icefrozendeadlyqueen

[icefrozendeadlyqueen]

Jack O'Malley is on probation. He gets a job working from home and you're his manager. He tends to need a lot of help despite his background with technology...

Not a Competition

Summary: A new employee is being difficult on purpose.

Warnings: None. Let me know if I missed any.

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used.

Your laptop shows that someone is trying to call you via Zoom. You miss when you were allowed to use Discord but "it wasn't professional" according to the higher ups. Putting on your headset you let out a groan when you see it's Jack O'Malley calling.

For someone with a tech background, he's certainly had a lot of problems adjusting. You try to be patient and understanding, knowing the importance of having one's custom setup, but there's a limit.

"What is it this time, O'Malley?"

Jack swears he can hear your eyes roll over the headset. "I've been trying to use the company approved programs but it's so damn confusing. I need a cheat sheet or something."

"The software was designed to make it easy to go from one step to the next so you don't get lost or need a cheat sheet."

"Well, clearly this interface isn't as user friendly or intuitive as it once was."

Was? you think. Then your brain puts two and two together. "O'Malley, are you trying to start shit with Jensen?"

"Jensen's a hack!" Jack grumbles. "Sure, he was a great in his day, and a lot of this stuff holds up, but he's old school!"

"It's not a competition, O'Malley. Jensen is your superior," you remind him.

"Not when it comes to skill," Jack mopes.

"Yes, even in skill," you counter. "Because his skill makes this software usable for everyone in the company. Well, everyone except you. He is higher on the food chain than you for a few reasons and you will respect that, O'Malley."

"But he's a dweeb! I don't do well with authority in general but to have to take orders from someone like him?"

"Welcome to the corporate world, Jack. You often have to work with and for people you don't like."

The line goes quiet for a bit and you're worried something happened to the connection.

"You called me 'Jack'," he comments.

"It's your name, yes?"

"Yeah but, you always call people by their last names."

"Well clearly I needed to get more personal to help you get this through your thick skull."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll try to do better," he grumbles before hanging up.

Changing channels he tells Jensen, "I got her to call me 'Jack' in less than a month. Gotta up your game!"

"She might've called you 'Jack' but she still stood up for me. I'm clearly winning," he gripes.

Jack smirks, "whatever you gotta tell yourself, buddy."

Taglist: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @iwudbutnah; @kmc1989; @lokislady82; @peaches1958; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63;

[icefrozendeadlyqueen]

Mr. Berserker

Summary: A biker gang makes yet another appearance and you're not having it.

A/N: Reader is plus sized, female. No other physical descriptors used.

Warnings: Blood, Hospital setting, Implied violence. Please let me know if I missed any!

Why does this always happen when my shift starts? you think. It feels like you literally just clocked in when the chaos broke out. You glare at some of the newer techs thinking maybe one of them commented that things were quiet, one of the worst things you can do in an ER.

You're working the triage section when you hear a familiar voice.

"A fight for the ages, men! They'll be singing songs of our valor for ages!"

Closing your eyes and counting to ten you remind yourself that the bikers, while drunken idiots, are still patients in need of care. And it's your job to provide that care. No matter how much you want to send them packing with nothing but a first aid kit and a lecture on wasting hospital resources.

"My Queen!" Harald shouts from the waiting area, having spotted you. "My Queen, your subjects beg your merciful care!"

You roll your eyes but his smile doesn't falter. The first time he and his crew came into the ER they were curt with the staff and the med school students. You were quick to put every biker in their place and their leader, Harald, probably still drunk, smiled and started calling you his queen. While you weren't thrilled with the title, his declaration seemed to make his men treat you with some respect.

"Is there anyone in your group who needs serious help from the doctor?" you ask him, keeping your tone even.

"We took inventory, My Queen, and there are a few who will need stitches. If there are any who come in whose need is greater we shall, of course, step aside. We are strong fighters, after all!"

"Just remember not to punch anyone to prove it. Again." It took a week for the bruise he gave Dr. Rogers to finally fade.

Harald winks, "only if they remember to talk politely to My Queen and not order her about."

You sigh. "He's my boss and he's in charge. He's allowed to order me to do things, especially when a patient's life is at stake." Harald crosses his arms, clearly unrepentant.

Shaking your head you decide it's better to just get to business."Ok, Mr. Berserker, let's get your crew looked at. Whoever needs the stitches can be seen first."

Harald's smile grows at the nickname. Between his tattoos, the Viking imagery from him and his crew, and his frequent visits for injuries from fights, you started calling him that and he seemed to take to it.

"Halfdan," he calls to the group behind him. "The lovely lady is going to patch me up so make sure the men behave themselves."

Halfdan gives a playful salute and starts pushing some of the men into the seats.

You guide Harald to the triage space and start asking the usual questions and getting his vitals. The only thing that gives you pause is when he tells you he "may have been stabbed".

"Stabbed?!"

"Aye, but not badly," he smiles. "Probably more of a cut. I only remember the fiend had a knife and he wasn't very good with it."

"Where were you cut or stabbed?" you ask, eyes already searching for blood.

"On my side," he says. "Kept it covered with my jacket so my men wouldn't lose spirit."

"Well take off the jacket and shirt so I can see?"

"I'll only be too happy to take my clothes off for you," he winks.

Harald's smile drops for a moment as he winces from the pain. That gets your attention. He's never shown anything less than joviality at his wounds.

You wish you could say your eyes first noted the long, but shallow, cut on Harald's ribcage. Instead your eyes were drawn to the biker's muscles. The man is built, you can't deny, and for a moment you wonder how good it would feel to be pressed up against him. Harald notices the looks and winks, making you shake your head as your cheeks burn.

"Okay, the good news is that it looks like this cut is pretty shallow. Should be able to just use butterfly tape. But we'll have to get the doctor to take a look. He might order up some x-rays, especially with how bruised you look."

"Is that why you were looking me over? Taking in all my wounds?"

"Keep it in your pants, Mr. Berserker. I've gotta get Dr. Rogers and you will be nice to him."

"I shall, I shall. For you."

"Promise? I know you're a man of your word."

His face brightens. "I promise, My Queen."

Tagging: @alicedopey; @blacksilks; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @iwudbutnah; @kmc1989; @lokislady82; @peaches1958; @ronearoundblindly;

[icefrozendeadlyqueen]

But in a way I’m glad. The pain is my only reminder that he was real…that you all were.

THE TWILIGHT SAGA: NEW MOON 2009, dir. Chris Weitz

[icefrozendeadlyqueen]

TWILIGHT 2008. Dir. Catherine Hardwicke

[icefrozendeadlyqueen]

[icefrozendeadlyqueen]

the ADHD writer's guide to actually finishing a draft (no, seriously) 📝

okay, tumblr, writers... we need to TALK about how to actually finish a damn draft when your executive functioning decided to pack its bags and leave for a permanent vacation in the bahamas.

i'm not here to give you that basic "just set a timer!" advice that makes me want to throw my laptop into the sun. we all know those productivity hacks that work for neurotypicals make us want to scream into the void. (been there, screamed that.)

so here's the ACTUAL guide from someone who's written three novels while her brain was actively trying to sabotage her the entire time.

FIRST: accept that linear writing is a capitalist construct designed to torture us.

i'm serious. whoever decided writers should start at chapter 1 and proceed neatly to THE END clearly didn't have dopamine playing hide-and-seek in their prefrontal cortex.

write whatever scene has your brain chemicals SINGING today. that climactic fight scene that's six chapters away? the tender moment between your characters that happens in the middle? WRITE IT NOW while your brain is actually interested. i have finished entire novels by writing them in chunks and stitching them together like the beautiful frankenstein's monster they are.

SECOND: the 10-minute lie (that actually works???)

tell yourself you're only going to write for 10 minutes. that's it. no pressure. your adhd brain can handle anything for 10 minutes, right? the secret is that once you start, momentum becomes your best friend. sometimes you'll actually stop at 10 minutes (congrats, you still wrote something!) but often you'll look up and realize it's been two hours and you've written 2,000 words. and yes i've seen this a lot, like everywhere, where they tell you "set a timer for 5, and by the time you realize it's 2 hours" i've seen this many times before, and it actually works. at first i thought it didn't but boy, i was wrong.

THIRD: use your hyperfixation powers for good, not evil.

we all know that adhd comes with the superpower of becoming obsessed with random things for unpredictable amounts of time. WEAPONIZE THIS. create artificial urgency around your project. tell people about your deadline. make elaborate aesthetic pinterest boards. create a spotify playlist that you only listen to while writing this specific project. trick your brain into making your WIP the shiny new hyperfixation.

FOURTH: body-doubling saved my writing career and it can save yours too.

find another writer friend (or any friend who needs to do focused work) and sit together - virtually or physically - while you both work. something about having another human witnessing your work process bypasses the executive dysfunction. i swear it's actual magic. discord writing sprints, zoom sessions with cameras off but mics on - whatever works.

FIFTH: embrace the chaos of your natural writing cycle.

some days you'll write 5,000 words in a frenzy at 3am. other days you'll stare at the document for an hour and write "the." BOTH ARE VALID WRITING DAYS. the only consistency we need is returning to the document, not some arbitrary daily word count.

SIXTH: create external accountability that doesn't make you want to die.

deadlines from publishers? great. deadlines you set for yourself? your brain laughs and says "or what?" find the sweet spot - maybe it's a writing buddy you check in with, maybe it's a public progress tracker, maybe it's promising your sister you'll take her to dinner when you finish a chapter.

SEVENTH: the frankendraft approach.

your first draft DOES NOT need to be good, coherent, or even make sense. it just needs to exist. leave yourself notes like [FIGURE OUT HOW SHE GETS FROM THE CASTLE TO THE BEACH LATER] and keep moving. your adhd brain will thank you for not getting stuck in research rabbit holes for six hours.

EIGHTH: find your optimal writing environment through shameless trial and error.

maybe you need complete silence. maybe you need to be in a coffee shop with specific ambient noise. maybe you need to write standing up. maybe you need to dictate your novel while pacing around your apartment. there is no wrong way to get the words out.

i personally write best when i'm slightly uncomfortable (weird, i know) so i often end up writing while sitting on my kitchen floor with my laptop balanced on a chair. whatever works, bestie. a finished messy draft is infinitely more valuable than the perfect novel still trapped in your head. your adhd brain is simultaneously your greatest challenge and your greatest asset as a writer. the connections you make, the unique perspectives, the creativity - all of that comes from the same place as the struggles.

you've got this. now go write something, even if it's just for 10 minutes. i believe in you. ✨ -rin t.

[icefrozendeadlyqueen]

[icefrozendeadlyqueen]

every single jalice scene ever: [62/62]

i.e. heart eyes and a happy ending ♥️

[icefrozendeadlyqueen]

Thunderbolts* proving it really was the friends they made along the way

I love them dearly <3

[icefrozendeadlyqueen]

"you can use ai to improve spelling and grammar"

[icefrozendeadlyqueen]

Tech Tuesday: Ransom Drysdale

Summary: Another night of helping Ransom catch up on the cartoons he missed out on as a kid.

Warnings: Allusions to bad parents/families. Please let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Reader is female, nickname Bubbles. No physical descriptors used.

Previous

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

"Alright, what season are we on now?" you ask, looking through the DVDs.

"I think we'd just started Season 3," Ransom replies. "The girls had moved from Townsville to Citiesville but it didn't work out?"

"Oh yes!" you exclaim, finding the correct DVD. "Season 2, Episode 2. And then we had to call it a night because we'd binged the entire first season already."

"And because we're too old to stay up until 3 AM without serious consequences," Ransom gripes.

"I hear that," you mope. "Why can't I drink all the sugary drinks without getting sick?"

"It's just not fair," Ransom sympathizes. "Tired of being an old man."

"Good thing you're not an old man, then," you snort.

"Old enough." Ransom huffs, but you see the corners of his lips turn up.

"So long as you're not too old to watch cartoons," you intone, putting the next disc of the Powerpuff Girls into the DVD player.

"Thanks to you, I'm not so sure that'll ever be possible."

"You're welcome!"

You join Ransom on the couch, making sure not to disturb the plushies you've set up to watch the show with you.

"I hope you like the food," he says. "I made them myself and could use the feedback."

"Oooo! You're still going to that cooking class?"

"No, um...Sometimes D&D runs really late and everyone ends up staying the night at Jake's place. In the mornings Jake's wife will, if I'm awake, she'll...she'll teach me some tips and tricks. She even gave me some basic recipes to try out on my own and you're going to be the judge because I know there's no way in hell I'll ever be able to compare to her stuff."

"Awww! You've really got a good group of friends, haven't you? I'm so proud of you for even trying D&D in the first place."

Ransom blushes, "yeah, well, you...you had a lot to do with it. And now I'm an honorary uncle."

You giggle at that. "The twins love you?"

"They insist that they get a good night kiss from their 'uncas' every D&D night when they have to go to bed."

"AWWWW!!! Please tell me someone's got a photo! I need to see a photo of that!!!"

Ransom's face goes from pink to red and he rolls his eyes. "Can you please just try the cookies?"

Recognizing his discomfort you're quick to calm yourself down. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry."

You look at the different snacks. As he said, nothing fancy. Chocolate chip cookies, sugar cookies, brownies with some store-bought savory snacks on to counter all the sugar.

"Hmm...I'll start with the chocolate chip. A classic!"

"Yeah, I never really saw the appeal but, maybe that's because I never had homemade before. And remember, honest feedback. Please."

You take a bite of the first cookie. "It's good!" Ransom gives you a look that says he doesn't believe you. "It's true! It's not the best cookie I've ever had, but it tastes like you've got a handle on the basics of the recipe." He nods, seemingly accepting your review. "Do you want to start watching the show or do you want me to try each snack first?"

"Go ahead and try each one first, just in case there's something that should be thrown out. I don't want it to ruin the show."

"I doubt any of these are that bad," you reassure, finishing the chocolate chip in hand. "Okay, next I'll try the sugar cookie." At the first bite the cookie crumbles into your hand. "I think it might be a bit dry," you chortle. "The taste is good, but the texture is off."

Ransom grabs the container of sugar cookies, "I'll toss these." He goes to stand up but you stop him.

"What? Why? I said they taste good."

He gives you a confused look. "They're dry."

"And? Just make sure to sip a drink with them and they'll be fine."

"They're not good enough if you need something to accompany them," he gripes.

"They are good enough because the flavor is there and I like that flavor."

Ransom's face is red again and he takes a deep breath, your signal that he needs a moment to put his thoughts into words. "I know it's not a complete failure. But I'm still allowed to be embarrassed and not want to share the...partial failures they are."

You soften at his words. "Okay, you're right. I'm not a fan of throwing out food, but they are your cookies to do with as you wish."

"Thanks," Ransom nods as he takes the cookies to the trash. "And please, do not hold back for the brownies just because you feel bad about the sugar cookies."

"I promise, full honesty!" you swear before taking a bite of the chocolate brownie. It tastes so good you inadvertently let out a little moan.

"I take it the brownies are a win?"

"Mm hmmm!!!" you nod, taking another bite. "Similar to the chocolate chip, you've definitely got the basics down and this is a really good recipe!"

"Okay, I've at least got that going for me."

"Ransom," you say in a warning tone.

He rolls his eyes, "I mean I've got a good win and not just an okay and a failure." You give him a small glare. "And I'm not shooting my abilities down, I'm just establishing a baseline by which to measure improvement."

You sniff, "that'll do for now." Ransom still needs help with his habit of hiding his mistakes behind a wall of hate and sarcasm. Anything that sounds like self-deprecation gets met with a look from you that you know gives him pause.

"Can we start watching the show now?" Ransom groans.

"Okay!" You grab the DVD remote and start watching the Powerpuff Girls kick butt.

Only a couple of hours into the night Ransom is asleep, his head on your shoulder. Part of you wants to pull away, not wanting a repeat of New Year's Eve. But between his warmth, the comfy couch, and the sleep you keep fighting, you opt to lean into it and let yourself fall asleep with a smile on your face.

Next

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @iwudbutnah; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @kmc1989; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @peaches1958 @ronearoundblindly; @lokislady82; @thiquefunlover63

[icefrozendeadlyqueen]

The Passions

Summary: The approach of a stranger causes the demon August to show back up in your life.

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Coercion, Demons, Not taking 'no' for an answer, Violence. Please let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Catch up on August's story here. This is the same Kemp from Last Night.

A/N2: Reader is plus size, female. No other physical descriptors used.

At this point, you really shouldn't be surprised at how bad your life has gotten. Ever since Andrew tried to turn you into a Stepford Wife and unleashed the demon, August, into your life, you've been on edge to the point of driving away pretty much everyone you ever knew. You're barely surviving doing freelance work, traveling all over, never staying in any one place too long.

All because of one asshole that refused to take no for an answer.

You slam your empty glass on the bar you're sitting at, rage overtaking you for a moment before a hint of embarrassment because of all of the attention you've drawn to yourself. You shrug it off and order another. It's not like they're not here on a Tuesday night because their own lives are so much better than yours.

Your partially surprised August's card didn't pop up at your outburst. It might not be the same card each time, but it looks the exact same each time, just without whatever damage you've done to it before. It drove you so crazy you even bought a small vial of holy water. The card caught fire with just a few drops, but the next morning, there it was again. At least you knew the holy water was legit so you put it into a small spray bottle in case August ever came back.

As you got to order another drink, a handsome man with brown hair and dark blue eyes moves next to you.

"Put her drinks on my tab," he tells the bartender.

"Don't do that," you shake your head and glare.

The bartender points to you while looking at the stranger. "What she says, goes." You'll be sure to tip well tonight.

"Alright, alright, fair enough," the stranger chuckles, raising his hands in surrender. "I suppose I should get to know a lady before I buy her a drink."

"Go away," you tell him as the bartender refills your glass.

"We can start with basic introductions," the stranger continues. "I'm Steve, Steve Kemp."

"I"m not, not interested." The bartender chuckles at your response but offers no help as he gets back to work.

"You're a tough one," Steve persists. "But I bet you're absolutely worth getting to know."

"I'm not."

"C'mon. A beautiful woman like you, here alone on a Tuesday night? You've clearly got a story. You're definitely hurting. I can help take that pain away for a while."

As he talks, you go from wanting to throw your drink in his face to feeling...entranced. It's like when Andrew first enthralled you to get the collar on except Steve is using his voice, not his eyes.

Tightening your grip on the glass, you fight the effect of his voice. Or you try to. There's something so much more powerful in his magic than what Andrew had.

Steve leans close and whispers into your ear, "I bet you taste delicious. Your spirit is calling to me and I'm starved."

"Go...away..." you grunt through gritted teeth. You won't give in so easily.

He sniffs your hair. "How has no one gotten you yet? Your energy is like a beacon---"

Steve's face is slammed onto the bar and you're able to break free of whatever spell he was casting. Turning, you're not surprised to see August is the one who saved you. You push away from the bar, away from both men. August must be using some magic of his own because everyone else in the bar seem frozen in time.

"What the hell was that?" Steve growls at August. "Since when do you interfere with my meals?"

"This human is mine," August snarls back at him.

"She doesn't have your mark," Steve argues.

"She has my card," August retorts. He looks at you and raises an eyebrow.

Rolling your eyes, you reach into your purse and pull out the latest card and show it to Steve.

Steve laughs. "Your card?! That's pathetic! A reigning demon of Wrath chasing after a human! Clearly you need some help from the Lust realm. Let me take this one and I'll set you up with---"

August punches Steve so hard you hear his nose break.

"She. Is. Mine."

Steve smirks as he fixes his nose. "Look, I get why you want her. Her aura smells as close to divine as we're allowed to get. But you're putting in a lot of work for just one human. Let me have her, I was making great progress after all. Once I get her energy, I'll be more than capable of helping you get whatever other human attracts your interest."

"I don't want either of you!" you assert, stomping your foot. You try to leave the bar but the door doesn't budge.

"No one leaves or enters until this is settled," August explains, eyes never leaving the other demon.

You throw your head back with a groan. "What is there to settle?! I don't want either of you! I just want to be left alone!"

"Oh now that is not an option," Steve smirks at you.

"I told you, your rage smells delectable," August explains. "It doesn't just call to me."

"So, what? I have to dodge demons forever just because I'm angry?"

"It's not just that you're angry," August counters. "Your soul is fire without the brimstone."

"So warm, so bright," Steve adds.

You cross your arms, "sounds like I don't have a lot of options."

"Right now you can choose between me or him and that'll solve a lot of your problems," Steve snickers. "I'd make you cry for mercy in all the best---" August punches him again, this time causing Steve to spit out a tooth. "Can you stop doing that?"

"No."

While they're both distracted you make your move. Grabbing the small spray bottle of holy water you aim it first at August and hit the trigger.

His reaction is immediate. The skin on his face seems to melt and he lets out a sound that almost makes you vomit. But you push through. He's not the only danger, after all. Steve tries to back away but he's not fast enough. You hit him with a couple of sprays and his reaction is similar to August's.

With both of them incapacitated, even for a moment, you try to get out of the bar. Unfortunately the door is still not budging. You try to punch through the glass of the door but end up just hurting your hand.

"FUCK!" you scream, nursing your hand.

You're slammed against the door by Steve, his hand tight around your neck. "That was a big mistake," he growls. Without the burns all over his face, the rage in his expression would be enough to scare you. Instead, you see the marks you left and let yourself take pride in fucking up his handsome face. If he kills you, you'll die happy that you've probably made his hunting more difficult.

As you try staring him down, August comes up from behind and puts Steve in a choke-hold. The surprise is enough for Steve to let go of you and you gasp for air as you drop.

"She's too good for you, Kemp," August growls. "She will be mine and you will never touch her again!" August breaks Steve's neck and lets his body drop. Opening what you assume to be a portal he throws Steve's body through before closing it.

He approaches you, eyes looking as if they're on fire. The scars actually add to his menace and you feel a flicker of fear for the first time. He holds his hand out to help you up and you take it, too stunned to argue. He helps you onto your feet as if you weigh nothing.

"That was quite the trick with the holy water," he growls. You've never seen August angry before. It's breathtaking in a way that both thrills and terrifies you.

"I can give you another taste," you try to spit back but your voice is to shaky to sound effective.

He smiles at you and your fear deepens as your breath hitches. "I think you're finally learning how little power you have. I've been held back by the laws Heaven put in place but now you're getting a sense of what I can do to you. So again, I will make you an offer. Be mine. Help me torture souls in Hell and let me feast on that fiery soul of yours."

Maybe it's the fear, maybe it's the years of exhaustion catching up with you, but you don't immediately dismiss him. You're tired of running. Tired of jumping at shadows. Maybe it'd be easier to give in.

"I want to review any contract, license, agreements, whatever it is you need me to sign," you reply, unable to meet his eyes. "And I'm allowed to take my time reviewing it."

August smiles as he takes your hand. "As you wish," he says before kissing your knuckles.

He disappears and the bar comes back to life. You sit back down at that bar and ask for the tab, reminding yourself to tip well for the bartender's support against Steve.

As you get your wallet, August's card falls out of your purse and you freeze when you notice it's not the same. Where before it looked like a standard business card, now it has the words "My Fire" written in what looks like dried blood.

Maybe you could move somewhere with holy ground to keep him away from you.

Tagging:

@alicedopey; @blacksilks; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @iwudbutnah; @kingliam2019; @kmc1989; @lokislady82; @peaches1958; @ronearoundblindly;

[icefrozendeadlyqueen]

non-writers will never understand the mental illness of writing an entire conversation in your head while doing dishes and then forgetting every word the second you open a blank doc

[icefrozendeadlyqueen]

Unwanted - Part 7

Summary: Omega's first heat since being rescued brings up feeligns and questions.

A/N: Reader is described as big & tall, is female. No other descriptors used.

Warnings: Allusions to surgery, human trafficking, kidnapping, Implied smut. Please let me know if I missed any!

Part 6 -- Part 8

Series Masterlist

Soon after the Solstice Celebration your heat kicked in. Thankfully you were already planning on staying inside to recover from your first real outing in so long. Nat had recognized your symptoms in her last visit and made sure to restock your little apartment with everything you'd need as well as a refresher course on how to take care of yourself. Bottles of water and lots of fruit to help with hydration. High calorie protein bars packed with vitamins and minerals to give you something easy and quick to eat. Bath bombs with scents meant to soothe and formulas meant to ease the pains.

It was worlds apart from the heats you endured back at the lab. Your heats were used to break you. Need water? Beg for it. Need something for the pain? Work for it. No mercy, no reprieve without debasing yourself in some way. You shut down so much of yourself to do what you needed to survive. Though there were certainly times you'd have preferred death, but Kemp wouldn't give you that. No. You were a project, an investment, for a rich client.

Who ended up not wanting you. Who told you all your suffering was a mistake on his part. Who never apologized and, instead, pushed you to breaking. Your only solace was knowing that Steve and Natasha had torn into him for it.

Well, another solace was knowing not all Alphas are like that. You'd seen that first hand when you followed up with Curtis and his pack the day after the Solstice, bringing some homemade food as a thanks to all of them for the dance lessons.

Your thoughts drift back to Curtis, his patience and steadiness, his scent. Then your thoughts go to how he takes care of his little pack. How he treats Grace likes she's his own. How he helps steady Jefferson when he gets overwhelmed.

And Jefferson! So caring and doting of a father he is. How he didn't let his kidnapping and surgeries kill his capacity for love. A fellow survivor, like yourself. Whose scent was a delightful mess that pulled you in.

The scents! You remember how comforting it was when your scents mingled only to be interrupted by an especially sharp cramp from your heat.

Your hand moves down your torso as your mind thinks about Jefferson's pink, kissable lips on your nipples. You play with your pearl as you think about how Curtis' hands would feel against your skin. Part of you feels like you should be ashamed to pleasure yourself to thoughts of them, of potential new friends, but you couldn't stop. Some animalistic part of your brain was in charge now and you didn't really want to fight it.

When your heat finally passes you signal Natasha by opening up your blinds. You're exhausted in a lot of ways and, since you don't have your own pack yet, she's agreed to come in and help you clean out your little apartment, cook up a big meal, and restock your kitchen. There's also a calendar so you can start actually tracking your heats.

When you first laid eyes on the calendar you'd burst into tears. You lost so much time. You'd lost family, friends, everything. They all thought you were dead and, honestly, you might as well be for how long you've been gone, how different you've been made to be. It was something you'd hoped you could talk about with other survivors. Sam had said you weren't the only one and Jefferson had confirmed it.

There's a knock at your door and you quietly call for the person to come in. Sure enough, as promised, it's Nat, ready to help you out. She has a tin of homemade cookies

"These are from Grace," she smiles. "She knows you weren't feeling well, so she wanted you to have these."

Your face suddenly feels warm as you remember your salacious thoughts about her dads. You look away, embarrassed.

"Did Curtis and Jefferson help you through your heat?" You can hear the smile in her voice.

"I um..."

Nat stands in front of you and tilts your head to look at her. "It's ok. We're very sex positive around here, especially those of us born into the life. We saw how you three reacted to each other, saw how good you were with Grace. It wouldn't surprise me if Curtis and Jefferson had some thoughts about you. From the sounds, and scent, of things, you three belong together."

"Four," you mumble. "Grace is part of the pack, yes?"

"Yes, yes she is. And nothing will change that."

"Good. Jefferson was quick to tell me how hard he worked to get her accepted."

"There are a lot of factors that go into deciding if someone from the outside should be let in," Nat explains. "We have to consider things like, what if she was doing well in her normal life? What if she accepted Jefferson as dead? What if the people who took him were watching her?"

"I...I hadn't thought about all of that," you confess.

"Not many do. It's one of the biggest struggles with being in charge. But, now that she's in, she's in forever."

"Does Jefferson know that?"

"He has problems believing it, and it's not too surprising. People like yourself, people that didn't grow up with packs, sometimes have problems with it. Sure, you lose someone you have the emotional pain but with a pack? If anything happened to Grace the reaction would be visceral, especially for her dads, likely you too."

"That is incredibly different," you ponder.

"So, yeah, don't worry about your attraction to Curtis and Jefferson. It won't hurt Grace, though I'm guessing Jefferson will need to see it to believe it."

"How did he end up with Curtis?"

"I'll let them be the ones to tell you that."

"I...I'm not sure I'm ready to just...to just jump into being theirs," you confess.

"And that's okay," Nat reassures. "You've been through some serious trauma, endured so much more than anyone should. It's not gonna heal up overnight and no one expects you to be in tip-top shape right away. Especially not Curtis and Jefferson. Curtis has experience helping us with integrating new people and rescues while Jefferson has been through similar body horror as yourself. Similar, not the same, of course. From what I know of them, they'll let you take the lead."

"I'd...I know I'm still...I'm not very..."

"Take a breath."

You do as instructed and finally say what you've been thinking. "I want to be useful on my own, not just as a...a mate."

Nat smiles at that. "That's definitely another difference between naturals and rescues. Your usefulness, your productivity, are not a measure of your worth. Because we're a community, we can take care of each other, including those that are unable to help themselves. Especially those ones, actually."

"I don't...don't fully understand, but I'll try to."

"And in the meantime, Sam and I will make sure you get the closest thing we have to a 'job' around here."

"Thank you, Nat. I...I'm hopeful having something to do besides sit around will be helpful for me."

"Do you think you'd be okay working with Curtis? He's our main mechanic, working with a few others, but they're not the best at staying organized, keeping fully stocked of common parts, etc."

"Um..." you hesitate, breath hitching at the thought of being close to Curtis again. "I could try?"

"I'll start asking around. Once you're feeling fully recovered, that is. For now, big breakfast!"

Part 6 -- Part 8

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @blacksilks; @delicatebarness; @dontbescaredtosingalong; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @iwudbutnah; @kmc1989; @lokislady82; @lolitsthings; @peaches1958; @peyton-warren; @ronearoundblindly; @startcarvingdarling; @thiquefunlover63

[icefrozendeadlyqueen]

Unwanted - Part 7

Summary: Omega's first heat since being rescued brings up feeligns and questions.

A/N: Reader is described as big & tall, is female. No other descriptors used.

Warnings: Allusions to surgery, human trafficking, kidnapping, Implied smut. Please let me know if I missed any!

Part 6 -- Part 8

Series Masterlist

Soon after the Solstice Celebration your heat kicked in. Thankfully you were already planning on staying inside to recover from your first real outing in so long. Nat had recognized your symptoms in her last visit and made sure to restock your little apartment with everything you'd need as well as a refresher course on how to take care of yourself. Bottles of water and lots of fruit to help with hydration. High calorie protein bars packed with vitamins and minerals to give you something easy and quick to eat. Bath bombs with scents meant to soothe and formulas meant to ease the pains.

It was worlds apart from the heats you endured back at the lab. Your heats were used to break you. Need water? Beg for it. Need something for the pain? Work for it. No mercy, no reprieve without debasing yourself in some way. You shut down so much of yourself to do what you needed to survive. Though there were certainly times you'd have preferred death, but Kemp wouldn't give you that. No. You were a project, an investment, for a rich client.

Who ended up not wanting you. Who told you all your suffering was a mistake on his part. Who never apologized and, instead, pushed you to breaking. Your only solace was knowing that Steve and Natasha had torn into him for it.

Well, another solace was knowing not all Alphas are like that. You'd seen that first hand when you followed up with Curtis and his pack the day after the Solstice, bringing some homemade food as a thanks to all of them for the dance lessons.

Your thoughts drift back to Curtis, his patience and steadiness, his scent. Then your thoughts go to how he takes care of his little pack. How he treats Grace likes she's his own. How he helps steady Jefferson when he gets overwhelmed.

And Jefferson! So caring and doting of a father he is. How he didn't let his kidnapping and surgeries kill his capacity for love. A fellow survivor, like yourself. Whose scent was a delightful mess that pulled you in.

The scents! You remember how comforting it was when your scents mingled only to be interrupted by an especially sharp cramp from your heat.

Your hand moves down your torso as your mind thinks about Jefferson's pink, kissable lips on your nipples. You play with your pearl as you think about how Curtis' hands would feel against your skin. Part of you feels like you should be ashamed to pleasure yourself to thoughts of them, of potential new friends, but you couldn't stop. Some animalistic part of your brain was in charge now and you didn't really want to fight it.

When your heat finally passes you signal Natasha by opening up your blinds. You're exhausted in a lot of ways and, since you don't have your own pack yet, she's agreed to come in and help you clean out your little apartment, cook up a big meal, and restock your kitchen. There's also a calendar so you can start actually tracking your heats.

When you first laid eyes on the calendar you'd burst into tears. You lost so much time. You'd lost family, friends, everything. They all thought you were dead and, honestly, you might as well be for how long you've been gone, how different you've been made to be. It was something you'd hoped you could talk about with other survivors. Sam had said you weren't the only one and Jefferson had confirmed it.

There's a knock at your door and you quietly call for the person to come in. Sure enough, as promised, it's Nat, ready to help you out. She has a tin of homemade cookies

"These are from Grace," she smiles. "She knows you weren't feeling well, so she wanted you to have these."

Your face suddenly feels warm as you remember your salacious thoughts about her dads. You look away, embarrassed.

"Did Curtis and Jefferson help you through your heat?" You can hear the smile in her voice.

"I um..."

Nat stands in front of you and tilts your head to look at her. "It's ok. We're very sex positive around here, especially those of us born into the life. We saw how you three reacted to each other, saw how good you were with Grace. It wouldn't surprise me if Curtis and Jefferson had some thoughts about you. From the sounds, and scent, of things, you three belong together."

"Four," you mumble. "Grace is part of the pack, yes?"

"Yes, yes she is. And nothing will change that."

"Good. Jefferson was quick to tell me how hard he worked to get her accepted."

"There are a lot of factors that go into deciding if someone from the outside should be let in," Nat explains. "We have to consider things like, what if she was doing well in her normal life? What if she accepted Jefferson as dead? What if the people who took him were watching her?"

"I...I hadn't thought about all of that," you confess.

"Not many do. It's one of the biggest struggles with being in charge. But, now that she's in, she's in forever."

"Does Jefferson know that?"

"He has problems believing it, and it's not too surprising. People like yourself, people that didn't grow up with packs, sometimes have problems with it. Sure, you lose someone you have the emotional pain but with a pack? If anything happened to Grace the reaction would be visceral, especially for her dads, likely you too."

"That is incredibly different," you ponder.

"So, yeah, don't worry about your attraction to Curtis and Jefferson. It won't hurt Grace, though I'm guessing Jefferson will need to see it to believe it."

"How did he end up with Curtis?"

"I'll let them be the ones to tell you that."

"I...I'm not sure I'm ready to just...to just jump into being theirs," you confess.

"And that's okay," Nat reassures. "You've been through some serious trauma, endured so much more than anyone should. It's not gonna heal up overnight and no one expects you to be in tip-top shape right away. Especially not Curtis and Jefferson. Curtis has experience helping us with integrating new people and rescues while Jefferson has been through similar body horror as yourself. Similar, not the same, of course. From what I know of them, they'll let you take the lead."

"I'd...I know I'm still...I'm not very..."

"Take a breath."

You do as instructed and finally say what you've been thinking. "I want to be useful on my own, not just as a...a mate."

Nat smiles at that. "That's definitely another difference between naturals and rescues. Your usefulness, your productivity, are not a measure of your worth. Because we're a community, we can take care of each other, including those that are unable to help themselves. Especially those ones, actually."

"I don't...don't fully understand, but I'll try to."

"And in the meantime, Sam and I will make sure you get the closest thing we have to a 'job' around here."

"Thank you, Nat. I...I'm hopeful having something to do besides sit around will be helpful for me."

"Do you think you'd be okay working with Curtis? He's our main mechanic, working with a few others, but they're not the best at staying organized, keeping fully stocked of common parts, etc."

"Um..." you hesitate, breath hitching at the thought of being close to Curtis again. "I could try?"

"I'll start asking around. Once you're feeling fully recovered, that is. For now, big breakfast!"

Part 6 -- Part 8

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @blacksilks; @delicatebarness; @dontbescaredtosingalong; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @iwudbutnah; @kmc1989; @lokislady82; @lolitsthings; @peaches1958; @peyton-warren; @ronearoundblindly; @startcarvingdarling; @thiquefunlover63

[icefrozendeadlyqueen]

I’d definitely feel safe with In-ho actually

[icefrozendeadlyqueen]

Anton Chekhov, from The Complete Plays and Works of Anton Chekhov; "Ivanoff,"