the confusion that she would hide this from him.

“Trent, I-”, she starts, but he shakes his head as if to tell her to not start with any excuses.

“Why?” Trent asks, trying to keep his voice quiet so as to not wake up Brock. God knows he doesn’t need his brother knowing about his troubles more than he already does.

“I was going to tell you.” She quietly answers him, her hand instantly reaching up to where her locket usually is. She forgot to put it back on, though, so her hand fins the collar of her shirt and starts to pull on it.

“You should have told me the day it happened, Amelia. This is family we’re talking about,” Trent huffed, leaning forward in his chair. Amelia has since decided to lean against the desk, facing the wall as one hand was wrapped around herself, and the other still on her shirt collar.

“You were deploying the next day, Trent. I wasn’t going to drop the bomb on you that your sister showed up unannounced at my apartment right before you deployed.”

“That’s not something you just keep to yourself, Amelia. Why the hell did she even go talk to you?”

“She wanted to know about us, our relationship. I wasn’t about to tell you something like that and then you go get yourself killed because of it. No way in hell, Trent.” She shook her head and closed her eyes as if trying to erase the thought from her mind.

“For god’s sake, Ames, how many times do we have to have this conversation. I can handle myself in the field, it is not your job to protect me.” His left hand coming up to his face, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“That’s bullshit, Trent. There’s always going to be things I’ll take off the table of discussion until I know you’re home, safe. I won’t be able to handle being the reason you’re coming home in a body bag.”

“It’s my job to compartmentalize things, focus on the tasks at hand. I can handle it, Amelia, I’m not a damn kid.”

“Trent, I never said you were!” Amelia threw her hands in the air, wishing this was a non-issue.

“Then stop treating me like one. You and I both know I had the right to know that she showed up. Why did you even let her in? She could have killed you!”

“She wasn’t going to kill me! She showed me a picture of you two when you were younger, you two have the same eyes, and I didn’t have a reason to believe she wasn’t being anything but truthful.”

“You don’t know that, Amelia. She’s a stranger to you.”

“And apparently to you, too, since you didn’t recognize her on base or during missions, Trent.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He sat up straight, boring his eyes into hers, looking for anything that gives away what she was talking about.

“She told me her unit was backup for you on a couple of missions, that she saw you a couple of times on base and you didn’t recognize her. What kind of brother does that, hmm?”

“You better be joking, Ames.”

“Yeah, because that’s definitely something I would joke about. God, do you even realize what you just asked me?” Amelia asked sarcastically, sick of him and sick of this argument.

“Right now I’m not even sure if I know you as well as I thought I did. You and I both know this isn’t something I take lightly, you should have told me when it happened.”

“When, Trenton? When you were on base, in back-to-back training exercises, packing your cage up for deployment? Or how about when you came home and you were packing what you needed from here? Oh, I know, I should have told you when we were saying goodbye here, because you didn’t want me to see you off on the tarmac.” Her voice was loud and full of rage, still annoyed about him asking her to stay away from the tarmac.

“Yeah, literally any of those instances would have worked.” He nodded.

“Good to know you both share a stubborn streak.” She sighed, putting her head in her hands.

“You act like I don’t have the right to know, Amelia!”

"For fucks sake, Trent. I was going to tell you when you got home, and you were back in your routine. Didn't expect you to get spun-up as early as you did, and I sure as hell didn't expect Nate to die when you did get spun-up." Amelia seethed, and Trent’s heart broke at the mention of his fallen brother.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare bring him into this. It’s been four fucking days, Amelia. Using him as an excuse is a low-blow and you know it.” Trent says with a warning edge in his voice. He was trying not to yell, but bringing Nate up pushed him over the edge.

“I’m not using him as a fucking excuse, you asshole, it’s the truth. I’m not going to apologize for doing what I believe was right.”

Brock is slammed into awareness by two things. One, a pounding headache that feels like a bulldozer is trying to break his skull. Two, yelling, only slightly muffled by a wall. His hand clenches around empty space where he could have sworn the bottle of Jack Daniels was, and he cracks open his eyes. The sight before him isn’t his apartment, and if he had to guess, he’d say it was Trent’s. He usually crashes at Trent’s after a long night. That doesn’t explain why Trent, and who he assumes is that lady he has around all the time, were yelling, though. He’s told them her name before, Brock vaguely remembers, but it escapes him. Anyways, she was pretty used to various Bravo members crashing at Trent’s place. He began slowly pulling himself to his feet, feet unsteadily settling on the floor. He needed a glass of water and some painkillers, but first, he needed that incessant yelling to stop. He stumbles towards Trent’s study, occasionally stopping to regain balance. When he arrives at the door, he sees Trent in his chair, his computer displaying something, and the woman, god what was her name, standing over Trent, arms crossed. Both of them, without a doubt, look pissed. Trent opens his mouth for what Brock is sure to be a scathing remark, but Brock speaks first.

“Hi. Don’t know why you’re yelling at each other, but could you calm down? It’s not good for the hangover.” He watched bleary-eyed as both Trent and the lady snapped their heads toward them. Her gaze softened, and she seemed to calm down a bit, meanwhile, Trent looked just as pissed as he did a few seconds ago.

“Fuck off, Brock. Why were you on my couch anyway?” Trent snapped, but he immediately wished he didn’t when a) he heard himself, and b) when he saw the glare Amelia shot at him. He’s only ever seen her give that look to Full Metal, and he’s started to see why Metal was afraid of his sister when she was angry. A deep wave of hurt crossed Brock’s face, as he flinched back and started losing his balance, gripping the door frame for support.

“C’mon, Brock, let’s put you in the guest bedroom. I’ll bring you some Tylenol and a glass of water up in a minute, okay?” Amelia gently ordered him, putting the much taller man’s arm over her shoulders, guiding him to the bottom of the stairs.

“Yes, uh, I’m sorry, what’s your name again?” Brock muttered, thankful someone was being nice to him since Trent was being an ass. The lady under his arm walked him carefully up the stairs, giving him a polite smile of encouragement every time he felt like he was going to fall over.

“My name is Amelia. Not sure if Trent ever introduced us properly,” She supplied, leading him through the bedroom door and onto the bed. He welcomed the softness of the sheets and duvet, though the movement caused his stomach to turn. Before he could reply to Amelia, though, she was already out the door. She returned a few minutes later, with a trash can she stole from the guest bathroom, and the Tylenol and water as promised.

“Here, take these,” she instructed while plopping them into his hand, “and if you get sick here’s something to throw up in. Sorry we woke you.” He nodded in understanding, and she quietly left the room.

She went back downstairs, walking into the office where she had left her boyfriend. She was seeing red at this point. Amelia understood he was hurt and upset with her, but snapping at Brock, who didn’t do anything? Out of the question. He could yell at her all he wanted, but they were all still reeling from Nate’s death and like hell would she let him take that out on some of the very few people he could trust with everything. She stopped, leaning against the door frame, trying to compose herself before she said something she regretted.

“I understand you’re hurt that I wanted to wait and tell you your sister reached out to me, but how you acted just now was out of line.” She started, before taking a deep breath.

“Amelia, I-”

“No.” She interrupted him, shaking her head feverishly, “Do not interrupt me, do not even think about trying to backpedal. I understand you being hurt by what I did, and hell you’re probably more pissed now than I have ever seen you, but don’t you dare take that out on him. I can take whatever yelling you want to throw at me, but you aren’t angry at Brock, so don’t treat him like shit for coming to his friends when he was drunk and alone. As you said before, Nate died four days ago, I’m surprised it’s only him on your couch. He needs his friend, his brother, so when he wakes up, you’re going to apologize to him. I’m going home, we both need to cool down and I can’t do that looking at your stupid face,” She finishes and turns around to leave the house before he could get a word in edgewise.

He quickly gets up, moving across the room and reaching her faster than she’d like. He grabs her hand, and she turns around to yell at him again until she sees the look on his face. He nods, takes a deep breath, and starts to speak.

“I’m sorry for losing my temper at Brock. I know he wasn’t the problem, I regretted it as soon as I said it. I’m still really angry, and hurt, but don’t go to your apartment. We can’t talk through this if you leave, and I definitely don’t want this hanging over our heads, not with everything else going on.” He was holding both of her hands now, looking into her eyes to see if anything he just said had its intended impact.

“Fine, but I’m not the one you should be apologizing to. I’m sorry that my actions, while they were made with good intentions, hurt you. It’s going to take me a minute to calm down fully, okay? I’m serious, though, I know you’re hurting, especially after Nate, but that’s no way to talk to your brother, who is also hurting. You owe him, probably a lot of beer.” That last line got him to smile, even just a tiny bit, which Amelia considered a win.

“Yes ma’am. Now, breakfast?”

“Yes, please! While you cook it or go get it, whichever is fine with me, we can come up with what you want to say when you reply to the email,” Amelia suggested, being led by Trent into the kitchen. She jumps up to sit on the counter, while he goes and looks in the fridge.

“Who says I’m going to reply?” He says, grabbing the ingredients he needs before shutting the door, turning to look at Amelia, her eyebrows raised.

“I’m sorry, we didn’t just get through fighting for over an hour just for you not to reply to your sister. She took the first step, T. At least reply to her, even if you don’t want to forgive her. Don’t see that happening, though, you were too pissed at the thought of not talking to her 3-4 months ago to not want to try,” Amelia reasoned, hoping this didn’t reignite the fire.

“I hate when you’re right, y’know that? Oh, and by the way,” He turned to look at her, smirking ever so slightly.

“Yeah?”

“My full name is Trent, not Trenton.”

“Wait, you mean to tell me we’ve been together for how many years and I’m just now finding that out?”

“Yep.”

“Well, shit.”

#this is the longest single story i have wrote on this blog #trent sawyer #brock reynolds #seal team #series

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