#private practice's voicemail box | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

adammalik · 1 year ago

Text

I Survived Box Bar Vascular & Dr. Ellen Derrick ( no really, there is a support group)

“ Hello Stefanie, you don’t know me, but we are ex employees of Dr. Ellen Derrick and we have a support group.” - I don’t know how long I held my phone in my hand looking at this unexpected message from a stranger.

I rushed to my boys and told them to look. Joseph laughed nervously and said ‘ you are kidding right? “ in disbelief that such a small office and one Dr. Ellen Derrick ,could cause so much harm that her past employees have found one another to support each other.

Hell, I had only made it just past the three month mark, and holy crap was it a dramatic and chaotic three months.

It began with a knock on my door Thursday evening June 1st. A very good friend of mine, and she was so excited that she had met this vascular surgeon in need of an office manager. I had no medical history but office management, HR and accounting I had plenty of.

We were on the verge of leaving western WA. The high cost of living was not worth living in an area where everyone is rushed, working all the time just for rent and food and where we now have working homeless families due to these costs.

Henderson , Nevada, Matham and I had been speaking on it for over a year and a half. We were gonna go there and start over. The cost of living is different enough that I could work at a Trader Joe’s and pay rent, focus on writing instead of other people's business, like I have now for over two decades.

And had I any idea of the absolute horror show that was coming. I would have.

I met Dr Ellen Derrick on Friday the 2nd of June. She told me this incredible tale of a spiteful and insidious staff that had turned on her, and would not even allow her to speak in her own practice. Very much seeming a victim , small in stature and she used the right words. I kept thinking it odd that someone who could raise , as a female no less, to the occasion of vascular surgery yet too timid to speak in her own practice because of her staff?

She said staff were the cause of all the woes. From work not done, patients upset, staff untrained……it was all bad luck of getting bad staff.

And what she didn’t know is this was my first red flag. Sure the staff could have been what she is saying but they ( many of them) hadn’t worked there a year. If your clinic is six years old and you have been a surgeon even longer…… stability and calm in your practice proceed from you, not one person for less than a year. Taking zero accountability is a huge red flag.

And as far as not speaking in her own practice, I imagined maybe she was making up for it, because from meeting her on…….. Dr Ellen Derrick NEVER SHUT UP from my experience. From day one when I met her the weekend before starting the position, she text until the night. All weekend.

My youngest even then saying ‘ uh oh, mom. ‘

He knew I value my private time and that I am not a ‘ carry my phone “ person.

I get my work done at work, and having my phone number doesn’t make us besties nor give you permission to repeatedly text or call. And I bring it up for a reason. Dr Derrick would say she required constant contact , she went on THREE vacations in the three months I was there, oh yeah, her business in crisis and it was vacation time!

Why not? she had a new victim to blame: Me. Yet she also liked to get dramatic and throw a fit for being contacted.

It was so manic.

Hi/Low ,everything Ok, drama, everything Ok, drama. I had to work earlier, I had to stay later . I worked from home . I answered all calls wrote down all voicemails , I didn’t email and call enough, I emailed and called too much. She made no sense.

But, I am getting ahead of myself.

So I began, and there were two individuals left. One at Vascular and one in Beauty. The Ultrasound tech also had been there two years and was still there, she kept mostly to herself, came in to do her job and got back out. Really nice woman. Very good at her job. PROFESSIONAL ( it’s too bad Ellen can’t learn from example)

My initial meeting of the front desk person was immediately awkward as Dr Ellen Derrick had lied to her, and told her I was hired to help out, not that I was the new office manger. I hated this as it made me seem sneaky when it was Ellen that was dishonest.

Then a new MA was hired the day I started. She was bubbly and had a great personality , and really on task. I thought we had a good team started, just had to get past whatever trauma had been had by previous staff turnover and any intended harm.

These two employees stayed late on a Wednesday, and were asked about it the following morning, Ellen insisted that she bring in her ‘equity and diversity’ coach to be a neutral party but that we had to speak to them separate and together , which I understood wanting to know what had happened but the manner in which it was addressed was atrocious and weird.

And it made both employees feel singled out and intimidated. For something that they didn’t feel warranted such a response. I had been there for only a week, and it was very odd to be put in it when I had no say over how it was managed. This ‘ coach’ , was there as I also went down and had time to speak with the woman in Beauty that was still left from the staff turnover. Ellen came down too and we spoke with her asking what she needed to stay , and for reasons unknown to me she cried the entire time. I didn’t know then what I know now through experience. She was afraid to speak because of Ellen being a bully, but didn’t know I would stand for her as that was my job, no matter what. Even against the Doctor, if she is in the wrong.

Which is what I am doing today, sharing our collective stories. But keeping their anonymity.

Before I spoke with the other employees ,WITH the ‘ coach’, as directed by Ellen Derrick , the ‘ coach’ let me know she was there because I am a white woman and therefore villain by nature. Regardless of reality of any circumstance and to somehow protect me from myself when speaking to employees. I’m sorry what? No thank you. For so many reasons but the simplest being it isn’t right to villainize anyone due to their skin color. Period.

I told Ellen about the ‘ coach’ and she didn’t care. We were all still forced to her mandatory retreat held at the Sunset Club in Seattle, Wa.

One of the employees, the young woman from the front desk, I also shared this with her and she was as horrified as I was and apologized ( yet she had done nothing wrong) and hugged me. She told me she knew I wasn’t trying to be mean nor was I the “villain”. She and the other employee quit directly after the mandatory retreat. Both felt bullied and I know the front desk gal wasn’t trained properly and I wish with all my heart I could have helped. If you read this, I am so sorry for what happened with you at this office. Both of you. I agree you shouldn’t have stayed as late that night that you did , but the rest is not you. How weird and awkward. May you both find good income and where your talents will be empowered and used in a harmonious manner.

So now one month in and THREE more employees down. Ellen called in part time helpers she had used previously as well as her own son.

In July while she was gone on her second vacation in the six weeks I had been there ( while practice in crisis and staff turnover) she had previously asked me to email and call, that she needed constant updates and to know line by line what we accomplished. She then proceeded to tell me off for doing exactly that. In a weird call with yelling, tears and irrationality from Texas. I don’t like to be micromanaged , but had done as requested and was being treated like crap for it.

I told her then if she needed another person, we could get them trained and I can leave, no hard feelings. She declined and said she loved my work, and that she was sorry, but these irrational demands and calls would not stop.

After her third vacation at the end of August and right after my 90 day trial period was up, she did it again, told me I was too sick and needed to go to doctor when I picked up my son and dropped off materials at the office. Called me when I got home and said I needed to come in the next day , not a regular working day, and show her the PA’s were done. I literally spent that evening at home sending her an email of each status and still had to come in, sick and sweating.

After being there five hours, she called when I got home too. And this time she went on another rant and I called her out for it.

That weekend, Saturday the 9th I wrote her the follow email:

Ellen,

I have sat with the ‘coach’ issue since June and have decided to formally file with AG and EEOC. For her open discrimination and making white be the villain regardless of truth

I was horrified then. Have sat with it. Had told you and was surprised we all still attended her ' retreat' as it is laughable that she is touting equity and diversity yet openly hates people that are simply white.

I don't like to act in haste but enough time has been given. And I feel negligent for not having taken action.

I first would like to acknowledge my own shortcomings. I have been afraid, I have been overwhelmed at the oddities while trying to learn and discern. I have not felt good being a roaming filler for all that needs to happen during the day yet unable to split myself in half and do those jobs AND my job, and feel you think I owe all my time during hours and after if that's what it takes and I don't like this feeling. I have worked without breaks. And yes buckets are undone but was I not working? I will not take the blame and weight of the practice nor each position in addition to mine. Yet you in the three months I have been there have had three vacations while your business was in crisis. All blame falls to staff and staff overturn.

Red Flags From Day One. ( I am telling you honestly not to attack.)

1. You text me late into the first night of the meeting. I told myself she is upset and spinning.

2. All employees have left. Read through reviews , repeated pattern of blame past employees and turn over

3. Absolutely had said holiday was optional and tried to say mandatory in regards to ( front desk employee ) not having attended but you see, nor did I as I woke very ill but you had said optional and I didn't feel bad letting you know that I could not come in. Then later when you said it wasn't re: ( front desk employee) , I understood then you would flip the script to control. I was afraid but spoke the truth.

4. Knew the ‘ coach’ had openly discriminated against myself and yourself with her statement of regardless of what IS happening, we are white and seen as villains and even SHE saw it that way , walking into the room seeing ( female employee at Box Bar Beauty) crying and two WHITE WOMEN attacking her. I said she heard our words too and she said it didn't matter. And she is an equity and diversity coach? Hell no.

5. Staff is untrained, no breaks but blamed for all , even for not completing HR paperwork but time for training and onboarding is not accounted for. ( Employee) just got a two year gift from you but doesn't know what insurance is taken?

6. Wages are inconsistent across employees.

I know that you know ,I don't even take breaks, yet you want more and more. From this point: All breaks will be taken and one hour will be spent out of office to ensure.

8. When there have been now a few PATIENTS state that you spoke of BBB and your son and life, and they didn't feel it was a consult. You tried to make the narrative " I am so stressed I am reaching out to my patient's” , but you have always spoken a lot ( read through all reviews) and chatting about BBB or your son isn't stress of BBV. The staff , once again, isn't the scapegoat here.

9.Template reset due to schedule change BY YOU for YOUR vacations causing chaos and even this is blamed on staff. This actually pissed me off to be honest

I have many shortcomings myself. Many areas to improve in every area of my life.

I am not attacking. I am risking my employment by being honest. My son's know I am emailing and are scared because of course we need the money. But my soul is burning. And I am tired. I am doing my best to honor my word to you and speak first to you.

Sincerely,

And her response was to change my password in Athena and Hushmail effectively blocking me from doing my work and firing me quietly, as she tried to with two of the employees above, and gaslit them with lies when she decided to keep them a little longer. She does this and then lies to unemployment and LNI and says they quit. Or she bullies them until they quit.

She then proceeded , according to the support group for ex employees of Box Bar Vascular and Beauty , defamed me to remaining staff and patients stating she didn’t know where I was, that I might have had a mental breakdown and needed a welfare check. A DOCTOR using her MD to defame her own ex-employee. I have never been seen or treated by Ellen Derrick nor would I be. As far as I am concerned She is the one in need of a trained professional. And to be kept from innocent employees simply doing their work and providing for their families.

What can be done for employees of small practices like this? Why are they left with no recourse but to form their own support group after working for an abusive MD?

Every single staff member is an important part of patient care. We care about the patients as much as the doctor. We also are human beings that have the right to a safe and non threatening or abusive work environment.

Please share this story and message below your own story or thoughts on how we can bring change.

0 notes

ingek73 · 1 year ago

Text

Analysis

Prince Harry v Mirror Group: key findings of the phone-hacking case

Haroon Siddique

Legal affairs correspondent

We examine the outcome after royal wins a substantial part of his case against the newspaper group

Fri 15 Dec 2023 16.36 CET

Prince Harry has been awarded £140,600 in damages after winning a substantial part of his phone-hacking case against the British newspaper group Mirror Group Newspapers (MGN). We look at what was decided and why the case is significant.

What did the judge find?

Using the civil standard of proof, which requires a decision on the balance of probabilities, Mr Justice Fancourt found that out of a representative sample of 33 articles about the Duke of Sussex examined during the trial – out of a total of 148 cited by Harry – 15 were the product of hacking of his mobile phone or unlawful information gathering. The high court judge concluded that there was “extensive” phone hacking by the company – which publishes the Daily Mirror, the Sunday Mirror and the Sunday People – from 2006 to 2011.

In a 386-page judgment, he said: “The duke has been one of the most important storylines in town for much of his life, and remains so. The idea that MGN carefully eschewed in his case what had become a primary journalistic tool – which it otherwise used on a widespread and habitual basis – is unconvincing.”

Which stories were found to have been obtained through unlawful means?

The stories which Harry successfully complained about included those about him smoking cannabis at a country pub near the royal residence Highgrove and his father’s reaction to learning about that; a disagreement with his brother, William, about whether they should meet Paul Burrell, the former butler to Diana, Princess of Wales, to seek to stop him selling secrets relating to their late mother; and several articles about his relationship with his then girlfriend, Chelsy Davy.

Harry was aged 17 at the time of the cannabis stories and 19 at the time of the Burrell one. With respect to the latter, the judge found that “it is probable that this private information was obtained by VMI [voicemail interception] of messages between the duke and his brother or other associates. The [Sunday] People therefore probably had the duke’s mobile phone number by this time, at the latest.”

With respect to a 2007 story about rows between Harry and Davy, Fancourt said: “In the absence of some plausible explanation, this article was obtained by VMI of the duke’s or Ms Davy’s or their associates’ telephones, and by obtaining telephone call data. It seems likely that whoever was charged with obtaining information about the duke and Ms Davy at each of the three newspapers will have been active following this publication, to see how the storyline developed over the following days and weeks.”

Why is the judgment so significant?

Since the Guardian broke the UK’s phone-hacking scandal, which led to the closure of the tabloid newspaper the News of the World in 2011, there have been a number of payouts by media companies to victims of the unlawful practice but few cases have come to court. This has meant the perpetrators have largely managed to avoid a public dressing-down of the type handed out by Fancourt.

After a seven-week trial, when Harry became the first royal in 130 years to appear in a witness box, the judge said: “It was not just out-of-control editors and journalists who were causing serious distress by invading his privacy, but that this conduct and its inevitable consequences were being accepted, and profited from, by those who should have stopped it. As a result, the conduct was encouraged to continue and did continue, for years longer than it should have done.”

Damningly, the judge also found that there was “hacking even to some extent” during the Leveson inquiry into media standards, which was supposed to draw a line under past practices and herald a new dawn.

On the Mirror’s use of private investigators, he said MGN had concealed the extent of its use of them “not just from parliament and the Leveson inquiry but then from the court too [in a previous phone-hacking case]”.

Which individuals at MGN came in for criticism?

Fancourt was clear that this was not a case of a few journalists who were bad apples and that those culpable included senior executives.

“A significant amount of the duke’s claim relates to the period after 2006, by when Mr [Paul] Vickers [MGN’s then group legal director] and Ms [Sly] Bailey [its then chief executive] both knew that there was at least a strong likelihood of illegal activity at MGN,” he said.

Among others who will be sweating are the talkshow host and former Mirror editor Piers Morgan, given that the judge said he accepted an account by the journalist Omid Scobie that when Morgan asked a journalist how they were sure about a story about Kylie Minogue, Scobie heard the journalist tell Morgan the information had come from voicemails. Fancourt said: “I found Mr Scobie to be a straightforward and reliable witness and I accept what he said about Mr Morgan’s involvement in the Minogue/Gooding story. No evidence was called by MGN to contradict it.”

Harry also named Morgan in his statement after the ruling.

#prince harry #duke of sussex #phone hacking #the guardian

0 notes

invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years ago

Text

Father of Mine – 1/2

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: With the tragic passing of her mother, Y/N learns to the truth of who her father is.

Word Count: 4,000+

Warnings: Family death, cancer, absent father, cremation

A/N: The reader is described as tall in this fic. Bruce Wayne is 6′2 and I’m tall, so I’m indulging myself with no apologies. Read it or don’t.

“Do you want to say anything before we…” the operator asked her.

“No,” Y/N answered quickly.

“Oh, my assistant forgot to give you this,” the operator gave her a shy smile as he handed her a small cardboard box.

She opened it to find all of her mother’s jewelry that had been on her body at the funeral.

“Thank you,” Y/N told him.

“Ready?” The operator asked.

He had been so kind throughout the whole process. It was obvious he was used to people breaking down and being extremely emotional.

But Y/N had been stoic, almost concerningly so.

Though he wasn’t one to judge. Everyone grieved differently.

With the pull of a handle, Y/N watched her mother’s body going into the chamber.

“It will be a few hours,” the operator told her.

He meant it will it will take a few hours for her mother’s body to burn to ash. Then they would hand her a tacky vase with her remains.

Y/N just nodded. “I’ll go for a walk.”

As soon as she was outside, Y/N called her mother’s executor.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I was just about to call you.”

“I’m at the crematory,” she told him. “I figured we should discuss the bills that still need to be paid for.”

“Yes, of course. As I mentioned to you before, your mother’s life insurance covers quite a lot of it…” his words died out.

“But it’s still not enough,” Y/N finished for him. “I’ll get the money.”

She wasn’t exactly rich, but she also wasn’t living paycheck to paycheck. But people never realized how much money it cost for loved ones to die. It was honestly ridiculous.

“You might want to consider taking out a loan,” he tried to suggest gently.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Another thing, Ms. Y/L/N. There was an envelope with a name on it. And your mother left instructions on delivering the envelope to them.”

She stopped her pacing.

“What name is on the envelope?” Y/N asked.

There was a pause.

“Bruce Wayne.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed.

Of course she knew who Bruce Wayne was – everyone in Gotham did, as well as most of the country. He was a billionaire playboy, only making headlines when he was a mess. But every once in awhile his philanthropy would sneak in there. Y/N always assumed those were only to help recover his image and not because he was a good person.

“You still there?” The executor asked.

“Yeah. I’m just a bit confused. But please pass it along to him, if that’s what my mom wanted.”

“I can’t. The instructions specifically say for you to deliver the envelop to him in person.”

“In person?” Y/N groaned in annoyance as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Why did all of this have to be so god damn complicated?

“Yes. Her instructions are…oddly specific."

“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll pick up everything from your office before the work day ends.”

——————

Y/N stared at the envelop that she’d tossed on her coffee table as she sipped a rather large glass of red wine.

She was wracking her brain trying to think of a time when her mom mentioned knowing Bruce Wayne. But Y/N would’ve remembered her mom saying his name – even in passing. It’s not a name that one can drop casually.

Y/N pulled up her phone and googled him. But she looked at his history. Yes, he was from Gotham, as was her mom, but so were 10 million other people.

But then Y/N’s scrolling paused when she realized they went to the same high school: Gotham Academy. Not only that, they graduated in the same year.

‘Were they friends?’ Y/N wondered.

But just classmates or friends still didn’t seem to warrant a handwritten letter to be delivered after one’s death.

Y/N didn’t open the envelope.

Her mother’s instructions specifically told her not to. And if she put in that much of an effort to get this done after her death, Y/N wasn’t going to ignore such a request.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t curious.

“Fuck,” Y/N sighed before throwing back the rest of her wine.

——————

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t grant you access to the building without your name being in the system by the company you’re visiting,” the building receptionist told her for the third time.

“I understand. But I called his office 30 fucking times and they refuse to put me through to him or get me an appointment,” Y/N practically growled.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I already called their office to say you were here and they didn’t recognize your name. I can’t let you through to the elevators.”

Y/N’s gaze flickered to the security guard who stood a few feet away. He was eyeing her now that there was clearly an argument going on.

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes. She had a good foot on him – even without her heels on. And he looked like he couldn’t run a 50 yard dash without passing out or vomiting. If he thought he was going to physically stop her, he had another thing coming.

“Listen, I am not some crazy fucking stalker. My mom knew Bruce Wayne and in her will she asked me to deliver this to him,” Y/N’s voice lowered and became disturbingly calm. “I don’t want to be here just as much as you don’t want to have this conversation.”

“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to calm down,” the security guard finally stepped forward.

“Oh, fuck off,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the rent-a-cop.

“Ma’am, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” he continued.

“Call me ma’am one more fucking time…” Y/N growled.

But the security guard was taking a step to her.

“Excuse me. What seems to be the problem here?” A voice suddenly interrupted.

Everyone turned to see a young man – younger than Y/N – glaring at the security guard just as he was about to grab Y/N.

“M-Mr. Drake, we were just escorting this young woman from the premises,” the guard stuttered out.

Everyone at the building knew every member of the Wayne family. But unlike his siblings, Tim Drake was at the office almost every day. As one should be when they’re the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company.

“For what reason?” Tim Drake asked.

“She insists on seeing Mr. Wayne. But she doesn’t have an appointment. For security reasons, I cannot let her through, obviously, unless the company she is visiting has put her into their system and the building’s system,” the receptionist explained nervously.

Y/N frowned as if she was bored of the whole thing.

Tim stepped forward. “May I ask what your business with Bruce Wayne is?”

Now that he was closer, Y/N noticed how exhausted he looked. He was handsome still, of course. But she wondered when he last got a good night’s sleep. He was shorter than her, probably standing at 5’5. And she still believed he was younger than her, which was wild seeing as he was already the CEO and couldn’t be older than 24.

Y/N sighed before she grabbed the envelope from her black leather satchel, and showed that Bruce Wayne’s name was handwritten on it.

“My mother wished me to personally deliver this to him.”

Tim tilted his head slightly. “Why isn’t she doing it?”

“Because she’s dead,” she shot back without emotion.

But Tim’s face became sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I should’ve assumed…”

“It’s fine,” Y/N quickly cut him off before he could continue.

She was so tired of being on the receiving end of people’s sympathy. It didn’t help. And the words stopped holding any meaning to her.

“But I’m sorry. Bruce isn’t in today. And he probably won’t be coming to the office for the rest of the week.”

“Oh,” was all she responded with.

Of course Bruce Wayne didn’t come to work. Why would he?

This was a stupid idea. And now she had made a scene because of it.

“But if you give me your information, I will personally let him know that you are trying to reach him.”

“Really?” Y/N asked in shock.

Tim smiled at her surprise. “Of course.”

“Here’s my card,” she quickly grabbed one from her wallet and then a pen. “All my info is on that.” She wrote something on the back. “And that’s my mom’s name.”

He took it from her and nodded. “What was your mother’s relationship with Bruce?”

Y/N shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve been trying to figure it out. Apparently they graduated in the same high school class. But that’s all I was able to find.”

He nodded.

“Thank you…Mr. Drake. For your help. Really,” she urged.

“Please, it’s just Tim.” Then he glared at the receptionist and security guard. “For you it is, at least.”

“Thank you again,” Y/N felt like saying it 30 more times still wouldn’t be enough.

“You don’t have to thank me. Someone will be in touch. Have a good day, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Y/N,” she corrected with a smile before she nodded and started backing away.

He smiled at her correction and gave a final nod.

——————

Y/N didn’t expect to hear from anyone for at least a week.

If the Wayne family was one thing, it was busy.

They probably had parties to go to, meetings to attend, private jets taking them around the world whenever they wished.

Why would they ever prioritize a meeting with her, a stranger?

So imagine her surprise when she received a call from an unrecognized number the same day she gave Tim Drake her card.

“Hello?” She answered.

Usually she would let any unknown number go to voicemail.

“Hello,” a British voice answered. “Am I speaking with Ms. Y/F/N Y/L/N?”

“This is she,” Y/N sat up straighter on her couch.

“This is Alfred Pennyworth. I work for Master Wayne and manage all his personal appointments. I was told by Master Tim that you wished to meet with him?”

“Uhhh. Yes. Yes, I do. Is that…is that possible?”

“Would you be able to stop by Wayne Manor on Friday afternoon?”

Y/N already knew she had nothing going on that would stop her from getting this done. But she still paused to pretend to think about it.

“Yes, Friday afternoon should be fine. Are you sure he doesn’t just want me to stop by Wayne Enterprises?”

It felt oddly intimate to stop by Wayne Manor. Wouldn’t they want to meet her in a more secure location like a corporate building with security that already hated her?

“He is quite certain. Should I send a car for you Ms. Y/L/N?”

A car?

Y/N felt even more out of her depth now.

“Oh, no. That won’t be necessary. I’ll be there.”

“I look forward to meeting you, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Thanks,” she answered before hanging up and realizing that probably wasn’t the proper response to such a polite goodbye.

——————

“I haven’t heard that name since high school,” Bruce had muttered as he stared at the business card for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Yes, and the end of your relationship did not end on the best of terms,” Alfred commented.

Y/M’s/N Y/L/N had been Bruce’s high school sweetheart.

An she had seen the last moments of Bruce’s normal life.

Upon graduation, Bruce decided to leave Gotham and that’s how his second life was founded. The two of them broke up before the summer after graduation had even ended.

Well, “Breakup” was a strong word.

Bruce stopped answering her calls.

She was his first love and he continued to love her.

But once Bruce realized where his life was going and who he wanted to be, he knew he couldn’t drag her into it. She deserved better.

And Bruce was a coward about relationships then. Maybe he still was.

“I am certain you did a thorough background check on her already,” Alfred commented with a smirk.

Bruce took in a breath before listing off all of her accomplishments. “Y/F/N Y/L/N. Graduated number one in her class at Gotham Academy. She was the star of the track team, breaking the regional record for fastest time in 100m, 200m, and 400m races. Also captain of her soccer team. Attended NYU’s photography program before dropping out after a year. Now she’s a professional photography. Her work’s been featured in Vogue, New York Times, National Geographic…amongst others.”

“Rather an impressive woman,” Alfred said.

Bruce nodded.

“I should get the tea and coffee ready for her arrival.” And with that, Alfred left Bruce in the drawing room.

30 minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Bruce glanced down at his watch: she was right on time.

He heard Alfred saying his pleasantries before he heard the clicking of her heels as she rounded the corner to enter the room he was waiting in.

For being a famous photographer, she could’ve been a runway model with her height and the way she walked into the room, completely owning it. She wore four-inch heels, only adding to her natural tallness. And her bright, red coat only added to her presence.

For a split second, Bruce was convinced that he was looking at an Amazon. Diana immediately flashed into his mind for a split second. Perhaps that was what Y/M’s/N needed help with: to get her daughter to her real people. But how would she have known Bruce Wayne had such connections? Unless she knew Batman’s true identity…

As soon as Y/N spotted him in the room, he rose from his seat.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Bruce greeted.

He took a step forward and held out his hand.

“You guys really love the formalities.” She said it with a dark evenness, but it was clearly a joke. “Y/N is fine, Mr. Wayne,” she added as she shook his hand.

“In that case, it’s Bruce,” he countered with a soft smirk.

There was something so familiar about her. But Bruce knew they’d never met.

“Thank you for seeing me. I don’t want to waste anymore of your time,” Y/N quickly got to it. She opened her purse to grab the envelope.

“My mom wanted you to have this. And she wanted to make sure I was the one to give it to you,” Y/N explained as she offered it to him.

Bruce took it carefully, but didn’t open it. “Yes, I heard about her passing. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she said hurriedly, making it obvious to Bruce that she did not want nor need his condolences.

Bruce nodded slowly.

There was a pause.

“Do you know what it says?” He asked her lightly.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t supposed to read it.”

“I see.”

“I should really be going. I have a flight to catch later tonight.” Most people that visited Wayne Manor wished to stay there forever. Or their curiosity got the best of them and their eyes took in every little detail.

But Y/N looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. And she wanted to get out as soon as she possibly could.

“Thank you again for seeing me,” she rushed out.

Without waiting for his answer, Y/N turned and started walking out of the room.

But she only got a few steps before she stopped.

Bruce watched her shoulders tense and her body move as she was clearly taking in deep breath.

Slowly, Y/N turned around to face him.

“Were you friends?”

Bruce gave her a watery smile. “She was my girlfriend in high school.”

Y/N seemed annoyed by that answer. “She never mentioned you. Not once.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed at that and his eyes zoned out as if he was revising the past in his mind. “I’m not entirely surprised. Things didn’t really end well between us.”

She nodded slowly. “Goodbye, Mr. Wayne.”

And Y/N turned and strutted out of the room without looking back.

As soon as Bruce heard her cab drive away, he ripped open the envelope and pulled out a letter.

He barely noticed that Dick had walked into the room. “May I ask…Who was the extremely attractive and tall woman that just walked out?”

But Bruce didn’t hear him as his eyes raced across the letter. His heart sped as he continued reading.

“Bruce?” Dick asked after being ignored. “Is she your next conquest or what?”

It wasn’t until Bruce was done reading the letter for the third time that he finally looked up and acknowledged Dick.

Alfred had also walked into the room, unbeknownst to Bruce.

“You OK?” Dick asked, now concerned with how silent Bruce had become.

“Master Wayne?” Alfred also urged.

“That was…my daughter,” Bruce finally muttered.

Dick blinked before his eyes grew wide in shock.

Alfred seemed less surprised, almost as if he had already put that together.

“Excuse me,” Bruce told them and exited the room.

———

Dick and Alfred must’ve warned the rest of the family not to bother Bruce in the cave. Usually he would’ve been disturbed by now.

Bruce had been at the computer for hours.

Alfred was the first person to come down, carrying a tray with dinner and tea.

The butler wasn’t surprised to find Y/N’s face all over the screens.

If Bruce had left any available information hidden before inviting Y/N to the manor, it was all out there now. Bruce knew everything about Y/F/N Y/L/N that was public knowledge – probably even some things that were not.

“You know, you did not seem all that surprised,” Bruce said to Alfred as he put the tray of food down next to him.

“Seemed rather obvious, didn’t it?”

Bruce quickly turned to look at him. “It did?”

Alfred smirked. “Her eyes,” was all he said.

“The color?”

Alfred shook his head. “As soon as she walked into the manor, they were reading me.” He tilted his head in Bruce’s direction. “Observation. Perception. Attention to detail...That is all you, Master Wayne.”

“The way she held herself,” Alfred continued, "Shoulders held back, head high, walking with purpose. No hesitation.”

“Also me?” Bruce asked.

Alfred simply nodded.

“I don’t think she liked me very much,” Bruce sighed.

He didn’t know how he felt about that yet.

“A lot of people think you don’t like them when you first meet them,” Alfred countered. “Because I don’t trust them yet.”

Alfred raised his brows and silently ask him, ‘Don’t you see my point?’

Bruce rubbed his face and reached for the tea on the tray, ignoring all the food.

“I don’t know why you’re so entertained by this, Alfred.”

“Yes, I was entertained. I just saw a younger, female version of you, Master Wayne.”

“I abandoned her,” Bruce shot.

“You didn’t know she existed,” Alfred corrected.

“And why do you think that is?”

Alfred’s face dropped a little bit when he noticed the envelope discarded on the far end of Bruce’s desktop.

He looked down at the ground as he asked, “Might I ask what the letter said?”

Bruce glared at the letter as if touching it would burn him.

But after a moment, he grabbed it and quickly handed it to Alfred.

Bruce,

If this letter has finally reached you, it is because I have passed.

I must admit that I wrote this letter mostly in the event that I leave my daughter before she is an adult. But once Y/N turned 18, I decided to still pass this along to you.

There is no easy way to tell you this, so I will get to the point.

The young woman who delivered this letter to you is your daughter, Bruce.

Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.

When I found out I was pregnant with her, I was only 18. We had just graduated high school. You had started traveling. You called less and less. And you grew more distant – physically and emotionally. Eventually, you stopped answering my calls altogether. I left you a voicemail, only saying that I so desperately needed to talk to you, that I needed you.

But you never called me back.

With no words at all, you made it very clear that you no longer wanted anything to do with me.

But there I was, a teenager who was pregnant with our child.

I would be lying if I said I never considered terminating my pregnancy. I was scared and you broke my heart. All I wanted to do was erase you from my life.

But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Once I decided what my future was going to be, I also decided that I did not want you to have any part in it.

I knew even if you pretended to play the doting father and the committed partner, you would grow tired of us eventually. You would resent me and our child for bringing you down. And you would brush us aside for yourself.

I realized I would rather Y/N have no father at all than one who would only disappoint her over and over again.

To this day, I truly believe I did the right thing for all three of us.

There are not enough words to explain the complicated woman that Y/N grew up to be. But I will try my best. I think I owe you that at least.

Or maybe you have no interest.

I don’t know how she became so much like you, even when I never so much as showed her a picture of you or uttered your name.

She enjoys being alone – almost to her own detriment. I constantly catch her repressing her feelings, always staying strong for everyone else. It reminds me of you. She’s assertive and confident, never letting anything stand in the way of what she wants. Sometimes I don’t think she’s scared of anything. It worries me, just like it worried me when I thought the same of you.

I truly don’t know what you will do with this information.

But…if you have any desire to form some sort of relationship with her, then you should know this: she will not make it easy for you. She will push you away. And she might even hate you. I raised her to never need a man in her life, and she’ll make sure you know that.

I don’t expect anything from you. I never did.

But I would just like to know there might be someone who will be there for her should she need them.

Goodbye, Bruce.

Alfred slowly handed the letter back to Bruce when he was finished.

“I pushed her away because I knew what I was about to become,” Bruce explained darkly. “And I didn’t want her anywhere near it. She would’ve been in danger.”

“Y/N, as well,” Alfred added.

“But had I known…if I just listened to her–”

“Master Wayne, I thought we had agreed to never linger on the ‘what ifs.’”

That sure silenced Bruce.

“Now, what do you plan on doing, Master Wayne?”

———

Y/N frowned when her phone started vibrating and she recognized the name of her mom’s executor on her phone screen.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, how are you?”

“Fine. How are you?” She was quick, wanting to get this over with. Surely, he had bad news. Another medical bill came in or some other expense that slipped by them.

“Good, good. Just curious…have you placed any payments to our various claims?”

“Uhhh…no. But I’m working on it.”

Y/N hadn’t expected to get a call nagging about paying bills.

“No, no, no. You misunderstand. They’ve all been paid,” the executor explained.

Y/N sat up straighter in her chair. “What? That’s not possible.”

“An anonymous donor. They somehow got record of all your outstanding payments and covered all of them.”

Y/N was stunned to silence.

“Ms. Y/L/N…this is a good thing.”

She blinked and shook her head. “Right. Yes, of course. I just…thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank this guardian angel of yours.”

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

Part 2

Let me know what you think!!!

#bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #bruce wayne reader insert #batfam #batman #batman x daughter!reader #dad!bruce wayne #dad!batman #batman family #batman universe #batman angst #bruce wayne angst #alfred pennyworth #father!bruce wayne #father!batman

2K notes · View notes

edendaphne · 3 years ago

Text

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 21

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

–––––

CHAPTER 21: IMPROVVISANDO

Music glossary: Improvvisando: with improvisation

Glossary: Wǎnshàng hǎo : Good evening Shīfù : Teacher/Master

(Mood music: Night of Beijing - Jia Peng Fang)

That evening

Marinette fidgeted with her napkin, occasionally sipping her now-lukewarm tea while sitting at the kitchen bar counter. Chat Noir sat on the stool beside her in silence, also nursing a half-emptied cup. She checked the clock for what seemed to be the hundredth time in the last few minutes.

“It’s about that time. I’ll head up to my room to let Ladybug inside. Will you get the door if your visitor arrives before she does?”

“Sure,” he replied, uneasy but compliant, doing his best to avoid staring at the black eye she’d received earlier that day.

Marinette set her cup in the sink and headed upstairs, leaving Chat alone with his thoughts.

He tried to keep his fast-beating heart in check, subconsciously clenching his jaw. It was finally happening. He was going to meet “him”: The Guardian of the Miraculous.

Following the events at school earlier that day, Adrien had walked Marinette to her house, where her family invited him to stay for a cup of tea until his “ride” arrived to pick him up. Of course, he’d eagerly accepted. It was nice to interact with the family as Adrien instead of just as Chat Noir.

After leaving, he hid away and transformed so he could sneak in through Marinette’s balcony as he usually did.

Upon transforming, however, he found a series of voice mails from Ladybug that she’d left during Adrien’s attempted abduction. Her voice was frantic. He could hear the urgency and distress in her tone, and a heavy blanket of guilt settled onto his shoulders as he listened.

The first message asked him to come to their school, that it was an emergency, to please call her back as soon as possible. He chewed on his lip, wanting nothing more than to hide away in a cave in shame.

The second one must have been left right after she’d rescued Adrien and left him at the school nurse; she’d called to let Chat know the incident had passed. Then she asked if he was okay, since she hadn’t heard back from him. He sighed. Typical Ladybug, always worrying and thinking about others first, even when she was having a rough time.

The last voicemail caused a trail of ice to trickle down his spine as he listened. Ladybug informed him that she had scheduled an impromptu meeting with the Guardian at the Dupain-Cheng’s house that evening, with Marinette’s permission, and that it was of utmost importance that he attend.

He shivered as goosebumps appeared on his arms and he swallowed hard. What was the purpose of this meeting? Was he in trouble for not showing up today during ‘Adrien’s’ kidnapping? And why meet here, at the Dupain home, instead of somewhere more private and away from civilians? What was the Guardian like? Would Chat get reprimanded and treated with disdain for having been their enemy for all these years, or would he be understanding and forgiving?

More importantly, would he have to disclose his identity to him, or to both him and Ladybug, to prove his loyalty? He winced at the mere thought of it. The last thing he wanted was for Ladybug to think less of him, or to pity him. Especially after the kidnapping attempt.

Additionally, if they were to learn that Hawkmoth was Gabriel Agreste, would they want to confront him head-on? Adrien didn’t feel ready for that, for several reasons.

First of all, would he be able to protect Ladybug, as he’d promised her? Hawkmoth had shown that he’d developed some sort of new power. Either that, or an entirely different person had become involved and was helping him. In any case, he didn’t know what exactly they were dealing with anymore.

Secondly, if the time came and he had to hurt or even kill his father, he didn’t know if he’d be able to do it. Yes, Gabriel was a monster and Adrien despised what he had become. But what if the damage was reversible and there was still a way to bring him back to normal? He just had to know, before doing something he might permanently regret.

The sudden ringing of the doorbell startled Chat out of his thoughts and he practically fell off his seat.

He ran to answer the front door, looking to make sure no one else was around. At the last second, he remembered to detransform and slip on the hood of his zip-up sweater (the one Marinette had gifted him), pulling a scarf over his nose and mouth so he wouldn’t be recognized if anyone outside were to catch a glimpse of him.

He looked out through the peephole, only to see the very top of someone’s head, balding with grey hair, and a little bit of their eyebrows.

Huh. Somehow Adrien thought the Guardian would be a bit… taller?

He turned the knob and the door opened, its squeaking hinges somehow louder than usual. Peeking out from the side like a scared tortoise, he checked to make sure the individual matched the description he was given, then stepped back to allow the door to swing open all the way. The older man stepped inside, closing it behind him.

“Hello,” Adrien said meekly, bowing his head slightly. “You must be…”

“Yes. I am Wang Fu,” he replied, bowing politely in greeting. “It is very good to see you again, Adrien Agreste.”

While Adrien’s face scarf efficiently concealed the way his jaw dropped when the elder man called him by name, there was no hiding the way his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.

“W- what?!” he sputtered. “How did you—”

The man called Fu chuckled, stroking his beard. “It was a long time ago, but we’ve met before.”

Adrien lowered his scarf and frowned in concentration, falling silent for a few seconds. Then it dawned on him.

“YOU!!” he gaped. “I do remember you! It was my first day of lycée! You fell down in front of our school and I helped you up. It was you who put the cat miraculous in my bag that day, wasn’t it?”

“That is correct,” Fu confirmed.

“But why me? You could’ve picked anyone, so why did you choose someone like me?”

Fu’s smile faltered when he said this. Adrien had said “anyone”, but he could see that Fu knew what he’d actually meant. Why did you choose someone as broken as me?

The man folded his arms behind him, considering his answer. “Guardians are bestowed with several powers and abilities. One of them is to locate and select good candidates for the miraculous jewels. And so I was led to you.”

Chat grimaced in confusion. “So if you already knew it was me, why bother to ‘test’ me?”

“My powers as a guardian may lead me to a potential candidate, but ultimately the choice is still mine to make. It was a simple test, but it showed me what your first instinct would be if you saw someone in need. The answer I received was satisfactory. You were meant to be Ladybug’s Chat Noir.”

Adrien sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Honestly, a couple of months ago I wouldn’t have known whether to hug you because I got to become Chat Noir, or whether to punch you because I had to become Chat Noir. But it’s because of you that I got to meet Ladybug, so I am grateful to you for that. It’s good to finally meet you. Officially.”

He extended his hand and Fu took it with a smile, giving it a firm shake.

Afterwards, Adrien’s gaze fell, brows scrunching together. “I can’t believe it. All this time, you knew. You could’ve told Ladybug who I was years ago. She could have figured out a way to take away my miraculous while I wasn’t transformed, like at school, and she would’ve had one less enemy to deal with. It would’ve––” he pursed his lips, expression full of shame, and he lifted his eyes to meet Fu’s once again, “–it would’ve made it easier for her. She would’ve suffered less if I’d been out of the picture. So why didn’t you?”

Fu’s countenance became somber, his eyes carrying years of pain and regret. He took a few moments to consider his words. “When I was a boy, barely a teenager, something terrible happened. Hundreds of innocent people died, and it was all because of me.”

Chat almost reeled back as if he’d been smacked across the face, puzzled about the sudden switch in topic. He remembered Ladybug briefly mentioning this a few months ago, on the night they danced together. He waited for Fu to elaborate.

“I was only trying to protect them,” the older man explained. “After I was orphaned as a child, the monks of the Guardian Temple took me in. They became my family. They were stern, but fair and kind. It was a tough childhood, but I was happy.” He sighed. “However, there were those who would try to steal the miraculous and use their power selfishly. It was an endless struggle. Many were lost over the years. I longed for peace. I wanted my family to be safe, I wanted us to be left alone. So I did what I thought would be a better route, an easier one; one with less hardship and bloodshed. You see, one day while I was supposed to be on guard duty, I sneaked away to where the miraculous box was kept. I put on both the ladybug and cat miraculouses and used them to make a wish: I wished that our enemies would disappear.”

The older man exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut, the memories of what came next clearly still haunting him. Adrien couldn’t help but hold his breath while he listened.

“It worked,” Fu resumed, voice quiet and slightly shaky. “But as you might have suspected, there is always a price to pay; a balance that must be maintained. Therefore, because of my wish, all the monks in our Guardian temple and the innocent people of the surrounding village were ripped away from me, along with our enemies. The wish was technically fulfilled, but I never suspected that the cost would be that high. I have had to live with that in my conscience for over a hundred years.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, appearing more vulnerable than Adrien would have ever expected. He continued, “Since that time, I have both seen and caused much death in my lifetime, protecting the miraculous box alone as the last Guardian. So, you see, if there was even one person I could save, I had to try. I wanted to trust in the miraculouses, like I should have decades ago, during my misguided attempt to control the outcome of a complicated situation.”

Adrien absently rubbed his arm, pondering Fu’s words. “Looking back,” he began, “I can see the reasoning behind a lot of Ladybug’s decisions and principles, now that I know your story.”

“Indeed. Ladybug is a remarkable young lady; I knew that even back then. When I would ask her if she was willing to risk her life for the sake of a stranger, she would say yes, every single time. If anyone can persevere for the greater good, it was her. Was it unfair of me? Probably. Have I asked too much from her? Absolutely. Have I made mistakes while trying to guide her? Yes. Many of them.” He put his hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “I wanted to save you that day by giving you the cat miraculous. But I never would have guessed that it would also doom you and force you into a role of servitude. I hope that you will forgive me for this.”

Adrien’s heart pained for Fu as he admitted his guilt. “You couldn’t have known it would’ve turned out that way. It wasn’t your fault,” he insisted.

Fu shrugged. “I try to tell myself that, but I can’t quite convince myself. The situation made sense once Ladybug told me about Hawkmoth.”

“You mean, when she told you that Hawkmoth was my father?” Adrien asked.

“Yes,” Fu replied. “I had my suspicions, because it would explain your motivations, but I had no proof, no way of finding out for sure. It made sense that Hawkmoth would be Gabriel Agreste. The butterfly miraculous requires its wielder to be creative and inventive, since it relies on their ability to convert the subject’s emotions into a source of power. And he had the motivation.”

Adrien hummed in agreement.

“Additionally, such a clever and talented individual getting ahold of the cat miraculous would be incredibly dangerous. I’d be lying if I said I had never considered taking your miraculous away. But even still, it was safer to let it all play out. I didn’t want to repeat past mistakes. And if Hawkmoth was Gabriel Agreste, your fate if you were to lose the cat miraculous would have been disastrous. Maybe it would have even alerted him about the presence of a Guardian in Paris. But now that we know the truth, we can plan accordingly.”

Adrien gulped. So Fu had considered taking his miraculous away before. “A-are you going to tell Ladybug who I am?”

Fu shook his head. “It is not up to me to decide when it will be right for there to be no more secrets between you two. I only know that it is not yet time.”

Adrien curiously tilted his head, brows furrowed in confusion. “How do you know that?”

As Fu started to answer, Adrien heard a doorknob twist open behind him and he quickly pulled his scarf back over his features.

The door opened and Ladybug’s voice exclaimed, “There you are! What are you two doing out here in the entryway?”

Adrien cleared his throat, then stammered, “R-right, pardon my manners. Please, come in.”

Fu walked past him, entering the living area. He took Ladybug’s hands between his, shaking them briefly, and said, “Wǎnshàng hǎo, Ladybug.”

With a small bow, Ladybug replied, “Wǎnshàng hǎo, shīfù. Thank you for coming at such short notice. Please, have a seat.”

Chat entered the room, having transformed now, and stepped forward to greet her.

He stopped short, realizing that he wasn’t quite sure how to greet her since last night’s development in their relationship, not to mention being very conscious of the Guardian watching them. He settled for a hug, which she returned, squeezing him tightly, and added a quick, discreet peck on his cheek. He smiled, feeling his face heat up.

Pleasantries aside and everyone seated, it was Ladybug who spoke first.

“Thank you both for being here. There’s a lot we need to talk about.”

----------

A transformed Wang Fu stood at the bedroom window, curtains drawn, chanting in a language that neither Ladybug nor Chat Noir understood, holding the last of several metallic talismans he’d blessed and scattered around the room. The pair kept their eyes on him, marveling at the efficiency and care that he put into each incantation. There was something sacred, even holy about this ritual. They could feel powerful magic emanating from his form, invisible bursts of energy swirling about the room, dancing all around them in a silent symphony.

Ladybug cast a furtive glance at her partner. He’d been quiet for a little while, after learning about his attempted akumatization the night before. Ladybug had told him that it was Marinette who let her know, and that Plagg was the one who had informed her.

She’d called Master Fu before going to school to let him know what happened last night, and he promised he would figure out a solution. He’d spent all day preparing these special talismans, which would ward off akumas and keep them from entering this room. But only this room. He wasn’t strong enough to cast such a potent, long-term spell over a larger area; especially not at his age.

Fu, or rather, Jade Turtle, was silent for a few moments after placing the last charm, a silver one with indecipherable symbols carved into it, then turned around to face the couple.

“The talismans are almost done being enchanted,” he said, pretty out of breath, beads of sweat present on his brow. “There is one more thing that needs to be done. But I think I’ll need your help for this, Ladybug.”

Ladybug stepped forward in response. “Sure, Master. What is it?”

“I would do it myself, but, well… let’s just say I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Of course Master, anything you need. Just tell me what to do.”

Fu removed his bracelet, the turtle miraculous, and turned back to his civilian self, then handed the jewelry to her. His kwami, Wayzz, floated next to them awaiting instruction.

“If you could transform with my miraculous to finish the protection spell, I’d very much appreciate it. I’ll show you what to do when you’re ready.”

The young woman gaped at him, having never transformed into any hero other than Ladybug before.

“Oh! R-really?? S-sure! No problem...” She took the bracelet hesitantly, studying it like she’d never seen it before, then excused herself to the ensuite for privacy.

In the bathroom, Ladybug detransformed and removed her earrings, handing them to Tikki for safekeeping. She put on the emerald stone bracelet, staring at it as if it might try to crawl away from her if she wasn’t careful enough.

She squeezed her eyes shut in preparation. “Wayzz, shell on.”

Jade green light shone around the bathroom, and Marinette felt the magic of the turtle miraculous engulf her form. When it passed, she gulped and opened her eyes, lifting them to the mirror to catch a glimpse of her newly transformed self.

“Whoa.”

The heroine stared at her reflection across the way. She ran her fingers over the various bits of fabric and armor, taking the time to appreciate the feel and texture. Somehow, she felt quite powerful. Tough. Solid. Almost like a sentient brick wall.

“Wow, Marinette! You look incredible!” Tikki whispered to her.

“Aww, thank you Tikki,” she replied. “It feels so different, but it’s also really cool.”

Sparing one last glance into the mirror, she finally emerged from the bathroom. Fu was seated at the desk chair across the room, taking a short breather. Chat was speaking to him in hushed tones, but turned around when he heard her re-enter the bedroom.

His jaw dropped and he gasped.

“Oh my God, you’re adorable!” Chat blurted out. He caught himself and turned tomato red, then stuttered, “Umm! S-sorry, I––”

Ladybug (Lady...turtle??) giggled, stepping forward to stand beside him once again. “Thanks,” she replied shyly, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear as she usually did when she was nervous, but her hand bumped into her suit’s hood instead. Not quite sure what to do with her hands, she folded them in front of her as she awaited further instruction.

Tikki flew in front of Master Fu, bowing her head in greeting. “It’s good to see you again, Master!”

“Likewise. I hope you are doing well,” he greeted back.

Tikki flew over to Chat Noir, to say hello to him as well. “Hello, Chat Noir! It’s nice to formally meet you,” she chirped happily.

Chat beamed and answered, “Tikki, right? It’s great to finally meet you too! I must admit, you look a little different than I thought you would.”

Tikki giggled. “Did you think I’d be more insect-like? Maybe with six legs and an exoskeleton?”

Chat shrugged timidly. “Well, I mean… Maybe…?” ‘Ladybug’ and Tikki looked at each other and snickered at his reply.

Fu smiled at their interactions fondly, recalling times spent with loved ones, allies no longer here. With a small grunt, he stood up to continue the protection ritual.

“This way, Ladybug. Chat Noir and Tikki, please stand over there; we’ll need a bit of space for this. You might feel a bit tired once this is finished, so be sure to get plenty of rest tonight,” he instructed.

Tikki perched on Chat’s shoulder as he moved towards the edge of the room. They spoke in hushed voices as Fu instructed Ladybug and had her repeat phrases from his notes.

While they waited, Chat turned to Tikki and whispered, “By the way, I wanted to thank you... for helping Ladybug and keeping safe all these years. She means a lot to me.”

If kwamis could blush, Chat was sure that’s what Tikki’s face showed at the moment. “It’s been a pleasure to be her kwami. She’s the best! I’m glad you’ve gotten to know her and see what a sweet person she is.”

Chat smiled, cheeks dusted pink. “I am too.”

------

Many minutes passed, and Ladybug and Fu finished casting the protection ward. Chat helped Fu gather his things as Ladybug excused herself to transform back to her regular hero self.

As she re-emerged from the bathroom, Chat handed her a glass of water and invited her to sit on the bed so she could catch her breath and gather back some of her energy. “Welcome back, Lily-bug,” he greeted her with a wink. Ladybug beamed at him, accepting the water and taking a seat next to him.

Fu stood beside them, having finished gathering his belongings in a satchel. As he gave Ladybug time to rest, he asked, “Do either of you have any questions about the protection ritual, or about anything else?”

Ladybug replied, “I actually do have some questions, sir.”

Fu nodded.

“Master... why did Hawkmoth attempt to akumatize Chat Noir last night? If he’s tried it before, why did he not succeed during other nights?” Ladybug’s questions came faster once she got started. “Since he tried to akumatized Chat, does that mean he knows where he lives now? Is Chat even safe here anymore? What about the Dupains? Are they gonna be okay? How much does Hawkmoth know?”

Chat looked at Fu expectantly, realizing that he, too, had those same questions.

Fu replied, “The owner of the butterfly miraculous sends out his butterflies in search of a specific strong emotion, but is not aware of their location until after the host accepts it. He is able to learn some vague details about why they are feeling that certain emotion. My guess is that he was able to locate him while he was having a nightmare. So, no. He does not know that Chat Noir lives here. His powers have limitations, just like you do with yours. He is more powerful since he is older and more experienced, but even he can’t overextend the capabilities of his miraculous.”

He paused, stroking his beard, and contemplated. Then he asked, “Did something happen last night to make your emotions different from what they normally are?”

Ladybug and Chat Noir looked at each other, blushing furiously, stammering as they attempted to answer without divulging too much unnecessary information.

Fu raised an eyebrow, then chuckled knowingly, raising his hands to stop them. “It’s okay, I don’t need to know the details.”

“Umm! I-it’s not what you think!”

“M-master, don’t misunderstand–”

“Y-you see–”

“What happened was…”

“My guess is–” Fu interrupted, “–That Hawkmoth sensed your great joy last night, and became enraged. He couldn’t stand the thought of you being happy because it would mean that he is in the wrong, and his pride won’t allow him to accept that.”

Chat and Ladybug fell silent, looking downcast, as the explanation both made sense yet was immensely disheartening.

“There’s something else, Master,” Ladybug spoke again. “Something happened at school today. Akumas, but they vanished without a trace. I mentioned it to you earlier today over the phone. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“Ah, yes. And all that remained was two white feathers?” Fu asked.

“That’s right. Could the akumas still be out there because they haven’t been purified?”

Fu shook his head. “Allow me to explain. Firstly, as Ladybug already knows, two of the miraculouses in my box went missing when the temple of the guardians was destroyed: the butterfly and the peacock. One of them fell into Hawkmoth’s hands sometime within the last few years. But after hearing about what happened at the school today, we can now confirm that Hawkmoth is currently in possession of not just one, but of both of them. Either that, or he has someone else working under him.”

“The Peacock… of course!” Ladybug gasped, voice filled with dread.

Chat looked at her, then back at Fu, waiting for him to elaborate.

“The Guardian’s Grimoire calls them ‘sentimonsters’, mystical beings created out of thin air using the peacock miraculous, which harnesses the power of emotions. They can be created and destroyed whenever the wielder desires. Usually they are simple creatures, designed to be helpers or perform smaller tasks. However, they can also be more sophisticated, even indistinguishable from other humans, although an enormous amount of energy is required to create these complex sentimonsters. One can even ‘borrow’ the appearance of an already existing person. In this case, Hawkmoth chose not to give the sentimonsters the ability to speak, so they couldn’t divulge their secrets, in the event that they were caught.”

Ladybug shuddered. “What the hell?! That is so creepy.”

“Indeed.” Fu looked over at Chat, who had remained pensive throughout this exchange. “Any thoughts, Chat Noir?”

Chat looked up at him, trying to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say. “I… I think I remember seeing the peacock miraculous in my father’s safe once. I only caught a glimpse of it; I just thought it was some of my mom’s jewelry he kept as a memento. I had no idea it was a miraculous. Otherwise, I would’ve had Plagg help me break into the safe and taken it with me when I ran away from home. There are so many things my father never told me… I’m sorry I don’t know more.”

Ladybug reached out to hold his hand, giving it a small squeeze, which he returned.

“You’ve done more than you know, believe me,” Fu replied as he unconsciously squeezed his satchel, which contained the electronic tablet where his copy of the Grimoire was stored.

He stuck his hand in his pocket and stepped forward, handing Chat Noir a card with his cell phone number.

“Call me if you have any questions, either of you. Even if it’s the middle of the night. Wayzz will make sure I hear my phone if it rings; he’s a much lighter sleeper than I am.”

“Thank you, Master Fu,” replied Chat, smiling. “And thank you too, Wayzz.”

“Thanks, Wayzz. Thank you, Master.” said Ladybug.

“Also, I must remind you once again that your identities must remain a secret until things settle down. There are negative effects that could happen if you are revealed too soon, and I’m not sure what they could be; but it’s best not to find out.”

Ladybug frowned. “But when will that be, Master? It would be so much easier to be able to communicate without having to transform.”

Fu shrugged helplessly. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that. We must allow things to continue to develop on their own. I'm sure we’ll know when the time is right.”

Ladybug let out a displeased sigh. Chat nodded, glancing away with a worried look in his eyes. Despite Ladybug’s eagerness (and despite his own curiosity), waiting suited him just fine for now.

After saying their goodbyes, Fu left the pair behind and let himself out with a final wave. The two heroes remained in the bedroom, contemplating what had been discussed.

After sitting in silence for a few moments, unsure of what to say next, a lightbulb seemed to light up inside Ladybug’s brain, and she began typing away into her yo-yo communicator. Chat watched curiously, wondering what she was up to.

Moments later, she hopped out of the bed to jot something down onto a sticky note from Chat’s desk, then walked back.

“Just because we can’t tell each other who we are doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be able to contact each other when we’re not transformed. Kwamis aren’t pagers, after all.”

“Pagers? What decade is this, anyway?” Chat razzed.

“Hush, you,” she mock scolded him, suppressing a smile. “ Anyway! Here’s my brand new, Chat Noir-exclusive email address,” she said, handing him the note with a wink.

Chat’s eyes lit up. “Wait, really??” He unfolded the paper as if it was a Christmas present, excited to read the contents. His eyes widened and he burst out laughing.

“ ‘[email protected]’ ?!”

“What, you don't think I’m great?” she teased, striking an exaggerated, Chat Noir-style pose.

Chat’s snickering only intensified and he nodded. “Oh, for sure! The greatest!” he agreed.

Ladybug smirked. “I made it just now,” she explained. “So you’re the only one who knows about it. We may not be able to hang out in person yet, but I’d still like to talk to you during the day. Plus, it’ll come in handy for emergencies.”

“Buginette you’re a genius!”

Ladybug giggled, feeling her face warm up despite herself. “M-maybe we can message each other when you have some free time? I mean… now that you don’t have to worry about getting akumatized in your own room anymore. Your bedroom’s pretty much the safest place in Paris now, thanks to Master Fu.”

“And thanks to you, as well, my dear ‘Lily-bug’,” Chat reached up to take her hand, gently pulling her down to sit next to him. “I feel much better already. And knowing I can talk to you anytime makes me feel even safer.”

She scooted closer, setting her head down on his shoulder. “Y-you know… you make me feel safe too, Kitty.”

Chat’s insides twisted into pleasant little knots, suddenly feeling rather warm. “Really?”

He felt her smile as her hand squeezed his arm, her other one sneaking across their laps to wrap her fingers around his own. “Yeah. I know we’ve only been allies for a short time, but I’ve already lost count of all the times you’ve saved me or sacrificed yourself to help others. Our partnership grows stronger every day, and I think Hawkmoth knows it. He knows we’re stronger together. And it’s only a matter of time until we can be together without these masks too, I just know it.”

He turned towards her, putting his fingers under her chin and lifting her head to have her look up at him. Their eyes met, her pupils dilating as they focused on his own, and he could see a bright blush blooming on her cheeks.

“Me too,” he whispered, as he brought their lips together.

She blissfully melted into him, letting out a small noise of contentment. She deepened the kiss, reaching behind his head to caress his hair with her slender fingers. Their kisses and breaths mingled together and they lost track of everything else around them.

A little while later, they faintly heard the grandfather clock striking the hour in the living room, then some noises as the Dupains shuffled upstairs from the bakery to get ready for bed.

Ladybug pulled back and they separated, his lips still tingling from her touch.

“I… I should probably get going soon,” she lamented with a small shrug. “It’s starting to get late.”

“Would you like me to walk you home? Or rather, to somewhere around your neighborhood?”

She shook her head. “That’s not necessary. Besides, I’m closer than you might think,” she added a bit cryptically.

“I wish you could stay,” he said softly, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear. He gave her nose a tiny smooch. “Just a teeeeensy bit more?” he begged, giving her the best kitten eyes he could muster.

Ladybug giggled shyly, cheeks still dusted with pink. She gave his own nose a peck, her lips soft and inviting. “Well… I guess I could stay just a little bit longer,” she said with a smirk.

“Purr- fect,” he said, capturing her lips once again.

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

Note:

Many of the events in the “Volpina” and “Collector” episodes happened in this AU, albeit heavily modified to suit the story. Adrien found the grimoire in his father’s safe, took it out to study it, and Lila stole it. Since Adrien didn’t act impressed about Lila knowing Ladybug, she didn’t magnify the lie and claim to be Ladybug’s best friend; therefore, Ladybug never showed up to call her out on her lie, and Lila was never akumatized.

However, Tikki did see the book in the dumpster and retrieved it, and Marinette showed it to Master Fu. After Gabriel discovered the book was missing and pulled Adrien out of school, Fu made a copy so that Marinette could return it to Gabriel, and Adrien was allowed to attend school again. Currently, Adrien has no idea that this is how Fu acquired his grimoire; he merely assumes that Fu has always had his own copy.

Of course, Marinette began to suspect that Gabriel might be Hawkmoth because he owned the grimoire. Gabriel akumatized himself into the Collector in order to avoid suspicion, and with Chat’s help, almost succeeded in obtaining the ladybug miraculous. Ultimately, Ladybug outsmarted him, got him to accidentally “collect” Chat, and succeeded in purifying his akuma. But by then, Gabriel had “proven” he was an innocent civilian and Ladybug dismissed his potential involvement as Hawkmoth.

----

P.S. Another note: Certain things that are similar but not identical to canon have been in my outline since the beginning, so I apologize if they're a little confusing (such as the protection talismans being similar to Ladybug's akuma victims' lucky charms or the destruction/disappearance of the Guardian Temple)

#Miraculous Ladybug #Ladynoir #Enemies AU #enemies to lovers #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Ladybug #fanfiction #Discordant Sonata #ML AU #aged up #Eden writes

179 notes · View notes

dari-ede · 2 years ago

Text

In the Middle of the Night: Chapter 19 (M)

Chapter 19: "Cosas que yo no busqué"

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30

MASTERLIST

Summary: As Bangtan prepares for a new chapter in their lives, they head to their private property in the forest for a songwriting workshop. As a songwriter and producer they have worked with for years, I’m asked to tag along. I was ready for the heavy workload and small amount of sleep during the workshop week. However, I wasn’t ready for the storm that came that changed my friendship with Namjoon forever.

Pairing: Idol!RM/Namjoon x OFC

Genre: Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Smut

Rating: M (sexual scenes)

Status: COMPLETE

Trigger warning: mention of sexual assault (nothing graphic) Warning/spoiler: explicit sex, bathroom sex, cream pie, fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-Early November-

“How did you get stuck having to gather everything up?” I asked, picking up a couple of bottles from the floor.

Namjoon and I were the only ones in the practice room. I had walked in just as the other guys left, laughing and giggling as they looked back at Namjoon as he cleaned up the room.

“Penalty,” Namjoon said simply as he picked up a chair. He tried prompting it against the wall, but it slid quickly onto the floor, making a loud noise. “Shit,” he mumbled as he scrambled to pick it up but ended up knocking over the other chairs. A sigh was let out.

“Only you?” I continued to gather things off the floor, trying not to laugh at Namjoon’s clumsiness.

“Taehyung also lost.”

“Why did he leave then?”

Namjoon shrugged. “Somehow I ended up being the only one having to carry the penalty.”

I let out a laugh, taking a good guess as to how Taehyung got out of a punishment. “You guys would let that boy lead you off a cliff. He has you all wrapped around his finger.”

“And you included,” Namjoon said with a playful smile. “Did you forget the reason why you’re presenting at the Awards is that he convinced you?”

Deciding not to respond, I helped Namjoon organize the chairs. The faster everything got cleaned, the faster we could get out of there.

But then he openly laughed at me.

I punched him lightly. “Do you want to pick food first or get it delivered?”

He smoothed his arm where I had hit him, pretending it hurt. “Delivery.”

I took my phone out to look through the menu as we headed out of the practice room.

“And just making sure, you’re completely free now, right?” he asked.

“Yes. Everything in my apartment is packed,” I said.

I was set to leave for Los Angeles in a few days. I was going to be gone for close to three months and during that time my apartment was set for some necessary renovations. Thankfully, my rental came fully furbished so I didn’t have much personal property. My personal property would be in storage while I was gone, meaning there were many boxes in my apartment. My home was slowly turning into a maze, making things more stressful. Namjoon had picked up on my stress, noticing my anxiety traits, I'm sure, and insisted I stay the night at his place to help take my mind off the chaos.

“So you’re all mine tonight?” he asked, the corners of his mouth turning up.

I gave him a nod.

He leaned in and gave me a kiss on the side of my forehead.

As we got closer to the elevator, my phone rang. My manager’s name came on display. If it was anyone else, I would have sent the call to voicemail. I turned to Namjoon, giving him an apologetic look. “It’s Ky.”

“Go ahead,” he encouraged, holding the elevator door open for me. “I’ll get our things from the studio and meet you downstairs.”

I stepped into the elevator. As Namjoon pressed his studio’s floor button and the parking lot button, I answered the call. “Hey, Ky.”

“Hey, am I catching you at a bad time?” came a voice from the other end.

“No, I got a bit of free time. What’s up?”

“I got some good news.”

“I’m all ears.”

The elevator door opened; we arrived at Namjoon’s floor. He gave me a wink as he walked out, creating butterflies in my stomach.

“We’re making progress with the labels. They’re asking for meetings with you. I told them you have a small window later this month and we could squeeze them in.” He sounded excited. For three years he’d been pushing me to sign so I could release more music. Now that I had given in, he was like a kid in a candy store.

The elevator doors opened and I made my way over to the company vehicle. The driver and I greeted each other after he opened the door for me.

“How many have you been in talks with?” I asked curiously after I whispered to the driver that Namjoon would be down in a bit.

“Many.” Even through the phone, I could see Ky’s wide smile. He was proud. “I’m getting baskets sent to my office. I got floor seats to the Clippers, man.”

“You have seasonal tickets already,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, but these are free floor seats.”

I rolled my eyes. Ky lived a very comfortable life but he was still incredibly frugal. “Can we go back to me, please?”

Ky began to go over my availability for the month to meet with the label representatives. He confirmed my list of necessities for my contract and salary.

Just as we were wrapping up, I asked a question I realized I still hadn't. “Ky, what labels are you wanting me to meet with?”

“I’m still going over them. I’ll let you later which ones I think are the best ones.” He was lying. Not only because of the statement he had said earlier to me, but because I had known him for too long to know when he was lying to me or dodging something.

“Kyungsoo,” I said with a tone that told him to come clean with me.

He let out a sigh and listed the labels. The first two were impressive, considering they were major labels. The third label was more independent but reputable. All three were promising. But the last one was the one that I took issue with: it was my old label. “Ky, I said I didn’t want to go back to them.”

Ky’s voice became more gentle, trying to do damage control. “I know, I know. And I’m not even considering them—”

“Then why have a meeting with them?” My hands shake at the thought of being in a meeting with the representative I was sure my old label would send.

“It’s common courtesy, Mayita.” He was using my family nickname to soothe me. “They were with you for years and we had a great relationship with them. They treated you incredibly well.”

“Because I made them, Ky. I was their most successful artist. Before me, they were nothing.” I didn’t mean to sound like a snob; it was a knee-jerk reaction.

Ky didn’t respond. He was letting me go through my emotions—whatever they were. He knew I had an issue with going back to that old label but didn’t know the reason why. No one other than Tia Jia knew. And if I was being honest, I didn’t see myself telling anyone else the truth. Especially Ky.

I let the anger and resentment sit with me for a moment. I marinated in it and allowed myself the right to feel bitter and angry at a company I was positive knew the truth about the fucker who had assaulted me. I had promised myself long ago that I would never walk into that building again. And that I was done with every person in that company. When I felt my anger settle down, I took a breath. “Sorry. I sounded like a snob saying that.”

“I know you didn’t mean it,” he assured me. “And you know I am always here for when or if you ever want to talk. I’m not sure what happened, but I’m hoping that you’re at least open to letting them present for you. You could even call the shots on who is in that meeting.”

I couldn’t do that. If I told Ky who I did or did not want in that meeting, he would know who I had an issue with. And then he would start prying. Eventually, I was sure he would find the truth with the smallest bit of information. I knew Ky. It would not be a good thing if he found out. Right now he didn’t have a single piece of the puzzle and I wanted to keep it that way.

“How about at least writing them a formal letter? Or even better, calling them?”

My issues were with the higher-ups in the label. It was logical for me to believe that the top executives didn’t at least have an inkling about the fucker who assaulted me. There was no way I was his only victim. I didn’t know who to trust, so it was safer to meet with no one. Even if it made me look like a bitch.

“No, Ky,” I said with finality. “I’m done with them. I said this already. Please respect that.”

Another sigh. “Ok. I’ll back off.”

“Thank you.” I felt a little calmer because he sounded genuine.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. I checked the time and noticed I had been talking to Ky for quite a while, meaning Namjoon had also been held up. Turning towards the movement, I saw the sweetest and sexiest face making its way to me. Instantly, what little irritation I had drifted away.

“Sorry,” Namjoon called out as he jogged towards me.

“Ky, I’ll call you later,” I said as my eyes stayed on Namjoon so I could continue to feel settled.

“Tell RM I said hi,” Ky said on the other end.

“I will.”

“Before you hang up, though, when are you going to officially tell me the two of you are dating?” There was a smile when he said this.

Instead of feeling worried about Ky finding out, I felt confused. “Who told you?” Had word started to spread about Namjoon and me?

“You just did.” He let out a booming laugh. “I knew it,” he said triumphantly.

He had set a trap for me, and I fell for it. But rather than feeling irritated at myself for falling for something so dumb, I felt relieved that nothing had leaked.

“Does my mom know?" Ky asked. "She does, doesn't she? I can’t believe she kept this from me. How long have you guys been a thing? Do Seb and Vic know?” he asked, referring to my brothers.

“Bye, Ky.” I hung up in the middle of him saying something else.

Upon seeing Namjoon, the company driver made his way around the car to close the door once Namjoon was inside the vehicle.

“What took you so long?” I asked, putting away my phone.

“Hobi wanted me to hear a track he’s working on.” Namjoon settled in the seat next to me.

“How does it sound?” I asked, feeling a little jealous that I hadn't gotten to listen to Hobi's music.

As the guys got ready for the concerts in LA, the tracks for their upcoming album were still being decided by Sihyuk. The plan was for the guys to start recording the selected songs once their time off concluded in January. Hoseok was taking advantage of the “free” time to plan for his mixtape. He was mostly quiet about his music, though, not having shared anything with me. I was feeling pouty at learning Namjoon had gotten a chance to hear something while I still hadn’t. I might have to sneak my way into his studio.

“Different,” Namjoon answered me, a glint of pride in his eyes. “Not what I was expecting.”

The vehicle began to move out of the lot.

“For real?” Curiosity started to brush aside jealousy.

Namjoon nodded, a proud smile across his face, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, concerned.

“He’s got a whole map of how the mixtape is going to be. He has a whole song almost done and two others he’s working on. A whole notebook full of lyrics and ideas. Meanwhile, I’ve been wanting to release my own music for so long and all I can do is stare at my notes and have no clue what I want to release.” He shook his head in self-disappointment. “I need to buckle down and get it done.”

I fought the urge to reach over to him and physically soothe him but we weren’t alone. I would have to settle for using my words and tone. “Namjoon, the two of you work differently. While Hobi is very hard-working and anal, he sees a vision and goes with it. You, on the other hand, over-analyze. You write a little, go back and edit, write more, edit, research, write, re-edit, call sources to verify your edits, make notes, ask opinions, write again, edit.” I wasn’t exaggerating in my analysis of him but my tone was soft and playful.

It worked because Namjoon’s dimples were all on full display with a slight blush on them.

“It works for you. Your gift of language is on another level. One that most songwriters kill to have. And while your style of writing and releasing music has worked for you, you forget there was another element that made you release so many songs in such a short amount of time—and that was because you had to. You had deadlines before. This time, you really don’t.”

“That’s why I think I need to buckle down,” he interceded. “I was able to do it before. There’s no reason I can’t now.”

“And where did that get you?” I asked, my tone now serious. The softness and teasing had left. I needed him to see the importance of where I was getting at. “It damaged your mental health, got in the way of your happiness, prevented you from having a life outside your career, and made you question your worth outside this industry. You have close to two-hundred songs credited under your name and you're not even thirty yet! It's no wonder you feel drained and exhausted and are struggling with lyrics—you've been squeezed dry.”

He stayed quiet, his eyes staring out as he deeply considered my words.

A part of me felt I might have pushed too much. Namjoon was such a hard worker who loved his craft, but there were times when he needed to put up boundaries and put his health first. He needed to hear this. “I believe stress and pressure are a good thing—they can push us to greatness. However, too many of them can push us off a cliff—either figuratively or literally. And as your friend, I recommend you try not to put so much pressure on yourself. It makes the people who care about you worry.” I did my best in choosing my words, keeping in mind we had an audience.

He turned to me, a longing in his eyes. “I don’t want to put worry on anyone.”

I wished we could get to his house already and be alone. I craved to touch him. “Then, please—I beg of you, try not to over-worry. And try not to over-work yourself. Try to go a few days without working during this time off.”

He let out a sigh. “It’s not as if I do it because I want to. I write so much because I feel I need to,” he admitted.

“Why?” I asked, curiously.

He shrugged. “Maybe I’ve been conditioned to feel this way? By me? Sihyuk? I have expectations as the writer of Bangtan. But then again,” he paused to think, needing to organize his emotions and thoughts properly. “I do lovewriting. It brings me joy. Peace. But I do recognize that maybe the way I’m doing it and the amount I’m doing it for is unhealthy.”

I nodded, agreeing with him.

He continued. “I see you journal a lot. I’ve been trying it myself but can’t seem to like it.”

I let out a laugh unexpectedly. “Do you go back and edit your writing?” I guessed.

He thought for a moment and then it looked like the lightbulb turned on. “I do.”

My laugh continued. “Dummy, you’re not supposed to edit your journal. A journal is for thoughts—recalls of the day’s events or feelings. It’s not meant to be edited.”

He sat there, considering my observation of him.

I had an idea. “One day, just pick up a pencil and paper and write. Don’t go back and reread what you wrote. Let it sit there; maybe put it away so it can be out of sight and out of mind.”

He tilted his head, feeling a little uneasy about the suggestion. “That’s going to be tough,” he admitted, smiling at himself.

“You know what I’ve done in the past?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve written on a napkin or scrap paper. Then I toss it in the trash without looking at it.”

His eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head. He was so appalled by me.

I laughed at his reaction.

His own laughter joined in. “That’s too much. Let’s not overdo it. Baby steps, baby steps.”

Our laughter continued as we got to his complex and passed security.

Even after years of friendship, I enjoyed learning something new about Namjoon. It was like I would never fully know everything about him and something about that excited me.

A couple of nights later while I was alone in the maze that was my room—Namjoon was at work according to our many messages—I saw a notification on his social media. He had posted a letter—a short one. Reading, it caused a slight confusion. It was unlike anything he had posted before. There didn’t seem to be a clear string of thought. It read like a diary—as if he was transcribing his thoughts and emotions without worrying about grammar or clarity. He had taken my advice.

My heart squeezed and expanded. I was feeling that more lately.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the night before my flight. I had spent the day mostly with Namjoon but had informed him I was still planning on sleeping over at my place. We had already spent four nights this week together—I had broken my rule. We had just finished dinner and came back to his place. Namjoon was insisting I stay the night and leave from his place tomorrow. He would ensure I had security with me to go to the airport.

I was slightly offended by this offer, feeling he was questioning my methods of taking care of myself. “I am perfectly capable and have the resources to hire my own security, thank you.”

Namjoon didn’t pick up on the sting, however. He was too far caught up in convincing me. “It’s not just that,” he insisted. “If you leave from here, security is tighter. Plus, journalists expect you to leave your home. Your name has already leaked about you flying out tomorrow.”

He had a good point about that. I was sure there were already cameramen surrounding the entrance to my complex, but I still refused to give in. Especially with his earlier insinuation that I found a little insulting.

Finally, Namjoon picked up on my mood when I refused to look at him. He decided to turn things light. His tone turned to tease. “Why are you acting like this?” He let out a laugh when I turned to him and saw my irritated look. “Is it so bad sleeping over at my place? I try to keep it neat.” He gave a small pout and looked around his place, searching if anything looked too messy.

He actually was trying his best to be neat. His front door area wasn’t a mountain of shoes anymore. I never saw a towel on the floor or too many random objects scattered everywhere. I never made a comment on his messiness, believing it wasn’t my space to have an opinion on. He even had food items in his fridge now! I think after spending several nights at my home and seeing how neat I was, he was being a considerate boyfriend and trying to make me comfortable.

“It’s not that,” I insisted. “It’s just….” I didn’t know how to phrase the real reason why I didn’t want to stay in his home again. We had already spent three nights together this week, more than I had with any of my exes. And the thing was…I didn't see it as a problem. I actually wanted to spend every night with him, but I also feared if we continued this, something bad would occur.

“What?” he pushed gently.

It took a moment to decide to be honest with him. “We spend so many nights together. You’re bound to get tired of me,” I said playfully but with some seriousness.

He firmly shook his head. “Not likely. I like having you around.” His eyes held mine. There was not an ounce of laughter in his voice. The look in his eyes was so soft and inviting.

It made me feel uneasy. I made a joke to diffuse the tension that was building. “You like all the sex, you mean,” I said coyly, giving him a smile.

The dragon eyes slightly appeared, drawing me in for different reasons. “That’s definitely a bonus.” His low tone made its way all the way to my cunt.

When I noticed I was starting to move toward him, I snapped back to my place. I needed to stay on topic. “Employees here are already suspicious. And if security picks me up from here, they’ll add one and one together.”

He let out a sigh, trying to control what I knew to be slight irritation. “And?”

How could he not take this seriously? “What do you mean ‘and’? If it gets leaked to the media that we’re involved—”

He crossed his arms and remained calm. “It won’t come from the employees—they all sign NDAs. If I could, I would show you the document, babe, I swear. No sane person would dare break it. Plus, don’t forget how long Jin and Unnie have been together and her identity has remained a secret. Jin’s number one priority is protecting Unnie. The moment the company fails to keep her a secret, Jin is gone. He made it very clear to everyone and we all believe him. He set the standard when it comes to significant others. We won’t be found out, I promise.”

His term of endearment he had used for me had me swooning. The moment it came out of his lips, I almost forgot what we were discussing. He had called me “baby” previous times in a more off-handed way. This time, his voice had been filled with nectar of sweetness. A sound I had never heard from him.

Looking into those warm brown eyes, my worry faded. “Ok.”

“Ok?” he asked, looking a little hopeful.

I nodded. “Ok. I’ll get escorted tomorrow from here.”

He let out a sigh of relief, his face looking purely elated. “Good.” He filled the gaps that separated us and cupped my face into his large, warm hands. He pulled me up for a honeyed kiss.

I turned into a pool of mush. How the hell had this man convinced me so damn quickly? He was a wizard, I was sure of it.

He pulled away. “Let me make the call.” He took out his phone and stepped into the kitchen.

While he spoke to the staff, I went into his room to make a call of my own.

“Hi, darling,” a light voice from the other end of the call said.

“Hi, Jiji,” I said. “I got a favor to ask.”

“Ask away,” she said without hesitation.

“Could you grab my luggage from my place and bring it over to Namjoon’s place?”

“Spending the night at his place?” she asked a bit curiously.

“Yeah, he’s offering me to stay here to avoid the paparazzi.”

“Oh, yeah they’ve been surrounding the entrance all day.” Jiwoo lived in my community and was a good friend of mine. I wanted to tell her the truth, but still felt it wasn’t the right time. As hard as it was for Hoseok, who was her brother, to keep the secret from her, he respected my privacy and hadn’t told her.

“So can you get it to me?” I asked.

“Sure,” she said. “Wait, how much luggage is it?”

“Just three items,” I said. Thankfully, I traveled light. I had a home I was going back to, so I didn’t need many items. My luggage mostly consisted of presents I was bringing back and some of my equipment. I was lucky that I lived in the same complex as Jiwoo. It made me feel less guilty in asking her for this favor.

As I spoke to her, I scanned Namjoon’s room, noticing small items scattered. My inability to stand still while talking beat the best of me and I started to straighten things up. I gave Jiwoo instructions on what to do with my luggage and how to get it to me, all while I organized things in the bedroom.

I noticed a few hair ties on the side of the bed I slept on and took them over to the bathroom. I looked around the sink to find the best place to keep them. I noticed a small, pretty, yellow container with other hair ties inside. Curious, I walked over to it and noticed the area. Next to the yellow container were a couple of my facial products nicely aligned. There was also a bottle of my lotion and lipstick I thought I had lost last week. I must have forgotten it here.

Taking a step back from the sink, I took in the entire view. The sink looked to be separated as if a couple shared it. On the right were all of Namjoon’s products and on the left were mine. Sure, he had significantly more items than I did, but it still looked like a couple’s sink.

Not knowing how to feel about this, I made my way out of the bathroom. I hung up with Jiwoo and left the bedroom.

Upon entering the living room, Namjoon entered the room. “The car will be here four hours before the flight. Do you want to pick up your luggage now?”

“No, I just called Jiwoo. She’s bringing it to me. Shouldn’t take her more than an hour.”

“Good.” His eyes stayed on me, though, a look of concern starting to form. I was such an easy book for him. “What’s up?”

I didn’t know what I was feeling and knew I had to grasp well my emotions before being honest with him. However, I had to tell him something. “It's flight nerves.”

He nodded, believing me. “You haven’t flown in over two years. Some of us still get jitters before a flight, too.”

I gave a simple nod, not knowing what else to say.

He gave me a smile and walked over to me. “Maybe a bath will soothe you.”

The glint in his eyes made me smile. I put a hand up to his chest, stopping him from getting closer. “If we take a bath, Jiwoo will be waiting for me for a long time.”

He blushed. “True. How about a shower?”

A shower would be quick. “Sure.”

“Ok. I’ll meet you there. I’ll get the wine for afterward. We can watch a movie in bed.” He kissed my head and dashed away, looking cute and ecstatic about the night’s event.

I walked to the shower in the master bedroom and got it started, changing the temperature to my liking. Once it was to my preferred heat, I closed the glass door, allowing the steam to build.

I started to underdress right as Namjoon walked into the room, a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands. His eyes roamed over me as I took off my last piece of clothing. I made sure to do so slowly, teasing him.

He set down the wine and glasses on the nightstand and hurried over, shredding off his clothes in a hurry.

I let out a laugh. “You act as if you haven’t seen me naked a hundred times.”

“It always feels like the first, baby,” he said as he pushed down his boxers, his long cock bobbing out and standing straight up.

My eyes went directly to it. I could never get over how beautiful and appetizing it looked. A small moan escaped my lips.

“You act like you haven’t seen me naked a hundred times,” he retorted.

I smacked him for his teasing and he in turn smacked my ass lightly. I let out a whimper.

He stepped in front of me and goddamn he was a giant. I was of average height but being barefoot and Namjoon standing at nearly 6 feet and weighing over 170 pounds, I felt like a thin paper doll this close to him. His massive titties were at eye level, I had to bend my neck to look into his brown eyes.

His full, plump lips called out to me. He wasn’t bending down and I got impatient. I wrapped my arms around his bulky shoulders and pushed off the floor. I climbed his huge chest and folded my legs around his middle.

Namjoon let out a laugh as my lips reached his, his body stumbled a little but he quickly regained balance. “Easy,” he cautioned me. He brought an arm under my ass, giving me support.

I clutched tighter against him, loving the feel of his hard body against mine. “You’re so tall. The only way to get to your lips is by climbing you.”

“Climbing me? Am I a tree or something?”

“Yes. My personal, big, tall namu.” I smiled as the word left my lips. Namjoon had referred to himself as namu before (the Korean word for ‘tree’), even though no one else really did. But the word suited him in many ways. Of course, I never meant to say he was my namu, and the realization that I had said it out loud made me blush with embarrassment. I stilled, unsure how he was going to react.

I forced myself to look up at him, wondering how he felt about this sudden label.

Deep dimples and a toothy smile met my sight. “I can be your namu,” he said sweetly.

I could feel my heart flutter. “I’ve never had my personal namu before.”

“You just gotta be sure to water me often,” he said, reaching in to taste my lips.

His playfulness was easing me quickly. “Oh, keeping you well-fed won’t be a problem whatsoever,” I said, one of my hands coming off his shoulder and reaching down between our bodies. “Should I be worried about overdoing it, though?” I took hold of his thick member, feeling the head had some precum. We both groaned in unison.

“I don’t think that’ll be of concern. I require a lot of feeding.” He let out a deep grunt as I rubbed his head against my core, which was wet and ready for him.

I let out a deep moan; I would never be able to be amazed at how great he felt. I loved how fucking long he was. I lined up his head at my opening then let myself descend on him. I had taken him in so many times, my body was getting more used to him and didn’t feel the sting so strongly anymore. My walls adjusted more nicely around him, but it still felt a stretch.

“Shit,” he let out as my walls clasped around him. “I love it when you do that.” He moved over to the shower walls, pressing me against the glass.

The steam of the shower had made the glass hot. So much so that it was stinging my back, but I didn’t care. I rocked my hips, moving up and down, and used his shoulders as leverage. He thrust up, meeting my movements and hitting me deeper. I let out a yelp when he hit a sweet spot. He reached forward and took a tit into his mouth.

His lips sucked on my nipple as he pushed into me repeatedly. I fell roughly against him, grinding down and taking his length, only for him to pull nearly out and fuck himself inside me again. His teeth took my sensitive bud and bit down, making me howl. I clutched to him, scraping his skin, and wishing to be sowed into him. The music of slapping skin and wet sounds filled the room, adding another layer of heat.

His body was pressed on me, his thrusts becoming more erratic. “You almost there, baby?” His mouth moved in between my breasts as his hands took hold of my hips, helping me move up and down his shaft. I was losing my strength.

My arms pulled him closer, crushing him to me. “Little more,” I begged. “Fuck!” I let out as he swept his arms under my thighs and took me from a different angle. Sweet Jesus, that felt good!

His strokes were longer and deeper with this angle. The muscles in his biceps tightened as he held onto my legs. His eyes came down to where we were joined, a deep moan coming out.

I followed his eyes and watched us, too. My red, swollen pussy lips swallowed his long, engorged dick so nicely. I had fucked plenty of dicks, some bigger and longer than Namjoon’s. Some were rougher, some were softer. But for some reason, Namjoon’s just felt the most perfect. It was the right length, had the right amount of roughness to it, and it spilled the perfect amount of cum—it filled my mouth nicely and felt damn sweet as it went down my throat.

Thinking about his cum was taking me over the edge. “Almost there,” I let him know.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered. His voice was rough and strained. I looked up at him to find his dragon eyes had made an appearance. “Now.”

My body shivered and did as I was told, my fingers pushing into my pussy lips to where we were joined.

He let out a low groan. I then felt a warm, long string of spit fall right on my clit.

The action sent me writhing. I rubbed myself at top speed as Namjoon’s strokes made my back hit the glass door with heavier force. He turned his hips slightly, hitting another spot within me. “There! Again!” I wailed out.

He did hit it again. And again, and again, bringing screams out of me.

It was getting harder to keep control. “Please,” I pleaded, rubbing my clit, imagining it was his fingers pushing me into oblivion.

With a final stroke, one that made me see stars, he bellowed, “Now!”

I was shot out of my body and sent to the skies. My legs vibrated from the ecstasy as I felt Namjoon thrust once more into me before I felt him come undone as well. His warm, sweet nectar blasted inside my core.

Still holding me, he stepped closer to me, pressing me fully against the glass. Our juices spilled out of me, sliding down my ass cheeks, and touching my backdoor pecker. The feeling made me tighten around him. I craved more cum to come out of him, out of me.

The overstimulation caused his hips to rock forward, knocking the wind out of me. I clutched to him tighter, a whimper coming out.

“Sorry, babe.” His touch and kisses became soft and gentle. The endearment came from him with the same sweetness as before. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, pulling back a bit to take a look at my face.

I shook my head. “Just sensitive. But it felt good.” I gave him a smile to ease his worry.

“You sure? Was I too rough again?” he asked, thinking about the last time he had left me with a dozen bruises.

I took his mouth into mine, cutting off his worry. “You were perfect. I’m not fragile. If something is too much, I’ll let you know.” I caressed his face in between my hands. “Believe me?”

He gave me a small nod and returned the kiss. His hands made circles around my back, his eyes scanned my body for any discomfort he might have caused.

My body felt warm and tingly for a different reason than arousal. I enjoyed doing the carnal act with Namjoon, but the aftercare was something I had never given importance to until him. He made sure my body was fully at ease and relaxed before he pulled out.

Sure enough, once I felt fully at ease, Namjoon pushed the hair out of my face and gently separated us. “Let’s get you cleaned up, girl.”

His predictable kindness brought a smile to my face.

He opened the door for us and stuck his hand inside to check the water temperature. Right as I took a step into the shower, he let out a curse and pulled me back. “Shit! That’s hot! Hold on.”

I frowned, not getting the same impression as him. By the steam, I knew the temperature it was. I pushed my hand forward to check the water. It felt nice.

His hand instinctively reached out to pull mine back.

I turned to him, confused. “It’s perfect.”

He looked at me like I was crazy. “It’s burning hot.”

“You think so?” I asked, reaching out and touching the water. “Feels fine to me.”

His look didn’t waiver.

I took a step inside, my eyes never leaving his. I let the water hit my hands and arms first. There was a bit of a sting from the heat, but it was a good kind of sting. My skin quickly adjusted, though. I took another step forward, my chest and stomach catching the water. All the while, my eyes never left his so he could see the pleasure I got from the heat.

He looked at me like I had grown three heads or something.

I let out a laugh. “Haven’t you taken hot showers before?” I asked, letting my hair and back take in the water.

“Not this hot!” he said incredulously from the doorway.

I stepped forward and kissed his pouty lips. “Will you get in here and join me?”

He let out a groan as he stepped into the shower. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

I giggled, pulling him into my wet body. “Shut up and enjoy it.” I held onto his neck as I continued to kiss him.

He took a step forward, the water hitting him for the first time. He let out a yelp and jumped back. “How can this feel good? Is your name Danaerys or something?”

I continued laughing at his exaggeration when we both heard my phone go off. I had left it on for when Jiwoo let me know she had arrived. From where we were standing, we could see her name come up on my phone’s display.

I started to make my way out of the shower, but he beat me to it. “I’ll go pick it up. You stay and enjoy your volcano shower,” he teased, turning to go.

I gave him a slight shove.

“I’m curious,” he said, heading over to my phone. “If you’re so against anyone finding out about us, don’t you think Jiwoo is going to question why you’re staying over at my place tonight?”

I shook my head. “I’ve stayed the nights at other guy friends’ homes before. She doesn’t suspect a thing.”

He nodded and took my phone. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

As he walked out, I began to enjoy the hot shower.

However, he quickly came back. “Which guy friends have you stayed the night at?” he asked, curiously.

Detecting the smallest amount of jealousy in his tone, made me want to laugh. “Hoseok's and Jackson's.”

He gave a slight nod and stayed standing there, making no move to leave. Finally, he asked. “Not that it matters, but…did you and Jackson ever…?”

The thought grossed me out and it showed on my face. “No.”

He laughed at my reaction. “I thought so; I was always curious.”

“I have a very strict don’t-fuck-guy-friends rule,” I said. “Especially the really good ones.”

Namjoon gave me an unimpressed look. “What about me?”

“You’re the exception,” I immediately answered. “Plus, I’m not just fucking you. I’m dating you. There’s a difference.”

He gave me a wide grin. “I’m the exception?” He looked cocky as shit right now. It just about made me turn to mush.

I rolled my eyes at his sappiness. “Will you go pick up my luggage? Or should I drag you in here and I can go pick it up myself?”

He quickly ran out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“The car is almost here,” I said the next day after getting off the phone with the security that was going to escort me to the airport.

Namjoon gave me a sad smile and held me.

I tried not to think about how much I was going to miss his touch for the next week. “I’m planning on having Thanksgiving at my home. Maybe you and the guys can celebrate with us? There’ll be a lot of food.”

“Will your family be ok with that?” he asked genuinely.

“My Tia Jia and brothers like you guys. And I’ll make sure it’s only my immediate family. All my cousins will have to wait for Christmas.” I wanted to take things slow with Namjoon, but something in me wanted Namjoon there for Thanksgiving. It was a dumb, American holiday so it didn’t make any sense why I wanted him there. I just did.

“I’ll go if you want me there,” he said gently as his nose buried in my hair.

I snuggled closer to him, my face wanted to dig into his chest. “This is gonna suck.”

His long fingers traced patterns along my sides. “It’s just ten days.”

We stayed holding each other until I got confirmation my ride had arrived. My luggage was already downstairs with security. I was the only thing missing. Before stepping out of Namjoon's home, he pulled me in for a long kiss. “I’ll be there before you know it,” he promised.

Reluctantly, I stepped out of his home and walked down the hall as a sudden feeling of emptiness took over. How the fuck was I already missing him?

________________

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30

MASTERLIST

AN: Thank you so much for the likes everyone! You have no idea the excitement I get when I get a notification on this story! It means a lot!

16 notes · View notes

shotgun--rider · 4 years ago

Text

Stay With Me

A @destielsecretsanta2020 gift for @princess-aleera

Summary: For the first time in his life, Dean has the opportunity for a real Christmas with his family. And it would be perfect, if Cas hadn’t decided to bail on him again. OR: Dean and Cas finally use their words.

Warnings: Dean’s cripplingly low self-esteem, Cas undervaluing himself...you know, the usual.

A/N: Did I anxiously rewrite half of this on Christmas Eve? Yes. Do I have any confidence whatsoever left in the quality of this fic? No! Nevertheless, merry Christmas to my lovely giftee and I hope you enjoy this dumb fluffy little thing!

By now, Dean should have really known better than to have any kind of expectations for Christmas. He hasn’t had anything less than a shitty holiday since Mary was alive, and then he’d been too young to remember it. The weeks leading up to the 25th in his childhood were marked out by shoplifting cheap gifts for Sam (usually practical stuff, like flannels and socks) and trying to convince John that they didn’t need to work a job on Christmas day. He’d managed to walk out with a paper-wrapped ham once, but cooking it in a motel room didn’t exactly turn out and Sammy got mac and cheese for Christmas dinner. Again.

Even when they got older, it still wasn’t much of a big deal. They’d toss badly-wrapped gifts at each other in the Impala, still the same kind of practical things as always. Once, Sam bought them dumb Santa hats from the Gas-n-Sip and they drove down the interstate wearing them for a couple dozen miles before Dean got fed up and chucked it into the backseat.

So, yeah, Christmas sucked ass. And usually Dean didn’t give it much thought, because it wasn’t like he had a lot of fond memories to miss. But this year...sue him, this year he’d thought it might be different. Jack had cheerfully requested a Christmas tree with such enthusiasm that they had caved and set one up in the library, and after Sam had spearheaded the decorating with Eileen, Dean had to admit it looked surprisingly festive. And once there was a tree, it seemed only right to put some effort into the gifts, so he painstakingly picked something out for each member of his little family. (It was paid for with a fake credit card, but it was the thought that counted.) And with several more YouTube tutorials than he would ever admit to a living soul, they were neatly wrapped under the tree, too.

It was shaping up to be something like a real Christmas, and he was starting to look forward to making new stupid traditions and watching the look on Sam’s face when he opened his gifts.

But Dean Winchester doesn’t get nice things. So even though there’s an ache in his gut he’s trying to ignore as he bends to fish Cas’s gift back out from under the tree, he’s not really surprised. Hurt, maybe. Pissed, definitely. But surprised? No, it only makes sense that the angel bailed on them on Christmas Eve, popping off to who the hell knows where and ignoring his phone the way he too often does.

This is what always happens, Dean reasons, shoulders a little hunched as he starts back toward his room. He’s an angel, of course he has better places to be than spending Christmas with a pair of boring human hunters. What does Dean have to offer him anyway? The gift in his hands is shitty, he’s demanded way more from the guy than he can ever repay, and he already knows he’s not good enough for Cas. So he’ll just quietly put the gift back and play the whole thing off if anybody asks.

He’s almost made it to his bedroom when he passes Eileen, the woman giving him a friendly smile that fades into a curious look when her gaze falls on the slightly unevenly wrapped box in his hands. She signs something that he doesn’t quite get, and Dean kicks himself again for being such a fuckup that he can’t even learn ASL right.

Eileen doesn’t seem to mind, asking her question again verbally and signing along to help him. “Does Cas get his present privately?” She punctuates with a little eyebrow wiggle, always trying to tease him about the angel.

Dean huffs, shaking his head. He manages the sign for no before speaking the rest. “Nah, Cas, uh, Cas isn’t coming to Christmas.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

Eileen’s face scrunches. “What do you mean, he’s not coming? He was so excited--what did you do?”

“Nothing!” Dean says defensively, a private panic starting in his head at the thought that maybe he did, maybe he hurt Cas and he didn’t realize it. Or maybe Cas knew and left to save him the embarrassment. “He just said he had somewhere to be,”

“Did you talk to him about it?”

“He won’t answer his phone,” Dean says a little petulantly. He’s tried calling him about a dozen times at this point, and Cas has to have turned the damn thing off, because he doesn’t even get to the stupid endearing voicemail recording.

His brother’s girlfriend just gives him a look and folds her hands into a sign he knows immediately. Pray. “He’ll listen,”

Not for the first time, Dean wonders if Eileen is massively misinterpreting his relationship with Cas. Or at least, how much of a shit Cas gives about him. “Look, Eileen, I don’t think--”

Dean. She makes his name sign sharp and gently scolding. “Just talk to him,”

“Yeah, maybe,” he mumbles. He doesn’t bother to voice the but what if he still doesn’t answer.

He leaves Eileen with an attempt at looking nonchalant and makes it the rest of the way to his bedroom, flopping down on the memory foam mattress and staring at the ceiling. He’s positioned to one side as always, avoiding sprawling in the middle even though he would be well within his rights. Sam would probably spout some psychology bullshit about subconsciously saving the other half for someone. Yeah, right.

So maybe he’s a little more bitter about this than he thought. Squeezing his eyes shut, he huffs out a breath, half prepared to just pray to Cas so he can shout at him childishly. “Hey, uh, Cas? Listen, buddy--”

There’s an almost immediate flutter of wings and by the time Dean’s scrambling to sit halfway up, Cas is standing by the foot of the bed uncertainly, more rumpled than usual and his expression pained. “Hello, Dean,”

“Cas, what the hell?” Dean bursts out before he’s even fully decided to say the words.

“Dean,” Cas fixes his blue eyes on Dean’s face. “I think I may have made a mistake,”

“Really? What gave you that idea?” Dean shoots back sarcastically. “I mean, what the fuck, Cas? I get that you have obligations and better places to be, but goddammit, you have to stop leaving m--leaving without an explanation!” Vaguely, Dean realizes that he’s not totally in control of this conversation anymore, but he’s been sitting on this for a long time. “It’s Christmas, man,” he goes on weakly. “I know this is kinda your first one but you’re supposed to be with your family,”

“I know,” Cas rushes to agree, his face still flickering with distress. “But I could feel your longing after I left, and your prayer--” the angel slumps slightly in his too-big trench coat. “Dean, I don’t understand.”

“First of all, I was not longing. And b, what don’t you get? It’s not rocket science, Cas,”

“I left so that you could be with your family,” Cas explains, as if he’s not uttering the most insane thing Dean’s ever heard in his life. “But now you’re upset--I’m sorry, Dean,”

“Cas, what the fuck?” Dean says again, momentarily lost for words as he blinks at his best friend. “How do you not---you are family,”

Cas’s blue eyes blink a few times hopefully, before he seems to resign himself. “I try to be of use to you and Sam--”

“That has nothing to do with--” Dean stops. Oh, Cas. “Do...do you think we keep you around because you’re an angel?”

Cas tilts his head. “Well...yes,”

“Cas,” Dean says weakly. God, he wants to punch himself in the face for letting him think this way. “Look, Sam’s plenty useful, doing the research by myself would seriously suck ass. But he’s my brother either way. Family’s not--it’s not about being fucking useful.”

“Am I your brother, Dean?”

“Yes!” Dean bursts out, too loudly, kicking himself as his mouth continues without permission. “Yeah, I mean--yeah,” he trails off, not remotely willing to try explaining why that might not be the correct label after all. “You’re family, Cas.”

It’s probably just wishful thinking, but Cas looks almost disappointed. “Oh. I see. Thank you, Dean. I will--” a short pause, “I will stay for Christmas,”

“Great,” is all that comes out of Dean’s mouth in reply. “Yeah, that’s great.”

He wants to tell him that wasn’t actually what I wanted to say and I kinda think I might be in love with you and I want you to stay with me but the shadow of John Winchester and the fear of rejection keeps the words tightly coiled inside. Besides, they don’t do this. They don’t say things out loud, they never have. And--most of the time--that works.

So Dean swallows and smiles tightly and shoves away his newly-realized I love yous, turning around instead to find where he’d tossed Cas’s gift on the floor beside the bed. “You, uh, wanna put this back out--”

“Dean,”

Something in Cas’s voice has him straightening up immediately, and when he turns around the angel is looking at him with an expression he’s never seen before and--are those tears?

“Dean, I can hear you,”

Dean’s stomach sinks like a fear-filled lead balloon, but he asks anyway. “You can hear me what?”

“Sometimes,” Cas says quietly, “if you think something with enough intention, it can be heard like a prayer,”

Dean clears his throat roughly, bracing himself for Cas to explain gently how he has no interest in a man like Dean. “So, uh,” he trails off. Cas is still just looking at him with brimming eyes, which narrow suddenly.

“You are a good and righteous and wonderful man, Dean Winchester,” he says firmly, standing there so close and yet just out of Dean’s reach.

Dean gives a sheepish look. “Heard that bit too, huh?”

“Dean,” Cas says again, gently, waiting. Waiting so that Dean can go first.

And suddenly, with the knowledge that Cas already knows what he’s been trying to say, it’s infinitely less terrifying. “I--I love you, Cas,” he says hoarsely, surprising himself with how, after all this time, the words aren’t really that hard. “And you’re my best friend, and you’re family, and I don’t give a shit if you’ve got angel powers or whatever, and--” I need you please stay with me still gets stuck in his throat, the most dangerous out of all of those words, but Cas must hear it anyway, or be able to tell what he’s getting at, because he’s suddenly wrapped up in the angel’s embrace, the slightly shorter man warm and solid and thoroughly clinging to him.

He’d make a crack about chick flick moments, but he really doesn’t have a leg to stand on because he’s clinging to Cas just as tightly, gripping fistfuls of his trench coat and trying to reassure himself that this is real. This is real.

“I rebelled for you,” Cas is saying quietly into his shoulder. “I loved you from the minute I saw your soul for the first time.” And then he moves to meet Dean’s eyes, his own still looking a little watery, and finishes, “And I need you too,”

And Dean’s never kissed a man before, but after a confession like that is as good a time as any to bury the last of his father’s old words about fairies and manliness.

It’s clumsy at first, and not really fireworks and magic like chick flick romances like to claim, but it sends warm relief through his entire body. Dean shivers just slightly, pulling Cas closer as their mouths slowly explore, cautiously at first and then bolder, heat lacing the kiss. But more than anything, it feels like something he has been missing for so long that he stopped noticing has finally fitted back into place, and it’s overwhelming. But, Dean thinks as he helps toss Cas’s coat on the floor, so, so worth it.

***

The first real Winchester family Christmas is nothing short of chaotic, from the first moment that Dean and Cas finally emerge from their definitely-not-cuddling nest of blankets. Sam takes one look at them in the hallway and grins immediately, shaking his head with a loud “finally!” that has Dean scowling and demanding to know how long Sam has been paying attention to them. (The answer is far longer than Dean wants to think about)

They unwrap gifts on the floor of the library, indulging Jack’s inquisitive questions and periodically balling up wrapping to throw at each other. Sam’s hair is slowly collecting bows off the wrapping as Dean gets bored, though he eventually gives up when he has to choose between reaching Sam’s head and continuing to inch closer into Cas’s side.

For a moment, he wonders about the last Christmas when Mary was alive, and what she would say if she could see her sons and their hodgepodge celebration now. He doesn’t really mind, though, that he can’t remember it. This is all the holiday family memories he didn’t know he needed.

#destiel secret santa #destiel #destiel fic #deancas #spn fic

55 notes · View notes

noladyme · 4 years ago

Text

The Crown Princess of Charming - part 7

Welcome to Charming - its name says it all. Cat needed a fresh start; and though she hadn’t planned on that being in the arms of the crown prince of this little town’s bikerclub - that was what happened. Charming CA would either be the death of her - or a whole new life.

Rated M

This might be a rough one for some people.

TW: assault

We went back to TM. Phil drove my car there for me, with me in the passenger seat. I was too shaky to ride with Jax.

We were met in the lot by an angry looking Clay. “What happened, Jax?”, he growled. I went to sit by a picnic-table, outside the clubhouse. Jax lit a cigarette; and looked Clay straight in the eyes. “Truce with The Nords is over”, he declared. Clay snarled. “Goddammit, Jax!”.

Jax didn’t flinch. “If it was mom…”, he said. “This peace was bullshit, Clay. You know it”. “You had your revenge on Darby’s guy”, Clay snarled. “We only took half of Ollie’s dick”, Chibs said. “He’s still got an angry inch flopping around down there”.

Clay wasn’t appeased. “I already got that ATF bitch up my ass; I don’t need you complicating our situation more – starting some blood feud with the skinhead army!”. “Stahl has nothing on us, man”, Jax said. “We’re clear of that shit… Did you call Unser?”. Clay looked towards me. “Yeah. He’s taking care of it”. Jax nodded. “Thanks…”.

He stepped over to me, and took my hand; leading me into the clubhouse. “Lockdown is back on again. You don’t leave the compound for anything, except extreme emergencies; and someone always has an eye on you”. I frowned. “Can I pee in private?”, I grumbled. He sighed. “This isn’t something to joke about”, he grumbled. “Clay’s right. Going at Darcy like that – threatening his business… I might have kicked a hornet’s nest. Put that on top of your psycho ex…”.

I let out a deep breath. Jax stroked my cheek. “You’ll be fine, darlin’”, he said. “Will you though?”, I said. He smirked. “I always am”, he said. “I have to run. I have a meth-lab to burn down”. I groaned. “Ok. I’ll just wait here… with the armed bikers, and the alcohol”. “You’ll have a blast”, he smiled; and kissed me softly.

He walked towards the door. “Jax…”, I called after him. “Yeah?”. “If you die, I’ll kick your ass”. “Yes ma’am”, he smiled; and left.

---

Bobby was babysitting me; looking like the father of a teenager who’s threatened to run away. I went to look through my stuff in one of the back rooms; and he followed me – standing in the doorway as I rummaged through a box. “The window is too small for me to get through; Bobby”. I gestured at the tiny window under the ceiling. “Just due diligence, sweetheart”. “Jax thinks I’ll make a run for it?”, I chuckled. “Will you?”, Bobby muttered.

I turned around and looked at him incredulously. “You don’t like me…”, I said. He shook his head. “I have nothing against you, Cat”, he said. “I’m just worried about Jax”. I clenched my jaw. “You think I’ll hurt him?”. “Not on purpose; you don’t have it in you”, he said. “But when you realize this life isn’t as sweet as it looks – when you break – so will he. He doesn’t want to see you hurt”. I sighed. “I won’t break. Shit, I’ve been here 3 weeks; and I’ve never felt more at home anywhere in my life”. Bobby nodded. “And that violence you saw the other night?”. I looked him square in the face. “You want to know what happened, after I saw Jax torture a man for me?”, I sneered. “I went home. I had sex with my old man; and spent the next day caring for his son… I didn’t run”.

Bobby let out a breath. “All right. I’m sorry”. I swallowed. “I get it. You’re protective of your friend. You love him… but so do I”. The biker smiled. “That’s all I wanted to hear”, he said. “Come on. I made banana-bread”.

I stepped towards the door to join him. He put a hand on my shoulder. “For what it’s worth; I do like you, puddin’. You’re might be just what this club needs”. “What’s that?”, I asked. “A good person; and a hell of a gogo-dancer”, he smiled. “Burlesque…”, I frowned. “Burlesque. Whatever”, he muttered. “Let’s go. Banana-bread”.

A little while later we were chewing on the baked deliciousness Bobby had created. “How come you’re all such good cooks; and you still want your old ladies to do all the housework?”, I asked, wiping my face with a napkin. “We’re not all tied down in domesticated bliss”, he chuckled. “We gotta live on something”. “Baked goods and whiskey?”, I smirked. “Covers most of our nutritional needs”, he said; and pulled out a joint from his cut-pocket. “This takes care of the vegetables”. He lit the blunt. “I believe you”, I laughed.

“Shit; I forgot…”, Bobby said. “Rat dropped off your purse this morning”. He got my bag from behind the bar, and gave it to me. I got my phone from inside it. Lyla had dropped a few messages; and there were four unanswered calls. I checked my voicemail.

Sunday, 11 am. “Miss Rose; this is special agent June Stahl from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives. I’d like to talk to you about your association with Jackson Teller. I believe you might have some important information; that’s critical to an ongoing investigation. Please give me a call back”.

Stahl… The ATF agent. This wasn’t good.

Thuesday, 1.15 pm. “Miss Rose. This is agent Stahl again. Please give me a call back. It’s critical that we speak. I’m worried you might be in danger. I can help you.

Bobby looked at my frowning face. “What’s wrong?”, he asked. I shook my head, and listened to the next message.

Wednesday, 3.30 pm. “Catherine; it’s June Stahl. I’m worried you’re ignoring my calls at this point. You are with a group of very bad men. You have to get out of there. I have received information you’ll want to hear; from one of your old friends. He’s worried about you; Cathy. The Sons of Anarchy are going down. Get out; leave town. Joshua Kohn has promised me he’ll make sure you make it back to Chicago safe. We know about you attack. It’s only going to get worse from here on out. Jackson is going to jail. Don’t be there when that happens. They’ll put it on you…”.

I felt sick. Bobby frowned at me. “Cat; talk to me”. “Where is Jax?”, I said with a choked voice. “On his way up to Darby’s cookery”, Bobby said. “Why?”. I breathed shakily. “Something’s wrong”.

I listened to the last message.

Thursday, 1.46 pm. A little over an hour ago. “Kitty. It’s me. I’m very sorry it had to come to this for you. I understand you had a visit at your motel. I didn’t want to do that, my love… but I had to. (sigh) Honey; I’m coming to get you. I know where you are. Be outside the compound at 3 pm. We’ll get out of this town together… Look; I know we have issues, kitty-girl; but we’ll work through them. I forgive you… I do… Be outside when I said. Don’t tell anyone where you are going. I don’t want to do this to you; but if you’re not there… I know where the Teller is. I’ll call Stahl and give her the address. They have SWAT standing by. Teller’s is either ending up in an orange suit, or a body-bag. You can stop that. I love you, my Catherine. See you soon”.

I put my phone into my purse. The gun Jax had given me; was still in there. I picked up the small bag. “I have to go to the bathroom”, I muttered. “Sweetheart?”, Bobby said. “Just… to much banana-bread”. I tried to smile.

I stood up; and walked down the hall. My body was shaking. I love you Jax. I’m sorry…

I closed the door to the bathroom, and locked it. I had to go. Jax would never go down without a fight. He’d die today, if I didn’t leave with Joshua. I would never see Jackson again. I would never see Abel – but if I didn’t leave; he’d never see his father again, either. Jax became someone else for me; turned of his humanity to protect me. It was my turn to repay the favor.

Bobby knocked at the door. “Cat?”, he called. “Are you ok? ‘You gluten allergic?”. “I’m fine?”, I squeaked. “Just need a minute”. “You sure?”. I thought fast. “Shark week”, I said. There was a pause. “Ok… I’m gonna go away now…”. I heard him walk off.

I looked up at the small window above the toilet. I could make it. I just needed to be quiet.

Carefully opening the window, I climbed through it; and landed on a dumpster by the side of the clubhouse. The loud bump from my landing made me gasp; and I looked towards the auto shop; worried someone would have heard me. My cheeks where burning, but otherwise I felt cold all over.

Rat was standing by the tow-truck; parked just a few yards away. “What are you doing?”, he asked. “Dance practice”, I said. “I have to go”. “Why did you climb out of the window?”, he frowned. “Cardio”, I muttered. I needed to deescalate the situation. “Do you… have a cigarette?”, I asked smilingly. “Shit, yeah”, Rat smiled, and handed me a smoke; lighting it for me. “Look, could you tell Jax… tell him I’m sorry…”, I said. “For running off”. “For dance class?”, Rat said. “Yeah”, I smiled. “Tell him I love him”.

Calmly as I could; I walked towards the large opened gate – leaving behind my second home; my love – and the life I had thought was mine. All I had to remind me; was the blue, plaid flannel shirt I was wearing.

---

The street outside was quiet. People we’re going home to prepare dinner for their families; live their lives. I walked down the street, my breath hitching; and tears welling up in my eyes.

A dark escalade pulled up next to me; and the window by the passenger-seat opened. I looked inside.

“Hello, kitty…”. Josh was smiling warmly at me. “Get in, honey. We have quite a drive”.

He opened the door for me; and I got into the seat. “Buckle up, my love. And put out that cigarette. I hate it when you smoke; you know that”, Josh said brightly. “I brought road snacks!”. He handed me a bag of peanuts. “There’s water in the back seat”. I looked behind me; and saw a cooler standing next to a shotgun. “Josh…”, I croaked. “Don’t worry, honey. It’s just for our protection. Are you armed?” “My purse”, I said. “Gun”. “Thank you for your honesty. Throw it into the back”. I did as I was told. “See; we’re already building trust”. “Yes”, I croaked.

We drove for a while; passing the sign at the town border. The name says it all. “Not so charming, huh?”, Joshua chuckled. I took a gasping breath; and he grabbed my shaking hand. “Hey… You’re ok now. I’m taking you away from here. You don’t ever have to come back”. “Where are you taking me?”, I asked. “Home”, Josh smiled; returning his hand to the wheel. “Our future”. “You… came all the way here for me”, I said. He nodded. “Arrived shortly after you”, he said. His jaw clenched. “I would have come for you sooner; but I knew you needed some space. Kept my distance”. I looked at the passing road-signs. We were going east. “So… you called my job. Sent those papers…”, I muttered. “That wasn’t the right place for you. You know it”, he said. “You were getting in too deep – too fast”.

I let out a deep breath. “You’ve been watching”. His face twitched. “I had to make sure you were safe”, he almost growled. “I understand that you needed to let loose for a bit… sow your wild oats; before you finally settled down… but him…”. I swallowed bile. “He’s not… you don’t have to worry about him”.

Josh slammed his hands into the wheel; and the car swerved; making me yelp. “I saw you two that night! His hands all over you. Where’s your sense of respect for what we have?”. “I’m sorry, Josh”, I whimpered. He looked at me with wide eyes, and sighed. “I know, Catherine… but you can’t do that anymore. I’m not going to let you destroy my love for you; it won’t work”. “I understand”, I whispered. “Do you? Really?”, he asked. “Yes…”, I said. “But… I need to know. Did you tell that agent…”. “Where biker boy is?”, he snarled. “No. I don’t like what he does; who he is… but it’s not his fault that you made some bad decisions”.

Jax was safe. I couldn’t help but smile through my tears. “Does that make you happy?”, Josh said; almost daring me. “I can still call her”. “I’m… just happy that I didn’t ruin anymore lives”, I said. Joshua’s face softened. “You are a good person, honey. Deep down. You just needed to be reminded where you belong. And with whom”. “With you”, I muttered. He took my hand again. “With me”.

His hand was clammy. It made me sick to my stomach to have him touch me; but I didn’t pull my hand away. I have to save you, Jax.

We drove for about an hour. Josh kept talking to me; telling me about how he’d redecorated his apartment so it would fit us both. “I had them put new wallpaper in the bedroom. Pink roses. Your favorite”. “I’m… happy”, I smiled as genuinely as I could. I hated pink roses. I would always hate pink roses. “Josh; I have to pee… can we pull over?”. He shook his head. “I rented a motel room about 30 minutes away”, he said. “Hold it”. “Why?”, I asked. “Stop asking questions”, he snarled. “I-I’m sorry, Josh”, I stammered. “I was just wondering why you got us a room… I didn’t mean to question you”. He paused for a second before answering. “We need a fresh start, honey”, he said. “A romantic night together is just what we the doctor prescribed”. I swallowed bile again.

Josh pulled up at a small roadside motel. The rooms were individual cabins. “Privacy”, he smirked at me. I tried to smile back; hiding my tears. “Perfect”, I whispered. “No, you’re perfect”, Josh breathed; and leant towards me. I closed my eyes; and he put his lips on mine. They were cold and clammy; like his hand.

He got out of the car; opened my door; and led me to the door of one of the small cabins. He locked the it behind us.

The inside of the room was faux rustic – from the plastic antlers on the wall, to the Walmart patchwork on the bed. Josh was smiling gleefully. “Oh yeah. Look at this!”, he said; and popped a quarter into a slot on the wall by the bed. “Lay down”. I hesitated. “Honey, don’t worry. We’ll take it slow”, he said, and put his hands on my waist, backing me against the bed. His lips were on mine again; and I exhaled through my nose. “Lay down”.

I sat myself on the bed; before laying my head against the pillow. Josh pushed a button next to my bed. It began vibrating. “A nice massage, for my kitty”, Josh smirked. “You like that, don’t you?”.

He began crawling over my body. “I missed you so much”, he breathed against my neck; and put his lips to my skin. “Please, Josh…”, I whimpered. “I can’t…”. He looked at me with scrunched eyebrows. “Honey… I just love you so much. I want you to feel good…”. He put his hand on my breast. “Don’t…”. I began sobbing; and tried pushing him away.

Josh sat up; straddling me. I tried to sit up myself; pulling myself backwards to create distance between us. “This isn’t our first time. Just relax and let me love you again”. I shook my head. “We didn’t… make love”, I said; anger in my voice. Joshua’s face became enraged. “We made love!”, he yelled at me. “We had sex. That’s it”, I said. “That’s all it was to you?”, he growled. “You whore!”. He backhanded me across the face; and I felt my ears pop from the blow.

“And him? Teller? You made love to him?”, he growled. “I gave you a year and a half of my life. He’s known you – what – a month?”. “We weren’t together that long, Josh. You just never accepted that”. Josh smirked at me. “Once we’re done here; I’m going to go back to Charming, and burn down that clubhouse… kill that homewrecker”.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I pushed him off me as hard as I could; and sprang for the door. Josh was on me; and grabbed the back of my head; slamming it against the wall. I fell to the floor; feeling blood coming from my nose. “Why do you have to make this so hard?”, he roared. “Please”, I whimpered. “I want to go home…”. Josh grabbed my arm; and pulled me up. “We’re going home tomorrow”, he snarled. “Tonight; you show me that you still love me!”.

He tore at the buttons on the flannel I was wearing – struggling me for dominance. I grabbed at his face; dipping my nails into the skin; and leaving marks down his cheek. “Bitch!”, he yelped; and kneed me in the gut. His arms went around me; and I grabbed his hair – pulling it hard; and biting into his neck. Josh roared, and let me go.

I ran towards the door; and unlocked it; running outside – screaming for help. I saw an elderly man in the cabin next door, look at me through the blinds, and close them quickly. I ran to the car; and ripped the door open; grabbing my purse.

Josh had followed me outside; and kicked my leg; making me fall to the ground. I managed to keep a tight hold of my bag; when Joshua grabbed the shotgun and cocked it – aiming at me. “Get back inside, Catherine”. I stood back up slowly, tears running down my cheeks. “Inside”, he repeated.

I limped back into the cabin. Josh closed the door. “Put down the purse”. I obliged; his shotgun poking my back. “Turn around. Slowly”. I turned around and met his face. It was calm – and cold. “Good. Now take of your clothes”. I sobbed, and shook my head. “No… please”, I cried. “Take of the goddamn shirt, you dirty whore!”. I shrugged off the shirt; making it land on the floor. Jax… “Now the top… slowly. Make it worth it”. I took a deep breath, and pulled the hem of my t-shirt over my head.

Josh looked me over. “Still so beautiful”, he breathed. “Now the pants…”. He began removing his own shirt with one hand. I had a metallic, bitter taste in my mouth. “Do it!”, he screamed. With shaking hands; I unbuttoned my jeans.

I looked down at the floor, where my purse was laying; slightly open. “M-my boots”, I stammered. Josh nodded. “Take them off”, he said.

I bent down; and removed one boot; making it look like I was about to take of the other. With a quick glance up at Josh; I then threw myself at my bag; grabbing the gun inside. Josh’s shotgun went off; and I felt a soaring pain on my arm. He’d missed me; but a few buckshot’s had grazed my upper arm.

I hear a roar of engines outside. Josh turned around; and I ran at him; pushing him in the back. He toppled over, and the shotgun slid under the bed. I pointed my gun at Josh. “The safety’s on”, he snarled. I flicked my thumb. “No it’s not”, I growled; and pulled the hammer.

Josh threw himself at me; making me fall to the floor. My gun went off; shooting a hole in the ceiling.

“Cat!”. It was Jax’s voice; coming from outside. “Jax!”, I screamed at the top of my lungs. Josh punched me in the face; and put his hands around my neck; beginning to choke me.

The door was kicked open; and Jackson was in the room. With a roar; he dragged Joshua off me; throwing him against the wall; and slamming his fist into the monster’s face. Opie and Chibs ran through the door; and grabbed Josh – pinning him to the floor. Chibs locked Joshuas arms behind his back; and Opie put his foot on his neck – making it impossible for him to move.

Jax rushed over to me; and lifted me into a seated position. “Baby!”, he croaked; his face anguished. “He…”, I couldn’t finish my sentence, but began sobbing. He put his hand on my cheek; looking at the bruising Josh’s beating had caused. I tugged at his cut; and wept into his chest; leaving a bloody trail on his white t-shirt. Jackson held me close, and stroked my hair. “I’m here, baby. It’s over”.

“You slut!”, Josh growled. “You’ve probably spread your legs for all of these scumbags!”. Opie moved his foot from Josh’s neck; and kicked him in the gut; making him let out a croaking sound.

Jax tensed up. He took the flannel from the floor; and draped it over me; before standing up and walking over to repeat Opie’s action.

“Let him go”, he snarled. Chibs stepped back; and Josh stumbled onto his legs. “You’re gonna die”, Jax growled; and attacked Joshua; throwing him at the wall; and punching his chest and face. Joshua fought back best he could; but he was no match for the beast that was a rageful Jackson. My old man was a wild animal; slamming his fists into Josh’s body, every opening he could find. In the end; Joshua was on the floor again; gagging for breath.

Opie went over to me; and helped me put on the shirt. “Come on”, he muttered; and got me on my feet. “He has to die…”, I hiccupped through my tears. “He’ll come back”.

Jax turned to look at me. I held out my gun to him; and he furrowed his brow. I limped over to him; putting the gun in his hand. “Kitty…”, Josh croaked. “You worthless cunt…”. I spat in his face. “Get her out of here”, Jax muttered. Opie supported my weight; and we went outside; leaving Jax and Chibs with my assailant.

I heard a loud pop; and my legs gave in. Opie held me upright; and I sobbed against his shoulder. “Shh, Cat. It’s over”, he whispered; and stroked my hair.

Suddenly; we heard sirens in the distance. “Shit. ATF”, Opie muttered.

No! No, no, no… You can’t take him.

I tore myself from Opie; and stumbled back into the cabin. Jax was standing over Josh’s limp corpse. “Go…”, I whispered. He looked at me incredulously. “What?”, he breathed. I walked over to him; and looked down at the corpse at his feet. “ATF is coming. You just committed murder. You have to go”, I said. “I’m not leaving you!”, he said.

I put my hand on his cheek; and kissed him softly. “I love you”, I said; and took the gun from his hand. He tried to hold on to it; but Chibs pulled at his arm. “Come on; Jax”. “I can’t leave her”, Jackson yelled, and looked into my eyes. “Come with me!”.

I sighed; and looked down. “I have a ride…”, I said; and looked towards the blinking lights coming closer. I pried his fingers from the gun; and stepped away from him.

“Jax, come on!”, Opie yelled from the door. Chibs dragged him towards the exit. “I love you, Cat!”, Jax whimpered. “I love you Jackson. Go”, I said; voice calm.

They sprang on their bikes; and drove fast as they could; down a dirt road behind the cabins.

I sat down on the bed and waited.

---

A few minutes later, two SWAT-officers sprang through the door – guns aimed at me.

“Put down the gun! Hands behind your head”. I dropped the gun on the floor; and kicked it towards the officers; before putting my hands behind my head. “Get on your knees!”. I shook my head. “I can’t”.

I heard a woman’s voice. “Are they in there?”, she called out. “No, ma’am”, one of the officers answered. “She’s alone. With a dead body”. A woman in a grey suit stepped in behind them. “Shit! We needed him red handed”. She looked pissed.

“Get on your knees!”, the first officer repeated. “I can’t! My leg’s busted”, I sneered. The woman shook her head. “Let it go”, she muttered. “You’re Catherine Rose, I take it”. “Cat…”, I said. “Cat”, she smiled. “Meow… well, this is a shitty ass situation for you. You’re alone in a room with a dead FBI agent”.

I looked at her with cold eyes. “Where’s Jackson Teller?”, she asked. “Not here”, I said. “So who killed agent Kohn?”. I looked away. “I did”, I said. “You did…”, she repeated with a chuckle. “And I take it you gave him that beating as well”, she continued; walking over to examine the body on the floor. “He attacked me. Beat me. Tried to rape me”. Her smile disappeared. “Huh”, she scoffed. “So you kicked his ass; and shot him in the head”. “Adrenaline”, I said.

She sighed. “Cuff her. Take her in”.

One of the officers pulled me up into a standing position; and pulled my arms down; zip-tying my wrists together. “Catherine Rose. You are under arrest for the murder of Joshua Kohn. You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say; can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney…”. The rest of his words disappeared into a blur; as the two officers supported my weight out of the door.

I looked back towards Joshua’s body one last time.

I hope you burn in hell…

---

I was driven to St. Thomas; and given a once over by a doctor. Once they had taken skin samples from under my nails; and I was cleared of any serious injury – beyond the almost torn over tendon in my knee; and the bent ribs on my right side – I was driven to the police station, and put in a cell for the rest of the night. I didn’t sleep.

The next morning, I was brought to an interview room; where a kind looking lawyer was waiting for me. “Catherine; I’m Abby Lowen”, she said. “Cat”, I said. “Are you a public defender?”. She shook her head. “Jackson Teller hired me”. She let out a deep breath. “He filled me in”. “So you know I killed Jo… agent Kohn”, I said.

She narrowed her eyes. “He gave me a slightly different story”, she said. “Then he’s lying. I killed him”. She shook her head. “I want to help you, Cat”, she said quietly. “But I can only do that, if you tell me the truth”. I stared her square in the face. “I’m not sending Jax to jail”, I said. She leant back in her chair. “Ok”, she sighed. “So tell me what you think happened”.

I swallowed. “Joshua has been stalking me for over a year. I tried getting a restraining order; but he used his pull to make it go away”, I said. “I came to Charming to start over… but he followed me here. He kidnapped me; beat me – and tried to rape me. So, I killed him”.

Lowen let out a deep breath. “I know part of that is true. And I am very sorry that happened to you”, she said sincerely. “I managed to pull out a record from six months ago; citing an attack on you, at your old job”. “Yeah. Kohn”, I said. She shook her head. “The report says the attacker was never found. That you didn’t name him”. “I did!”, I frowned. She opened a file in front of her. “I also have another record, stating that you were under the influence of cocaine while at work as a middle school teacher”. “Kohn”, I repeated.

She sighed again. “If we can prove that agent Kohn attacked you; you’ll probably be cleared of charges – citing self defense”, she said. “But if would be easier for you if you just…”. I slammed my hand into the table. “I am not giving them Jax”. She nodded. “I get it. Ok. Let’s move forward with your story”. “I’m sorry”, I muttered. “I know you’re trying to help…”. She smiled crookedly. “Let’s fix this, Cat”, she said quietly.

I swallowed. “Am I going to jail?”, I asked. “We’ll try to avoid that. For now, agent Stahl wants you here, for some reason”. “She wants to use me against the club”, I said. She nodded. “I think so…”.

The door opened, and agent Stahl came in. “You’re free to go”, she said. “What?”, I said. “We found the shotgun under the bed; with Kohn’s fingerprints on it. And you, my dear; had buckshot’s in your arm when we found you. It doesn’t make him look good”.

Lowen shook her head. “What’s going on, Stahl? You arrested her. She confessed”. The agent chuckled. “Are you trying to keep you client in custody?”, she said. She looked at me. Her botoxed face gave me the shivers. “It looks like you were telling the truth, kitty”. I wanted to smack the filler out of her lips.

“So, what now?”, Lowen asked. “You’re not in the clear”, Stahl said. “If it turns out what happened was in fact murder; you’re back in here”. Lowen shook her head. “Double jeopardy. You can’t do that…”. Stahl looked at her seriously. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you can’t do something. We, as women, have to believe in ourselves!”. “You can’t arrest her twice for the same crime”, Lowen said. Stahl shook her head. “There was never any arrest”, she said. I scoffed. “Your guy literally arrested and read me my rights last night”. She smiled brightly. “Turns out he was hitting the hooch”, she said. “He’s suspended; and the arrest was deemed null and void”. Lowen looked at her incredulously. “So, if you change your mind; you can pull her back in and charge her again”. “Exactly!”, Stahl grinned. “Now, get your belongings, and skedaddle”.

I was flabbergasted; and began limping towards the open door. “Oh!”, Stahl called after me. “The gun used to kill agent Kohn… it didn’t have a serial number. Did he bring that as well?”. She narrowed her eyes at me Lowen took a hold of my arm. “You don’t have to say anything”, she muttered; and helped me out the door.

“Your boyfriend is waiting outside the station”, Stahl called after us. “Have a nice day!”.

I said goodbye to Lowen – promised to call if I needed her – and limped out into the daylight.

Jax was leaning against his bike; and when he saw me; he walked over, and helped me down the stairs. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Can you ride?”, he muttered. “Yeah…”, I whispered. He gave me his helmet; and got on his bike; letting me get on behind him. Without a word; he started up the bike, and drove us away from the station.

---

He took us home; and helped me through the door; transporting me to the couch; and putting a pillow under my leg, to lift my knee. “Need ice?”, he said. “I’m good. Thanks”, I said.

He nodded; and hesitated for a second; before leaning in and giving me a chaste kiss on my lips. He walked in to the kitchen; and grabbed me a bag of peas from the freezer – coming back to put it on my knee. “I said I was good”, I muttered. “It’s swollen”, he said. “Keep it on there”. “Ok”, I whispered.

Jax moved towards the front door. “Jax?”, I croaked. “You’re safe now”, he said; back turned to me. “Look at me…”, I pleaded.

He met my gaze. His eyes were indifferent. “I have to go take care of some stuff”, he said. “Gemma’s got the kid for a few days”. “I can take him…”. “No, you need to heal… It’ll be a late one. Don’t wait up”.

He left without looking back. When I heard him start up his bike; I instantly began sobbing.

After a while; I managed to get myself into the bathroom; and take a shower – leaning against the wall for support. I stumbled into the bedroom; and fell onto the bed – tears returning to my eyes.

Lyla came by; letting herself in. She’d brought a casserole; and a thermos of her special brew. “How are you feeling?”, she asked, after she’d helped me into the kitchen. I shook my head. “He… he’s dead. It’s over”, I said. She nodded. “I’m so sorry. You’ve been through so much”.

I looked at my friend’s face. She was so kind, and – porn-star or not – almost angelic in her demeanor. “What happens next?”, she said. I sighed. “I have no idea…”, I said quietly. “I might get charged again… might not. It’s all just up in the air”. “Jax’ll make sure you’ll be fine”, she smiled. “Yeah…”, I whispered.

She frowned. “What’s wrong?”. I shook my head. “He wouldn’t talk to me…”, I said. “He just left for… I don’t know what”. She squeezed my hand. “Must have been something important”, she said. “He loves you, Cat. It’ll be fine…”. I tried to smile, and nodded. “I want to get some sleep”. “Of course!”, she said. “I have to pick up Piper from soccer anyway”.

I limped after her to the door, and she kissed my cheek. “Everything will be ok. You just have to heal. And so does he”. She left; and I stumbled back into the bedroom.

I fell asleep; and woke at 3 am; from the sound of Jax moving around in the bedroom. “Are you ok?”, I whispered. “Yeah”, he said; and kissed my chin quickly; laying down next to me. “Go back to sleep”. He turned his back to me; and pulled the covers over his body. “Goodnight”.

He didn’t touch me all night.

---

I woke up late the next morning; and limped into the kitchen; to find Jax smoking a cigarette; and drinking a cup of coffee. He’d found a set of crutches somewhere; and put them against the counter. “Thanks”, I said. He nodded at me; and went to grab me a mug. “Did you eat yesterday?”, he said. “I wasn’t hungry”. “Lyla brought food…”, he muttered. “Like I said…”. He shook his head, and got up – getting a bowl; cereal and milk – setting it all down in front of me. “Eat”.

I sighed. “Would you please talk to me?”, I said. He sat down again; and took a draw from his smoke. “What do you want me to say?”. “You killed a man, Jax!”, I sneered. He blew out smoke. “Yeah, I do that”, he muttered. “I talked to Lowen. She told me what happened. That was stupid of you…”.

I frowned. “I wasn’t going to send you to jail!”. “I’ve been inside before. I’d manage”. “This was murder! You wouldn’t have come back”. “Cat…”. “No! Why are you mad at me?”.

He met my eyes. “I’m not”, he said softly. “I’m just… what happened. It shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t have left the clubhouse”. “I had to”, I muttered. “Kohn knew where you were. He would have sent Stahl after you”. Jackson bit his lip. “You shouldn’t have left”. I fought tears. “I wanted to protect you”. “I know…”.

We sat in silence for a while. “I have to go”, Jax said. “Why”, I whimpered. “I have a deal to tie up”, he said; and stood up – putting on his cut. I gave in, and let the tears fall. “Don’t… Cat; I’ll be back later, ok? Call Gemma, if you don’t want to be alone. You shouldn’t drive until your knee is better”.

“What Josh did to me… I just wanted you to come and take me away”, I sniveled. “I did come; but you didn’t come with me when I asked”, he answered. “And now… you can’t even touch me or look at me”, I said He sighed, and took my hand. “I love you Cat. But I don’t know what you want from me”, he said. “He’s dead. It’s over. You don’t have to be afraid anymore”.

He leant over me; and kissed my lips gently. “We’ll get through this shit with Stahl”, he said. “Just… heal up. I’ll see you later”.

He walked out the door; and I was alone again.

#jax teller x oc #jackson teller #jax teller fic #jax teller #jackson teller fic #soa #sons of anarchy fic #sons of anarchy

44 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 3 years ago

Text

Gimme Love, 9/9 (Miz Cracker/Blair St Clair) - Grinder

AN: Sorry for taking so long to upload! I've had a hard week but everything is fine. Here we are - the end! Wanna know something interesting? There was actually going to be more to this story. Like, we were gonna get more flashbacks from when Brie and Juju went to college. There they would meet Tatianna, who was a badass feminist. And she'd be the one to help Brianna with her glow up. But the story was already going on too long and I couldn't fit any of it in.

Also I was going to go down a completely different route for the story. If any of you have actually seen the music video for Gimme Love by Joji, it ends on a more darker tone. And that's how I was gonna do it with this fic as it was based on it. But I just couldn't do it.

So I hoped you guys enjoyed it. I know I didn't get a lot of reads on it, but I'm glad knowing it was recieved by some. Anyway, on with chapter 9!

Major TW's for this chapter: Alcohol, mental health discussion.

2020

It was the day of the pre-party. It was going to be held at my place. I was prepared for possible drunkenness, embarrassing moments, but celebrations of everything we had accomplished. This was something I had worked my ass towards for so long, and it was finally happening.

I smiled, proud that I had finally punched myself in the face (figuratively, of course). I opened my eyes and saw how easy it was to rekindle with Mom. I was scared about seeing her in a few weeks, knowing we'd have to talk about my issues. But I knew now. If I didn't, I would just continue to get worse and worse.

On top of that, the Ed Sheeran problem was over and done with. His team understood fully, and he was set to perform at the launch.

And finally, I would meet Blair again. And it would be different this time. I wouldn't be the shy, insecure teenager she had always seen me as.

However, despite all these promising signs, my smile dropped. I imagined this morning playing out entirely differently.

Jujubee would be the first person to message me. Fuck, she'd probably even break in just to make sure I was up.

None of that happened. I know one should manage their expectations better. But it still hurt.

After two cups of coffee, some soggy cereal and a shower, I tried calling her. It rang a few times but went straight to voicemail mail.

I didn't bother leaving another message. I didn't wanna freak her out.

I probably wasn't helping my case. She probably thought I was relying on her, that she was life support for me.

But that wasn't the case. I mean, I couldn't just stand up and be like, "OK later, bitch," after practically growing up together. How could I just let go of someone I held so dear to my heart?

My eyes travelled across the kitchen, at first only her disappointment during our argument, how I had never seen her so angry.

On the counter, beside the fridge, there was my memory box.

What would Grandpa say in this situation?

Remember how I would write things he'd say to me? Just little bits and pieces of advice as something I could hold on to? I gave it to Mom to put it away for me. It had to be in the box.

I stood up, the stool making a scraping sound along the ground.

But a knock at the door tore my attention away.

Why did I hope it would be her?

Well, because it wasn't out of the ordinary for her to come and visit in the morning. Maybe this was it. I was forgiven.

I rushed to the door with the slight fear that if I wasn't fast enough, I'd miss her.

I unlocked the door and flung it open, a smile on my face, ready to greet her.

5 people were standing there; the decorators. I tried not to let my smile falter as I let them in.

-_-_-_-

8PM and my place had never looked livelier. For my first time hosting a party, it didn't feel like there was much hosting to do.

It felt like any other party I had been to, a room crowded with people dancing or talking to each other.

The music wasn't too loud, so the disorientation wasn't there.

I held back from drinking with the fear of doing something embarrassing, especially around Blair.

My bathroom was still clean when I went to apply a fresh coat of gloss. Good. Nothing to worry about.

I made my way back downstairs to the party, crossing the barrier at the bottom. The only place off-limits to the guests was upstairs. I'd hate to think there would be some people who'd want private time, especially in my bed. It happened at college once.

After a small party in our dorm, I found a couple midst coitus in my bed. Never again, I had said.

"Brianna!"

My head whipped in the direction of the voice, every bit of hope I had inside building up.

"You look stunning." A raven-haired woman approached.

"Thank you," I said in more of a questionable form. My brain couldn't figure out who this was.

"My name is Raja. I'm a writer for Cosmo," that explained it, "I was wondering if I could ask a few questions for a piece I'm doing. It's on the most influential women of the year."

I wanted to say no in the case I missed the arrival of Blair.

As if she read my thoughts, she spoke again. "It won't even be five minutes."

She was right about that. 15 minutes it lasted. We were locked in my bathroom, the four walls making the place feel cramped.

She asked me questions about how I reached this level, my morning routine, and what I put in my hair to make it so voluptuous. And all the while, I just kept fearing that Blair had arrived. That she had searched around for me and left when she couldn't find me anywhere. I would discreetly glance at my watch, hoping too much time didn't pass. But around 5 minutes in, I didn't care for subtlety. Not that Raja noticed. The questions seemed endless.

When she turned her recorder off, she further complimented my outfit. I thanked her, inching my way to the door. This lasted another 3 minutes.

She said I was a tiny woman with a lot of heart. I held back from saying I was a tiny woman with a lot of baggage.

When I finally escaped, I searched the place for Blair, and when I didn't find her, the panic started.

"Did anyone come in in the last 15 minutes??" I asked the workers hanging by the door.

"Yeah, there were 2 people. And I've never seen them around work. Could be anyone, Brie." They said with worry in their tone.

"OK, was one of them a girl? Blonde hair. Around my age?" I questioned further.

They glanced at each other for clarification, then looked back at me and shook their heads.

"Nope. Just two guys." One said.

"Probably on a pussy hunt at their local party." The other said.

"Or dick hunt."

"Or both."

"Nah, how would they even get in?"

Realising this was not Blair they were talking about, I thanked them and excused myself.

So she wasn't here yet. That's fine. Probably just running late.

I gave in and had one glass of champagne. Just to calm my nerves.

And the last person I wanted to see started to approach.

Ed fucking Sheeran. He raised a glass to celebrate and thanked me for the hotel room we paid for. I said it was no problem. And just as he was about to suggest some pictures for his Instagram, I quickly navigated away.

But I was caught by another person who just so happened to be Joey.

"I am so glad you changed your mind about the whole Ed thing. Like...girl…" he sipped his own drink.

"Yeah, it was easier than I thought." I shrugged. "Kinda feel awkward being in his presence now, though."

"I'll distract him if you want. British guys are kinda cute." Joey smirked.

I tsked, cocking my head at him. "Joey, you didn't like the guy a few weeks ago."

"I never said I didn't like him." He smirked.

"I mean, you can try." I rolled my eyes, a small smile appearing on my own face, "don't expect it to go anywhere."

Joey winked and brushed past me, making his way in Ed's direction.

Setting my glass down in my sink, I made my way to the bathroom just to check my lip gloss. A woman couldn't be too careful.

Once inside, I felt cramped again despite being alone. Maybe it was the underlying feeling of worry from being trapped in the room with Raja.

I told myself to breathe but then questioned why I was even doing such an exercise. Everything was fine. Life was good.

Looking in the mirror, my gloss was fine. But I applied a new coat anyway, just a reassurance.

And upon leaving, I set out in search of Blair again. She had to be here, just somewhere lost amongst this large amount of people.

Maybe she found someone else to talk to. Maybe not.

I moved to the balcony, the cool night air a relief.

But she wasn't there either.

I sighed, wanting a cigarette or something. Anything to calm the rising panic I was feeling inside.

I closed the door and moved further into the night, peering over the balcony and out into New York. The twinkling lights were pretty. I took a picture and sent it to my Mom. And in a few seconds, she started calling me.

"Hey, Mom."

"Hi, baby. I just thought I'd see how things are going." She asks, sounding pretty optimistic.

"I mean... it's OK, I guess. A bit crowded at my place right now." I replied.

"You nervous for tomorrow?" I hear the mischief in her voice.

She believed I'm not nervous, that I was a confident, strong woman. But she was wrong. "Of course I am. I mean, we've gone through all the precautions, so it should be fine. But still…"

"Well, baby, I promise you, everything will work out fine. It's you we're talking about."

I smiled, trying to teach my brain to agree with her.

"I would say I'd have a drink for you, but I'm trying to keep away from it tonight." Even though that was a lie.

"Yeah, you don't wanna go do something embarrassing like flashing anyone or whatever." She laughs.

"Wow. I didn't realise that was something I did." I quipped sarcastically.

"How about Jujubee?" I could still hear her smile.

But mine slowly dropped. Fuck, I had no idea. Immediately I stood back from the balcony. "Ugh...yeah, she's fine. She's good."

I moved to the door and looked past the glass at the large number of people. Fuck, I didn't even know if she was inside.

"Am I gonna get to see a picture of your outfits? You two always look like the stars of a party."

"Yeah," I faked a small laugh. "I'll go find her and get a picture. I'm gonna get back inside, OK?"

"No problem, baby. Love you."

"I love you too." I clicked end call and quickly made my way back inside.

How the fuck had I forgotten about her so quickly? Not like she was in my mind that morning or anything.

Now I had to find 2 people. I rushed inside, looking out for both of them. I checked the kitchen, dining area, lounge, the bathroom. Fuck, I even checked upstairs in the case Jujubee was there.

But there was no sign.

Where the fuck was she? Where was Blair?

It was getting harder to hold down the anxiety. Was Jujubee right about Blair? Was this another instance of my childhood crush getting my hopes up and flaking out?

The next drink tray I saw, my hand went straight for another glass. Two wouldn't hurt.

"Hey, you made it!" I heard from the front of the room, by the door.

I quickly downed the champagne and practically ran for it, too afraid to miss who had arrived.

Just as my hopes were quickly up, they fell just as fast. It was just Alex, Joey hugging him at the door.

"Fuck...Fuck...Fuck…" I whispered to myself.

A third glass of champagne found its way into my hand, and in a matter of seconds, it was down the hatch. I grimaced at the taste now, feeling like I could throw up at any second. Was that all just the anxiety, though?

Another bathroom break, I was fixing my gloss once again, scared to ruin my makeup. My hands were trembling. Fuck.

It wasn't stopping.

Back out in the main room, I tried to scan the crowd, standing on my tiptoes to try and see past everyone. It didn't help much.

Despite the music and rambling chatter happening around me, I heard the front door open, my eyes shot in its direction.

I struggled to move past a small group of coworkers, trying to get a good view of the door.

I didn't even get my hopes up this time. And, of course, it wasn't Blair.

Jujubee was right. Blair wasn't coming. Once again, she had led me on to believe I did mean something to her and that she'd give us a chance.

My hand gripped my scalp, turning away from the door. I growled, "Fuck," which didn't go unnoticed.

There was Nina with a hand on my arm. "Are you OK?"

"Yes." I lied so quickly. "I'm fine. Just... it's a little crowded in here," I fidgeted with my hands, "Is Jujubee here?"

"Yeah, you haven't seen her?" Nina raised a brow, rubbing her hand up and down my bicep.

"No." My eyes looked around briefly. "Where is she??"

"I dunno. She's you're best friend." Nina squinted her eyes. She didn't mean to sound accusatory. I guessed she was more concerned.

"She is." I reaffirmed, even though now I wasn't so sure.

"If it helps, the last place I saw her was the kitchen."

"When?"

"Half an hour ago."

I rolled my eyes and groaned. "She could be anywhere."

"Girl, it's fine. Not like we're in a labyrinth. You'll find her eventually." Nina smiled, rubbing my arm again.

I paid her no more heed and hurried towards the kitchen in the hope I'd find her there. But like the rest of my apartment, it was crowded. I stood on my toes again to try and catch a glimpse of black hair.

But there was no sign. Stressed, a shaking hand reached for another champagne. Usually, my tolerance for alcohol was high, but right now, I was feeling it. I was wavy.

In my now weary state of mind, I decided what was the fucking point? Blair had 100% flaked, as per usual, and Jujubee was obviously avoiding me at all costs.

Nina had followed me, taking my hand. "Follow me."

I didn't fight it. She moved to the staircase, pulled back the barrier and let me pass through.

She ushered me to walk up to the top before moving no further.

Turning towards the crowd beneath us, Nina addressed the people with a raised tone. "Can we have your attention, please?"

The people went quiet, beaming up at us.

Nina talked about how much of a good night it was, all while the alcohol was taking me over.

My eyes scanned the crowd, in the final chance of hope, wanting nothing more than to see Jujubee's glowing smile shining up at me.

But I couldn't. Not because I had double vision. But because she was nowhere.

I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing hard out through my nose.

Nina put her hand on my shoulder. And only then did I realise that I had blacked out, missing everything she said. I blinked a few times, trying to clear the film that had glazed my brown eyes.

"But we all wouldn't be here without our leading lady." She smiled warmly. "Everything she's achieved, it's all brought us to this moment. Let's raise a glass to Miss Brianna Caldwell."

Everyone started cheering, only a few raising a toast, the others clapping. My eyes widened, feeling all those eyes on me.

"Hope you have a speech prepared," Nina whispered in my ear.

And me, being the queen of saying just 3 lines and quickly evacuating the scene, decided no. Fuck it. I had something to say.

When the crowd began to settle down, I began to deliver the messiest speech ever.

"Well, funny you should mention achievements, Nina, because, yeah, I'm standing here before you all, having done the impossible. But what does that matter?" I laughed, shrugging. "Yeah, it does matter a whole fucking deal. I mean, look at you all. You wouldn't be here if it wasn't?" I laughed awkwardly again, but as I continued, my smile began to disappear. "Well, sometimes you just want a certain someone to give a shit. And they make you believe that they do. Just for like 5 minutes. And it feels so so fucking incredible. It feels like...like you matter. You're not just plain old Brianna Caldwell. You mean the world to them…" My tone dropped, "And then...you realise you're the most gullible, unaware, stupid fucking idiot in the world. They don't really give a fuck about you. They don't see all the things that you've achieved in life and think…' Wow...What an incredible person.' They just... don't give a fuck about you."

Everybody looked confused, uneasy even, while others giggled. Glad to know I was serving as the entertainment for the night, and I was in the same room as Ed fucking Sheeran.

Then, as if some higher power looked at me with a shaking head, maybe my grandpa, there was a glimmer of light at the back of the room, a flash of movement. And my eyes were drawn to the source.

My heart stopped

There she was. Finally. Blair St. Clair smiling apologetically at the few people who were looking at her. They smiled back as they should. She was breathtaking.

And her eyes moved to where everyone else was looking.

Right at me.

Such a familiar feeling was falling over me.

Everyone else in the room. Gone. Like they just stepped into another world, leaving the two of us in this reality.

She panted, out a breath, like she had run to my place. Impossible, she looked like an absolute angel in her gold wrap dress.

Nina nudged me. I snapped out of my daze, reminded of the whole crowd of people looking up at me with confused stares.

Fuck...what do I say now? How do I backtrack?

"But...you know what?" I started to speak again. "You realise, you're just overthinking again. 'Cause, that's a very on-brand thing for you. Every little incident of the past has taught you to doubt that good things actually can happen to you." My smile was returning. "Because the people who give a shit are there. Because you've done the impossible. And they couldn't be happier to be part of your story." My eyes were moving through the crowd, "Do what makes the ones around you proud, and what makes you fucking proud. And don't let anyone or anything hold you the fuck back. Because you have a purpose."

Thank fuck for the fact everyone started cheering again. I thought I had fucking bombed that I would see a recording of the same speech the following day all over Twitter, along with comments about how dramatic it was.

But it was fine. I saved it. I smiled at everyone and hugged Nina, suddenly overcome with happiness.

"Fuck you for not telling me you were gonna drag me up here," I whispered in her ear.

"Well, if I had asked you in the first place, you would have said no, honey." Nina grinned.

We pulled apart, and my eyes went back to the front door. I smiled, expecting to see Blair. But she had vanished. Fuck, I hadn't imagined her, right?

I tried to carefully make my way down the stairs without tripping, ready to look for her once again.

And upon reaching the bottom, Joey grabbed my hand and pulled me close, "someone on the balcony requires your attention."

He winked, and the butterflies in my belly went mad.

She was playing games with me. Not a very Blair St Clair thing to do, but the thought excited me.

I hurried to the balcony, ready to feel that cool air on my skin, her warm body pressed against mine.

And just as I was passing through the doors, feeling the cooling breeze, I stopped dead in my tracks.

I froze.

This wasn't what I expected; seeing her standing there, only noticing how radiant she looked in her orange suit dress.

Fuck. It felt so long since I had last seen her.

But it had been only a few days.

"Hi, Juju," I spoke quietly.

"Hey," she inhaled her cigarette, looking out to the city. If she hadn't replied to me, I would have guessed she failed to realise I was even there.

I swallowed, my eyes glancing down to the ground for a moment. The alcohol in my system was telling me to just turn and leave her alone. She didn't wanna see me.

But my brain said, "you idiot, she obviously invited you out here."

So I moved forward, rubbing the backs of my arms nervously.

I stood beside her, not even daring to look her in the eye. I looked at her orange suit, how Mom would have adored it.

"You invited me out here." I leaned my elbows on the ledge, my gaze following hers over the twinkling lights of New York.

"Yeah, I did." She did offer me a cigarette, but still, she never looked at me.

I shook my head, declining her offer, "Why didn't you just come and ask me yourself?"

"I was dying for a cigarette." She breathed out a stream of smoke. "Also, I've already spent most of the night trying to find you."

I couldn't help but breathe out a laugh through my nose. I glanced at her and was glad to see the smirk appear on those lips.

"I've been trying to fucking find you." I continued to laugh, a crack to my tone, however.

She finally looked at me, turning her body to face me. Her brows were knit together, yet the smirk remained. "No. I," she stressed, "have been trying to find you."

"So...what have I been doing for the past...I dunno, few hours?" I raised a brow. "Did I take 10 hits of acid earlier, or did I not search this place from top to bottom?"

She gave me a hopeless smile like she knew there was no point in arguing. She sucked on the cigarette, offering it to me.

I gave in, taking it from her hand, my fingers touching hers with a light touch. Her eyes moved to our hands as if she was thinking about it too. The feeling like this was a moment we needed to remember.

I took a drag on the cigarette, passing it back. She looked away, briefly turning her gaze to the ground.

But I kept my eyes on her like I'd never get another chance. "I really miss you, Juju," I spoke quietly, almost through a whisper.

She looked at me again. Her mouth moved around slightly yet remained closed like she wanted to say something. But she couldn't figure out what it was she was going to say.

I reached out, took her hand in mine. She seemed taken aback at first. But as my thumb stroked against the soft skin of her hand, a small smile began to resurface.

"There are…" she paused, "things that I would love to say to you. But I just... I'm afraid."

"Is it bad? Come on, Juju. You can tell me. You can tell me anything. I mean, we've grown up together. We've always told each other everything."

She looked apprehensive before taking another drag from her cigarette. And stubbing it out in the ashtray, she turned towards me once again.

She looked ready to say it. Whatever it was. I didn't even know the words yet. But I could tell this would mean a lot to her.

The muffled sound of the many people behind the closed glass doors became clearer, amplified even. Jujubee looked in its direction. My eyes followed.

"Blair," I uttered.

She looked slightly taken aback like she didn't know how to react to seeing us.

Jujubee dropped her hand to her side, a small puff of air leaving her nostrils.

"Jujubee." A smile appeared on Blair's face as she finally approached us both. "I didn't expect to see you here!"

"Likewise." Jujubee nodded slowly. She glanced at me, and I reciprocated.

Before I could figure out her exact emotion. But now, she was hard to read once again. My brows knit together, telepathically questioning what she was feeling.

Jujubee looked back at Blair. "Talk about awful timing though, I was just leaving." Jujubee smiled back at her.

Blair's smile was disappearing. "Oh." She paused, unable to say anything else.

"You don't have to go, Jujubee." I took her hand once again, stroking my thumb over her skin another time, just to remind her of the tender moment we were just having.

She smiled again, but only now, I knew the true words behind it. She pulled her hand away. "Early rise, actually. Gotta get up and ready for the big day tomorrow, right?" She raised her brows at me. Then she looked at Blair, "It was nice seeing you," and then back to me once more, "I hope you have a good night, Brie."

She averted her eyes, not even sparing me another glance. The clacking of her heels was deafening, each step away causing something inside to sting.

"It was nice seeing you again," Blair said before Jujubee could make it through the doors.

I heard a mumbled "yeah, yeah," before Jujubee went back inside.

My gaze still followed her, watching as she navigated the crowd.

"Did she...seem off to you?" Blair asked quietly.

"Yeah," I said without thinking. "I just...I don't know what's wrong with her...I can't...work it out…" my eyes never left the door, hoping Jujubee would reappear.

And feeling Blair's soft hand in mine, I was brought back to reality. I looked at her, seeing the concern in her eyes. Fuck, what a great way to reunite.

"Is something going on?" She asked softly.

I shook my head frantically, "N-No. We're fine...I guess I'm just overreacting. Yeah, she's just been...really busy with everything."

"That's probably true." She shrugged, glancing at the door, "Well, actually, I haven't seen what goes behind the public eye, but I bet it's taxing." Blair was facing me again, her eyes widening briefly.

I let out a small laugh, "Oh, you have no idea." And only then did I get a real chance to take her in. The girl had not changed. Well, call me corny, but she only got more radiant looking.

"I didn't think you'd come," I spoke with a hushed tone.

"Sorry, I was late. I couldn't get a cab for ages." She gave a half-smile. "I guess New York really is that kind of place."

"Fuck, I didn't think about traffic. I could have got you a driver or something. "I started rambling.

"No, it's OK. I'm here now anyway." Her eyes looked me up and down, "you look great, by the way. Pink always was your colour."

Funny how the last time she gave me a compliment, I shut her down. But now, I couldn't bring myself to do so. "Thank you."

I wasn't expecting her to hug me, but she did. It was very welcoming. If I could rate it out of 10, I'd give it a 9. Why the missing point? Cause she pulled away too soon. I needed that time, just to soak up the moment.

My arm was still around her waist when she put a hand to my face.

"It's so good to see you." She beamed, the city lights reflected in her eyes.

"You wanna go upstairs? We'll hear better up there. And it's kinda chilly out here." I hoped she didn't find that creepy or like I was suggesting something because that was not my intention, believe it or not.

I almost jumped, the sound of her sweet voice dragging me out of the storm that was my inner ramblings. "What about your party?" She looked over her shoulder at all the guests behind the closed doors."

"They'll be fine," I said too quickly.

"Oh. Well, if you say so."

She didn't find that weird. Good. I finally pulled my arm from her body but took her hand instead, leading her into the apartment.

I ignored the side glances we received, too focused on her presence behind me. Still so in disbelief that for once, she hadn't flaked out. She really did give a fuck. Walking up the stairs, I only noticed how my vision had cleared. I no longer felt drunk. Had it just been a quick rush of nausea that left me feeling so weary before? Or had the shock of seeing Blair literally walk into my life again shocked me so much to the point it sobered me up?

"Here we go," I said quietly, welcoming her into the upper level.

"Wow, you got another living room up here." Blair's wandering eyes landed on the couch.

"Yeah. The one downstairs is for fucking business and parties. And this one," I gestured to where she was looking, "is for hanging out mostly, and…" Why did I have to be so nervous?

"Hookups?" She looked at me with raised brows and a smirk.

I laughed nervously, moving to the fake fireplace and turning it on. Why didn't I just say no? She probably thought I was a slut or something. "Sit down if you want. Do you want a drink? I'd love a fucking drink right now."

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks, though." She replied, sitting down on the sofa and relishing the feeling of it.

"I need some fucking water." I rushed to the mini-fridge and pulled out a bottle.

Turning back to face Blair, she was looking at me in confusion. "You OK?"

"What?" That was all I thought to reply with.

"You seem kind of…" she paused, trying to figure out her words, "on edge."

"I do?" My hands played with the water bottle.

"Yeah, you've included the word 'fucking' in every sentence since we got up here." She allowed herself to smirk.

Subliminal, Blair. I like it.

Fuck, I dragged my mind out of the gutter and practically rushed to the couch. "Oh, it's just...tomorrow. The nerves, you know." I sat on the other end of the sofa, took a gulp of water and made myself comfortable.

Blair turned to face her body towards me. "Am I wrong, or was Ed Sheeran downstairs??"

"Yeah, he was. It's kind of a long story, actually." I laughed. "You a fan?"

"No, not really," Blair replied.

"Good, me neither. Not really into the whole wedding dance song vibe."

"Me too." She groaned, "If I hear Thinking out loud at another wedding, girl, I'm just...I dunno."

"I get it. 100%"

"Well, enough about him," Blair sat up straight, a bright smile on her face. She laughed for a moment before even speaking, "Fuck, I was just about to ask what you've been up to." She gestured a hand around the room, "I mean, duh."

"Yeah," I returned the laugh, "It's pretty much just that. This project has taken up most of my life over the years."

"God, I remember reading in the paper...fuck, I can't remember the exact title. It was this tiny article just squashed into a corner. 'Scientist seeks to prove the existence of other realities.' Yeah, it was something like that. And…" She shrugged, "I just knew it was you. And, I knew you'd go far."

I felt the blush creep onto my skin. Hearing this from Blair felt otherworldly.

"I mean, I knew before. When you told me at Prom, I knew you'd be able to do it." She added.

"How did you know?" I asked.

"Just hearing how you talked about it. Like, you really believed in yourself. It made me believe too." She swapped around the legs she crossed.

"It was hard. Trying to get people on board with everything. Not a lot of people believed it was even possible in the beginning." I unscrewed the cap from the bottle of water. "And now look at me; I got the government behind this whole thing." I shrugged and took a sip of the water. Before she could go on, I took the conversation on another route. "But what about you? Where are you in life?"

I knew where she was in life. Hadn't I Facebook stalked her not too long before?

"Well, it sounds far fetched, but I'm trying to get into the music scene." Blair sat back in her seat, eyes wandering off, looking at nothing in particular.

"You always did like performing," I noted. "Starting out in the school playgrounds. Soon you'll be playing an Arena with a sold-out show."

Did I sound cheesy? Was I too much of a kiss ass? Because to me, this was honesty. I always thought Blair had the potential to be a famous singer. She had the voice, the looks, style and personality. Who wouldn't want her as part of their label?

Fuck, it only hit me that I could have gotten her a spot to perform at the event.

Blair had stood, a small sigh emitting her lips. "An Arena? Imagine that." She smirked for a moment, stepping away from the couch. For a hot second, I thought I had stepped on territory I shouldn't have, and she was leaving. But she made her way to the window, staring out over New York. So I naturally went too. "Well, I've just been singing around bars for a while now, even had 2 gigs. Nothing too amazing." She explained. "I mean, I know you say Arena and all, but, actually, I wouldn't wanna be that big. I just...want people to hear my music."

Her smile faltered somewhat, and it spoke volumes. It wasn't happening fast enough for her, the growing number of ears that would someday listen to her words. She wanted it all now.

I sidestepped a bit closer. My fingers were so close to brushing against hers, then stopping myself in realising that was too much. "It does take time, these things. I mean, I didn't get here overnight. It will happen, Blair." She flashed me a gracious smile, and I was glad she didn't find any of that condescending. That was not my aim. "Anyway, I'd love to hear your music."

"You would?" Blair cocked her head to the side, turning more to face me, her hand on the window cill closer to mine.

"Of course," I reply. She should've known that anyway.

"Well, I'm not gonna break out into song for you right now. But I have a few videos on my Facebook. You should add me." She suggested.

I had never opened Facebook so fast. "There. I sent you a request." I scrolled through her timeline, my back now to the window, "Lemme see."

"Oh, God. Please don't. Not right now." Blair panicked.

I lifted my gaze, my eyes almost wide. Blair St Clair, the girl who wasn't hesitant to approach a mic, was embarrassed. I found this to be adorable and oddly made me feel more relaxed. "Don't be shy, Blair. I'm sure they're great."

"Brianna, don't." No joke, Blair attempted to snatch my phone away like a child.

I found it highly amusing. "Why not?" I smiled mischievously.

Blair continued her protests, trying to swipe at the phone more and more, all while laughing nervously.

Eventually, my teasing led to a chase. I still scrolled her Facebook as I ran around the room, Blair behind me.

"Which one should I look out for?" I stood at one end of the couch.

Blair stood at the other end, letting out a pant. "Brianna, you better not."

I stepped to the right, throwing her off, and she ran to her left, ready to run straight at me and take the phone out of my hand.

But I tricked her. When I took that step to the right, I pulled back and moved to the left instead. And without thinking, I threw myself down on my bed.

Before I could even get up, Blair was already there, too, crawling towards me. She reached for my phone, still pleading with me to stop.

And finally, giving the current circumstances, I gave in. "OK, OK. You win. I won't play your music in front of you." I giggled mischievously, shuffling so my back was against my headboard. "You're gonna have to remind me to check it out, though."

Blair remained at the bottom of my bed, kicking her heels off and folding them like a pretzel. It was as if we were teenagers again, catching up on all the hanging out we never got to do. She fluffed out her hair, "God, Brie, I came here to have a good time. Not to work out. Why are you still looking at your phone?"

Now that I was on her profile, scrolling back to the top, I saw a familiar picture. "Wow, this George guy's kind of cute."

Blair smiled warmly, her eyes looking upwards. And I had the slightest sinking feeling she was about to tell me this was her fucking lover or husband.

"Ah...George. What a guy." Blair blinked. "He does music too. If you like my stuff, then you'll like his too. He's got this song Gimme Love. It's my favourite."

"Is he your boyfriend?" There was no hesitation in asking.

Her brows briefly crossed. "What? No. He's one of my closest friends. Really helping me find places to perform. He's just...really cool."

I mouthed a silent 'Oh' before going on and cocking my head to the side, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Was it normal to ask shit like this? Maybe it was. But considering I had confessed to her I liked her very much in that accidental message, perhaps I shouldn't have said it at all. Didn't want her getting sus.

I got the feeling she knew I was trying to find a way in as she raised a brow at me, the corners of her mouth turning upwards. "Nah, Brie. I'm done with boys."

I lowered my phone. That could have meant anything;

She was strictly into girls;

She had just gotten out of a bad relationship with someone, and she was going through that typical 'men are trash' phase;

She used the term 'boys' when referring to immature fuck boys who still thrived in toilet paper bombing people's houses and still fought with feminists online. She was now looking for 'a real man' who would love and respect her.

She wasn't speaking, just lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Before the silence could go on and get awkward, I shifted in my own spot. "Do you wanna elaborate on that?"

"Oh. Yeah, if you want to hear it." She said like she didn't want to, and before I could stop her, she went on, "Well, the last was Conrad. He cheated on me. Before him, there was Ethan. I found out he'd talk shit about me to all his meathead buddies, said that my ass wasn't big enough. Then Bryce with his superior attitude. And…" she sighed, "Fucking Trevor."

Just hearing his name did something to me. I could feel how my shoulders had tensed, how the breath got stuck in my throat for a moment. But my ability to talk was unaffected because I spoke up, "I remember you saying he was controlling." I moved away from my headboard, shuffling closer to her, so close she could have put her head in my lap if she wanted.

Blair nodded, "he was," she breathed out a sigh, "I can't believe I'm even admitting this, but after high school, I started seeing him again. He promised me he would change, that things would be different. And I always feel like such an idiot for believing him."

That was upsetting. My hand squeezed in a fist. "So, what was the final straw? The thing that made you end things for the last time?"

Blair took in a deep breath, rolling over onto her front and propping her head upon her hands. She looked up at me with sad eyes. "He was just the same, Brie. Always controlling me, telling me how to act, who I could and couldn't hang out with. He was like that from the beginning to the end. I mean, you remember how he reacted about that one sex-ed class? And that time, he yelled at me in front of everyone for not sitting with him at lunch one day?"

I had no idea about the last thing. And I wasn't even surprised. Trevor was that type of guy, and you just knew it within the first few minutes of meeting him.

I was curious to know, but I kind of already had a feeling. Yet, I needed clarification. "Is that why you never came back to the library? Because he knew people would talk if you were seen with the school loser?" She leaned up now, but I continued. "Is it why you never came to speak to me about the prom?"

Blair was just watching me in silence. But I could see it, the realisation in her face.

"Fuck." She sat up and moved closer to me. "Oh my gosh, Brianna. I am so sorry. I had...no idea it would hurt you." We were both face to face, and she put her hands on mine, her eyes apologetic. She cussed, briefly looking away. "Fuck, I knew you hated me. The years of silence, of course, you did."

"Wait, no. Stop. I'm sorry. I don't wanna make you feel like a bad person. That's not what I wanted to do." I said profusely, my hands tightening just slightly.

"No, no. I'm sorry. You have every right to be upset." She spoke quietly, her blue eyes pleading with me. "Just be honest with me. I owe you that. You deserve to be heard."

"Really, Blair, it's fine. It's - -"

"Brianna. You're upset. You're not really good at hiding it, no offence." She smirked at the last comment. But the smile disappeared, and she waited for my response.

I stared back at her, my gaze shifting between both those eyes. My mind debated what to do, refuse to say a thing and let it all continue to build up. Or vent years of pent up emotions that needed to be said.

I looked away, deciding the latter decision was probably the best. I really didn't want to, what with the risk of upsetting her.

But maybe she wouldn't.

But maybe she would.

But maybe…

Her hand left mine and swept a strand of hair away from my face. I didn't even know it was there. "You're really hurt, Brie," she spoke softly.

I looked back to her finally, her hand lowering back down. And I finally found my voice. "OK." I shifted in my spot, highly uncomfortable. Come on, Brie. Just tell her.

"Do you remember the prom? When you asked me how we never talked more?" Just say it. "Because I always felt inadequate. Like I wasn't enough for you. And, not just you, even my…" I paused, feeling the lump form in my throat, "...my parents. Ummm…" saying that out loud to her, it hit differently. My voice was cracking. "I always associated you with my parents. I don't know where the connection came from, and I know now that that's fucked up, and I know I probably should go to a therapist about that, but..." I quickly explained. "But yeah, I just...never felt enough. Like 'why would Blair the cheerleader want to associate with someone like me? How could Blair ever love someone like me??'"

Fuck, it just slipped out. I studied her face for a reaction, expecting her to back away.

But she didn't. She just nodded in understanding, squeezing my hand reassuringly.

"But, um...I know now. It wasn't that you didn't care. It was just...fucking Trevor." I practically growled that name.

Blair breathed out a laugh, rolling her eyes. "Fucking Trevor."

"Yeah, fuck that asshole," I allowed myself to smile before continuing on. "I just... didn't understand how hard that actually was for you."

"It was very hard. God, it bothered me so much because I really did have a soft spot for you, Brianna. I really did, ever since we were kids." Blair smiled warmly. "And that's why I'm so glad you replied to my message. After all these years."

I gulped, thinking about that damn message, and now seeing her loving smile. "Y-You didn't think it was weird?"

Blair sighed, yet her smile remained. "Brianna. Do you think I'd be sitting here if it was?" She moved her hand to my elbow, up my shoulder, caressing my cheek gently.

I almost said something. I couldn't even remember what it was. Not that it mattered because I didn't get the chance. The moment I had been waiting for, it was happening. Her face was moving closer to mine, eyes slowly closing. And as soon as I felt her lips brush against mine, the feeling of her touch caused the butterflies in my stomach to flutter. I closed my own eyes and accepted what was happening.

The kiss my teenage self craved, dreamed about even.

It was reality.

We hadn't just slipped into some other world.

This was real life. The feeling of her hand on my cheek, that was real. The butterflies in my stomach fighting against the walls, also real.

And how I lifted my hand and held her face, also real.

She pulled away first, but her lips were still close, "was that OK?"

"Yeah," I moved my face back towards hers, initiating another kiss. I was savouring every bit of this moment. The sweet taste of her was too much to not let go of.

But she pulled back again, letting herself fall back against the mattress. I stared at her for a few seconds. Fuck, this was happening. Something inside me was hesitant to do this. The nerves, the fear of not being enough for her.

Blair reached out for my hand, and I knew I was just overthinking again. I took her hand and allowed her to pull me down to her.

Lowering my face to hers, I kissed her again, more hungrily this time. For a second, I didn't know where to go from there, still so in disbelief that my luck had turned around.

When I pulled away, my hand travelling down the side of her face. "Oh my God...is this real?"

"Of course it is." Blair giggled, her hands roaming up and down my back.

"OK. Good!" I panted, moving my kisses to her cheek, then her neck, and I could feel my heart beating a bit faster.

But because I am Brianna Caldwell, the most awkward person to have ever lived, I had to go on with the questions. "Hey, Blair, can I ask you something?" I kept my lips where they were.

"Mhmm?" She purred when I kissed that point where her neck met her shoulder. The pathetic noise she made almost made me melt, I swear to God.

"Were you…" come on, Brie, just say it, "were you gonna kiss me at the prom?"

She chuckled, "Yeah. But Trevor had to be an insecure loser."

I appreciated the cute giggling sound she made.

I lifted my head away from her skin and leaned up. I looked at her with a raised brow.

Blair was smiling still, but I knew she was getting impatient.

"So...you like-liked me back then too? Even when I was ugly?" I asked.

"Brianna, you were never ugly." Blair's brows connected, a hand stroking up and down my side. She really was getting needy. "And yes. I always like-liked you. God, that's so cute. You still say like-like." She took my hands and guided them to the knot tight at the side of her wrap dress.

"Shut up. Fuck, you're so beautiful." My hands began to untie the knot while I lowered my face and kissed along her clavicle and the only bit of exposed chest I had access to.

"Fuck. If only you knew how long I wanted this." Blair mewled. "I didn't think this was ever gonna happen. Even when I saw you and Juju out on the balcony, I was like...fuck. I'm too late."

Confusion immediately took me over. I pulled back again, looking down at her. A brief flash of frustration appeared on her face, but I ignored it. "Wait. What?"

"Yeah, I just…" Blair looked away for a moment as if debating on continuing or not, "always saw how you were around her. Always so happy. Like you were on top of the world. And I just didn't want to get in the way of that."

Her hand was trailing along my thigh, but I ignored it.

"Wait...Jujubee?" I knew that's who she was talking about, but even the sound of her name, it made something inside hurt. Not a hurt that she caused. Something...so different yet familiar at the same time.

"Yes. I never saw you that happy around anyone else…" Blair leaned back, balancing against my propped knees. "I mean, the prom? The way you looked at me, it was nothing compared to when you're with her. With Jujubee, it was...always so different."

Realisation dawned on me. I knew what she was getting at.

I opened my mouth to speak, ready to say I didn't like Jujubee in that way. But the words wouldn't surface. No matter how much I willed myself, I just couldn't. Even the thought of saying it made that feeling of hurt feel 10 times worse.

"You OK?" Her fingers danced around my thigh again, only with more wanting now.

"But…" I began, "I gave you my Valentine's card in first grade."

Now she was silent, her gaze shifting between both my eyes. She leaned up on both elbows, realising my questions weren't going to stop, and her pussy wasn't going to be eaten any time soon. She gave a nervous laugh, "um, no. You gave it to Jujubee."

I squinted my eyes. "No. I gave it to you, Blair."

"Girl, you gave it to me, and when I asked if it was mine, you shouted at me, saying it was for Juju and you just wanted me to check it out." She was laughing again. But seeing my still confused face, her smile began to drop. "You don't remember that?"

I was silent for a moment. Blair was in front of me, the love of my life, but all I could see was the image of Jujubee in my head. Her perfect little face, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed, that bright smile, her silky black hair that always smelt so good.

I thought back, all the way back to that specific Valentine's Day. I remembered handing the card to Blair, her confused face, how the kids snickered as I stood there feeling sorry for myself. And Jujubee shouting at them all for making jokes.

But that was all.

"I... don't remember that," I spoke quietly, my eyes squinted.

"Not even the card she gave you?"

My eyes widened at that. "She did what?"

"Yeah, she gave you a card."

Now that she mentioned it, there was a flicker of an image in my head; something pastel pink. My tiny painted fingers holding a heart shape. Baby Brianna smiling, only to lift her head and see the other kids making fun.

"Oh, shit…" I whispered. I climbed off Blair and got up from the bed.

I was on the verge of pacing, my hand in my hair, "Oh my God."

"Don't be embarrassed, Brie." Blair was fully sat up in the bed now, her legs spread as if trying to beckon me back. "Not a lot of people can remember so far back."

I needed to prove if this was real or not. I'd call Jujubee. But then again, would she have even answered? If what Blair was saying was true, that explained why Jujubee was behaving the way she was. She was hurt. She was pissed because I didn't remember her card.

But how the fuck could I have forgotten something like that? All my life, that was all I ever wanted - to know I was loved by someone. Such a memory like that…

"Brie, are we...you know...gonna…" Blair spoke quietly.

My eyes widened. A memory like that. A memory that would be worth keeping.

I turned to face her. "Blair, wait here. I'll be right back."

"OK. Sure." Blair blinked a few times.

I wasted no time rushing downstairs. Taking a moment to observe the crowd, it seemed, quite a few guests had left already. At least it would make it easier to navigate.

I made my way to the kitchen. The memory box was still there. For a millisecond, I feared someone would have stolen it.

I took it to the counter, no one was around, so I felt safe enough to open it.

My nerves were wrecked as I lifted the latch to the box. I only had a small idea of the things that would be in here. Old photos, movie tickets, childhood drawings.

But I hadn't planned on opening it up so soon.

No. I needed to know the truth.

Opening it up, I saw a bunch of photos, tickets and pieces of folded up paper. I removed them, planning to possibly look at them at a later date.

The more I pulled out, the more confident I felt that Blair had got it all wrong. And she was the one who remembered things differently.

But there was a flash of pink at the bottom of the box. I gulped, pushing aside the scraps of paper burying it.

And there it was; A pastel pink heart-shaped card, 'Happy Valentines Day' writing in glitter gel pen on the front. "Shit…" I said quietly, pulling the card out.

Opening it up, I breathed out a puff of air.

'Dear Brianna, I know people in class are mean and say nasty things. But I think you are the prettiest girl in the world. Happy Valentine's day. Love from Juju xxx'

I could hear the younger version of myself reading it out loud, the insults from the other kids, Jujubee yelling at them because they were just jealous.

I put the card down as I realised Blair was right. And memories resurfaced, reading completely different.

That Valentines Day in which she refused to tell me who she had eyes for

That time she didn't invite me to stay for dinner.

How her smile would drop every time I mentioned Blair.

How I never danced with her at the prom

And finally, our recent argument.

It all made sense. Jujubee was in love with me. And instead of recognising it earlier on, I was too caught up with Blair to see it.

And what about me? How did I feel about her? Yeah, Jujubee was my one and only friend. She had gotten me through so much throughout the years. If it weren't for her, who knew where I would have been.

I couldn't pinpoint any time that I had thought of her as more than just a friend.

Well, maybe the times we'd lie in bed and just...stare into each other's eyes. Or the time she held me as I sobbed into her chest after the incident at the prom. Or maybe the times she'd smile, and it would brighten up my day. Or the exact day that I noticed how cute it was when her lashes fluttered.

Or…

My eyes met the heart-shaped card again, how the very sight of it made my heart skip a beat.

"Fuck." I ran my fingers through my hair as it was clear to me.

My eyes ventured away from the card, moving to the scraps of paper.

'Grandpa's tips for life'

My hand told me to examine the piece of paper further, so I did so.

At the top of the list, there it was. A sign.

'Go get her, kiddo. You've got nothing to lose.'

I needed to tell her.

I packed the box up and quickly left the kitchen, noting that a few more people had left.

"Blair!" I called, rushing up the stairs.

She was still there, laying in the bed, in just her white lacey lingerie.

I covered my eyes. "Oh my God. That was unexpected."

"Fuck. Sorry. I kind of had a feeling that would have been inappropriate." She asked.

"What? No. You're fine. I just... wasn't prepared for that." I stuttered, still covering my eyes. "Could you just...cover-up for a second."

"OK." I heard her say. "You can look now."

I looked back. She did pull the duvet up, but just below the wire of her bra.

"OK," I breathed out, trying to ignore her cleavage, "I think you're right about Jujubee."

"You think?"

"Yes," I replied before shaking my head profusely. "No. I know. You're right, Blair. I...I like her. Maybe even love her." Fuck, saying that out loud, it did something to me, "And yes, I liked you for so long, but you're right. I was always happiest with her."

I was expecting her to be disappointed, but she smiled. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

"What?"

"Go get her."

Grandpa's words reiterated.

"You're not upset that we're not gonna have sex right now?"

"No, Brie." Blair threw back the covers, picking up her gold wrap dress off the floor, "I already learned how to deal with it. Knowing you belonged to someone else." She wrapped her body up in the dress effortlessly, fluffed out her hair and turned to look at me again. "I know you're meant to be with her. So, go. Go tell her now before it's too late."

Despite this revelation, I couldn't help but feel like a dick. Blair was smiling, but I knew she had to feel some level of hurt. I walked towards her and brought her into a hug.

"I'm sorry for what I did to you, Brie," Blair whispered in my ear.

I only held her tighter, "Don't be," and I pulled away, my hands still on her shoulders, "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have ever opened my eyes."

I kissed her on the cheek, and she smiled warmly. I turned to leave, and before I made my way downstairs, I looked at her once more. Her hand was on her face where my lips had been. I was glad I could give her that one last kiss, just something to hold on to.

"You really helped me, Blair," I said.

"Good." She said graciously. "Now go."

The urgency in her voice only fueled my determination.

I was under no time limit, but I couldn't help but want to reach Jujubee as soon as possible.

When I was outside, I shouted for the first cab I saw. Thankfully it pulled over. I got in and pulled out my phone.

But the car was still.

"Go! Drive!" I raised my voice.

"Lady. You haven't even told me where you're headed!" The cabbie turned in his seat.

Fuck, I sounded crazy. How he hadn't thrown me out was beyond me.

I only realised that I had no idea where my destination was. Jujubee could have been anywhere.

The driver was still looking at me, his patience growing thin. So I barked out Jujubee's address.

He seemed relieved to be on the road again. Only then was I aware of the honking cars behind us. Typical for New York, but this was too much.

I found Jujubee's number, trying my luck at the chance she'd answer.

It rang.

And it rang.

And it rang some more.

"Come on, come on," I repeated quietly to myself. Relax, Brie. It's not like she's catching a plane to the furthest state.

The phone went straight to voicemail. "Fuck!"

The cab driver glared at me in the rearview mirror.

I ignored him and tried again. Still nothing.

A few minutes passed, and I tried once more. But again, my luck was shit on.

I dropped my hands to my lap, sighing frustratedly. All I could do was just see if she was home.

My eyes trailed to beyond the window, just hoping to get there as soon as possible.

And there she was. Walking out of a pizza place, a solemn look on her face.

"There she is," I said aloud to myself before turning my attention to the cab driver. "Stop! Pull over!"

He came to a grinding halt. "Jesus Christ, lady! You really need to stop all that yelling and - -"

I handed him a $20 bill, "keep the change. Thank you."

I got out of the vehicle, eyes looking to where Jujubee once was. She was gone.

"Fuck." I looked down one path, not there. And looking down the other, there was Jujubee, rounding the corner and eating a slice of pizza.

I ran in my heels, people moving out of the way to dodge me.

I knew I was an inconvenience to so many, but Jujubee at that moment was my priority.

Rounding the corner, I saw she didn't get far. I couldn't help but bend over for a hot second, trying to catch my breath.

And when I recovered, I shouted out, "Jujubee!"

She turned, eyes wide like she had never heard my voice before. And when she saw it was me, her face sort of fell.

My hand reached into my bag, and I pulled out the Valentines Day card.

She looked confused at first, but then recognition settled in. And the disappointment was replaced with fear.

I stopped panting. And finally, I could speak. "You were right. Approval; That's all I ever wanted. And I thought that if Blair gave that to me, I'd be good enough. Because I never felt that. I never felt good enough. I wasn't good enough for Blair, I was never good enough for my parents, and I'd never be good enough for anyone."

Jujubee was silent for a moment, eyes falling to the pavement and then back up again. "You were good enough for me."

I breathed out. "I know. But I was...too caught up in my own shit to think about how you felt. Too caught up that...I didn't even think about how I felt." I paused, thinking of how the fuck I should say it. No, I didn't need to think. This wasn't some cheesy movie. "I...I love you, Juju."

She let out a breath, a shaky one like she was on the verge of tears. And her eyes became glossy. I really wanted to tell her not to cry, to be happy. But this moment, she wanted this all her life.

A tear slipped down her cheek, but she laughed. "Fuck, I got this fucking pizza 'cause I needed heartbreak food."

I returned the laugh. "Hey, it's OK. You can still eat it. It can be normal pizza."

"No. I'm not even hungry anyway." Jujubee admitted, passing the pizza to a random passerby (who was taken by surprise but accepted the free food anyway).

Jujubee walked towards me. I smiled, already smelling that sweet perfume.

But she pushed me back. "Fuck you for forgetting about the card. I knew you did. I always remembered yours."

"I'm so sorry. I don't know why I forgot. But," I paused, "Blair reminded me."

"She did?"

"Yep."

"Wow. She remembered. But you didn't."

"Yeah. I'm...really really sorry."

"Wow. Is this our first couple fight?" Jujubee put her hands on her hips.

"It could be. If... that's what you want to call us." I suggested.

"Perfect. Seal the deal?" She raised a brow.

I knew where this was going. "Oh, absolutely."

Jujubee stepped closer, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and pressed her lips against mine. And that unfamiliar spark coursed through me, like it came from somewhere inside her and travelled through my body.

And I didn't care for the fact we were in the middle of the street, probably inconveniencing others. All that mattered was the happiness coursing through me, the feeling of...being complete.

I pulled out of the kiss first. "Wanna get in that rocket and be the first to go to the other world?"

Jujubee smiled but quickly stopped. "I-I'm kinda unprepared. I mean... I'd need a toothbrush, my clothes..."

"Where we're going...you don't need 'em." And then I played the words back in my head. "Oh. Oh shit, no. Not in that context. I just meant... you'd get new ones, you know? Fuck, I'm terrible at this."

"No. You're just you." Jujubee laughed, and fuck, I adored how her eyes were crinkling at the corners.

We grabbed the nearest cab. When we told him where we were going, his eyes widened. It would be a journey. But we paid upfront, so the driver remained silent.

When we got to base, I almost cursed myself for not thinking about how we'd access all the areas.

But there was that mastercard. And they couldn't say no. They knew who I was, after all.

When we were in the gowning area, Jujubee and I helped each other into spacesuits. I was high with anticipation, ready to see what was on the other side, ready to do it all with Jujubee.

This was our dream.

Jujubee grabbed two helmets. One for her and one for me. She tossed it my way, and I caught it.

"Ready to go?" She asked.

"Absolutely." I extended my hand, and we made our way to the door.

The cold cool air was refreshing. My eyes travelled up and down the rocket. It was bigger than I imagined, and for a small second, I felt worthless. Like I was just Brianna Caldwell, a girl from a small town with no real purpose in this world.

But Jujubee slid her hand into mine. And I was reminded that all I had to do was shut my inner demons up. Because I did have a purpose. And I was something to someone. As long as I had her, that was all that mattered.

Jujubee smiled mischievously, pulling me along the bridge, leading me to the already opened door. She ducked down and climbed into the small space, and I followed.

It was disorientating at first, what with the rocket facing the sky. I feared I'd fall trying to get into my seat. But Jujubee continued to pull me along.

When we were seated, I wasted no time putting on my helmet and initiated the activation process.

I could feel Jujubee's smirk as I flicked at switches and pressed buttons. It only fueled my excitement.

A voice came through the radio, one of the engineers. We were bombarded with questions, demanding to know what we were doing, how it was too early for take off with no press to film it, all sorts of complaints.

But we didn't care.

When everything seemed ready to go, I put my hand on the lever. But before I pulled, I turned my head to her.

"Ready to see the flying horses?" I raised a brow.

"Just as ready as I am for the cats that bark." She breathed out a laugh through her nostrils.

With another smile, I pulled the lever. The ship was rumbling now, and my stomach was doing somersaults.

We both turned our attention to the sounds of protest from the engineers. They were livid now, shouting about how the media wasn't going to like this.

I lifted my hand up, flipping the source of the sound off. Jujubee cackled to my delight.

I put the intercom on mute. And the ship took off. Mom was gonna kill me for this. I'd definitely bring her back a gift. A new vase, maybe? Yeah. A vase from an entirely new world. Something new.

I looked forward, unable to see the ground below us. How high were we already? How long was left until we reached that crossover, the gateway?

My question was answered as the ship was illuminated by a bright light.

We did it, Grandpa. We did it.

#rpdr fanfiction #s10 #as5 #miz cracker #jujubee #blair st clair #blair x cracker #coming of age #hurt/comfort #lesbian au #angst #gimme love #grinder #tw mental health discussion

4 notes · View notes

babyjakes · 9 months ago

Note

Do— would you recommend any treatments for those of us without daddies? 🥺☹️

Especially if nurse Steve 🤭 is helping 🥰

(Can I be 🏰 anon?)

Great question, sweetheart! Littles without caregivers are absolutely welcome to come see us for treatment. For many of our patients in this situation, we recommend recurring appointments for both physical and mental health services. Our regression specialist has availability for individualized caregiving sessions; all of our littles love their time with Mr. Andy! And the doctor who puts together your treatment plan can decide what physical treatments might be right for you. Depending on the specific procedure, many times one of us nurses can administer it without a head supervising 😉

— Steve Rogers, RN

#private practice's voicemail box #private practice #private practice!steve replies #🏰 anon

16 notes · View notes

dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Instinct

Brian brought his scarf up over his nose and tucked his hand further into his jacket, turtling against the frigid Chicago wind. He was used to soul-sucking gales of the winter night watches. He brought layers designed to create pockets of warm air to insulate against the wind, hand warmers and goggles for his eyes.

It was just before two o’clock. The light to Ru’Yi’s bedroom was still on.

He reached up and felt under his collar. The staccato, pebble-like scabs still marked the trail her fingernails had left on him. She had wanted him to let her go to run back and save Tom from his fate and he refused to do it. She didn’t know how to fight yet. She didn’t have any weapons. She used what she had to hurt him. She did it deliberately and he let her.

He let his hand fall. He couldn’t even call it an injury. She couldn’t hurt him if he tried. If he wanted to, he could have taken her down easily, pulled her hands behind her back, arrested her for ‘assault’ like any other cop in Chicago.

He let out a hurt little laugh.

But that’s not what he built this muscle for. That’s not what he trained for. He wanted to protect people like her from people like Tom.

Somewhere in the steady gale, there was a break. It was slight. Something carried by the breeze collided with something that appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Brian lifted his head.

The wind shifted. A weak front was lifting up from the north and that made it erratic. But that was alright, he felt it again. Another collision.

He raised his hand to his goggles and triggered the infrared. Someone was leaping from balcony to balcony on the other building with a speed and a strength that screamed Hybrid. He was dressed for the night, and moved like a shadow. He was heading his way.

His sent a single ping to his fellow night-watch and ran to the other end of the roof. To get from the other dorm building to Ru’Yi’s would be a jump of at least ten yards. Let’s see if this guy could make it.

The man didn’t even hesitate. He sprinted across an overhang and took flight, eyes firmly on his landing and not on Brian who tackled him on one side. They both hit the concrete walkway hard enough to knock the wind out of them.

Brian was on top but before he could twist his arm, the intruders head rushed to meet him. His vision exploded into sparks. Even as his mind buzzed, he reached for his taser. The other man went on the offensive, pushing him down on his back. Brian pushed the tip of the taser into his chest and fired.

The electric sparks lit up and the man’s body stiffened.

Brian’s vision cleared and he stared into a pair of perfect golden eyes. He was drawn into that gaze and felt the call of the Dark King, the master. Guilt filled him. What had he done?

The taser was suddenly knocked away. He was forcibly rolled over and his hand twisted behind his back.

He grunted and felt the cold of metal against his neck. “Stop fighting.”

“Who are you?”

“Chu Zihang.”

“Mr. Chu?”

“Sh.” Chu Zihang slowly let him up.

Brian massaged his head, feeling a lump growing there. He looked at Chu Zihang but hesitated to look at him in the eyes again. They called them the eternal golden pupils. Normal Hybrid’s eyes went back to normal after activating their dragon gifts. But his never left him. They stayed gold, like a dragon’s. And like a dragon’s they naturally inspired Longwei, the natural and ingrained awe and terror normal creatures felt for those magnificent creatures.

He felt embarrassed that he’d given into it. How could he face Ru’Yi if he couldn’t even look her father in the eye?

He raised his eyes to him and that sight again shot adrenaline through him. It summoned a memory of the vision he’d received on his awakening dragon blood. Golden eyes glowered at him from behind a dark tornado so powerful in broke the ground and lifted boulders. The roar of the wind was the roar of the dragon.

“What are you doing?”

Brian startled and realized he’d broken out into a cold sweat. He tried to slow his breathing. Zihang tilted his head in confusion. “Why are you staring at me?”

Brian lowered his eyes, too bashful to say why. “You can’t sneak onto campus.”

“Ru’Yi won’t answer the phone.” He said this factually as though it were the logical next step to sneak onto a private campus in the middle of the night after going to voicemail.

“She won’t see me either.”

Zihang picked him his sunglasses that had fallen from his eyes and put them back on. Despite the darkness, he looked at him directly, able to see in the dark even with the sunglasses on.

“I can’t let you see her if she doesn’t want you too.” He did his best to slow his breathing.

“Very well. Then can you take me to Norton Hall?”

Brian obliged.

Norton Hall was damaged in the fight but the building itself still stood and looked normal from the outside. Workers were busy making the necessary repairs. It was a fixture of the campus and would remain that way unless it was completely destroyed.

“Watch the broken glass.” Brian said even as Zihang’s boots crunched over it.

The man’s eyes scanned the wreckage. He knelt down to examine some of the dust. “Hmph. If only I could get in touch with Nono.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. What happened?”

“It’s classified.” Brian frowned watching him. “Why do you want to know?”

“I want to know why my daughter is refusing my phone calls. What did I do to wrong her?” Zihang turned to look at him again.

“She…” Brian stopped, hesitating to tell him about what happened. How would he react? “It’s not about you. She’s upset because Tom… she had a friend named Tom. He was over threshold but lost control here. We had to put him down.”

Zihang looked away from him to where some of the tiles were broken. He walked over to them, passing Brian without saying anything. He stood over the tiles briefly, then he looked up and then over to where the staircase moved up to the mezzanine. “Huh.”

He started towards the stairs. “Sir. Please, the Executive Department will conduct the investigation.”

“I am part of the Executive Department. Even though I retired, Professor Schneider couldn’t bear to take me off his contacts.”

Brian couldn’t help but follow and stopped protesting. They entered the ballroom and Zihang stopped, looking around as though listening for something. Brian waited and then he felt it. The restriction lifted!

“Why? I thought the Vice Principal lifted the restriction. My speech spirit. I can use it here!”

“There’s blood downstairs but not enough.” Zihang addressed him again. “Did you see his body?”

“No, but, he was too far gone. He was completely deadpool by that point. Beyond saving.”

Zihang gave a short shake of his head. “No. I don’t believe Tom is dead.”

---

“How do you feel now?”

Tom struggled not to look down to the stories-long drop below him. “I’m really nervous! Why do we have to do this?”

The red haired woman just stared at him with wide crimson eyes. “Do you want me to push you?”

She wasn’t really speaking. She was typing on an interface. Both of them had their eyes covered with a VR headset. She never spoke in real life, but a simulated voice read out what she said in an odd monotone.

“No! I don’t want you to push me!”

“Then jump.”

The more Tom stared at the fall, the more his heart raced and the louder that voice in his head became. It was like walking around an open box of donuts. You could refuse to look at it. But so long as you were in the same room, the temptation was there, like a magnetic pull. The option to eat the donut.

What was tempting him now wasn’t a sweet treat, but it was the same feeling that if he made one wrong move, he would fall to his temptation to lose himself to the beast that was in him. He wanted to turn around and stop this whole exercise. It would be easy to just turn around and rip her throat out. He could practically hear the blood pulsing in the vein in her neck. But Ru’Yi....

“Jump.”

“I can’t. It’s not real.”

“If it’s not real then why can’t you jump?”

“Because!” He turned to look at her.

She had walked up to him but he didn’t hear her do it. She was right there in his face. Her eyes blinked like a doll’s.

His tongue ran across his lips and he swallowed.

“I’ll push you.” She said, placing her hands on his chest.

“No!”

She did.

In the VR space, he was falling, falling! His body spasmed in the real world to catch himself and his conscious mind slipped into instinct. He tore off the headset and threw it to the ground so hard that it shattered. He glared at her, breathed hissing through his bared teeth.

But she didn’t react. She was looking at someone else, lips pursed in annoyance.

Tom followed her gaze. Someone else had walked in. A man with a grocery bag full of food. “Oh. Am I interrupting something?”

Erii held up a notebook that read. “Dummy Sakura.”

#Class of 2032 #Dragon Raja

5 notes · View notes

ninjawaifu999 · 4 years ago

Text

Happy Birthday Mammon

Today was the day, how could one forget. Mammon practically hunting down friends and other students to tell them his birthday was coming up. Asking what they got him. Telling them it’s ok to give it to him early. Mammon woke up early to the joy of today being his birthday. Still under his covers he herd a knock on his door. “Oi, come to great the great Mammon are ya! Let me guess ya got a present for me? Come on in whoever you are.” Opening the door MC’s walked into his room carrying a cup of coffee. “Morning ‘Birthday Boy’. I’m not giving you a gift yet. That comes later” Blushing and averting his eyes at MC smiling at him. Mammon thanked MC once they handed his cup of coffee to him. “I’ll tell ya what MC. Go downstairs and wait for me, you get the pleasure of walking to rad with The Great Mammon today!” Mammon said with a devilish grin still blushing. “Oh where not going to rad today. We’re skipping. You and I are going out. To spend it however you want. I’ve got things lined up.” Mammon’s eyes lit up in surprise. “Ooh someone’s playing hookie. I’m in! The others don’t know do they? I don’t want them ruinin our date. I mean day! Day. Ahh forget that last part. Let’s go!” Hoping out from under his covers. completely naked. Typical Mammon. Clearing their throat face tinted from a flushed expression. “Mammon... couldn’t you wait until I was out of the room before... or at least warn me you’re naked. At least have some boxers on.” Laughing at their words. “Oh ya got a glimps huh? Just let me change. But don’t go anywhere, just don’t sneak any pictures of me!” Turning around, MC waited for him to change. Then they were out the door. They spent the day at the mall. Or the morning. The two stoped at Hell’s Kitchen for lunch, MC told him he could get what he wanted. Then a phone call on Mammon’s D.D.D. Lucifers name and icon on the screen. “Uh oh. Um I’ll let it go to voicemail.” Mammon nervously responded. But that was short lived. Lucifer knee exactly where they were. Appearing behind him was Lucifer. “I expect you to pick up the phone when I call you. Now explain to me why you’re out here and not at RAD. Diavolo would be disappointed if he found out you are skipping. What will happen?” Lucifer had a bitter expression looking the two over. “I’ll let it slide. It is you’re birthday after all.” Lucifer smiles then walks away. “Oh MC don’t forget our little meeting at The Fall tonight. Fix this one up before you go.” Lucifer said those words then left back to RAD. “The Fall?!?!? What are ya doin tonight? Without me? On my birthday. Having a date with my brother? I won’t allow it! I cant even go in. I got kicked out the last time.” Mammon had a frustrated and sad expression plastered on his face. “About that. Lucifer got reservations for us. For you. I was going to surprise you but he gave it away.” Overjoyed Mammon threw his arms around MC. His warmth wrapping around their heart. Hours had passed like it was only a few seconds. Mammon, MC, Lucifer and the rest of his brothers having a private party for him at The Fall. Everyone getting tipsy, dancing, laughing, until the club was closing. Supporting a overly tipsy Mammon back to his room. The day was a blast. Spending the whole day with his human. Mammon flopped on his bed. MC was quiet for a moment. “Hey I have one last thing.” MC pulled a small box. It was black with a gold ribbon. “Yay!!! What could it be? Money? Jewels?” Eagerly opening the box. His expression stoped, fixed on the object. He pulled it out. A gold plated necklace with a rectangular gold and silver pendant, Mammon’s name engraved on the pendant. To top it off a diamond at the end of his name. On the back. From MC. His and their name on the necklace sent I’m overboard. “C’mere my human! I may not say it but I really do like ya. Even. Even...” His words cut off. A bright blush on his cheeks. “ I love ya.” He trailed off. “I love you too. How about I spend the night?” MC asked. Without saying anything he pulled MC down on his bed. “I’m not letting go of you until the morning”

#obey me #swd mammon #happbirthdayMammon #obey me masters

5 notes · View notes

breanime · 5 years ago

Text

Quality (Part Two)

Request by @kind-wolf: Ask for requests and you shall receive! 😉 I would absolutely love a sequel to "Quality". Like maybe the next time they're overseas and about to go home, Billy’s again nervous because this time he wants to ask the big question 💍 Idk. I just thought about that immediately after I read the story back then. If you're not inspired and can't write it, that's ok too! ILY ❤ Also: Your new ink is great! 😍

Thanks for the request, sweetheart! And thank you--I love my tattoos!

*gif not mine*

“You put in your PTO?” Billy asked you, smiling as he leaned closer to the computer screen.

You smiled back, and Billy wished he was with you, wished he could feel that smile against his own. “Yup,” you answered, “as requested, even though you still haven’t told me what you’re planning.”

“You’ll see,” he said back, “Five more days, and you’ll see.”

He and Frank were coming off of another tour and were currently in France awaiting their flight back to the States. As much as he liked being a soldier—a Lieutenant now—Billy really enjoyed this in-between time. He wanted to go home to you, of course, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t hard. He always felt a little off when he came home from active duty, like he needed to practice being a civilian again, and he felt guilty as hell bringing his shit home to you. So, he appreciated the time between active duty and going home, liked that he was able to talk to you and have time to come down from soldier mode before he got to you. Especially now. It was almost insane to him, thinking about two years ago when he wasn’t even sure if you’d be at the airport to now; living with you, telling you he loved you, being loved in return… It was a crazy turn of events—the best kind of crazy.

Which is why he bought a ring in Paris.

“Usually, when you get home,” you said with a smirk, “We don’t leave the apartment for the first few days…”

“Oh, we’re definitely doing that,” Billy assured you, “But I’m gonna take you out, too. Show you off.” Get down on one knee and ask you to be with me for the rest of our lives. “You get that package that I sent you?”

“The one with 300 American dollars stapled to the teddy bear?” You asked back, eyebrow raised. “Yes, I did. I told you about sending me money—”

“Yeah, yeah. But this is a part of my plans,” he said, “I want you to get your hair and nails done, okay baby? And buy something pretty and lacy that I can tear off of you.”

You rolled your eyes, still smiling. “I don’t get why you like to spend money on lingerie when you just ruin it the first time you see it.”

Billy grinned wolfishly. Not a day went by that he didn’t think about your body pressed against his, your mouth on his, the way you sighed and moaned when he was touching you, inside you…the look on your face—devilish and scandalized—when he tore off your lingerie, devouring you with his eyes and hands and mouth. “Ruining it is kind of the point,” he answered.

The two of you talked for a little while longer, alternatively flirting and discussing your plans and making arrangements for his arrival, before Billy had to go. Your “I love you” rang in his ears long after you’d hung up, and while he knew your words were true, he also hoped you loved him at least half as much as he loved you. He hoped you’d say yes.

“What if she doesn’t say yes?” He asked hours later. He, Frank, and Curtis were in the hotel bar, having a few well-earned drinks before they had to head to the airport and hop another plane. Neither of them was drunk—the hooch in Afghanistan was way stronger than anything he’d get in France or the U.S—but it was nice to sit and drink like regular guys.

“She’s gonna say yes,” Frank said, not missing a beat. He and Billy had this conversation at least once a week since the thought of proposing popped in Billy’s head…over a year ago.

“Y/N is absolutely crazy about you, Russo,” Curtis added, “She’s definitely going to say yes.”

“Yeah, but…” Billy rotated his neck, a nervous habit he’d had since childhood. “But what if she doesn’t?”

“In what world would that happen, Bill?” Frank asked, leaning back in his seat.

“It’s possible…”

“Show us the ring again,” Curtis prompted.

Billy took the black, velvet box out of his pocket and popped it open. The diamonds glittered in the light, shining almost as brightly as your smile. That was why he chose it; it glittered like your smile, it gleamed like your pretty eyes, it was almost as beautiful as you. Almost.

“Oh yeah,” Curtis said confidently, “She’s gonna say yes.”

“Hell, give me a rock like that, and I’ll say yes.” Frank added, eyes wide even though he’d probably seen the damn thing nearly every day in the last few weeks as Billy’s nerves grew worse.

Billy laughed back, tucking the ring back into his pocket where it was safe and secure. “That’s why you’re my back-up, Frankie. If things don’t work out with Y/N, I’ll just marry you and make Curt my side chick.”

“I’ll be expecting a ring, too,” Curtis said, “And a candy thong.”

“Well now I want to have Curtis for my side chick, too,” Frank mused.

Billy laughed again, letting his friends distract him with their nonsense. In five days, he’d be back with you, and he would take you out and romance you, get down on one knee, and ask the only woman he ever loved to spend the rest of her life with him…

…or he’d just keep the ring in his pocket until you were both old and grey. He still wasn’t sure.

As the days approached, and Billy got closer and closer to New York, he wrestled with the idea of proposing. Originally, when he’d come to the conclusion that he wanted to marry you, he’d pictured himself taking you out to a nice dinner and giving you a big speech before he asked. Then he thought about doing it at home, in case you said no, so he could nurse his wounded pride in private, but that thought depressed him, so he tried not to dwell on that. He thought about doing it at Frank’s place; Maria always had a nice barbeque with family and close friends a few weeks after they got home, but the thought of you rejecting him there, in front of the only people he cared about, was way too terrifying for Billy. The thought of you rejecting him was too terrifying. But Billy was a pessimist at heart, and he couldn’t think about proposing without thinking about the worst-case scenario. It was almost enough to keep him from proposing at all, except… the best-case scenario—you saying yes, becoming his wife, becoming Mrs. Russo and maybe one day even bearing his children—God, that simple possibility was so damn appealing, he had to chance it.

He needed you.

He sat next to the window on the plane back to New York, staring out at the clouds and thinking of you. Frank was next to him, knocked out with his head on Billy’s shoulder, and Curtis was in the aisle across from them, reading a book and listening to music. Billy had his headphones in, too, but he wasn’t listening to music. He was listening to voicemails.

“So,” your voice was clear, “Remember how I was bragging about you to Gavin because his boyfriend’s a model and he’s always insufferable about it? I showed him a picture of you—and I probably shouldn’t have, but he needed to know! Like, his boyfriend looks like an uncooked noodle with a whole tomato for lips, or like, like that monster from Monsters Inc—have you seen that movie? Did they let you watch movies during your sad childhood?” Billy chuckled to himself as he listened. You had found a way to hook his cell to his email and had gotten into the habit of leaving him rambling voicemails on days you weren’t able to talk. He saved them all on his phone, his email, and a separate USB, and listened to them religiously. “Anyway,” you went on, “Remember the week before you deployed? And we went to the wine and canvas and you kept being unnecessarily sexy and whispering all those dirty things to me while I was painting? Of course you do, you pervert. Remember how I got all obsessed with painting and we bought a bunch of supplies and took them home because I, after one session at a wine and canvas where we painted a sunset and I turned it into a horror movie scene, was a natural expert? And we brought all those canvases and paint and wine and tried to paint each other? Well, I showed him the picture of you after we got into that red paint-blue paint fight, you know the one where you were shirtless, and had my hand prints all over your chest and your hair was all messy and you were smirking at me and you looked so hot? Yeah, I showed Gavin that one.” The smile was evident in your voice. “Man, that was a good night. I don’t think my legs stopped shaking for hours after… Anyway—Gavin agrees that you’re way hotter than his boyfriend, and has asked if he can borrow you for a night. I declined on your behalf. Mama don’t share.”

The next one played immediately after. Billy loved this one, your voice was soft and sleepy, and he always imagined you in bed, wearing one of his shirts hanging off of your shoulder, no pants. He loved you like that, soft and sweet, a picture that was for him only. He closed his eyes as he listened, imagining you in real time talking right into his ear. “I miss you, baby. I went to that café you like, the one with all the paintings of professional, artsy cats wearing people clothes, and it made me miss you more than usual. I love you. I know you’re doing good work, and I’m proud of you, but I miss you. Do you remember when we went to Miami and ended up doing it in an alley behind the club?” You laughed, a musical sound that Billy wanted to hear for the rest of his life. “My knees were so scrapped up after that.” You sighed. “I miss you so much, baby. I dreamt of you this morning. I love you, and I hope you’re safe. Talk to you later.”

The next message was short, but it was exactly what Billy needed to hear. “My mom called asking about you again,” your voice sounded irritated, “She went on and on about how it wasn’t fair for me to wait on someone who was thousand of miles away, and how you were ‘a nice enough man’, but you’re gonna hurt me and blah blah blah… I tried to ignore it, and I even tried to tell her about your idea for the security business, and how you, Frank, and Curtis were going to partner up and stuff, but she just… Ugh,” you sighed, “She was just committed to being negative, and…” Another sigh. “She just doesn’t get it. I mean, she married my dad when she was 17 because she got pregnant, and when he left, he took all her notions of love with him, and… I mean, I get it. I felt that way too, you know? Like love was a lie, a waste, a weakness, but… Then I met you. And the way you make me feel, Billy… I know love is real. I know you love me, and I love you. And yeah, this… This is hard, loving you and being away from you, not being able to talk to you for days at a time, worrying about you… It’s so incredibly hard, Billy…” There was a pause. “But you know what? It’s worth it. You’re worth it. And if I had to do this for the rest of my life, waiting for you to come home, talking to your voicemail until you got a chance to write me a letter or send me an email or whatever… I would do it. Because I’d do anything to be with you. Anything. And I’m sure Mom’s gonna bitch for a while longer, but she’ll see. You mean everything to me, Billy…” There was a brief pause, and the sound of cloth shuffling. “That’s Mom on the other line. Talk to you later, baby.”

Billy opened his eyes as the next message (you updating him on your latest TV obsession Love After Lockup), and stared at the clouds. You loved him so much. You were willing to go against your mother just to wait around for him. After that day, when he’d called you back, you cried on the phone with him, and he’d tried his best to soothe you, wishing he could hold you in his arms and kiss your tears away. After he’d gotten off of the phone with you, Billy had called your mom, and a few weeks after that, he called her again and asked her for her blessing to propose. She’d given him her blessing and promised not to ruin the surprise, and Billy had sent her a picture of the ring when he bought it. She called him crying, overjoyed, and called him “son-in-law”. Thinking back on that, and your voicemail saying how much you loved him, Billy knew what he had to do. He closed his eyes and slept for the rest of the flight.

Billy, as always, walked a few feet behind Frank and Curtis as they walked off the plane and into the lobby. And, as always, Maria and the kids tackled him in hugs; crying and laughing. Curt’s brothers were there, and they greeted him with hugs and laughs as well. There was a small crowd watching from the sidelines, cheering as the vets reunited with their families. Billy frowned; he hated having an audience like that, it made him feel like an animal in a zoo.

“Billy!”

The sound of your voice muted everything around him; the laughing and crying and cheering all melted away. The people melted away, the crowd and his brothers alike. All there was, all that mattered, was you. You launched yourself into his arms, and Billy held onto you tight, taking in your sweet scent, the concrete feel of you against him, the sound of your laughter and heavy breathing as you said his name over and over. No matter how many times he did this, he would never get tired of this moment, the reunion. He pulled back and kissed you, an act that he knew he’d be able to do for the rest of his life. Your eyes were still closed, and he reached out and ran his thumb over your bottom lip. You opened your eyes, and he wanted to drown in them, wanted to wake up and go to sleep to those eyes staring at him until the day he died. He never wanted anything more in his life—and Billy had spent almost his entire existence wanting and coveting and desiring, so that was saying a lot. Now he knew, all that time wishing and wanting, he’d been wishing for you. And now you were here: his dream come true. He stepped back from you, eyes focused on you and you only…

…and dropped down to one knee.

Your mouth fell open, and he could see tears shimmering in your gorgeous eyes. His vision spread, he could see Frank, kneeling on the ground, arms around his kids, grinning widely as Maria stood behind him, practically jumping up and down. Curtis had his phone out, getting it all on video. The crowd was still on the edge of his peripheral, but you were the center of his attention. Billy reached out and took your hand in his; your hands were soft, recently manicured like he’d asked, and his brain supplied an image of your hand with his ring on it. He had to make that happen.

“Y/N,” he said, taking a steadying breath as he took out the ring, opening it and feeling his heart race as your eyes widened at the ring, “will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you breathed out.

That was all he needed to hear. Billy jumped up and crushed you to his chest, kissing the side of your neck. His heart was pounding. He heard shouts and cheers and clapping, and normally, he’d be embarrassed and probably irritated at the attention, but right now all he could feel was relief. You said yes. You were going to marry him. You were going to be his wife.

You pulled back and kissed him, long and hard and slow, and Billy wanted to rip your clothes off and take you then and there. In fact, he wanted you wearing nothing but his ring for at least the next 72 hours. That in mind, Billy, grinning from ear to ear, slid the ring on your waiting finger, kissing your face as he did so.

“I was so nervous,” he whispered against your lips, still smiling.

You were engulfed in a huge group hug before you could respond, Maria, Curtis, Frank and the kids wrapping you in their arms and giving congratulations and “I knew it”s all around. As you all walked out of the airport, hand in Billy’s, ring proudly displayed on your pretty finger, he felt, for the first time in his life, like he was a complete man.

He bent his head so that his mouth was by your ear. “You’re really gonna need your time off now,” he whispered.

You grinned up at him. “Don’t I always?” You put your hand up, admiring the ring. “I can’t believe I’m going to be Mrs. Billy Russo.”

Billy glanced over at Frank, who shot him a proud smile. He turned back to you, his fiancé, his future wife, and saw his entire future standing next to him. “Well, you know,” he shrugged, smiling, “quality over quantity, baby.”

*******************************************************************************************

Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

Taglist: @lexxierave @loveintheroyalfamily @suchatinyinfinity @fanfictionrecommendations-com @maxslime-blog @elanor-of-imladris @songforhema @lucielandss @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @themadhatter92 @realduckvader @the-blind-assassin-12 @christinawxxx @anabella-baby @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @luminex3 @littlemermaidprobz @ashkuuuu @luckysstrikes @carlaangel86 @floralpeaceofmind @dylanobrusso @teacuplotus @iaintnofurry @thesumofmychoices @ymariejp @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @mrsjaxtellerfan @whovianayesha @holamor @drinix @rhabakoli @stories-you-wont-hear @king4thesirens @starkrobb @marauderskeeper @charlylama @thesandbeneathmytoes @miss-nerd95 @something-tofightfor @banditthewriter @binbons-is-theloml @thebabblingbookworm @khuangpu13

#billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #the punisher imagine

401 notes · View notes

shawnsvalentine · 5 years ago

Text

business + pleasure : two

prologue - part one

description: shawn’s always been into older women but sloan is the exception that drives him wild

warnings: language, slight sexual content, a little angsty

word count: [2.4k]

author’s note: this is kind of irrelevant to this particular chapter but i just wanted to point out that my friend @cocoashawn came up with the name for this series! it was gonna be named after the song that semi-inspired it but she suggested “business and pleasure” when i sent her a lil snippet so here we are! also think i’m gonna stop adding chapter pictures

Focusing on Shawn’s soft and supple lips had completely slipped Sloan’s mind on the walk back to her place. Her heart was beating so fast that she was sure it was going to rip open through chest. It felt like a twisted sign, being so careful around the office for as long as they had been, just for one of her nosiest coworkers to catch her in public with who was supposed to be their boss’s boyfriend. She wanted to shrivel up and cry, scream out in utter frustration at how things never went her way, but she didn’t: she didn’t need to burden Shawn with her emotional theatrics.

All that could be heard was the clicking of her heels against the pavement as she kicked it into high gear, speed walking as her cozy brownstone came into view. “Sloan, please, slow down. I’m sorry, I had no idea Kimmy would be there. The last thing I wanna do is shake the table.” She ignored him, reaching into her purse to grab her keys, kissing her teeth as they fell from her grasp and she had to pick them up. She just wanted the night to end already. “Sloan, stop.”

“Why, Shawn? So you can tell me it’s not that big of a deal? That you’ll fix it? Cassandra’s gonna destroy me.”

“I know Kimmy’s a pain in the ass, but do you really think she’s just gonna tell your private business? It’s not even like she caught us doing anything but walking.” He reached out to grasp her shoulder as he caught up to her on her steps.

“Don’t,” She shrugged his hand off, trying to ignore the slightest tingle that his touch left behind. “It doesn’t matter. She saw something and she’s gonna run with it.”

Sloan started to pull open the screen door and Shawn shut it with a quickness, his hand against the glass boxing her into the small space between it and him. “Look at me.” She turned around reluctantly, tipping her neck up to look him in his eyes. “I like you, alright? And every second we spend together I can’t for the life of me think of the reason I decided to pursue Cassandra instead of just leaving well enough alone. I promise you that as soon as we’re in the clear, this nightmare will be all over.”

“You can’t promise that. I might go into work tomorrow with my desk packed up.”

“You won’t. And if you do, I’ll be right by your side in the search for a new job,” His hands brushed against hers as he brought them up to her cheeks, thumbs soothing her cheekbones as her eyes lulled at the comforting feeling. “I’m not letting you go that easily.”

She already knew what was coming next, and she had absolutely no wish to stop it. His eyes flickering between hers and her lips, the space between them slowly dissipating as he leaned in, giving her ample amount of time to duck away if she wanted to. Sloan finally swooped in to meet his lips, tender as she tested the waters. Her whole body was on fire as she wrapped her arms around his torso, dragging him in impossibly closer as his tongue slipped across her lip, moving on to dip into her mouth. A shaky sigh slipped from her mouth into his and he reveled in it, snaking his palms down to her neck as she sunk her teeth into his lower lip. He pulled back from her in a daze, lips pulled into a goofy smile. “Your lips are gonna drive me fuckin’ wild.”

Sloan had been downing coffee since she got to the office at eight fifty-six, nervously checking her phone to see an email from corporate telling her to get the hell out. Cassandra wasn’t in yet and she was always the first one in: it made Sloan that much more tense. Her night with Shawn had gone a bit further than she planned on after seeing Kimmy at the restaurant, and she knew that the deeper she dove in with Shawn the harder it would be to contain, but she loved every minute of it. The heavy petting and missing shirts, hair in complete and utter disarray. She had to cut things off the minute his hand crept past the waistband of her panties, practically shoving him across the room with all the strength she could muster up. “We have to take this much slower, Shawn. Like, molasses slow.” It was the exact opposite of what she really wanted to do, needless to say, but she had to stand her ground. He left with a kiss to the top of her head and a very obvious— Sloan approved— outline in his pants.

As amazing as it was, it still wasn’t enough to fully distract her from the unmistakable click of Cassandra’s heels as she approached her office. Sloan swore that all the air had been knocked from her lungs at the sight of her, just as rigid as ever as she walked to the door of her office, pausing briefly so she could address Sloan. “Miss Spelman, can I speak with you in my office?”

Her blood ran cold, face losing its color as she stood from her chair. She knew exactly where this conversation was going and she’d been dreading it for the past ten hours straight. If she had a choice, she would’ve made a run for the elevator to avoid the inevitable interrogation. She could hear her heartbeat echoing in her ears, and it was the most terrifying sound— and feeling— that she’d ever had in her place of work. (Or anywhere else, for that matter)

Cassandra took her sweet time after locking the door behind Sloan, motioning for her assistant to sit while she got settled in for the day. Bag hung, coat laid out on the couch, accounts logged into. She even answered a few emails before turning her attention to Sloan. She knew that the younger girl was sweating out her anxiety surrounding the anticipation and she was basking in it. “I know about you and Shawn.”

She took a deep breath. “Kimmy told you?”

“Even before she left me two voicemails and bombarded me with it while bringing me coffee this morning… I knew. He spends too much time at your desk for you to be anything but a home-wrecker,” Sloan bit her tongue against defending herself, swallowing her pride even though she wanted to tell her off. “I just want to get one thing clear here: whatever you and Shawn were doing is over. I’ve given up too much in my life to let another bright eyed and spread legged girl like you to take what I deserve.”

Sloan gulped, “I broke things off with him last night. I’m sorry for ever messing with him.”

“And just in case in you didn’t, I want to stress the consequences of not doing so. Not only will you lose your job here, but I’ll make sure that the name Sloan Spelman is synonymous with everything an employer despises. I’ll blackball you so hard that you’ll be lucky if you can get a job working at a Macy’s in Kentucky.” Sloan felt like crying with every word her boss spat at her. She knew it would be bad but not life-ruining bad. Not over a guy.

She got up to leave, stopping as she gathered the courage to mutter back, “I didn’t know he meant that much to you.”

“He makes me feel alive again.”

Sloan excused herself from the office for real this time, trying to ignore the prickling feeling all over her face as air seemed to escape her lungs. She didn’t want to cry and be melodramatic even though that was exactly what she was feeling.

Sloan: We can’t do this anymore.

Shawn: What? I thought everything was fine last night?

I didn’t think slow meant stop

Sloan: I can’t talk about it. Just know we’re over.

Shawn: Sloan what the hell are you talking about?

(5 Missed calls from Shawn)

She couldn’t bring herself to talk to him, not when she knew she’d just end up crying frustrated tears and she had a Fairytale shoot to start planning for next month. Diving head first into work was going to be the only thing to keep her from spiraling into a pity party for at least the next few hours— the only problem was that it wasn’t working given her surroundings. She knew that Cassandra wouldn’t be checking for her anyway after her little smackdown, so she slipped away from her responsibilities and into the coffee shoppe in the lobby of the building. This was a problem only ranting to Alicia could fix.

Sloan called her best friend as fast as her fingers could manage, knowing she took the morning off for a doctor’s appointment. It was a longer phone call than she thought it would be, breaking down the date and her thotivities, all the way to just a half hour before with her boss threatening her very career. It was fairly one sided, just Sloan getting it all off of her chest while trying to make sense of it all but it helped. And Alicia was happy to oblige.

“I know I messed up by getting involved with him in the first place, but this? I couldn’t have seen this coming.” She looked up toward the entrance doors out of habit, her jaw dropping as she saw him storming into the lobby. The anger was written all over his face but she couldn’t tell what he had to be mad at. A few unanswered calls during her work day wasn’t grounds for the steam tumbling out of his nose. “I-I gotta go, I’ll call you later.” He didn’t even approach her, instead heading right into the unoccupied boardroom around the corner. She scrambled to get up and grab her coffee, following his path as quickly as her legs could carry her. He was absolutely fuming, slamming the door shut behind her and locking it before pacing around the table and chairs.

“Are you kidding me? Dropping something like that on me and then not answering your phone? Do you know—”

She put a stop to him immediately, setting down her things and holding up her hands to silence him. “First of all, who the hell do you think you are storming into my place of work like this to yell at me?”

“You had me worried sick, Sloan. Sorry if it didn’t bode well with me.”

Sloan scoffed at him, “You should be sorry! My job is in jeopardy all because you couldn’t keep your hands off of me.”

He rolled his eyes as his hand slotted through his waves. “Don’t act like it wasn’t mutual.” It wasn’t that he was wrong, it was just that she was aggravated. He was the reason she was stuck in this mess and it was driving her to insanity. It was just instinctual to project it on someone else.

“She gave me an ultimatum. A career in fashion, or you.”

His face fell as realization washed over him that she wasn’t joking. “That’s… that’s not legal.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re done.”

His eyes went wide, head shaking like he was twitching. “Wait wait wait wait—“

“We don’t even know each other all that well, you’ll get over it in a week tops.” She picked up her laptop and coffee with a more aggression than she intended to, heading toward the door to get the hell out of there.

“Stop it, Sloan. Just wait a second, dammit.” His hand found her wrist just before she clicked the lock, tugging her back so she’d take the hint to turn around. “I really like you, I don’t wanna stop seeing you just because your boss is trying to bully you into leaving me alone.”

Sloan let her head fall back against the door, fighting the urge to kiss his stupid, pillowy lips. “I really like you, too, but I’m not giving up my career for you. Especially not after knowing you for all of two seconds.”

“What if we’re super careful? No more outings like last night. We’ll remain as low key as possible.”

“Shawn, that’s a lot to ask of someone you’ve taken out on one date.” She pressed her hands against his chest to push him back, but he wouldn’t budge. “It’s just not worth it.”

“Oh, it’s not?” He cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head as he challenged her the back and forth he knew she wouldn’t accept. “You sure about that?”

His lips were on hers before she could even think about replying, the sweet mint of the gum he’d chewed on the way over reeling her in the accept the deep kiss. It was almost better than the one they shared outside of her apartment, if that was possible, his lips electrifying in every sense of the word. She knew that given their physical setting she should probably push him away, going back to communicating with words, but it felt too damn good. His hands snaking down to rest on her ass, giving it a tempting squeeze as she gasped into his mouth. He made her crave more even when she knew better. “We really should—” Kiss, “just call it—” Kiss, “quits.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun it that?” He left one more chaste kiss against her lips before resting his forehead on hers. “Come over tonight. We can order in or I’ll cook for you, whatever you want. Just don’t give up so soon. Please.” Shawn interlaced their fingers together, a move that normally would’ve felt a bit too intimate at this early stage, but it felt right to him.

“This seems to be a trend with us: you begging me for one shot and me agreeing begrudgingly.”

“So you agree? My place at seven?

Sloan rolled her eyes, sighing dramatically as she gave into her more primal desires. “Fine. Text me the address, rich boy.”

taglist: @shawnase , @normalcyisoverrated-beyou , @petit-funsize , @ilsolee , @mae-petite-etoile , @shawnsmoose , @softmendesss , @maximumcoffeesublime , @shwnmndsx , @particularmila , @tnhmblive

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes series #shawn mendes fic #shawnsvalentine #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x black reader #shawn mendes x black original character

196 notes · View notes

hawknotguy-a · 5 years ago

Text

( clint )

Private investigating, when you were half-licensed and fully winging it, was hard. Starting to establish a practice, then picking up and moving back across the country was also hard. Also, being an (unregistered) superhero was hard, especially when you shared an alias with another, more famous (male) superhero. Who’d up and vanished on you. And wasn’t answering your calls. And was either still angry at you for moving to LA, or had refused to acknowledge that you’d come back to New York. Basically, it was hard out there, and Kate needed a nap.

She’d been back in the city nearly a month, and still hadn’t heard from Clint. She’d left voicemails--a lot of them, even though she knew they couldn’t do much good--and texts, which had started kind, moved angry, turned worried, and, as of today, begun to bounce back. Kate had figured he’d been off doing some sort of sulky middle-aged-man thing, that he’d get back to her eventually. And she’d had to finish moving, anyway, unpack all her boxes (all two of them), restock her wardrobe for New York, re-up her PI license, set up a new office. If Clint had wanted to be moody, he had every right to be.

But she’d finished now, hung the sign up on her office door, put the last throw pillow in place, and the texts were bouncing back. Something was up. It was time to storm the motherfutzer’s place. She grabbed a purse and her bow, just in case, and headed out to Clint’s apartment, not sure if she wanted to break down his door and yell at him for ignoring her or just make sure he was okay. Both, maybe?

The building looked the same--inhabited, not condemned, which Kate figured was a good sign. Someone was still maintaining it, at least. She climbed the stairs to his place and knocked on the door, and a dog barked inside; good, another good sign. “Clint,” she called, knocking again, louder now, practically pounding the door. The dog barked again. “Clint, it’s Kate. I know you’re in there, open up before I knock down the goddamn door.”

[ @roninorhawkeye ]

#( c: clint )#( clint: meeting )#( lmk if this is alright! )

6 notes · View notes

erintoknow · 5 years ago

Text

Family

i had things i wanted to do today that weren’t writing, but okay brain, go off? fallen hero fanfic, chargestep, content warning for some sucidal thinking, but not much i hope? also; kissing!? oh no | ~3.1k words

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

You ought to be using Jane: to scope out your next hit, to maintain her network of contacts, to catch up with Dr. Mortum. That would be a productive use of your time.

So of course you aren’t doing that.

You’re in front of your work desk, sleeves rolled up as far as you dare. Your suit doesn’t need repairs, but getting in that marginal improvement to the Rat King’s coolant system is better than sleep. Better than making corpses walk. Better than stupid meaningless dreams of coughing blood and their fuzzy half-memories tasting smoke and death. Don’t think about gunshots and lightning, the smiling reflection dripping shark teeth.

Focus on the soldering torch in your hand and the music in your headphones.

It doesn’t matter what you play. Whatever you can get your hands on, the best genre is free after all. Right now it’s some woman you’ve never heard of before with a low sometimes raspy, sometimes screaming voice. She’s energetic, easy to sing along with while you re-solder wiring for the third time.

You don’t recognize that it’s your phone ringing until the fourth chime. You almost drop the torch into your lap scrambling to pick it up before the call goes to voicemail. “Who’s this?”

“Ari!” Oh, it’s Ortega. Of course it is. Why the haste to pick up the phone anyway? Who else was it going to be? The President? God??

“Ortega.” Don’t sound excited, don’t sound relieved to hear her voice.

“I know it’s short notice, but are you busy right now?”

Say yes you’re busy, way, way, too busy, hang up on her. “No, I’m pretty bored for once, what’s up?”

“Great! Can we meet up?”

Don’t say yes. Don’t say yes. Don’t say yes. “Yeah, sure, where?”

*******************************************

The smell of salt under oil. The water hasn’t been safe to swim in since before you were ‘born.’ Yet, a part of you yearns to run out to the sand and into the crash. Hazy memories of another beach, another shore. Nothing you can remember, more like 0 kb files tucked away in somewhere.

“Careful, with all that fabric on you’ll sink.” Ortega nudges you.

“I’ll just have to push you in first for a raft.” You shoot back.

“You’d think I’d float with all this metal in me?”

“All that hot air makes you a very buoyant old woman.”

You don’t need to look at her to know she’s frowning at that, and just knowing that is enough to bring a small smile. You want to grab her hand, feel the disks of metal that give her namesake. You don’t. You can’t. She’s your enemy even if she doesn’t realize it. Even if you don’t realize it.

The wind pulls at the rat’s nest you call hair. Maybe you’ll start trying to comb it again. Just to keep Ortega from worrying even more about you. You can worry enough for the both of you. “Why’d you want to meet up so suddenly, anyway?”

You can’t read her mind, but you know her enough to pick up on the change in vibe, the way she shifts in how she carries herself. It sets you on full alert. “There’s something I’ve been sitting on for a while actually.”

“Oh?” You try to sound casual, like there aren’t sirens ringing in your head. Like you aren’t glancing around for the best route back up the beach where Ortega can’t follow.

“There’s just never been a good time for it…” She glances at you, and the two of you meet eyes. There’s no hiding your fear that way and she grimaces at it. “Do you have any family? Still around, I mean.”

You can’t take her gaze on you, you step away towards the water, feel the sand crunch under your boots, hide your arms under your shawl. “Family?” You ask, your confusion at least genuine enough. It’s been a long, long, time since Ortega fished that well. “What’s bringing this on?”

“After you…”

“Died?”

“After that. At the funeral–“

*******************************************

I’m in deep shit now. The red and blue of ambulance lights reflect off the wall through the window, as I hunch over in the chair. Honestly, it’s just a broken nose, he’ll live. He deserves worse for what he was saying about you. And yet, I’m the one here hiding in the minister’s office while everyone else loads into their cars. Steel puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezes, lets go. I’d rather he give a lecture, that would be at least a gasp of normalcy. I nod at him, he nods back, leaves without saying a word. He’d make a better Marshal than I ever did. He wouldn’t punch out a reporter live on national television. He wouldn’t have gotten you killed.

Everyone else has left by now, probably all gossiping about the fiasco. There’s something unnerving about being alone in an empty church. I wonder what you or Themmy would think of all this. You both would probably both be mortified. A church service? With a priest? Well… you don’t get a vote any more, should have stuck around if you had objections.

“H-hello? Excuse me?”

I look up from my hands, wipe at my eyes to clear my vision. Peering around the doorway is a woman in funeral garb and long straight hair dyed a deep shade of blue, an anxious expression on her face. If it wasn’t for the hair job, I’m guessing she was late thirties, early forties, has that soccer-mom build to her. Older the me, at any rate. I try to look normal. Not like the kind of person who loses it and decks the press. “Can I help you?”

“You’re, uh, you were Alex’s friend then, weren’t you?” Alex? Who’s Alex? The woman looks ready to bolt at any moment. “You are, right? Sorry, I don’t normally make a habit of pestering heroes.”

God, I don’t have it in me right now to be normal, never mind deal with fans. Try to smile, it feels fake, offer a handshake to draw her into the room. It’s a limp pantomime and ends mercifully quickly. “Just Ortega is fine. I don’t believe we’ve met…?”

“Chelsea Becker.” She says as we let our hands drop. That gets my attention. No way that’s a coincidence. You never talked about your family, no matter how many times I tried to get you to open up. Hardly the only fortress you kept locked down tight, but here was someone who might open a gate.

I straighten up in my chair, examining Chelsea with renewed interest. There is a slight resemblance, I guess, with the more angular, almost boyish features, but nothing definitive, nothing I could point to say, ‘a-ha.' So instead I start with a “So you knew…?”

“Alex, or um, ‘Sidestep,’ I guess?” Chelsea says, then hesitates before adding, “but maybe sh- they used a different name with you?” A tiredness seeps into her voice. “That would be just like them.” She steps around a box of church candles, rests her hands on the minister’s desk. “They hoarded names like some women hoard jewelry.”

There’s a pain in my chest, I have to force myself to unclench my hands, keep my arms from tensing up. Practice a calming exercise. Stay smooth. I’ll never live it down if a stray spark of static burns down a church. “Yeah, I–” I have to swallow the words first, “–I was Alex’s friend. I’m sorry, she never mentioned…?”

“Oh, I’d be shocked if she had,” Chelsea doesn’t laugh, just forces a small smile as she pushes some papers aside to sit on top of the desk, letting her feet dangle. “If you knew Alex, you know trying to get her to talk about herself was worse than pulling teeth. Never when you wanted, and when she did, always in tears.”

“She was a private woman.” I say in agreement. It feels like a safe enough statement.

“We hadn’t talked in years anyway.” Chelsea says, not hiding the bitterness in her voice. “We had a big fight about the whole vigilante thing.”

I don’t say anything, I don’t think I need to, thank God. Just listen as this stranger pours her heart out about you. She’s another hurting woman looking for a confessional, and Marshal Charge is never off-duty.

“I have no idea where she came from. Just one day, I’m suddenly watching out for this stick of a thing too proud- no, I think, too afraid to accept help.” Chelsea lets out a long shaky breath, and tilts her head to look me with red, puffy eyes. “Had to keep tricking her into thinking she was helping me rather the other way around. Wasn’t easy.” She gives a brittle smile.

I find myself returning her smile with an exhausted one of mine own. “Misdirection was definitely the name of the game.” I say. “In more ways than one.”

“She had this whole fantasy about making a difference and I–” Her voice hitches. “I told her. I warned her; she couldn’t afford mods and she wasn’t a boost. She was going to throw her life away for nothing.” She balls her hands into fists as she talks. “It was insane idea and she was an idiot who was going to get herself killed.”

“A lot of people owe her their lives,” I gently counter, saying it as much for myself as for her. I should follow the script, put a hand on hers, or her knee, or her shoulder or something. Say some gentle meaningless comforter. Instead I’m trying to process what she’s saying, how it all fits together in the ‘Ariadne Becker’ puzzle box.

Chelsea bangs her fist against the side of the desk. “I know that, God damnit. Everyone knows about the damn Nanosurge. I followed every damn report I could. I just wish–“

“That it wasn’t the last thing you said to her.” I finish. The cold comfort of the script finally coming to me. It’s nothing I haven’t had to say a dozen too many times before, and it feels robotic, inadequate, every time.

“The last time I saw her was right after her first big fight in costume. I told her I was leaving Los Diablos to take a job in Atlanta.” Chelsea bangs the desk again, face twisted in anguish, or guilt, or both. “I couldn’t afford to turn it down. It was just a bad coincidence. But… I don’t think she took it that way. She was always so scared, so paranoid, despite everything. I’d have taken her with me if I could have.”

*******************************************

Ortega pauses in mid-sentence, then shakes her head. “Do you know a… Chelsea Becker?” She asks, holding her breath.

A dozen different scenarios run through your head, all of them terrify and paralyze you. “I mean, those are both pretty common names,” you say cautiously, “why?”

“Someone I met at the funeral.” Ortega’s words make you want to sink into the earth, run into the sea. Do anything to get out of this conversation. “Ariadne…” Ortega continues, trepidation in her voice. She’s either oblivious to what’s going on in your head or pushing ahead without mercy. "Is she your mom?”

You blink.

You can’t help it. You start laughing.

Doubled over and clutching your sides. You can’t see straight. Julia calls out, alarmed, and she grabs you by the shoulders before you can fall onto the rocks. “Ariadne!” She taps you lightly on the face. You have to blink the water out of your eyes.

“My mom? You thought she was my mother!?” You repeat, incredulous. No point playing coy after that outburst. You struggle to get a grip on yourself, dig your fingers into Julia’s arms instead. “What did you tell her?”

“I just admitted I knew you, that’s all.” Julia raises her voice, defensive, confused.

“Why was she even there?” You ask, your fascination burning through the absurdity now. There’s nothing Chelsea could possibly know about you that would endanger you now, but it’s never good to get blindsided like this. Past lives, alternate lives, all crashing into each other behind your back. Fuck, what a mess.

Julia gives you a pained look, “It was your funeral, Ariadne. She flew in from Atlanta for it.”

That gets a pang in your chest. You don’t understand it. Stare up at the cloudless sky, the circling seagulls. They don’t have any answers either, brainless feathery assholes. “Ortega, I swear I’m telling the truth, she’s not and i quote, my “mom.” wow, you almost killed me with that.” Of course she’s not, what on earth happened between the two of them to give Julia that impression? Why would she have shown up at all? “Why would she do that?” You whisper, humor giving away to bewilderment.

“She cared about you, of course she came.” Julia insists.

“No she didn’t, you senile old woman. Why would she?” you snap back. You let go of Ortega, try to disentangle yourself from her arms and stand back up again. “Look, you want the truth? Chelsea and I were on the same bus to Los Diablos, like, fourteen years ago.” You shrug, trying to make it seem like no big deal, to play it off. “We ran into each other maybe a few times afterwards, I guess? She was just another busybody who never left well-enough alone. And then one day she did up and leave and that was that. Sound familiar to you?” That’s not a fair barb and you know it. You pull away from her, eager to put some distance between the two of you. You don’t want to see her reaction to that. Power-walk down that beach, restless, aimless. Pull yourself together, remember you’re among enemies: always.

Ortega follows behind, dogging your steps. Never taking the hint, or maybe taking it too well? The problem with lying so regularly is that when it comes time to tell the truth, how can you prove it?

“And your last name?” She asks.

You turn around to face her. “Cosmic coincidence.” You lie, staring her in the eye. Is this the closest either of you have come to openly acknowledging ‘Ariadne Becker’ is a name you made up? You don’t know how to feel about that; how to feel about a lot of things right now.

Ortega doesn’t back down. “I think you should know… she was proud of you.”

You resume walking, put distance between the two of you. “She was proud of an imaginary dead woman then.” You spit out. You hunch your shoulders, pull your shawl up over your chin

Ortega grabs your shoulder from behind as she catches up to you. She slides her hand down following the form of your arm under the shawl. “Stop it.”

You stand there, not looking at her. “Stop what?”

“Stop with the brooding hero routine.”

“Well, I’m no hero, so wish granted.” You should push her away, shrug her off. You want to scream at her. She’s being an idiot. Why does she care about this? Why dig up even more corpses? It’s going to kill her. Why did you come here? Why did you answer her phone call? Why do you keep letting her in?

Ortega pulls at you, hard, forcing you to turn around or be knocked over. She glares at you, and you shrink away from it, from her. “Who stopped the Nanosurge? She demands.

“That’s not–“

“Who’s pulled my ass out of the fire over and over?”

“I was just–“

“Who did an emergency repair so I didn’t electrocute myself in Mexico?”

“I couldn’t just–“

“Who stayed up with me all night after every bad break up?”

You stay quiet.

“Who stayed at my Mamá’s house with us every holiday?”

You can’t look at her.

“Who came to visit me in the hospital after the Gala?”

“…that was a mistake.” You say, voice weak.

“Oh? It was a mistake, was it?” Ortega asks, an edge to her voice. “Were you lying then? Or are you lying now?”

You don’t have a response to that. You need to get out of her grip. You need to get out of here.

“Was that kiss in the elevator a mistake? Or the ones on this beach? What about all the rest of them?”

You want to die. To escape. To not be here right now having this conversation.

“Well, Ariadne Becker, which is it?”

You flinch under the weight she puts on your last name. “…I don’t know.”

There’s a hand on your face, and then Ortega is kissing you. You freeze, every instinct screaming at you to run, and then her other hand wraps around you and tell your instincts to take a hike, and kiss Julia back. It’s too hot for this, so you compromise. You unfasten your broach with one hand and shrug off your shawl onto the rocks before reaching up to run a hand through her hair.

Her teeth catch your lip in the quick pause for breath and then the two of you are fighting to push tongues past each other and it’s gross and you are terrible at it and you keep hitting your noses like drunk jousters and you have no idea what you’re doing while her hands run up your body and you cling to hers as if she’s a life preserver.

It’s the shame of the twinge between your legs that finally pulls you out of it enough to disengage. You pull away from her, smoothing down your shirt, making sure nothing rode up. Cast a quick mental check for any possible witnesses. None, save the seagulls, and honestly? Fuck those guys.

Julia looks at you, face flush, mouth slightly agape. Your heart aches at the sight of it. You don’t want to think about what you look like. You both stand there, in an awkward, flushed silence.

Finally, Julia says, “accept that your mom is proud of you, you pendeja.”

You stare at her. “W-what?”

“You heard me.”

Is this what having a stroke is like? Did you die this morning and no one told you? Are you in hell right now? “Did– did you just… make out with me, to– to– to– to– win an argument about my, my…” you choke on the word, pound your fist against Julia’s shoulder. “Damnit, she’s not my mom! Fucking hell! Shit!”

“She cried for you like one.” Julia’s hand is back on your arm, just firm enough to making running difficult. “Don’t throw those feelings away.”

Your brain is short circuiting. Steel’s going to show up in clown make-up and then you’ll wake up screaming again. “I can’t believe you made out with me to win an argument about my mom.” You whisper, your voice strained, throat tight.

Julia’s expression softens a little, finally. Mercifully. “What can I say?” That old familiar grin slips back onto her face, so smug, so punchable. You want to kiss her again. “I have a unique skillset.”

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero fanfic #fanfiction #fhr #wlw fanfic #moms are important #mc #ortega #fhr/ariadne #tw: some suicidal thoughts #but not too many i hope #found family #trans character

39 notes · View notes