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autumnscribbles · 2 months ago

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come back | r.c

summary: you and rafe get into a fight on a night out, when you’re left to find your own way home, you find yourself in a bad position

warnings: drinking, creepy men, i think that’s about it

wc: 2k

a/n: my first official rafe fic!!! thank you so much to the person who sent in this request, i’m a little rusty but had so much fun writing this! pls send more :) enjoy

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You let out a loud laugh as JJ continued to tell you one of the most ridiculous stories you’ve ever heard. Between fits of laughter, you took small sips from your red solo cup. You were starting to feel tipsy, the alcohol coursing through you. It made everything funnier, and you found yourself leaning in towards JJ, unable to control your laughter. You clutched your stomach as he laughed along with you, his own laughter triggered by how much you were laughing. It was always an endless cycle with JJ, when one of you started to laugh, it was over.

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” you hiccuped, as you stared down at the empty cup in your hand.

JJ patted your leg and nodded at you before you stood up, making your way over to the table where the drinks were. The room spun slightly around you as you clumsily poured yourself another drink. You were mixing it yourself, and chuckled at how heavy handed your pour was. You tilted your head back as you took a sip, nodding to yourself in approval.

As you turned around to head back to the couch you were sitting on, you bumped into a familiar chest. You looked up at your boyfriend, smiling drunkenly at him.

“Hey! There you are!” you cheered, leaning your head on Rafe’s chest as you inhaled his familiar scent.

“Took you long enough,” he scoffed, stepping to the side and approaching the same table you were just walking away from.

“What does that mean?” you asked, furrowing your brows as you took another sip.

“It means you should probably lay off the liquor and maybe don’t hang all over JJ like an idiot,” he retorted, his eyes glued to the table in front of him.

You thought it was hypocritical, him telling you to stop drinking as he poured himself another rum and coke. He drank as much as he wanted, whenever he wanted and you never said a word to him about it. JJ had been your friend since childhood, your family taking him in when he had no one else. You grew up together. Your friendship would always be special.

“You should lay off the liquor,” you muttered under your breath as you walked away from him, going back towards JJ.

“Running back to him?” Rafe called out to you.

You turned around, seeing his bright blue eyes darken as he looked at you. His jaw twitched as he clenched it. You knew he was biting his tongue. Holding himself back from saying something he would really regret.

“You know what Rafe? You’re childish. JJ is my friend, and you know it. Maybe you should stop drinking and you wouldn’t be so fucking delusional,” you bit back.

Rafe rolled his eyes and you walked back over to JJ, plopping on the couch beside him again. He looked concerned as he asked you if everything was okay. You assured him you were perfect, and tapped your cup against his as a cheers.

You ignored Rafe as you saw him walk passed you, not even sparing you a glance. You knew you upset him, and that he was bothered. For once, you didn’t care enough to do anything until you got home. You didn’t want to cause a scene, and more importantly, wanted to have fun with your friends.

After a few rounds of pong with John B, Pope, JJ, and Kie, the alcohol was really getting to your head. You realized you hadn’t seen Rafe since your argument, anXd thought maybe you should look for him.

“I’m gonna get some air and look for Rafe,” you said to your friends, voice raised to be heard over the music. They nodded at you before setting up for another game.

You weaved through drunk, sweaty bodies before stepping outside. You breathed in the fresh air, closing your eyes as everything spun.

“You should lay off the liquor,” you muttered to yourself as you stumbled down the front steps.

You assumed Rafe would be outside. He usually stepped out for air when things were tense between you. He used it as a way to calm down. You were surprised when you didn’t find him.

You glanced down the street full of parked cars. You couldn’t spot Rafe’s truck. Did he leave? Would he? You felt tears springing to your eyes, suddenly feeling guilty for what you said to him. You pulled out your phone, calling him. It rang and rang, but eventually left you on voicemail. You shot him a quick text before sitting on the steps, spinning head in your hands.

“Hey…” you heard an unfamiliar voice behind you.

You looked over your shoulder to see someone you didn’t recognize. Obviously a kook, based on the polo shirt and khaki pants he had on. You had never seen him at one of these parties before. Or maybe, you just never recognized him.

“Hey,” you muttered, pulling out your phone to see if Rafe answered.

“Lost your boyfriend?” he asked, sitting down comfortably beside you. You felt yourself slide over, wanting distance from him.

“No,” you shook your head. “Just waiting for him.”

“Don’t think he’s coming back, sweetheart. I saw him get in his truck,” he chuckled. “I could drive you home though.”

“I’m good,” you answered shortly.

You stood up, taking a second to regain your balance. You had to go home. To find Rafe. You realized you didn’t have the keys to your place. Rafe had them. You came together and were going to leave together. You guessed you’d just knock until he answered once you got there.

You knew you should tell your friends you were leaving, but in a drunken haze you were too focused to go back inside. You’d just text them later.

The boy on the stairs was in a conversation with a clone of himself, so you started walking. The cool evening hair sent a slight chill down your spine, your shoulders exposed. You tried to walk as quickly as possible without falling.

When you heard footsteps behind you, you reluctantly decided to look behind you. You were surprised to find the boy from the stairs and his friend walking a few paces behind you.

You felt your heartbeat pick up a bit, your hand clutching your phone tightly, willing Rafe to call. You took a turn, and realized they were not too far behind you. Enough distance to try to make it seem like they weren’t following you, but you knew.

You decided you’d take the short cut. You had to go through the woods, but it wasn’t too far. The boys behind you wouldn’t know the path, even if they saw you turn off. You’d just run, you thought to yourself.

As you dashed quickly into the woods, your breath was loud in your ears. You were trying not to panic. You would be fine. You heard the footsteps behind you, branches cracking under their feet as their pace picked up. You’d run as far as you could.

Eventually, you slowed down, catching your breath. You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to listen for the boys following you. Your heart beat hard in your ears as you took deep breaths. You didn’t hear them anymore. You were in the clear.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and flashed the light, realizing you had no idea where you ended up. You were surrounded by trees, no path in sight.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

You started walking where you thought you had come from, hoping to end up back on the path. You’d tripped over something, landing harshly on the hard ground. You hissed in pain as tears started filling your eyes.

You dialled JJ, thinking maybe you had a better chance of reaching him. No answer. You tried Rafe again, and again, and again.

The third time, he picked up. His voice choppy on the other line because of the bad service.

“Rafe?” you cried, overjoyed that he answered. “I need help I-I was walking home and I cut through the woods to get home but I’m lost.”

“Y/N?” Rafe answered. “Where are you?”

“The woods, I-I don’t know where exactly. Please help me, baby,” you cried.

You couldn’t hear his reply as the call dropped. You cursed under your breath again as you began to cry. You didn’t even know if Rafe heard you. You felt yourself starting to crash, the adrenaline wearing off and the effects of the alcohol hitting you all at once. You felt your eyes flutter shut, and succumbed to the exhaustion.

You eyes opened again to a faint sound in the distance. You sat up, disoriented, your head pounding behind your eyes. You winced as you tried to figure out how much time had passed.

You heard a voice in the distance, and as it approached you realize they were calling your name.

Rafe.

He came.

“Rafe!” you screamed as loud as you could, trying to signal to him where you were.

You heard his footsteps pick up as they got closer, and you kept calling out. Eventually he was in front of you, crouch down as his hands cradled your face.

“Baby, oh my god,” he breathed. “I’ve been looking for you, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry I acted like a bitch,” you cried, falling into his chest. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“Shhh I shouldn’t have left you there. I was a fucking asshole. I’m so sorry. What if something happened to you?” he rambled, holding you close.

“These guys were following me so I cut through the woods. I tried to get away,” you breathed. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“What? Who?” he asked angrily.

“Doesn’t matter,” you sighed. “I just wanna go home.”

Rafe brought you inside and into the bathroom, turning the light on.

“You’re hurt,” he whispered. There was a cut down your leg, bleeding from when you tripped. You were covered in dirt, leaves, and branches.

“It doesn’t hurt,” you told him.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry baby, I can’t say it enough.”

He turned the shower on, the steam starting to fill the room. He helped you gently peel off your clothes and step in, where he joined behind you. He rinsed off all the dirt and blood, and gently massaged your head with shampoo to wash out the dirt. You began uncontrollably sobbing as the warm water fell down your body, and you were so worn out you didn’t even know why anymore.

Rafe dressed you into your favorite pyjamas and brought you to bed, tucking you in gently. All while whispering that you were okay, that he was sorry, and that he loved you. He set down a glass of water beside you, urging you to drink it.

“Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Cold?” he asked.

You shook your head, reaching your arms out to him. He fell on the bed beside you as you lay on his chest, his heart beat faster than normal.

“It’s okay, baby,” you whispered to him, your eyes beginning to close. “I’m okay.

“I don’t know how I can forgive myself,” he said. “What if those guys..” he stopped himself before continuing. He didn’t want to voice what he was thinking. It was unimaginable.

“I shouldn’t have ignored you, or walked away when you were clearly upset. It was stupid,” you muttered.

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “I was just being jealous and stupid. I overreacted.”

“As always,” you chuckled, making the corners of his mouth turn up.

He watched as your eyes began closing, your previously stressed out facial expression smoothing out.

“Just rest, baby,” he cooed as he rubbed his hand along your back. “I won’t leave you again.”

You finally gave in to your exhaustion, just happy to be safe and warm in Rafe’s arms. You didn’t care about the fight anymore, or anything that happened. All that mattered was you were safe. You were okay.

He came back. He would always come back.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe Cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #jj maybank #obx #obx imagine #outer banks #rafe outer banks

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netherfeildren · 2 months ago

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Busy, Dying. Part 1;

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: In an in-between place called his life, Joel Miller is alone. In search of a cure. In need of a miracle. In want of God.

Can I interest you in a cure for loneliness? She'd asked him in a language without words. Taking it is the easy part. Letting her go is impossible.

-OR-

an a/b/o soulmates AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No Outbreak AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Soulmates AU, Infidelity, Cheating, HEA!!!!!, Angst, Fluff & Smut, Mating Bites, Knotting, Heat Sex, Breeding Kink, Group Therapy, Social Experiments, Basically puppy training for unsocialized Alphas, And by God that man will be house trained by the time she’s done with him!, Complicated family dynamics, Discussions of self harm, Depression, Existential Angst, Author returns not with a whimper but with a KNOT, I wrote this in a very unserious state of mind beware

A/N: Gray November, I've been down since July - but we're so back, baby. I’ve missed this so bad. I’ve missed you all, I won’t drone on and on. I hope you enjoy, and please talk to me in the comments. Update me on what I’ve missed, let me know how you’ve been and what’s happening in your life.

A great heartfelt thank you to all of my wonderful friends who so supportively cheered me on while I struggled to write this. Sincerely the best people I know.

Love you all madly.

Word Count: 6.5K

Read on AO3

Part 1;

The old linoleum tiles are the most peculiar shade of puce, and Joel has realized that there is someone sitting at the back of the room who smells… strange.

More brown than purple—an ugly color. There’s something about it that fascinates him.

The woman that is currently speaking tells of her husband; it’s the only tale she has to tell. She’s been doing it for weeks, and they all know it well by now. Older, omega, the woman, and at the latter and less comely stage of life. Most of them here can say the same. They usually give their names, those that get up to share��although it’s never a requirement when you attend, it is highly encouraged—the sharing, he means—but he never pays much mind to them—the names, that is. That’s not what he’s here for after all—to make friends. Although, he does see how that’d be the initial assumption.

Joel Miller is here for something more specific.

Six weeks he’s been showing up to these things now, and he’s yet to take a turn. He tells himself he’s working up to it.

What that specific thing is…he hasn’t quite figured out. He’s listening for it, though, and intently, even if he does skip over the names. It’s the details of what they’re telling that matter to him. The hows and intricate whys of what it is that brought them here today.

Her youth had been spent on a drunk, the woman is saying—her husband—and he’d been cruel to her in those days when there was still currency to spend in the form of her vitality. Joel nods at the puce—yes, he thinks, that’s usually the way of it. But later, there’s more to the story she reminds her audience, he drank himself into a fit, and had never been right since. The cruelty had been taken away from the marriage after that, and she’d been put in charge.

“But I wonder,” she says, “If sometimes I don’t miss it, the way he’d been,” —if the reason she was here now, with all of the rest of them that were just like her in their own unique ways, was that she’d been left lonely after her cruel husband had been exchanged for a sick one.

Joel nods again and wonders what sort of face the woman wears as she confesses but doesn’t bother to check. No matter, he knows they’re the same. If not in designation, then in heart.

It’s easy, that thing, he does it too, to wish for the bad. To want to hold on to it, the thing that hurts. Addictive, even, in some cases. Missing it is easy.

It’s why he’s here.

And it’s what they promise you. In their flyers and pamphlets, when they stand on the corners of streets talking people up wearing that look in their eye and that slouch in their step, when they smell it on you—or in the lack there of—a mate or a purpose.

Welcome to our meeting. We’re here to find the cure for loneliness.

That’s what they promise you when you come here.

It’d been that word: loneliness, actually, that had caught him. L-O-N-E-liness. There was something attractive about it to him. Not a label but a state.

You see, it was like this: Joel had seen a therapist once, several years ago, against his will and at the behest of another, who’d said all the wrong things in all the wrong ways.

“You sound depressed, Joel,” the therapist had told him.

He’d worn horn rimmed glasses and had a shiny bald head he could see the reflection of the overhead lights in. And worse—the non-scent of a beta which told him they’d never understand each other in the ways Joel longed to be understood. He’d—not hated him, necessarily—but felt an immense apathy for the man; more so than the regular apathy he felt for most things in his life.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Very, very sad,” was the official diagnosis.

Joel hadn’t liked the sound of the word. The label. He did not like that a word so succinct could be ascribed to him and all that had happened to him in his life. There was no word for it. It just was.

But there was something different about a state of aloneness, which if attributed to himself, he could accept. He had been left alone, in ways. It was a tangible thing he could look around a room inside of himself and recognize.

They’re meetings, is what this place is—encounter groups this coalition offers where lonely demi humans can come to congregate, discuss their aloneness, what had led them to such a state; their lack of attachments, connections, mates—alpha, omega. Held in the basement of the Emmanuel Episcopal Church on Newbury street, right between his shop and house, although they never talk about religion which he likes because he doesn’t believe in religion.

God is still under review.

He wonders if the Catholics wouldn’t have them.

Sitting forward in his seat, the metal folding chair that always leaves his back aching something fierce, he presses his elbows into his knees to distract with alternative pressure. Focusing on his fingers woven together between his spread legs, he tries to pay attention to the man who’s stood up to speak now. Older than himself, late sixties, no children, no family, no nothin’; he’d run them all off.

But Joel is distracted.

The smell is stronger now. Stranger too. Something full bodied, but metallic like rust, astringent bleach, built in a way that forces saliva to pool heavy between his suddenly aching gums. A mask that sits atop something of a much different chemical architecture—that’s the strange part.

Or—no. The back of his neck itches, and Joel lifts a palm to cup his nape, quell the sting, feel the tender mark. No. The strange part is not the illusion of the smell. What it is, actually, is that he’s fairly certain what he’s smelling is someone else's blockers. Something which he’s positive he’s never consciously noticed on another person in the thirty plus years since he’d presented as an alpha.

He has, suddenly, the quite intense urge to peek over his shoulder, certain that he’ll be caught smelling things he has no business smelling. That there will be someone just there, breathing down the nape of his neck with accusation on their tongue—boo!

Silly. But he’d known today would not be a good day.

It’d started off wrong. The milk had gone sour overnight, the check engine light had come on in his truck, all his socks were suddenly mismatched with not a single pair to be found, and his usual route to work had been waylaid by some freak accident. A tree split in half, one side into a house, the other into the road. Not a sign of lightning in the sky all night long.

Perhaps he might be compelled to believe in God after all.

Joel does not like it when things are out of order or out of the ordinary. His life was organized in a way that never caused him strife or excess. And it was not that he was stuck in his ways, only that he enjoyed his routine and disliked when things were not as they should be. And this—whatever it is he’s smelling, whoever—is not as it should be.

The older gentleman, an Alpha too, is still speaking. He had a daughter, has, who no longer speaks to him. Won’t even take his money. He’d had a long career in government that’d filled him with greed and paranoia and a radical view of life that refused to align with the way young people saw the world now. Perhaps he’d tried to change at certain times, but he was old and set in his ways. Or maybe he hadn’t wanted to change as badly as he should have when he still had the chance to. Happily stuck in the past. His wife had died, and his daughter had gone away from him. Too tired of his mediocrity as a father to give him another chance.

The man sounds like he feels sorry for himself. Like he thinks himself the victim, and this one, Joel does look up at. He looks old and worn down, heavy beer pouch and thinning hair and sagging jowls. A sad and lonely man. Joel wonders if that’s how he looks to the other people in this room, as well.

“No man knows how bad he is until he has tried very hard to be good.” Joel blinks, looks at him more closely, tries very hard to find similarities between themselves. But no—not quite right, not the thing he’s looking for. Their plight is different. This man is not alone, he’s got his weakness to keep him company.

The one thing Joel had fought like hell to keep out of his repertoire of issues. He’d run from even the possibility of it as soon as she was dead, left Texas straight for the Northeast and from thereafter, everything he’d done, he’d done with a staunchness of character. If at the end of it, that staunchness was made up of apathy or numbness or dissociative fury, well, then at least he wasn’t still that man who’d been too weak to save his daughter.

That counted very much in Joel’s book.

An overabundance of cold numbness, little anger, everything a static haze—an abstinent winter. That was his whole life. But then, look at him now, he was here, wasn’t he? He’d taken that brochure handed to him on that last warm Tuesday weeks ago as he’d headed back to the shop from lunch.

Hello, sir. Could I interest you in a cure for loneliness? The young omega had said.

It’d started like anything—an experiment or a desperate ploy. The monotony had been steady going the past few years, getting older, colder. He’d grown hard and solitary around his wound, loneliness spread like a fungus, and he’d longed for any sort of change.

“A cure…how?” The terrible shrink had come to mind.

“Oh, nothing to fret over.” The young man had a nice smile, Joel remembers. Kind and straight toothed. Honest in the way that a stranger knocking on your door to sell you a Bible seems honest. “We call it an encounter group. People come, share, tell the tales of their designation and their lives. In the end, the result is different for different people. Some move on to a second step if they need more. Others find what they’re looking for just through the connection of sharing. But no matter the result, you’ll see, you’ll be cured. Promise.” He’d winked, smile deepening, giving him an appreciative once over at the end of his spiel. Joel had blinked back, surprised, confused, but curiosity peaked enough he’d obsessed over it for three short days before he’d found himself stepping into the molted incense smell of the belly of a church so dimly lit he was sure not even God peaked in this sad space any longer.

“It’s that easy?” Joel had asked, childlike in his throat-strangled hope.

“That easy.”

It seemed the smile had been honest enough to sell him the Bible.

The scent insists upon itself as the older gentleman finishes up, and Joel’s nose tickles with whatever it is it’s whispering at him. He wants to get up and walk out, run away, but suddenly his gut is tight and hot, and he isn’t sure he can actually stand up without disgracing himself in front of all these people. A wash of agonized heat moves through him, confused at what’s suddenly happening to his body.

“We have a newcomer today sharing for the first time,” Maria, the woman who leads the group, says at the front of the room. “Everyone give her a warm welcome, it’s her first day and already she’s brave enough to jump on up here.”

There’s the shuffling of bodies in their seats, a cleared throat, the man sitting behind Joel breathes so loudly he thinks he’s gotta have some sort of medical condition, the puce turns more hideous by the second, and his own heart is beating so hard in his ears the rush of blood is dizzying. He feels each thump of the thing against his breast bone in some sick imitation of a fist begging to be let out.

The new voice begins as nothing but a murmur.

An introduction—he misses the name. His breathing goes shallow, he’d tip over in his seat if he didn’t have both boots planted firmly against the puce. The voice gains strength and with it, Joel wishes he’d been paying attention from the start. He didn’t get to hear her name.

It’s a girl.

She’d run away from home in the spring of her sixteenth year to join the opera, she tells them. Had come upon the city in roaring spring and thought the rest of her life would be exactly like that, pure novelty in bloom, nothing like what she’d left behind. And was deeply disappointed when the reality was nothing such.

And Joel hears it, that disappointment in her voice at what she’d not been able to find after searching for it so religiously. This is what makes him look up at her. This, unlike all the others, he thinks he can relate to—just by the sound of her voice. The search for a thing lost which can never again be found. The fruitlessness of it all.

At that first vulnerable, terrified glance, she’s already staring at him, eyes catching like hooks.

He blinks once, twice—color—is sure he can hear the movement of his eyelashes passing through the air, the stick of his lids meeting—color—bright. This is it.

That wash of heat turns into a blaze, every single bead of sweat blooming on his brow is a tell evaporating into the ether. This is what he’d sensed from the start of the evening. Maybe even from the moment he’d seen that split maple.

“My mother always said I needed to be stronger, bolder, not so sensitive.” She looks away from him now. “I grew up in an angry house where you had to fight tooth and nail not to be overrun. Because of this, I left it at a very young age, and it was the greatest fight I could muster, abandoning that house of anger. I found myself something to bring me what I thought would be joy, a job and a city, and for a time, it was enough. But starting your lonely life so young…it’s hard.” After a pause of breath, “It’s been hard.”

“And it’s made me never want to have to—exert myself,” she says, searching for the right words, smiling when she finds them, and Joel has the urgency to smile back. “Now, I never want to have to be strong. I never want to have to try. I want to only be the way that I am. If that’s weak or sensitive or whatever it might be at any given moment, I don’t care. I don’t want to have to fight. I never want to be in an angry house again. I want someone who’ll see this in me and understand and never make me work for it, that they would give it to me willingly, easily, without me having to ask. Do you understand?” She looks about the room, and he hopes her eyes will land on him again, and even though they don’t, he feels she’s speaking directly to him. He nods, the hook of her temptation cast beneath his chin. “This is a fantasy. And it makes for a lonely existence. This idea of how I need it to be for it to be right—love.” She looks down at her hands folded atop the podium where they go to stand at the front of the group and share, and he wills her gaze to find him amidst the crowd again. “It’s so difficult. And this might seem very bad to you, weak willed, but it’s not. It’s only very honest. Which can never be a bad way to be.” That’s why she’s here, she tells them.

Finally, she looks back at him, and it’s that loneliness of two people amidst a crowd, facing one another, knowing themselves mirrored against the other and yet still disparate. There’s something indecent about the way she looks at him in front of all these people, the way he, in turn, looks back. A little bit like finding your own face on a stranger's body in a crowded room. Color rises to his face, and she gives him that same elusive smile from before.

He’s the one to look away this time.

As the crowd disperses for coffee and pastries after the last of the speakers, he searches for her. He needs to ask her name, feels as if he’s some blighted creature without it, swears he’ll never forgo attention during a meeting again if he can fish it out of her.

He finds her at the dessert table, Maria at her side and a hand at her shoulder. Something of a thank you is being imparted between the two women. The girl is saying she’s grateful for the welcome, grateful that they’d found each other.

Joel has things to be grateful to Maria for, too. His brother, mainly. It’d been pure chance that Joel had met her here, that she knew Tommy also. She’d met his brother on a summer trek to Wyoming where they’d become friends and had kept in touch afterwards. The woman has a thing about her that ingratiates people by sheer force of will. Perhaps it’s that she’s an alpha, too. Perhaps it’s just the charisma and wide smile. The fact that she has a countenance that takes no shit from anyone, that makes demands of a person whether they’ve got any give or not. But whatever the case, they’d realize their connection through Tommy, and she kept Joel updated on his brother whom he’d not spoken with in many years.

Watching the two women stand together and share that easy thanks that Joel so urgently owes, and yet which he cannot voice, he feels, suddenly, so angry. So awkward. So humiliatingly inexperienced. So unable to grapple with the pain of human contact, the fascination of it, the humiliating necessity.

That decade old anchor weighing him in place and the guilt of even thinking of it as such.

I feel decrepitly alone and odd, he thinks. And how strange, no? He was a normal man. He has a normal job. He lives in a normal house. Unexceptional in every sense. Everything in his life had been ordinary up until that one great tragedy. And then, as if none of the before had ever existed, it was as if everything afterwards was one great landslide of wrongness. The filth of it slinging mud all over his life so that nothing had ever been right after her.

So that now he cannot even approach this girl whose name he needs to know, and Maria, to whom he owes the last surviving connection to his brother.

As Maria turns to go, she gives him an encouraging nod, sending him into an agony of shyness. She’d sensed him hovering.

The girl remains at the dessert table, perusing the pastries. He can see her fingertips dancing over the golden, sugared confections, before she settles on a plain, glazed donut. He watches the bend of her elbow, bringing it to her mouth and thirty seconds later, the empty hand reaching for a napkin. He can’t help the huff of laughter it draws from him.

Watching the unknown creature with her back turned, he peers down the length of himself. Wood stain marred t-shirt, old work jeans and scuffed boots, he’d come straight from the shop. Looking back at her, she seems perfectly packaged and pristine. The two of them, different as chalk and cheese. He tells himself he shouldn’t do it, turn around and go, leave her alone, as he steps up beside her at the table.

Immediately, there’s the heat of her skin, the smell of her shampoo, and he realizes, and it’s silly because it should’ve been obvious from the get go, she’s an omega. The epiphany, not that she is one, but that he’d been too stupid and oblivious to notice, leaves him feeling vulnerable and angry.

Any sort of hello that’d been coming alive on his tongue immediately dies. And he’s about to make a run for it once again when she speaks up from beside him, “Would you like a donut?” Her small fingers are dancing over the pastries, searching once again. “I haven’t had one yet,” she lies, “I can’t decide which looks best.”

The dancing hand pauses over a golden brown puff pastry, seemingly coming to a decision, when she turns to look up at him. The scent of her isn’t just shampoo, not just the blockers he’d shockingly picked up on before, sharp, burning his nose. It’s her skin now, too. The dry sweat from hustling under her coat to make it to her first meeting on time salted along her limbs. Hot, sweet almonds. The shocking vermillion of the morning’s split maple comes to mind. He can smell her.

“A puff pastry?” She presses, quizzical crook to her brow at his silence and glower. “I think you really need something sweet. It’ll make you feel better.”

He wants to agree, to say he also thinks he needs something sweet. All he can manage is a short grunt because she smells…indescribable. Honeyed musk, something heady, like she herself had just got done baking, straight out of the oven and full of sugar into his waiting mouth.

That earlier anger, it kicks up a notch. Why isn’t he fucking saying anything?

She shrugs, as she lifts the puff pastry to her mouth he finally manages sound.

“You stink.”

He doesn’t know when he became such a liar.

A pause, mouth open, straight, white teeth ready to bite into the fluffy sweet bread. He can see her small, pink tongue, and it makes him go a little woozy.

He might be losing his mind.

She’s got elegant eyebrows that shoot straight up her smooth forehead. The look of her skin is glorious. “Excuse me?”

Now, there seem to be too many words spilling out of his mouth. “You need better meds or somethin’. Need to sort your shit out. Can’t go gallivanting about the world smellin’ like that.” Oh god, shut up.

“Excuse me!” She takes a huge bite of the pastry. “I do not gallivant,” she shoots back, mouth full of sugar and Joel goes hot everywhere. “What is wrong with you?” she demands, the pursing of a prim little mouth as she chews, eyeing him maliciously.

He hasn’t the damndest clue.

She is not wary of him in the slightest, which in turn tells him he needs to be wary of her.

Another large bite, inexplicably she extends her free hand towards him—potentially going into shock and entirely out of his depth when he takes it, the vulnerability of tendon and muscle soft beneath his strength—offering him a firm shake. She gives him her name.

In that moment, she has a look about her that tells him she’ll bite back if he isn’t careful, even if she hurts herself in the process.

And now he knows you.

“We might as well acquaint ourselves if you’re going to insult me. Don’t you think?” Peering up at him, he’s tall, well over six feet, and broad shouldered. Older, distinguished, but in a rough way, hewn oak, gray. “Are you typically this rude? Or is this a special occasion?”

Incredibly handsome.

“I’m being serious.”

“I do not stink. No one has ever said that to me, and my blockers are quality. It must be a you problem.” The puff pastry really is very good. And this man really is very handsome. Coming here today was a good idea.

One of the girls from the theater had suggested it, handing you a pamphlet with Looking for the Cure for Loneliness? emblazoned across the top, and even though she’d done it kindly, any other person would’ve taken the implication as an insult. Hey girl! No offense, but we all in the company think you’re super weird and have you heard about this support group for losers? Kind of like Omegas Anonymous!

Those hadn’t been her exact words, and you hadn’t taken offense. After the initial agony of embarrassment, you’d warmed to the idea. You’d heard of groups like these before. Congregations of demi humans where one could come to find community or connection. Be it socializing or support for people struggling with their designations and all that they implied, they served their purpose. And anyways, you weren’t in a position to be nitpicky.

It’s true, you’re alone.

So alone, in fact, that even the people around you could tell. Strangers, coworkers, your roommate and her girlfriend. Like some noxious cloud of loneliness following you around virtue signaling the desperate need for love and companionship and understanding you’re so in need of.

You increasingly saw yourself as a dancer on her toes, trembling delicately all over, vying desperately to survive to the end of the song. A monster with too many heads. A Cerberus of the richest caliber.

Two or three would’ve been acceptable—heads—but you'd long surpassed that and moved on to something unrecognizable and unpleasant. Desperately in need of a solution.

“Maybe you’re the one that stinks. Maybe it’s your upper lip.” And voila, the monster makes her debut.

“My—” The rude alpha, obvious, that one, lets out a choked sound, a deeper wash of color immediately flooding his cheeks. You dip your head sideways, appraising him as you polish off your second pastry. He has pretty bone structure, masculine, and after he’s done choking and spluttering, he can’t help but laugh a little bit. You see it.

Beneath a mouth that looks forbidding, perhaps even a little cruel, you can sense that he is not an unkind man.

Yet you’re not so green that you can’t recognize the gnawing hunger of loneliness in others. There’s always a reason people find themselves in places like these. His face, edged with the weariness of age, makes this obvious. He has good reason for subjecting himself to this.

Reaching for the lovely eclair you’d been deciding between earlier, you take a large bite of it. Almond cream and a thick layer of icing on top, humming happily as you chew while he stares at you like the three headed dog.

You hold the dessert out towards him, offering. Palm up, he shakes his head no, slightly disgusted look on his face.

“So. You come here often?”

He blinks. “Really?” Patronizing look on his face now.

“Why not? I am actually interested to know if this is worth my time.”

He rolls his eyes. Oh, he’s fun. “Yes, I come here often. Every Friday, for the past two months just about.”

“And you like it?”

“Is this the sort of place one likes?”

“Oh, come on. You never know what you might find.” He watches your mouth as you finish the eclair, swallowing hard. “Anyways, I think the world is kind of over out there. Don’t you? Might as well make the best of it in here.”

Thumb pressed against the edge of the table, he looks down, suddenly awash with shyness once again. A shy alpha, who’d of thought.

“What did you used to do?” He asks, motioning at the crowded room full of chatting alphas and omegas. You wonder how many of them will go home together for a fuck after this.

“When?” You ask, sure he means in lieu of this group, if you’d ever had another form of demi human community.

“Before this.”

“Before this? Nothing.” Smiling at him, certain he isn’t picking up on your teasing.

“Nothing?”

“Nope. I’ve always been here.”

“But— Don’t you…I thought...” He’s cute, shaking his head like you’re just too confusing to sustain. “You sing, right?” He pivots.

“Sing? Me? Whatever made you think such a thing?” The sly look on your face goes completely over his head and slides to the rest of the sweets. If he wasn’t watching, you’d have another.

“You said. You said you’re in the opera,” he gruffs back, looking visibly aggravated now.

Such fun.

“I’m a supernumerary,” you concede as you turn, making your way to an old relic of a pew along the far wall, tragically abandoning the desserts.

He follows as you go, sitting a respectful distance beside you.

“I don’t know what that is.”

“We’re the actors that fill the stage at the opera.”

“No singing?”

You shake your head, flirting with him. “I’m a wench, I’m a courtesan,” You bat your lashes, fingertips pressed coquettishly beneath your chin, “Part of a harem. I’m every woman you’ve never known. It depends on the opera.”

“I’ve never heard of that before.”

“I started as a stagehand when I first got to Boston. Worked my way up.”

“How’s it work? Lines or somethin’?”

“No lines. No anything. I’m a background actor—an extra, basically. If anything, I’m given some simple choreography direction, laugh, sigh, show fear, horror, shock. Whatever. I’m playing pretend without actually having to do anything.”

“No working for it.”

Your smile melts to blandness. So he’d been listening, then.

“Did you want to sing?”

“No. I wanted to be a supernumerary.”

“Strange. I’ve never heard of that,” he repeats.

“You did say, yes.” Now, the smile turns auspicious. Everyone’s here for something. “What do you do?” Perhaps this is it for him.

You eye the rest of the congregation, at the far exit, there’s a large alpha helping an omega into his coat.

“Got a shop, furniture, woodworking and such.”

“You make things?” He nods. “Ah, a man of creation.”

Sitting back to take him in, he’s got the beginning insinuations of silver speckling the dark hair at his temples, a well groomed beard, and large, intimidating hands.

His small huff of laughter is bashful, tinged with something disappointed. “No, nothin’ that grand.” And he’s got an accent heavy at the ends of his words, not Bostonian. Southern.

“But you know, I wanted to say…”

“Yes?” You press when he loses his courage, leaning towards him, inhaling deeply.

“Well, that I know what you meant earlier. Sometimes I can be the angry house.”

You blink once. Sit back. “I see.”

“It’s hard work. I have to try every day at it.”

Hard work being the house, or not? Two opposite sides of the same coin.

“How do you stop yourself?” You cast a line, fishing for his character.

“Don’t know. Keep myself cold, I think.”

“That’s no way to be.”

“No. It’s not.” He sounds amused. You want to bite him.

Everyone’s here for a reason.

“Ah, well. Perhaps that’s what’s brought you here then,” you say, twisting the toe of your sneaker against a scuff on the old hardwood, leaning forward on your palms wrapped around the edge of the pew.

“Maybe,” he says, but a sort of pained, exasperated sound follows it. Your hung head turns to peer at the handsome face, and he’s already looking at you.

There’s something animal afoot. Perhaps in terms of designation, sure, of course, like the rest of the alphas and omegas here. Your designations weigh heavily in the air. But also intrinsic to your two personalities. You feel you know him. That the two of you might have the same sorts of problems, desires. And as you stare at him, you think you may be equally measuring each other’s character, finding that similarity in one another.

His eyes move quickly between yours, over your face, and you can tell that prolonged eye contact isn’t his norm.

He has the most surprising set of bright hazel eyes like river stones.

Suddenly, you feel desperate to pull out a flicker of sexuality in the man, hear it in his voice. Sure, that with him, the experience would be entirely different, exhilarating. Perhaps a challenge. He seems to be more quiet and more patient than any other man you’d ever come across, but also more stern—taking in that soft mouth held so firmly. Far more remote too, by the far away look in his gaze. You want to see how he could be moved and what the sight of it would look like.

“Maybe not,” he finally continues. “I’m looking for something, I think.”

“Something like what?”

“Someone like me.”

“An alpha?”

“No,” he looks away, cringing. The word out loud seems a shock to him. “Did you listen to the woman at the start—missing the bad thing? I struggle…with that. Holding on, not letting go even when I know I should.”

You’re at an age now which sometimes makes it hard to realize or accept that what you’re living is your life. That it’s been time to grow up. That you have to remember to move forward when it’s your turn in line.

Which is to say, that you understand him—the difficulties of knowing when to hold on and when to give up.

“Sometimes you hurt yourself because you don’t have anything else to do. Sometimes, because the alternative is much worse.”

“Holding on ‘cause there’s nothing else to do?”

“Sure. Or you’re used to it.” You’ll be gentle with him, you decide. He’s in need of gentle handling despite the stern face; not a puzzle so arbitrarily solved. And those eyes are still so bright, he doesn’t seem like he needs any more hardship.

“Don’t know why I’m tellin’ you this,” he says, accent heavy.

“Well you did come here for a reason. Didn’t you?” Discreetly, you slide closer to his side, but he doesn’t notice. Apparently lost in the realization that perhaps this was what he’d come here for, to talk to someone, to have someone listen and relate. You’re almost positive he’s never gotten up to share with the group before in all his time coming to the meetings; doesn’t look like the type.

“I came here because I’m going to take better care of myself,” you tell him. “I’m going to try harder.”

“Harder at what?” He blinks as if attempting to come out of a dream.

“Everything. I don’t want to end up like my parents; drunk, angry, alone. I’m scared of it. I’ve avoided at least two of them.”

“I’m afraid of getting older,” the dream moves in his eyes. “That I’ll forget,” he says, but you don’t ask what.

All of a sudden, he seems very real. The swells of grief and loneliness moving through him so similarly, so close to the surface.

Springing up, you turn to face him and he follows to stand too. You can hear the crack of his knees unfolding, and when he lifts his left palm to stifle a gruff cough, the band of gold around his finger is paralyzing.

All of a sudden, he’d seemed like what you’d been looking for here too. There’s laughter coming from the church rafters.

“You’re a widower?” He wants to forget, he’d said he wants to let go.

Hadn’t he?

But instead, “What? No.” You stare pointedly at the ring, and he looks down at it also. “No,” he repeats.

“So’re you looking for a fuck, or what?” You try and hold back the bite it comes with, but you can’t.

“No. No. That’s not what I’m looking for.”

You don’t understand, impaired by your youth, you forget you’d chosen to be gentle with him. “Maybe it’s what you need,” you tell him, turning towards the exit before you can watch him cringe.

He follows at your heels, grabbing his coat from the hook by the doors before he’s stepping out after you into the fall blister. It’s cold and wet and glorious out.

“Don’t you have a coat?” He demands.

“Nope.” You start walking towards Arlington Street and the park.

“Did you walk here? It’s freezing out.”

“I did,” you turn back towards him, still moving, and he starts to follow.

“From where?”

“Downtown.”

“Where?” He scowls at your uncooperation, the married man. Alpha. The truth was that he’d smelt strange to you too. Like no one ever had before. As glorious and shocking as the cold. Like if snow had a scent. Disappointment churns in your gut alongside the excitement at the sight of him stalking after you.

“I don’t think you know it.” Your backward walk is interrupted as a hurrying stranger bumps into you, sending you staggering. Watch it, the Boston snark spits. The alpha turns to scowl, heavy boot forward like he’s half a mind to follow after the person you’ve just inadvertently assaulted.

And it occurs to you, “You didn’t tell me your name.” How silly of you. You’d been so distracted you’d forgotten to ask, and what if you never see him again after this? What if you can’t muster the courage to come back again next week? What if he can’t?

“It’s Joel.”

You think it sounds right.

“I might—know it.” Where you’re headed to. You smile at the dog with a bone. The disappointment pulses. “Is it far?” He presses. You shrug, looking over your shoulder. You’re going to lose yourself in the garden for a few hours, forget about him. “Why don’t you drive?”

“I like to walk,” you tell him, turning back.

He looks at you like he doesn’t like the things you say much less the way you say them much less the way you’re grinning at him. Perhaps he can see the disappointment and is disturbed by the sight of it, but the possibility seems too altruistic.

“You should try it sometime, Joel. You might like it too.”

His huge body seems to be shivering in the cold.

“I think…” The look on his face has turned suspicious now. He takes a step towards you. “You’re very strange. And you’re very young. I don’t think we should be friends.”

Your heart gives a demanding thump. “We’re not going to be friends.” When you’d first spotted him in the crowd, the strangest feeling had come over you. A tug behind your belly button, a scalding heat at the back of your neck, at your wrists. Perhaps it’s merely imagination, the look of disappointment you think you see on his face right before you turn away from him to continue on walking. “And I’m not that young anymore.”

You’d known today was going to be a good day. Extra cinnamon in your latte, a late start to your morning, warm in bed, no rain in the sky despite the cloud cover. And your director, late for rehearsals after some freak accident had befallen the roof of his house.

“That’s what all young people say.”

Part 2;

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

#busy dying fic #vic fic #joel miller fanficition #the last of us au #joel miller x you #joel miller

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juniperskye · 2 months ago

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Three’s Company

This is just a lil blurb about Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan and you being in love! Based on the following Request: @satans-bitch Hi! Idk if you would be comfortable writing it, but I love the idea of Aaron hotchner x reader x Derek Morgan just all being so in love with each other. Thank u Xx – I took some creative liberties…I hope you like it!

Hotch x BAU! Fem Reader x Morgan

Word count: 883

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, Fem reader, pet names, poly-relationship (I’m not the most familiar with this lifestyle) canon typical violence, mantion of babies and pregnancy, Let me know if I missed any.

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

So, neither Derek nor Aaron ever and I mean EVER thought they’d be in a polyamorous relationship. But let me tell you, when you arrived at the BAU, they both knew they had to have you. Aaron had gone to Dave time and time again seeking advice and Derek did the same with Penelope.

They’d both complain that there was no way you were interested, because clearly you like the other guy. Only, that wasn’t quite the issue.

You didn’t just like Aaron or Derek, you liked them both. They were so similar and yet so different and there was no way you could ever choose just one of them.

After many instances of the men fighting for your attention and affection, you pulled them both aside to have a serious conversation.

“I think I should leave the BAU.” You stated.

“What? No!” Derek blurted.

“Why would you think that?” Aaron inquired. “If our behavior has made you uncomfortable, I am so sorry. It was never my intention, and I would hate to see such a talented agent leave because of my idiocy.”

“It’s not your guy’s behavior that’s making me feel this way. It’s my feelings for you.” You said, gesturing to both men.

“Feelings for who?” Derek questioned.

“Both of you.” You blushed.

That evening you’d explained to the men that you had feelings for both of them and had the situation been different you’d have suggested a poly relationship, but you knew that it was too much to ask of two alpha males who’d never been in one before.

What you hadn’t expected to happen was for them to give you a quizzical look and then ask you to give them some time to think about it.

It had been nearly a year since then and the three of you had developed something truly beautiful. Aaron had been so stoic at work but at home he was soft, and he always did everything in his power to ensure you and Derek were both cared for.

And well Derek, he was clingy at home. Always wanting his hands on you and he’d come to really enjoy having physical contact with Aaron.

Like when you’d watch a movie, Aaron would have his arm slung over the back of the couch while you cuddled up into his side, and Derek would be sitting as close to you as possible, practically sitting you in his lap. This position would allow for Aaron’s hand to rest around Derek as well and that warmth became a comfort for him.

There had been another shift shortly after that, pet names…they’d been slipping out more frequently. And not just them men using them with you either.

“Sweetheart can you pass me my phone?” Aaron had asked, looking directly at Derek.

“Sure thing sugar.” Derek had replied.

You had been shocked initially, but it ultimately had warmed your heart to see them falling into this relationship more and more. Their comfort in this had been your main priority, you hadn’t cared about anything else.

Work had been the toughest part of this newfound dynamic. When any of you got hurt on a case, the other two couldn’t exactly hold it together. And with the team being out of the loop of your lifestyle, well they definitely suspected something.

The most recent had been Aaron, he had been shot while taking down an unsub. Thankfully it had been a flesh wound, but when you heard the shot and saw him go down, you couldn’t help the wail that tore through you. The paramedics had requested you step away, and Derek pulled you into his embrace to get you to comply.

“Baby he’s gonna be okay!” Derek said while holding you close.

“He was shot D! What if he’s not?” You cried.

“I know he’s gonna be okay baby. He has to be.” Derek mumbled the last part.

You looked up to see the tears falling from his misty eyes, and you held him tighter. The team sat by and watched the situation play out, fully convinced now that something was transpiring between the three of you. More than they had initially assumed.

The newest development had been the discussion of children. The guys had baby fever, they had seen you interacting with your sister’s newborn and you swear you saw them both drooling over the sight of you.

So…have you ever thought about having kids princess?” Derek posed.

Currently you were lying on the couch, your head in Derek’s lap and him pressed against Aaron. The movie playing, long forgotten as Derek combed his fingers through your hair and Aaron traced shapes on Derek’s bicep.

“Um, yes…I have thought about it. Why do you ask?” You sat up.

“Well, honey, we had a conversation about it the other day.” Aaron clarified.

“You two…had a conversation about me having a baby?” You questioned.

“About us…having a baby.” Derek said, gesturing to the three of you.

Your jaw dropped in shock. What had started as inappropriate flirting in the workplace had developed into a serious relationship between the three of you. One fueled by love, safety, and trust.

“I would love to have a baby with you guys.” You smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

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pennyellee · 22 days ago

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𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

title: ANUBIS pairings: yandere mafia namjoon x barmaid f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, porn with plot, 90s word count: 19,7K release date: december - january

beta read by one and only @chaoticpuff17

prompt 1: “You are something I can sin for” prompt 2: An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life — that’s what Namjoon is for you. But it wasn’t always like that. There was a time where you’ve resented Namjoon with every fibre of your being and every word that came out of his plump lips after what he had done to prove his power. Unfortunately, you will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, emotional distress, teasing, yandere behaviour, obsessive behaviour, manipulation, reader meets namjoon young but nothing happens until she's 21, forced engagement, kidnapping, graphic violence, death, murder, blood, explicit language, misogyny, mentions of feminism, alcohol usage, mentions of religion and God, church smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, oppa-kink and so on (i'll add some if i'll forget)

author's note: so here we are! this is the story i've been thrilled to push out as it is happening in the universe and almost simultaneously with CHAMPAGNE CONFETTI. Y/N alias Peaches here, is my baby, and I cannot wait to write more for her and Namjoon after champagne confetti side B goes out. I have drafts for another fics that are happening in the same universe as champagne confetti and now anubis but step by step my faries ♥ I hope you will enjoy reading this piece I was keeping for myself for a looong time. The best thing about writing is that I get to build this world of imagination and live in it for months before it gets to you. Sooo I'm very nervous and excited to push Anubis out as a second fic within champagne confetti universe - which i still didn't name coz all the fics just have different titles so let's just call it like that for now. Without further ado, enjoy fairies! ♥ let's go back to 1996. omfg, let's call it thatttt, back to 1996!

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone. main masterlist 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

1996

"Did you sleep well?" Namjoon asked, his voice softer now, as if he was trying to breach the walls that had begun to rise between you.

You nursed your coffee in the black ceramic mug while you shrugged, keeping the answer with spice in it for yourself just yet. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, you could see the cracks in his façade when you didn't answer.

"I see... silent treatment," he gulped down, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. Pouring himself a cup of coffee too, he leaned on the counter right in front of you. You took his appearance in. He got a buzz cut, creamy satin shirt tucked in leather pants. A few of the buttons were undone, giving you a perfect view of his toned chest.

"Is that really how you want to start the day?" he provoked. You set the mug down, the clink of ceramic against marble echoing in the tension-filled kitchen.

"Did you ask yourself the same question when you threatened me?" you shot back, your voice rising slightly as the memories flooded back. The anger surged within you, igniting a fire that had been smoldering since the moment you woke up in his penthouse.

Namjoon's expression shifted, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a flicker of defensiveness.

"Well, you for some reason seemed too adamant that you needed to patrol the streets of Bronx by running away from me. I know you too damn well, Peaches; I know where you were headed."

The words stung, each syllable laced with accusation and an unsettling truth. Your heart raced, the anger bubbling just below the surface.

"You know fucking shit, Namjoon—"

"Oppa," he jumped in, his voice firm, yet tinged with a note of caution.

You inhaled sharply, the familiar term slicing through the tension like a knife. It reminded you of the intimate moments you once shared. "You've lost that honorific the moment you decided to threaten me and kill that man right in front of my eyes!"

Namjoon's jaw clenched, and you could see the conflict brewing beneath his composed exterior.

"You don't understand the kind of world I'm in. We protect ours."

"Protect?" you spat, feeling the heat of betrayal wash over you.

"I'm a person who deserves to make her own choices—" He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing.

"What choices are you making? Running off into the night like it's some kind of adventure? You think that's brave? I refuse to let you get hurt because you're unhappy with my decisions."

"Oh yeah, like something would happen to me—"

"You are my woman, and people know that you are, Peaches!" he declared, his voice rising with intensity, as if the weight of his words was meant to command respect from the universe itself.

Your heart raced at his proclamation, a mix of anger and something softer twisting in your gut.

"The fuck you're talking about, Namjoon?" You snapped, your voice echoing off the sleek kitchen walls. Anger surged within you, fueled by the sheer audacity of his claim.

"Not fucking once did you say that we ought to be official one day—" you shot back, your voice dripping with disbelief.

"You act like I'm some sort of possession, something you can just claim without any conversation or commitment!" Namjoon's expression hardened, a flicker of frustration flashing in his eyes.

"You need to stop pretending like we don't have a future because you're scared of the past," he said, smashing the mug down on the counter. Namjoon's jaw tightened, and the conflict in his eyes was palpable.

"Since we met, not fucking once have you made your intentions strictly clear, Namjoon! The fuck am I doing here then?!" The words burst from your lips, raw and unfiltered, echoing in the tense space between you.

He ran a hand over his face, visibly struggling to keep his composure.

"I thought you knew. I thought you felt it too," he replied, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "I thought it was understood that it was a matter of time."

"Understood?" you scoffed, incredulity seeping into your tone. "You think that just because you've made me a part of your life, I should automatically know my place? That's not how it works!"

"I was waiting till you'll—"

"Age of consent is eighteen in this state, Namjoon, keep that bullshit to yourself." Namjoon's expression darkened at your words, and you could see the frustration simmering beneath the surface.

"So you would rather be wifed and knocked up as soon as we met, am I right?"

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

©pennyellee. please do not repost

tag list: if you want to be notified once the full story will be up for reading, you can write in the comments and i'll create a taglist!

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

lots of love, p.

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only-luce-the-goose · 8 months ago

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The Prank

A/N: my first formula fic!! My requests are open if you have someone you want me to write for!

Arthur Leclerc x Norris Reader

Trope: Dumbasses (best friends to lovers)

Warnings: Swearing, kissing, nothing else really

This is based of something I was on Twitter (I refuse to call it X): person a says “I came up with a good prank”. Person b asks what it is, a says “we should kiss”. B says “I don’t get it”, a says “imagine them walking in to see us kissing and just being like “WHAAAAAT??” B says “oh, that’s hilarious. We totally should”

Synopsis: You and Arthur have been best friends since he saved you from a bully when you were kids. You grew up in the Leclerc household, so they knew you very well. You followed Arthur around the world for his racing career. You guys had been given the nickname "Terrible Two's" for all the pranks you pulled around the paddock. Sometimes you pulled them on each other, sometimes you teamed up and pulled pranks together but there was one prank that really topped off the rest of your pranks.

"Y/N!!!" Arthur shouted from the shower in your shared bedroom. He walked out as you hit record on your phone, filming as he appeared. He had his towel wrapped dangerously low around his waist, his hair was dyed a deep red with remnants of the dye dripping down his chest. "Seriously?" he scolded "I have to go to the Ferrari pit tomorrow and my hair is bright red!" You could see the fury in his eyes as you laughed. "Yeahhhh, you're gonna be matching the cars". He crossed his arms over his muscly chest and scowled "Stop filming me, idiot" you rolled your eyes and chucked "Whatever, moron" you said as you stopped recording. You posted it to your story, with the caption "Ready for @ scuderiaferrari tomorrow!" and tagged him in it.

You heard Arthur's phone buzz from the vanity in the bathroom as he headed back in to dry off. You stood up to pack up a bit from your day, getting as ready as you can for tomorrow. This time he came out in a pair of checkered sleep pants, saw you stand up in front of your suitcase and lunged at you, tackling you into the bed. You shrieked as he started assaulting (tickling) you. "St-st-op Art- arty" giggled out. "You turned me red, then posted it for the whole fucking world to see. You deserve this" After successfully kicking him onto the floor, you noticed your phone vibrating in your pocket.

You swiped accept on the call as you answered "Ah, my favourite Leclerc brother. What can I do for you Charlie?" You heard Arthur shout and "Oi" from the floor, making Charles laugh. "I just needed to see Arthur's hair" he grinned. You flipped the camera around and showed a Shirtless, red-haired Arthur lying on his back on the ground. Charles burst out laughing "good to see the support, brother" he got out in between laughter. "I'll leave you to whatever you're doing, y/n. Thank you so much for Arthur's hair" he chuckled as you said goodbye and he hung up. You leaned over the side of the bed, making eye contact with the boy on the floor "wanna get Charles tomorrow?" you asked him. "The day I say no is the day the world ends" he replies. You laughed as you rolled under your covers, Arthur standing up and getting into the bed next to yours, agreeing to come up with the prank tomorrow.

I was lying awake in bed, I couldn’t sleep. All I could think about was how Arthur came out of the shower earlier, his glorious torso on display, towel so low you could see his v-line. All I wanted to do was go over and kiss him silly, he’s so hot when he’s cranky. My crush on his has lasted years and he has no idea. I couldn’t ever tell him, it would ruin our friendship and I don’t ever want to lose him. If we’re friends forever then so be it. I put my earbuds in and put on a good playlist, drifting off to my favourite song.

I woke up the next morning with a crushing weight on my chest and hair tickling my nose. It wasn’t until I felt the fingers tickling my ribs thats I started wriggling around, trying to get the giant on my body. “Arty what the fuck” I grumbled “I was having a really good sleep you prick”. He chuckled and rolled off me, lying next to me a pulling me body into his. I looked up, nearly bumping his nose with mine. I was really hoping he couldn’t feel how fast my heart was beating. “We have a prank to plan”

After you finished getting ready, you hopping in the car with Arthur and headed towards the paddock, brainstorming pranks in the car. “I came up with a brilliant one” Arthur tells you. “Ooo what is it?” My curiosity peaked. We haven’t been able to think of any good ones for Charles all morning. “We should kiss” he said nonchalantly. If I had a drink I would have choked on it, instead I stuck to internally freaking out while my heart started beating out of my chest. “Umm what? I don’t get it. How is that a good prank?” I stutter.

Arthur laughs “just think about it. He walks into his drivers room to find his younger brother and childhood best friend making out, our hands all over each other. You could sit on my lap and we could really go to town, Charles would walk in and freak out. He might even faint!” It hurt a little to think that Arthur only wanted to kiss me for a pranks, but there ain’t no way I’m passing up and opportunity to kiss my crush, even if it isn’t supposed to mean anything.

“Ohhh I get it, that’s would be fucking hilarious. We just have to time it really well and make sure no one sees us go in there” I add on. Arthur agrees “that’s it then, the perfect prank” I chuckle at his declaration. We pull up the paddock, scan our passes and make our way in, making small talk with people but never straying too far from each other.

We saw Charles doing some media before he needed to go in and change into his fireproofs and race suits. I tapped on Arthur’s and should and pointed at his brother, explaining my thinking. I agreed and we rushed inside the Ferrari garage, making our way to the drivers room. I hung around the front of it, keeping an eye out Charles so we could start making out at the perfect time.

A huge group of people made their way, signalling that Charles was moving closer. You could hear him and Carlos talking about the track as they came closer. I quickly slipped into his drivers room, finding Arthur already sitting on the bench. I walked over to him as he patted his lap, “hang on” I semi whispered. I could hear that Charles and Carlos had stopped walking, they couldn’t have been too far from the doors. Once I could hear Charles getting louder I looked back at Arthur, “you ready Arty?” I asked. He nodded and pulled me into his lap.

I moved me knees to go on their side of this body, my right hand slide to the back of neck, sliding my hand though his hair and I grabbed a handful of his fluffy hair. My left hand sling around his broad shoulders. His left hand dipped under my shirt to hold my waist, his other hand wound around my neck. He offered me a kind smile as he used the hand around my back to guide me towards his lips.

It started with small pecks, quickly moving to Arthur slipping his tongue into my mouth, exploring while he got the opportunity. Moved myself closer to him, gripping his hair harder which caused him to let out a low moan. I heard the door to the driver room open as I kept making out with my best friend. The hand around my neck moved to ass, moving me to grind on him a bit.

Charles and Carlos stood in the doorway, dumbfounded before Carlos turned to Charles and said “told you they had a thing for each other, cabrõn” and walked off. Charles stared at his friend as he walked off. He looked back at us, still making out as he walked in. He slammed the door shut, making us jump. “What the fuck is going on? Why are you making out? Why are you doing it in my drive room? Oh my god I need to sit down” he rambled.

I got off Arthur as we started cackling, Arthur turned to me and said “told you it was a good prank, he’s absolutely freaking out” I laughed and looked back at Charles. He looked at us like we just old him Santa wasn’t real. “Wait, this is a prank?” He asked as we nodded “I thought I wouldn’t have to listen to Arthur whine about you anymore y/n but this is going to make it so much worse” I was about to ask something when Arthur grabbed my arm and dragged me out.

Once we got outside the garage I stopped Arthur. “Hang on, Arty. Just stop for a second” he stared at the floor. “What did Charles mean when he said you were whining about me?” I asked him. He tried to deflect the question and walk off. I grabbed his hand, turning him to me and lifting his head the make eye contact with me, asking my question again.

Arthur sighed, putting his hands on either side of my face and kissed me. It wasn’t desperate like the previous make out. It was slow and loving. “I don’t really know to say this, now that Charles has outed me, but I’ve liked you for years. The more than best friends kinda like. The reason I came up with that kissing prank was to get the chance to kiss you, even if it is supposed to be to mean nothing.”

Arthur kept rambling, struggling make eye contact. He looked at him, then smashed your lips into his “I like you more than I best friend should too. I have for years” you smile against Arthur’s lips as he kissed you.

#arthur leclerc fluff #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc x reader fluff #arthur leclerc x y/n #arthur leclerc #f1 #f2 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #leclerc

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vetitiscripta · 1 year ago

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some sfw and nsfw headcanons for tpof ren please🦊🙏🏻 instantly fell in love with your writing and craving the foxy dilf

oh anon you’re so sweet, i’m glad you like my writing! AND YOU MAY ABSOLUTELY HAVE DILF REN HEADCANONS I AM ON MY HANDS AND KNEES FOR THAT MAN I AM BARKING LIKE A DOG

sfw

he lets you run your fingers over his scars, tracing them. if he’s feeling up to it, he’ll even tell you the story behind them

still a big anime fan so on his days off he likes to just relax with you and do anime marathons

since ren lives in different apartments, of course you go with him when he moves locations. he found an apartment by the bunker to stay in while you were recovering. traveling while you have multiple open wounds seems like a hassle so he figured it would just be easier to get a place nearby

YOU ARE SO SPOILED!! anything you want, its yours. you once mentioned how you miss all the games you had and you woke up the next morning to just about every new gaming console under the tv, already plugged in and games loaded on them. sometimes you have to be careful with what you offhandedly mention wanting because he will get it for you (he just likes seeing you happy, he lives for your smile)

once you are trusted with being outside (something that took quite a while for you to earn), he will absolutely take you out and about in town just to A) show you off and B) take you on shopping trips. he 100% has a black card. ANYTHING YOU WANT, YOU GET! that sweater is $1500? sure, get one in every color. you like the glass elephant that is made purely of crystal? it can be a decorative piece on the dining table

despite how spoiled you are, you are not free from being punished. you don’t get punished as much anymore, but at the beginning of your relationship, you defied him, hoping that you could get away (either running away or by death, you didn’t care at that point). ren has been through his fair share of punishments, he’s told you such; he knows how to leave a memorable punishment to help you understand. he’s also not above bringing out the shock collar in case the punishments aren’t enough

but after every punishment, he always cleans you up and cuddles with you, stroking your hair as you cry into his chest. depending on how far in the relationship it is, he can feel bad for punishing you but he knows that it’s to help you behave and understand

before you’re trusted to be left alone in the apartments, he’ll bring you with him to the bunker when he’s streaming. the first time you realized where you were, you almost threw up from the pure panic that spread through you. ren cupped your face and kissed you to help calm you down, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t find how absolutely terrified you were adorable. while he’s streaming you are left in the hands of rhino and kangaroo, who you have come to enjoy and consider friends (or at least as close to friends as you can get in your now abnormal life)

ren once considered getting you a pet to keep you company when you’re alone but he quickly discarded the idea due to how jealous he would be. you are his and your full attention should be on him. he might consider something super low maintenance like a goldfish (you would have to beg him for it though because he would still be jealous what a loser)

i personally think that ren would want a family. its not an intense urge he has, not something he thinks about 24/7, but he thinks about it every so often and how nice it would be (he’s also not getting any younger). ren is very fucked up (from both trauma and who he is as a person now) and it might not happen, but he still thinks about it, especially with you. its very cheesy of him to say, but he knows you’re the one. when he’s really going through it and feeling down, he wonders if what you have is real, if you truly love him or if it’s all for show to just survive (you always tell him that if it was just for show you wouldn’t be so willing to be around him and probably would have killed yourself early on babe your stockholm syndrome is showing)

nsfw (under the cut)

cliché but ren likes to bite during sex. he gets rather caught up in the moment and tasting you really gets him going

his heats can be pretty intense. his more clingy side comes out when he’s in heat and he will not leave you alone. from the moment you wake up until you fall asleep for the night (if you sleep during his heat), he has you in different positions and his dick is always inside you. even if you have to get up for something, he is following you, basically piggybacking you with how close he is

while you probably don’t appear in streams anymore, ren will occasionally film you two fucking. he teases you by telling you that you’re live and everyone is watching or that he’ll upload it for his fans later (a lie, you’re for his eyes only now but he does love how flush you get and how you beg him to turn the camera off)

this is already canon but ren loves seeing you in cute, frilly lingerie. there is nothing he loves more than to buy you an expensive lingerie set and have you show it off to him, only for him to rip it off of you within seconds. if he really likes the piece he’ll fuck you in the lingerie and will have you wear it again

phone sex while he’s away. every night he’ll call you just to listen to you get yourself off while he talks you through it. he’s fisting his cock during it as well, but he loves guiding you through it more. he has to make sure you don’t miss him too much. sometimes he’ll cut the call short and will wait for the spam of calls and texts from you as you beg him to call you again so you can cum. if you don’t get to call, he’ll demand you send pictures/videos. anything will do: shirtless pics, videos of you fingering yourself. he keeps everything you send him in a special folder on his phone that he turns to when he needs a quick dose of you

loves teasing you in public. fancy restaurant on the nice end of town? ren has his hand in your pants while the two of you talk over a split dessert (well, he’s talking. you’re trying to not moan out loud in the middle of the restaurant). is not afraid to drag you into an alley and push you to your knees, cock springing out as he tells you to open your mouth. he’s not worried about anyone seeing but if they do he’ll either throw a smirk their way if you’re hidden from their sight or, if you’re not hidden, he’ll remember what they look like and will seek them out later for a ‘friendly chat’ (you are for his eyes only)

BREEDING KINK!!! following my whole ‘ren wants a family’ thing, he def has a breeding kink. even if his intention isn’t to knock you up, he talks like it is. talks about cumming inside you and how good you would look all round and full of his pups. you moan at his words, too drunk on his cock to reply or think about what he’s saying. you’d ask him to cum inside you, begging him to fill you with his cum. he’s also definitely the type to push his cum back into you as it leaks out. (for my ladies: he’ll definitely put a pillow beneath your hips to help the chances if he’s feeling spicy)

#anon ask #i have many thought and opinions (and thots) about tpof ren he is so BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK #god i hope i didnt write him too uwu i try to do the btd/tpof characters justice but ya know #the price of flesh #ren hana #tpof fox #ren hana x reader #smut

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fenxshiral · 2 months ago

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Yeah, I'm trying to give this game a fair shot, but so far I'm not impressed. So far, the game in a vacuum isn't bad. The problem is that *by bioware standards* this is bad. Not gonna spoil anything, btw.

Dialogue is very… not good. It feels stilted, forced. Like dialogue written by a DM who’s new to DnD, or a college creative writing student writing a story they don't care about. This does not feel like dialogue written by Bioware, it feels like dialogue written by a new studio stocked with inexperience writers, or by a studio that’s never made a story driven game before. I wouldn’t necessarily classify the writing as *bad* so much as it’s amateurish. I know that most of the writing team is completely new for Veilguard, as most of the old guard has left or been let go from Bioware - but unfortunately it really shows. While I had my problems with DA2 and Inquisition, dialogue in the previous three games was tight and flowed naturally. It felt like dialogue written by seasoned pros who really knew how to make characters feel natural. This feels off in the way that only rushed or amateur writing can feel off. And it’s not an issue with voice acting - even though that isn’t the greatest either in some parts (but that’s another discussion) - it’s very much an issue with the quality of the writing. People accept things they shouldn’t, they question things they shouldn’t. This is dialogue written by people who don’t take the time (or don’t care) to think about how characters will think, feel or react. It’s dialogue written for the purpose of getting from point A to point B rather than to actually engage with the story and the world. Again, not necessarily *bad* but it’s certainly not good. Maybe this is early game woes and the story struggles to get off the ground. I’ll revisit this later if the dialogue quality changes or stays the same.

Character introductions are very lazy. So far every single character introduction has been the character popping out of nowhere to destroy something or to just Be there. It’s very lazy writing and I expect better of a studio with the pedigree of Bioware. I would accept this quality of writing from a new studio, but not a studio like Bioware that has shown they can do *much* better. It’s also very rushed. I don’t get to explore an area before the game goes “HERES A NEW CHARACTER WE WON’T DESCRIBE ENOUGH ABOUT FOR YOU TO CARE ABOUT THEM OKAY BYE.” So far the game has been cutscene simulator that has combat and dialogue tacked onto it. And not in a good way.

This is the quality of writing I’d expect from a Bethesda game, not a Bioware game. Again, not bad in a vacuum, but by Bioware standards, this quality of writing is atrocious. And to be completely honest - after the absolute dumpster fires that were Anthem and Andomeda, they really can't afford to release a game with 10+ years of hype behind it and have it be anything less than spectacular.

I really hope this game gets better in quality. Because so far, it's worse than inquisition in many respects and while Inquisition was better than DA2 it was still inferior to Origins in many ways.

I desperately want to give this game a fair shake because I've been enamored with this series ever since I first played Origins back in 2009. So we'll see.

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard

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katiascraft · 23 days ago

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✐ᝰ "You knew all too well i was right where you left me" | CL16 ࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊

parings: retired!charles leclerc x writer!ex!reader

series summary: It’s the story of a woman frozen in the moment her world fell apart. A perfect dinner ended with, “I met someone else,” and while everyone moved on, she remained stuck in that instant, unable to let go of the past. A poignant tale of heartbreak, grief, and the weight of being trapped in a “forever” that never was.

🔎 chapter one: “love is short but forgetting is so long”

🔎 chapter two: “did the love affair mail you too?”

🔎 chapter three: “you kept me like a secret but I kept you like an oath”

chapter four: “help, I’m still at the restaurant” -> chapter five

‼️ best friends in this chapter: nikola (nik) , dorothy (dottie) and beatrice (betty). They all know each other from Oxford University where the four of them studied creative writing.

word count: +5,1k.

BLOG MASTERLIST - series masterlist

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yourusername uploaded a story

view story replies

agostinabff: hope you have a lovely week off mon amour!! You deserve it. We love you 💘

↳ yourusername: thank u for being the best part of my life 💌

y/nstan: omg GIRL we are the same person wtf 😭

user4: who is he and where can i find him to KILL HIM?????

nikolabff: is my air bnb recommendation good enough ????? (That looks disgusting, uber eats exists darling)

nikolabff: can't wait for tomorrow!! London should be scared of us 😈

nikolabff: did dorothy call you? She isn't answering my calls

↳ yourusername: babes!!!! Aaaaaa i'm so excited. I just ended call with dottie. She arrived safe and well, i missed you guys so much 😭 did betty text you?

↳ nikolabff: tbh she didn't but you know how she is. can't wait to see you all tomorrow!!

arthurleclerc: hey y/n i know this may be weird but just wanted to say, i read your book and it is amazing! my brother was an idiot you know? you are an amazimg person im sure you'll find someone who loves you deeply (if you didn't already. maybe you did) okay, i don't bother you any longer. hope we can meet again someday!

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ a week ago 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

“There'll be happiness after you, but there was happiness because of you. Both of these things can be true. There is happiness, past the blood and bruise, past the curses and cries. Beyond the terror in the nightfall haunted by the look in my eyes that would've loved you for a lifetime and leave it all behind. Tell me, when did your winning smile begin to look like a smirk? When did all our lessons start to look like weapons pointed at my deepest hurt? I hope she'll be a beautiful fool who takes my spot next to you. No, I didn't mean that. Sorry, I can't see facts through all of my fury. You haven't met the new me yet” you read that piece out loud from your personal journal to your therapist. She stayed silent for a while. You looked over at her knowing you skipped some parts but what you read in the end sank in.

“I think there’s a lot to discuss from just that single piece you wrote. But I wanna ask you something before anything else: do you really believe there will be happiness after him?” your therapist made you a question that felt like daggers pinching you that resulted in leaving you breathless for a few seconds. you loved and hated therapy for this reason. There were things you couldn’t question by yourself because you never thought about it and things you didn’t know how to answer like this one.

“I wish I could say yes. But i don't think i’ve been happy since he left” saying that out loud hurt yourself even more. It was not something easy to admit and accept. But it was the truth. You have never felt really happy since then.

She nodded, writing down in her notebook “but do you believe you can be happy without him? Why is he still so important or has so much space in your life that you can't be happy if he isn’t there? Why were you happy when he was with you?” as always, too many questions with so few answers. You felt exhausted, frustrated by the fact you didn't know what to think about it all.

“I'm sure I want to be happy, I can't live like this anymore. I'm tired” you assured her and yourself. You took a few seconds to think and she respected that. “I guess if I want to then I can, right? I mean, I talk to my friends and all of them tell me time and time again ‘don't let what happened define you’ and I try but I don't know why it is really hard for me” you explained looking at the floor.

“And what’s that definition of yourself?”

“That i'm not worthy of love i guess. that there will always be someone better than me, more attractive, more lovable, more interesting. I can't be the one, for anyone” admitting it felt like an elephant stepped on you and you just died in the act. Your therapist, Maria, nodded looking at you.

“Well, but in what you wrote you tell this woman he left you for, that you hope she is a fool like you, right?” she intervened. You nodded. “What can you tell me about it?”

You looked at your hands a bit sweaty. “I really don’t know. I mean her existence made me compare myself to her. She is so different. It made me feel all of those things I said before. And maybe i blamed her existence because if she didn't existed then, charles would still be here”

“You think so?”

“I guess, yeah” you looked at her. She wrote down more stuff on that notebook you were so intrigued by.

“So, for you, there doesn't exist the possibility that maybe he just stopped loving you? Like even if she existed or not - could be any other woman or could be no one at all. Would it hurt more if he just stopped loving you?” you felt your brain make a 180 turn on itself.

“I don’t know. Maybe, yeah, I mean. I Think it’s easier to blame someone then not have an explanation for it” your therapist nodded.

“So, why would she occupy your same place then? If you are different from each other, why would she be just like you? As a replacement it seems and at the same time who’s at fault for all of this situation and insecurities. And before you answer, I think we can connect that to what happened between your dad and mom, right?” she saw your face so confused she knew this was gonna be the end of the session so you could think about it during the next two weeks. “You told me you discovered your dad cheated on your mom. So all you ever dreamed was to find someone who would be better than him, to prove yourself that that isn’t your destiny, just like your mom. And then Charles left you for this other girl. And everything you built up in your mind to try to believe in love and to escape from the reality you had to live through, then it crumbled down in that instant. Leaving you feeling like there was no way you could be worthy of love, because you tried but Charles did exactly what your dad did to your mother. And since then you couldn’t date anyone else. This is a theory, I'm not saying it is what it is of course. But it seems that if they didn't exist then you wouldn’t be this hurt and maybe forgive charles,as you said when you wrote ‘and leave it all behind’ just like your mom did with your dad”

Her words echoed in your head for a while. The knot in your throat intensified. “Charles was my everything just like my parents were. And after what happened, with Charles and my dad, I guess I let that define me. I wanted to show myself that the love i’ve seen in books and movies existed, not like in my house. I wanted to make things right. In a way, to mend what hurt me the most. The betrayal of my dad. So I put Charles under that pressure and maybe that made things the way they went down. I don’t know to be honest. I don’t know why I want alexandra to be like me. Maybe that’s another way of convincing myself I'm not the only fool in this mess.”

“I don’t think you are a fool. Relationships are complicated and the reason he decided to leave could be based on a million reasons, and even in that situation. Maybe any of them are because of you or who you are as a person. People are complex and most times messy. Feelings aren’t easy to control or understand” she explained to you. “So, coming back to this new encounter you had with him, how did you feel about it?”

“It felt weird, very uncomfortable to be around him. But at the same time a force drove me closer to him. I wanted to be closer. Ask him everything and at the same time punch him. He felt the same to be honest. Just like the previous day he left, when everything was alright.” you pulled a face you didn't know how to describe at that moment.

“And you felt the same?”

“No i think, i didn’t” she nodded and half smiled at my answer.

“Then, what’s the new you he didn’t meet?”

“Who i am now i guess”

“And who are you?” her question made you realize you didn’t know how to answer that question yet. You knew you were different, because you felt different although stuck dealing with the aftermath of that relationship. She noticed your silence (because she knew all too well you didn’t know how to answer it) and smiled gently.

“Alright, y/N. Let’s leave it here and continue next session, okay? See you in two weeks”

Who the fuck were you now?

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Mornings at your balcony were your favorite moment during the day. Your coffee was warm and comforting on a grey and windy day. You were covered in clothes and blankets. You needed that moment anyway. You wouldn’t let the winter win. You watched your neighbor cleaning his living room. He had his window opened so you could see a bit of what he was doing. However, you didn't see him very well because you didn't have your glasses on so it’s a bit blurry. You thought there was someone else with him. Probably a girl.but you weren’t that interested.the only thing you hated about your balcony was the fact that the view was partially blocked by that damn house up the hill.

After a while, you took your stuff and went into your house again. You felt warmer instantly. You left the blankets on the coach and washed up what you used to have for breakfast a few minutes ago. You had to pack as soon as possible. On saturday, you travel to london to see your college friends and also because your friend franco, another formula one driver you met by chance at a college party, it was his birthday party. You wanted that week to be a good one. Be a week you genuinely enjoy and just be happy.

But after everything that happened the last month around Charles, it was really difficult. Your therapist was a really good help of course. But you hated not knowing how to handle all of these feelings you didn’t understand and that paralyze you.

You only had one phrase in your head: ‘no one teaches you what to do when a good man hurts you’.

You couldn’t think of Charles as a bad man, or person or anything. Yes, he was stupid. And he destroyed your self esteem. And your trust. And yes, you still were kind of stuck in that restaurant. But you also had some kind of responsibility. And that also troubled you a lot.

Your self esteem shouldn’t be defined by anyone else but you. What do you think about yourself? Who are you? That was your fault. You didn’t know how that would affect destiny for him to leave you but well, it is what it is yet. You kind of thought that maybe it’s the price you had to pay for putting him in a role he didn't want to be in. maybe you were too much. Too intense. Too dependent. He only wanted someone to talk and have fun with. But you wanted a good husband at 18, and a good father, and the one who would take away your pain and fix your traumas.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one who hurt someone, but you also hurt him in some way.

Ten years in, and you still couldn’t explain what happened. What did you do or not do for him to stop loving you? Or perhaps you can actually stop loving someone but you didn't experience it yet.

You sighed, reaching your travelling suitcase from on top of your closet. You almost fell so you had to grab a chair from your kitchen. You loved travelling but packing was a nightmare (also, because you couldn’t decide which outfits were good so you had to take two suitcases and pay extra everytime. Not that you didn't have the money and it was a problem. But you knew it was an unnecessary spend).

That’s when you remembered how it was like to travel with charles. And you hated yourself for remembering his stupid laugh so cute it made your heart melt every time. Would he still laugh like that? Maybe it was best not to know it.

If you were younger and he came back, you’d probably forgive him and leave it all behind just to be happy with him. But now, you wanted to leave everything behind: him, his family, the memories, the feelings, the hurt. And maybe that is what changed.

That was the new you.

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Your laugh was so liberating. Your hair was free in the wind. He was driving through the Monaco coast. It was finally summer break and you decided to have a picnic at the beach. His hand on your tight. David Guetta on the radio. You were singing along without a care in the world.

Your fingers brushed his hand making him look at you through his sun glasses in a beautiful cute smile.

“You look gorgeous, cherie” you saw his lips pronounce those words in slow motion, feeling your every fiber get wild inside you. Your smile was so big and your cheeks pink. He could melt forever just to see you this happy. You wanted to freeze those moments with him and live in them forever.

“I love you, Charles,” you said so warmly and softly. It was your romance movie playing over and over again. That’s how you felt. But when he heard you say those words, his face turned serious. Almost pulled a face of disgust. For some reason you got so scared you wanted to jump out of the car to save your life.

You wanted to save your life.

He noticed you wanted to escape so he tightened his grip on you tightly, hurting you but he wasn’t letting you go away.

“Charles, let go of me” you said almost in a whisper. Your breath was fast. You needed to jump. You started fighting so he would let you go.

“Stop, cherie. We’re gonna have our happily ever after, isn’t that what you wanted?” he said, trying to drive and grab you at the same time. You started crying not knowing what to answer. The anxiety took over you.

“You said you loved me cherie, you can’t go now” he was crying and let go of the steering wheel. You got desperate seeing the car had no control and you were at the Monaco cliffs.

“Charles! CHARLES!” you screamed from the top of your lungs as you watched both of you exiting the driveway into nowhere. All the sea around you. Slow motion Charles looked at you with a huge smile.

“Happily ever after baby” he said and you looked horrorized. But when you were about to scream again as if that would change anything.

Everything went black.

You woke up drowning in cold sweat and tears. Your heart was beating too fast for your liking. The feeling you had in that moment of pure confusion was scared to death. For a moment you didn’t know if you were alive or dead. Your room was pitch black so it kinda felt like you died. But you were thinking and you thought there was no way you could think when dead, so you were alive.

After a few seconds of paralysis, you react and turn on your light from your bed table. You took a deep breath and scrubbed your face to wake yourself up. Your face was wet still from your tears. The moment you were conscious again you felt defeated. It was the third time in the night you were having this kind of nightmares, now three days in a row. You laid back again in bed for a moment.frustration was all over your face. You were so tired of living like this. Yet, you didn’t know how to stop. You grabbed your phone to see what time it was. It showed 5:46 am. You snarled, hating your brain more than anything in the world.

You got up from bed and went straight to the bathroom to wash your face. You knew all too well you couldn’t be able to fall asleep again nor you wanted to. It has been a terrible night already. So you let your brain win once again.

You went downstairs to your studio where it was warm. Sun isn't out yet, so here you’ll be warmer. If not, you probably would have chosen the balcony as always. Or the restaurant, although you haven't come back to it since the last encounter with charles. You just didn’t want to go back there ever again. Just like the time he left.

You sat on your chair at your desk. Eyes tired. You opened your journal. You didn’t remember writing so much like in the past week or so. But you had so many thoughts to write sometimes it got difficult for you to function properly. You just had to stay at home writing non-stop. Not only your upcoming book but your feelings. After the dream you had, a lot must be processed.

I know I'm probably better off on my own than loving a man who didn't know what he had. And I see the permanent damage he did to me.

Never again.

I just wish I could forget when it was magic.

But I also just wish you could’ve been a better man.

You sighed reading your words again on paper. You felt worried about yourself. Like, maybe you were broken and couldn’t ever be fixed. You were scared that you wouldn’t be able to fix yourself back up again. Or even thinking that maybe you were born broken so how could you fix yourself then? You were scared there was no way out of this pain, agony, self hatred, nightmare you have lived these past years… or your whole life. You dreamed about being in love again with someone so different from charles yet maybe who makes you feel the same high. Or maybe higher erasing every trace of him or memory of your dad. Now lines were blurry. You didn’t want to think about your dad, not only because he was gone and you couldn’t do anything about it, but because it felt weird linking him in some way to charles, but if your therapist said so, maybe you were more troubled than you thought.

Would there be a good guy? Do they even exist? You guessed you’ve never met one of them yet.

I hold onto this pride because, these days, it's all I have. And I gave you my best, and we both know you can't say the same.

Were you writing about him? Or about your dad?

You stared at the wall thinking about the answer that never came around.

Just like the both of them did when it came to you.

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

It was 10 am in the morning already. You didn’t sleep a bit. You’ve been in a zoom meeting since 8. Talks about the movie in the making were held. Casting started so they sent you a few ones they think are perfect for the roles so you have to watch them after the meeting. Also, they go through the aesthetic and changes they will make from the book, and that’s why this meeting has been so long. They needed to discuss everything with you to make sure you agreed. They wanted to be respectful with your work and you appreciate it very much. It made you feel important. In other news, they thought that taylor swift could make the soundtrack for the movie and you got very excited about it. You loved Taylor's songwriting and believed (and were almost sure) she would make the perfect song for the movie.

It was gonna be a long day ahead, full of work and watching hours of footage from castings. But it was for your dream. You still couldn’t believe you had your book be a movie in the making. It still feels surreal.

Then you remembered charles’ ex followed you and liked your posts. And you were mad at him again. You were sure (no doubts at all for real), she didn't know who you were. Because he kept you buried like you were sin.

A part of you wanted to believe he did it because he knew he fucked up and didn’t want people to judge him for his lack of sympathy towards his last lover. But at the same time you just found it cruel behavior with no reason at all to do that. You kinda felt dirty as if you were bad. Very bad. Banned from his life.

You shook your head, getting yourself back to the present time and starting working again. Your lack of rest doesn't help in getting distracted with thought every minute but you were doing the best you could. Plus, work helps you not to think about anything else. And that’s good.

You really needed a break from thinking.

⋆˚࿔ finally the london trip arrived 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

yourusername made a post

liked by nikolabff, beatricebff, francolapinto, landonorris and 678,435 others

yourusername: first few days back in london = first few days of happiness ❤️‍🩹

tagged: @nikolabff , @beatricebff , @dorothybff and @francolapinto

view more comments

user345: girl is happy we are happy

user3: omg such QUEENS

↳ francolapinto: i guess ur not talking about me

↳ user3: oh im so talking about you too

↳ francolapinto: 🤨

nikolebff: the girls girled

dorothybff: happy looks very hot on you darling 🫦

beatricebff: can you kiss already??????

↳ yourusername: no ❤️

nikolabff: gossip so good bro was giggling and kicking his feet

↳ francolapinto: it was indeed

↳ alexalbon: better bring that gossip to the paddok asap

↳ yourusername: it's CONFIDENTIAL

↳ alexalbon: booooooo ur so boring

↳ oscarpiastri: i wanna be part of this group please

↳ nikolabff: yes you can sir

↳ francolapinto: i thought no one else was allowed

↳ nikolabff: stfu 🩷

User231: i love this crossover of y/n and formula 1 drivers. I would've never expected it tbh

↳ franstan: same!!! I love it!! Didn't know she was friends with franco

↳ user354: i think they met a few years ago, y/n was asked about it on insta questions and she said they met randomly at a college party

↳ franstan: interesting

User1: girl!!! You look so good omg

francolapinto: te amo amiga so happy to see you happy ❤️‍🩹

↳ yourusername: te amo tambien ❤️‍🩹

↳ user778: EXCUSE YOU ???????

↳ franstan7: OMG OMG OMG

user4: WHAT IS HAPPENING ?

user324: so no one is gonna talk about lando world champion fucking norris being on the likes ????? 🤨🤨🤨🤨

↳ landostan: that was what i was thinking

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ finally the london trip arrived 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Laughter was all over the place as well as a lot of bottles of alcohol with names you haven’t seen in your life. It was finally Saturday night, which meant it was Franco's birthday celebration. And because it was his birthday of course all the decorations were argentina flags everywhere and boca junior club t-shirts for everyone, including you. As you got to his house you were given one at the door to wear it. Fortunately, for you it didn’t ruin your outfit and I could say it looked great on you. Or well, that’s what franco said to you while preparing you a drink you haven’t ever tried before. He said it was called fernet with coke. You were already a bit drunk because you were drinking vodka with the girls while getting ready. You didn’t like vodka that much but after everything that happened in your life, you kinda felt the urge to drown in vodka or tequila. Mi gente latino music was playing non-stop. You knew Franco loved duki and bizarrap, and they were actually at the party. You couldn’t talk to them yet. So everything was a bit crazy even if you weren’t that many people. He was just a close friend to franco. So i guess it was like 60 people. Way too many people to be honest but for a famous 2 times world champion it was really a small amount of people so it was super intimate.

“There you go, hermosa” he said, handing you the glass full of black liquid. You looked at it a bit worried in a funny way and grabbed it. He let out a cute laugh. “Try it, you’re gonna like it, i promise” he encouraged you. He couldn’t resist the view of you with that boca juniors on. Probably, the combination of you and that was his heaven made on earth. He was really down for you, since it felt like forever. Probably since that night at that party back 6 years ago or so. You always have a different light that anyone can match. and that’s what he liked most about you along with your authenticity. You were so unique to him. He looked at you biting his lip a little trying not to be so obvious.

You tried the drink looking into his eyes. You were really close but you felt really comfortable. Your friends have left you alone with him the minute he came forward to you, of course. They really believed you could work out with him. And after vodka and long talks about it with them, maybe you would give it a try. But it scared you, you didn’t want to use him as a friend. So it was a risky situation in your opinion. Although, you could see he liked you for a long time now. And you found him funny and really attractive in your opinion. You give it a few more sips to taste it fully. “Oh I think I like it,” you said, giving him a funny smile.

“I told you. I’m the best fernet preparer in this whole country… and also, I did it with love just for you” he said, making you laugh and blush after the last sentence he said.

“I’m sure it’s the love you put in it” you gave it another sip looking at him. His face turned red and let out such a cute giggle. Alcohol was making you melt for your best friend? We guess so.

He got closer grabbing your waist and planted a sweet kiss on your cheek making you nervous as you never felt for a long time. However, it felt weird. Maybe as if this shouldn’t be happening.

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Franco’s house was enormous. The party was being held at the gallery near his garden. It was cold but the lights and the people stuck to each other made it warmer. You were with your girls again dancing to bad bunny and los del espacio songs. You didn’t understand a word because Spanish was definitely not your talent. You tried to learn because of Franco, and he tried to teach you, but failed every time. You did learn a few words anyway but speaking fluidly was something you won’t ever do. Or that’s what you thought about it. It was your third fernet. You didn’t know it was so good. Also it could make you so drunk. And you were way too drunk by now but you never felt so happy. You were laughing about anything and everything. Dancing without a care in the world. Enjoying being surrounded by your friends. Charles wasn’t on your mind nor any trace of him or his family or the history behind you two. Memories have faded away, washed by the alcohol in your veins. You didn’t remember having so much fun since forever. Your girls were right. Life was so much more than Charles, you were so much more than what you were with him. And all of this you have it because of you and you alone. In that moment you felt liberated. Free from the curse it was put on you. Free of judgment. Free of insecurities. Until you saw that damn mullet and when it turned around you felt kind of speechless. Your eyes locked in that man you didn’t know but he was so hypnotic. You couldn’t stop looking at him.

“Girl! Close your mouth, you're drooling! Is it for franco, huh?” Nikola joked when she saw you like that, making you laugh while shaking your head.

“No it isn’t girls, is that guy over there i don’t know who he is but he is so beautiful” you said pointing your finger in his direction unconsciously. Because when you looked at him again he was looking at you straight in the eyes. You almost freaked out and ran away from there. His fucking smile. What the hell is happening to you? Your friends looked over at him as well with no simulation at all. The four of you were pretty obvious. And that’s when another guy turned around to see where his mate was looking over with that face. Nikola almost fell to the floor.

She turned around freaked out, making all of you stop looking at them so weird. Alcohol makes you behave so embarrassing for your liking.

“Holy shit girls, it’s oscar fucking piastri and lando norris” her eyes were leaving her face for a bit. You grabbed her arms still confused. You didn’t know them but you heard nik talking about that oscar a few times. Betty and Dottie looked over at them again but they were gone.

“Okay they are gone nik” dottie said. Betty took a sip from her drink. You wanted to say something but you felt someone grab your waist from behind and kiss your head.

“Hello ladies” of course it had to be franco. You smiled nervously looking at your friends. One of your hands placed over Franco's arms not wanting him to let go. You liked it. Or that’s what you drowned in alcohol though about it.

“Hello mister, i guess we will grab more drinks at the bar, goodbye bye byeee” Betty said, taking her two girls with her leaving you alone with franco. You laughed and resigned. Nik gave franco a warning sign ‘im watching you’ making franco laugh too. And they disappeared through the people dancing and talking.

He kissed your cheek letting you go a bit so you could turn around to face him. “Hey handsome, where have you been? Are you having fun?” you said surrounding his neck with your arms and he did the same around your waist. He nodded in a smile.

“Now that I'm back with you, I'm really having fun,” he said cheeky.

“Oh shut up” you said rolling your eyes funny because of his flirty side.

“Hey, I'm telling the truth. I was with my school friends though ,they came from home” he told you and made you smile while stroking the curls on his head gently. Your fingers in his hair sent shivers down his spine. He couldn’t stop looking at your lips and you noticed. But you liked it so you let him.

“I’m happy you’re enjoying your night fran. You deserve all of this love, world champion” you said sweetly looking at his eyes so shiny and deep green right now. Your words made him melt.

And there were you, the girl who can win over the man known for being the most professional at flirting. You always win with him. He is so down bad for you he felt stupid. You were so beautiful in his eyes. So amazing. He hated Charles so much. He even celebrated when he retired. They couldn't even pretend to like each other and actually it was one of the most famous feuds between drivers in the history of the sport. Franco just couldn’t comment anything positive about charles. Even if he tried he just couldn’t. The most infamous moment was when Charles won his first championship and he was asked about it. He said he didn’t want to comment about it because he had nothing to comment about. So franco started to be known as the guy who was nice to everyone except for charles leclerc. And it was hilarious to see because no one knew why. And the why was always you.

Franco wanted to have you and couldn’t. Charles had left you alone and destroyed another woman. How could he? Franco took that as an insult. You were an amazing woman. The most amazing woman he has ever met and that asshole did that to you. He just couldn’t stand him. Breathing the same air as Charles was unbearable for him.

All of these thoughts rambling around and neither of you didn’t realize you were kissing already. Your lips melting into each other in the sweetest and softest kiss you have ever had. Even better than any kiss Charles could have given you before. You hated yourself for comparing every guy in your life with Charles, but you couldn’t help it. But this felt different. It was sweet but at the same time it felt so wrong.

But you couldn’t stop.

And you didn’t want to.

⋆˚࿔ TO BE CONTINUED 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

chapter fiver: here.

author's note: things are getting complicated around here!!!

tag list: : @a-beaverhausen , @priniya , @annaluna12 , @thehoplessromanticclub , @emryb , @hadids-world , @kaztheemyth , @freyathehuntress , @diorbrxtz , @theseerbetweenus , @sie17136 , @leila-030304 , @charlesgirl16 , @ricciardosheart , @weekendlusting

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moody-alcoholic · 3 months ago

Text

These Violent Delights

Chapter 9 - Nothing Stays the Same

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 8.2k words. Why can things never stay the same, the omega just wants to be happy.

CW: a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes (scenting), use of weapons, Non-consensual drugging, blood, descriptions of wounds, horrible military inaccuracies, angst, nightmares, memory blackouts, gaslighting.

AN: This story arc is definitely one of the most fun I have ever written. Chapter's might come out a little quicker since I'm having so much fun writing. (No promises check HERE for updates)

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

You wake before the sun is up. You would have to get used to early mornings again after you spent the last week getting as much rest as possible. The sun is just peeking through the clouds as you finish dressing and tiptoe through the barracks. As soon as you make it outside you take in a deep breath of pine filled air as you cross the green over to the lab. As you expected, Dr. Miller is the only one here this early. His head pops up from the desk as soon as you walk in.

“Good morning.” He smiles as you walk over to him.

“Good morning.” You smile at him sitting down on a stool next to him as he types something on a laptop.

“What are we doing today?” you ask, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“Nothing too serious. Drink this,” he says, handing you a plastic cup filled with what looks like water.

“What is it?” you ask. He looks up at you quickly, you can smell his alpha now.

“If I tell you it could change the results. I’ll tell you after you’ve drunk it.” He smiles. You smile at him, swallowing your nerves. You bring it to your lips and drink it down as he watches you. It doesn’t taste of anything. Maybe it’s just water. You think you can taste salt but maybe that’s just your mind trying too hard. You put the empty cup down on the table. He smiles again, turning back to the laptop.

“So John is your alpha now?” he asks. Your mouth suddenly goes dry.

“Yeah,” you say, smacking your lips together.

“What about Professor Hale?”

You’re hit with a wave of dizziness. Your hand flies to the back of your neck. You cough, looking at Dr. Miller. He turns looking at you. Your body feels heavy. Adrenaline kicks in and you stand up off the stool.

What’s happening?

He gets up off his stool too as your vision goes blurry. Your body collapses to the ground.

“It’s a mild sedative, you won’t remember any of this,” he says as he bends down in front of you, his words echoing in your ears.

“It didn’t have to be like this,” he sighs. Then everything goes black.

You jump awake. You’re laid in the bed in the exam room. Your head is spinning, and you don’t remember what happened. There’s a pain at the back of your neck. Your hand goes to feel the familiar indent of John’s mark. You’re alone, the pale yellow walls being lit up with shades of red.

What happened?

You came here to see Dr. Miller.

What happened?

You get up making your way to the door. When it opens and you head to the stairs. You can only smell alpha in the air. It has to be Dr. Miller. You grip the banister as you walk down the steps. You can see the top of his head as you reach the bottom and he turns to look at you.

“Hey, you’re awake,” he calls, smiling at you. “I went to take some blood and you passed out.”

You look at him, confused, as you make it to the bottom.

“I’ve never seen you drop so fast. Have you been eating properly?” he asks as he comes over to you. You try to remember the last meal you had.

“Pork something,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck.

“The canteen hasn't had the nicest food lately,” he says smiling. You look up at him. He was taking your blood and you passed out. He's looking at you with a concerned look on his face.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You can lay down for a few more minutes if you want?”

You shake your head. You need to get back to the barracks before anyone notices you’re gone.

“Take it easy,” he calls after you as you leave the lab. Your hand drops from your neck as you see the sun rising over the top of the trees. You take in a deep breath, and the cool morning air fills your lungs. You can smell the pine, the wet ground. Your head feels fuzzy.

What the hell happened?

Dr. Piper wakes you up by shaking your shoulder. She's smiling at you as you blink awake.

“It’s almost noon, thought you might want to eat.”

You nod, swinging your legs out the bed.

“What’s that?” you ask, looking at a pile of something on your desk. Dr. Piper looks around.

“Simon got you some books. He and John managed to pull some strings so you would have something to do while they’re away.”

“While they’re away?” you ask standing up.

“Yes, I’ll let John explain,” she says, leading you out of the room. You make it into the common room. John is sitting at the table but you can’t see anyone else.

“‘Afternoon,” he says, smiling as you sit next to him at the table.

“Tea?” Dr. Piper asks. You shake your head, and John already has a mug in his hands. You both look up at her and she seems to take that as her cue to leave. John puts his hand on your thigh under the table as he waits until the door closes and he’s sure the doctor is gone before talking.

“We have to go away. For a mission. It shouldn’t take us long, a few days at the most,” he says. You look up at him.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” he says

“You’re a soldier,” you say, swallowing away the lump in your throat.

“Yeah, but it’s better if you don’t know.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” You feel sick again. The thought of John or anyone in your pack getting hurt makes a knot form in your stomach. You want John to say something. You want him to tell you it’s all going to be okay. He doesn’t say anything though, and it feels like the seconds are dragging on.

“We may be soldiers but we’re special forces. Counter-terrorism. We stop the worst of the worst people,” he says. You look up at him waiting for him to continue. You remember what Dr. Miller said that one time: ‘They will kill for you, they have killed for you.’

“You kill the bad guys,” you say, forcing a smile.

“Exactly, you don’t need to worry. We’re experts,” he says.

“How long will you be gone for?”

“A few days. 2 at the most.”

“Let me guess, you can’t tell me where,” you say, smiling, trying to lighten the mood. You want him to know you’re okay with this. It’s just a part of their life you need to accept.

“California. That’s all I can tell you,” he says, and you smile. You get the feeling he wasn’t supposed to tell you even that. Who would you tell though, Dr. Piper? She probably already knows. Dr. Miller? What’s he going to do?

“Bring me a souvenir?” You smile at him, trying to keep the mood light. He smiles.

“Thank you for the books,” you say. He squeezes your thigh.

“It was Simon who suggested it actually, made the boys take a trip to a charity shop. I’m sorry if you’ve read some of them already.

“It’s fine honestly, thank you.” You’re grateful for something to do other than watching TV.

“When we come back would you be interested in helping with some more training?” he asks. You nod. You like being helpful, especially if you can help them. His hand leaves your leg, and he gets up.

“Lunch?” he asks. You nod, following him out.

Ghost walks towards the top of the hill backing up on the house they were due to raid. Soap was by his side. Price and Gaz were on the other side of the building with SWAT.

“Hill’s a pain in the ass,” Soap pants as they make it to the overview point.

“You need to workout more,” Ghost sighs, getting into position laying down and setting up his sniper. Soap lays next to him pulling out some binoculars.

“Nice house, could you imagine something like that LT?”

Ghost sighs looking down at the massive house with the immaculately mowed garden. There’s a pool and gazebo. Why have a pool when you live less than a kilometer from the beach.

“Bravo-2 in position,” Ghost says over the radio, ignoring Soap’s comments.

“A mansion with a pool, a nice big lawn, surrounded by greenery,” Soap says. The light is low in the sky. It’s still early morning. The best time to catch this guy.

“Get in position, Soap,” he says without looking over at him. He hears Soap sigh shuffling down the hill to drop behind the wall surrounding the garden. Ghost’s watching the house for signs of life. His job is to watch their backs to make sure there are no surprises.

“Bravo-1 in position. Any movement?” Price’s voice comes in Ghost’s ear. He looks through his scope checking the windows again.

“Negative,” he responds as he sees Soap jump the wall.

“Remember boys, as soon as the place is clear we’ll send in the locals,” Laswell’s voice states over the comms. They didn’t need to be here for this. Ghost and Price knew that. This could have easily been done by the local constabulary. Or even Shadow Company. Shepherd is doing this on purpose to get them off the base.

It felt wrong leaving the omega alone with the threat of Professor Hale hanging over them. Price had spoken with Dr. Montgomery though. She wasn’t a soldier but she was willing to protect the omega with her life and that’s all they needed. The sound of dogs barking pulls Ghost’s attention to the backdoor.

“Shite, no one said anything about a dog,” Soap says, moving away from the back door. There are lights coming on in the house now.

“Got movement, upstairs,” Ghost relays. Shit, they’ve been caught.

“Watcher, call in the troops we’re going in hot,” Price says as Ghost starts to put his rifle away. “Ghost, Soap, take the back door.”

Ghost’s not even paying attention as he puts the rifle down, sliding down the hill and jumping the wall to meet with Soap. The dogs are barking again as downstairs lights are being turned on.

“Bravo-2, we’ve got movement here.”

“Remember, there are civilians inside with the mark,” Price says.

“The mark is a male, 40, is to be considered armed and dangerous,” Laswell says.

“Copy,” Ghost replies as he stacks up on the door with Soap. Price starts a countdown as Ghost can hear the man inside trying to wrangle the dogs. The countdown stops and on zero Soap kicks the door in.

Everything happens fast: there’s shouting, banging, voices of people from different parts of the house. Soap has a man in the kitchen on his stomach, hands behind his back in zipties. As Ghost makes it through the massive kitchen and dining room to a door, he spies Price and the rest of the officers fanning out. Soap comes up beside him.

“Where do you reckon the dogs are?” he asks as Ghost scans the adjoining room.

“Garage by the sound of it,” he replies. That's good that they’re out of the way for now.

“We’ve got one civilian in the kitchen,” Soap relays over the radio. There's a steady stream of information coming through the radio now. Price and Gaz finish securing the ground floor before meeting with Ghost and Soap in the living room. Police and SWAT were moving around the house securing the civilians. No sign of their main man though.

“LT wanna clear the garage?” Soap shouts. Ghost turns to nod at him. He walks back through the kitchen and SWAT are talking to the man Soap tied up earlier. Ghost gets a good look at him as he passes, following Soap to a door. Definitely not the mark, too young, not tall enough.

Soap stacks up on one side of the door while Ghost takes the other, moving his weapon to fit more comfortably in his hands.

“I hate shooting dogs,” Soap says.

“Don’t. I'll do it then,” Ghost says.

“You’re a cold bastard sometimes you know,” Soap says, tipping his head. Ghost rolls his eyes pressing down on the door handle as he pushes it open. He scans with his weapon and there are 2 cars in the massive garage. He walks in with Soap behind him, there very well could be someone in here.

They still haven't found the mark and there are no signs of the dogs. Ghost and Soap split, with Ghost walking behind the cars and Soap walking in front of them. They walk in sync, slow as they scan each corner.

It’s when they’re standing between the cars that someone springs out. Ghost doesn’t have much time to determine if it’s a threat or not. He sees the weapon in his hands. Soap is shouting at him over the hood of the car. Shots ring out, and the man drops.

“Contact, garage,” Ghost shouts as he hears people rushing in. He looks over at Soap. He can smell the blood in the air, he can smell pain.

“Johnny!” Simon calls for his attention as they walk round to check the body. Ghost watches him looking for where Soap is injured. There’s the body of the man, blood pooling from his head.

“Watcher, target eliminated,” Ghost says as he watches Soap lower his weapon, his hand pressing on his shoulder. Now he can see the blood.

“Good job boys, sending exfil, we’ll leave the clean up to the locals,” Laswell says in his ear.

“Ghost what’s the sitrep?” Price asks.

“Mark down, Soap’s hit,” Ghost says, letting his weapon swing down going over to him.

“I’m good LT, it’s just a scratch.”

“Yeah, I’ll be the judge of that,” Ghost says, half dragging him out of the garage and back into the building. He pushes him down on the first available seat. Soap is still protesting when Gaz comes round the corner.

“What’d ya do Soap?” he asks as Ghost pulls his sleeve up. He’s been shot through the shoulder.

“How do you feel?” Ghost asks.

“I’m fine LT, don’t need you fussing,” Soap says as he looks up at Ghost. A shoulder shot could take him out the field for weeks. Ghost starts pressing bandages into the wound as Soap winces.

“Holy shit,” Gaz says looking at the back of his shoulder where the exit wound should be. “It was through and through right?” Gaz looks up at Ghost who looks confused, he moves to see what Gaz is looking at. It’s definitely through and through but the bleeding has stopped. The exit wounds indicate the bullet shattered but the smaller wounds are healing up before their very eyes. Ghost takes the bandage off the entrance wound. It’s stopped bleeding already.

“What is it?” Soap asks, trying to look, but Ghost grabs his arms, keeping him in place.

“It’s healing already,” Gaz says.

“How do you feel?” Ghost asks him. Soap stands up moving his shoulder.

“Fine, we’re super soldiers, remember,” Soap says playfully, nudging Ghost. Price walks round the corner taking the scene in for a second.

“You solid?” he asks Soap who nods at him. “Gaz, Soap go help SWAT out front. Try not to piss them off before exfil gets here.” He sighs watching Soap pull the skin around his wound.

“Don’t play with it, it’ll get infected,” Gaz says, swatting his hand away and placing a bandage over it.

“We’re fucking super soldiers mate, a little infection isn’t going to slow me,” Soap says. Ghost shakes his head. He must still have adrenaline running through his system. Price looks up at Ghost moving so Gaz and Soap can leave. Price nods him back to the garage which has been opened out to the garden now. He can see officers and SWAT doing their thing, a tent has been set up with a table and a laptop. Vans are being driven into the driveway.

Price walks down the steps to look over at the body while Ghost follows him, but something catches his eyes and before he reaches Price, he picks up a piece of paper. His stomach sinks. Now that Soap is not in the room, he can smell the familiar smell of blood and death. There’s something else there too. Beta.

“Look at this,” Ghost says, taking a step and handing the paper to Price. He reads the same thing Ghost read a few seconds earlier.

“Omega initiative. Shit.” He looks back at the body, they both do. Ghost killed him. He had a weapon in his hand, and he shot Soap.

“Whoever doesn’t go back to work for Hale has a death sentence,” Ghost says as a matter of fact putting the pieces together.

“Not necessarily, our orders were to take him alive,” Price corrects him. “Back to Graves.”

“Back to Hale,” Ghost says. Price sighs, turning to him he folds the paper up putting it in one of his vest pockets.

“Seems like Hale’s doing a bit of a recruitment drive.”

“What are you reading?” Dr. Miller asks as you sit on the stool reading the last few pages of the chapter.

“Moby-Dick.” You show him the cover, smiling.

“Here, smell this one,” he says, pressing a q-tip under your nose. You wince at the strong smell.

“Smells like chemicals,” you say, turning the page. He sighs writing something down.

“Try this one,” he says with a new q-tip and a new smell. You breathe it in. It’s not as strong.

“Smells like beta,” you say. He sighs again and writes something else down.

“Stronger or weaker than the last one?”

“Weaker,” you say, unsure.

“How’s it going?” you ask. He seems frustrated about something.

“The scents are either too strong or not strong enough to mask anything.” You watch as he dips a clean q-tip in another clear liquid. He sniffs it then holds it under your nose.

“Smells sweet, like apple pie,” you say. It’s the smell of your mother. Or at least the smell you used to think was what your mother smelt like. You put the book down, marking your page. It makes you sad. Your head is starting to spin after smelling so many different things.

“Smells like sadness.” You sigh.

“I’m sure your pack will be back soon. It’s been 2 days,” he says. You nod, standing up. You don’t want to do this anymore.

“One more, come on,” he says, reaching out and lightly pulling your arm. You sigh, turning back to him, letting him push the q-tip under your nose. You breathe it in.

“Alpha,” you say. He nods, smiling.

“You should get some rest. You did good today,” he says. You nod, gripping the book and heading back to the barracks. You hate being in the barracks when your pack’s not around. It just feels empty. You walk in to see Dr. Piper making coffee. Almost as soon as they had left, she had moved a coffee machine in.

“Hey, where have you been so early?” she asks, stirring a cup of something.

“Dr. Miller needed my help for the scent blocker.” She looks confused for a second as she sits at the table.

“Do you help him a lot?” she asks. You shrug. You’re tired now.

“Not really, I just wish it wasn’t so early,” you say, sitting down opposite her.

“I’ll have a word with him. You should get a good night's rest,” she says, sipping on her coffee. “How have you been sleeping? Have the nightmares been getting better?”

You nod. They haven’t been as bad. It feels like everything gets worse when your pack’s not around though. You miss them.

“When do you think they’ll be back?” you ask.

“Well, actually Kate told me they should be back tonight. I didn't want to tell you because they still might get held up,” she says. You look up at her smiling. It makes you feel warm thinking about the fact they could be back tonight.

You’re too excited to take a nap now. You smile at her, almost skipping down to your room. You look at the sun rising over the trees, the pile of books and the scent of nature in the air makes you happy. Happier than you’ve been in years.

You curl up in your nest, feeling the warm bubble inside you get stronger. You end up in your nest with a stack of books. You manage to make it through Moby-Dick before you start feeling sleepy. Your mind wanders to your pack wondering what they’re doing as you find yourself dozing off a few pages into your next book.

You’re back in the lab. You’re laying in a bed. It’s a hospital bed. You can’t smell anything in the air, but you know where you are. You’re back in the bunker, the horrible dark place. The door opens and you expect the Professor to walk in. Instead it’s Dr. Miller. You don’t relax though.

“What are you doing here?” you ask as you try to move but you can't. You're tied down. He doesn’t say anything, going over to a table and picking something up. You try to move and as you can’t, panic rises in you. You feel sick as you see him turn round. He’s holding a scalpel in his hand. The door opens again and it is Graves, the man who went into your personal space, who ordered your nest destroyed. You stare at him wide eyes, confused as you look back over at Dr. Miller.

“What’s happening?” you ask, panic rising in your voice as you try to move but you can’t. You’re pinned down too tightly.

“It didn't have to be like this,” Dr. Miller says, pulling a surgical mask over his face.

“No, please,” you plead as he nods at Graves whose hands land on your face, pulling your head to the side uncomfortably. The back of your neck is exposed as you can feel Dr. Miller touch your mark. You plead for him to stop, but he doesn’t say anything. You scream as his scalpel makes contact with your skin. Everything goes blurry as tears stream down your face. You’re fighting with Graves’ grip as best as you can, trying to move your head. There’s more pain now, another cut and everything goes black.

You wake screaming. Your hand flies to the back of your neck. You can feel your mark, the indents John’s teeth left. You’re shaking, panting, it feels like you can’t breathe, your nails digging into your hand. You hear commotion as your door is flung open. Dr. Piper is there. She rushes over, her cool hands finding your face forcing you to look at her as you rub the back of your neck.

“You’re okay, it’s just a dream,” she says. You’re not listening to her. You smell alpha in the air, and looking behind her you can see Johnny in the doorway. They’re back. You look down at Dr. Piper, trying to take deep breaths but it just comes out as sobs.

She pulls you into her arms as you let your hand drop from the back of your neck. You close your eyes breathing in her calming scent. She’s shushing you, rubbing your back. You open your eyes, blinking the tears away looking over at the doorway. John is there now, standing in the doorway outside the threshold of your space.

“John,” you breathe. Dr. Piper lets you go as John steps into the room. She turns to look and gets up.

“Hey,” he says, kneeling down by you. Your nest is a mess. You must have been thrashing around in your sleep. You don’t wait, throwing yourself in his arms almost knocking him over. You see Dr. Piper leave, pulling the door closed and shooing the others away. You need this time now with your alpha. You close your eyes breathing in his scent, letting it fill your lungs. He’s back and he’s safe.

“I’ve missed you,” you say, gripping him tighter like this is a dream too and he’s going to vanish at any second.

“We’ve only been gone 2 days, not even 48 hours.” You can hear the smile in his voice as his hands run over you. You break away from the hug.

“What was the dream about?” he asks.

“The bunker, Graves was there,” the memory is fading. There was someone else too, but you can’t remember who. The Professor, probably.

“You’re never going back there. We destroyed it, remember,” he says, smiling at you. You nod. You know the place is gone. It’s not gone in your mind though.

“Want to lie down in my bed?” he asks, and you nod. You do, you want to be near him. You support yourself on him as he helps you off the floor. He holds his hand out and you take it letting him wrap his arm around you.

“You know Graves is never going to be coming in here again. You’re safe here,” he says. You can see in the common room. Johnny and Kyle poke their heads round the corner and you smile at them. John presses you into his room, and the place is messier than you’ve ever seen it. A bag half unpacked is in the middle of the room, and there’s an open laptop and weapons on the desk. They make your breath catch in your throat. You walk over and sit on the bed.

“Did you kill anyone?” you ask as he pulls your chin up to look at him. He shakes his head. You can smell the lie in the air.

“You don’t have to lie,” you say, swallowing. He looks at you like he’s deciding what to do, letting out a sigh and coming to sit next to you on the bed.

“You told me you wouldn’t worry,” he says.

“I didn’t worry. I just missed you,” you say as he strokes your thigh.

“Lay down,” he instructs. You follow his instructions, laying on the side of the bed pressed up against the wall. He lays next to you and you turn your body to the side so you can look at him.

“So, we have this mission. One guy, suspected to be smuggling and selling large quantities of pharmaceuticals to private buyers. We work with the local police and SWAT but Commander Graves wants him brought in alive. Unfortunately, he managed to get a weapon and took a shot at John-”

“Johnny got shot?” you gasp, propping yourself up in the bad. You feel a wave of nausea wash over you. Someone in your pack got hurt.

“He’s fine,” John says, his hand resting on your shoulder pushing you back down on the bed. Your eyes dart to the door. You saw him in your room, and he did look fine. Maybe he is fine. Your heart still aches for him though, the image of him being injured is swimming around in your head.

“John’s fine but Simon shot the guy and unfortunately he died. The police secured the house and found the evidence they needed to arrest the other members of the family then we came back,” he finishes explaining. You swallow hard. You knew they were doing horrible things, they’re soldiers.

“Does that happen a lot? Getting shot?” you ask scooting closer to him.

“No, we don’t make a habit out of it.” He smiles, his fingers coming to brush hair out of your face. You close your eyes relaxing into the pillow.

“Dr. Montgomery told me you’ve been helping Dr. Miller?” You nod. “You should get some rest. I’ll wake you up for dinner?” he asks, you nod again. You still feel tired, all the scenting this morning must have really taken it out of you. He leans over and kisses you on the forehead as you get under the covers. He gets up, takes his laptop and leaves the room. You smile rolling over to his side of the bed. His pillows have his scent. You relax, breathing it in, closing your eyes. They’re back and they’re safe. It’s not getting easier though, each time they go away.

You wake to shouting. John isn’t in the bed, and something is going on in the common room. Your body feels stiff, and you can already tell you’ve been asleep for way more than a few hours.

“Fuck off!” That’s Johnny, you can hear his accent cutting thick through the air.

“Shepherd wanted me to deliver the message personally.” It’s Graves. You swallow, opening the door to the hall. You can see John and Simon standing there both with their arms crossed. Johnny is the one who looks back and sees you. He walks up stopping in front of you. You try to look around him, his hand lands on your shoulder.

“What's going on?” you ask.

“‘Hey sleepyhead, how ‘bout you go back to bed for a bit,” he says smiling at you. You can see it’s getting dark out. You must have slept for a good few hours.

“Is that her?” you hear Graves call. You freeze, reaching out and gripping Johnny’s arm. John said he would never be back.

“Time to go Graves. Don’t you have a base to take care of?” John says.

“You have until the morning,” he says. You swallow hard looking up at Johnny. You can smell him projecting a calming scent. You wonder if he and Kyle have had time to practice. Or maybe they are just naturals. You hear a door close and let go of Johnny’s arm. He smiles, putting his arm around your shoulders, and you stop, nudging it off.

“You were shot Johnny,” you say. He smiles, putting it back round you and continuing to walk you into the common room.

“Super soldier remember, thanks to that drug of yours.” Simon is still standing with his arms crossed watching Graves walk across the green back towards the main building. John is sitting down at the table with Kyle sipping tea.

“Sorry we woke you,” Kyle says looking at you sympathetically. You look at John. He looks tired. You feel sad all of a sudden, like you want to reach out and hug him. He looks up at you and meets your eye-line for a second. A shiver runs down your spine.

“Did you get into trouble?” you ask

“No,” it’s Simon’s voice that speaks up. So harsh in the air you almost jump. John pushes his chair out getting up with his cup of tea. You feel bad, like you’ve done something wrong. You watch as he disappears into his office without saying a word.

“Sit down, lass,” Johnny says, placing a cup of tea down in front of you. For someone who doesn't drink it, Johnny somehow manages to make the best tea. You nod, sitting down. Simon finally moves. He walks behind you knocking on John’s office. He doesn’t wait for a response though before going in.

“What did Graves want?” you ask. Johnny and Kyle look at each other then back at you.

“‘Nothing you need to worry about,” Johnny smiles. You try to ignore the yearning to know more. You wish they wouldn’t be so secretive. You wish they would tell you what they were doing. No, you don’t deserve that information , you remind yourself. You’re not a soldier, just an omega . It only feels like it’s been a few seconds of awkward silence before John and Simon walk back out into the common room. You sip your tea as John sits at the table opposite you.

“Professor Hale has requested to have contact with you.” You freeze at his words. The tea suddenly tastes horrible in your mouth. You want to spit it out instead you swallow it down letting it burn your throat.

“You can say no, but he wants you to know the option is there.” It feels like John is looking into your soul, his eyes harsh as he tries to read your reaction. The Professor has always been such a constant in your life. You think back to what Dr. Miller said. Maybe he did love you? Maybe this was his way of saying sorry? Or maybe he’ll let you stay with your pack, watch you from a distance, and then spring when you least expect it. It makes you feel sick.

“I—” You start but the words catch in your throat. What if this was a test, some weird fucked up experiment. You look up at John. Simon is standing behind him with his arms crossed. You trust them, there’s no way this is a test. Does Dr. Piper know? What would she say? She worked with him for years. Maybe she would like to communicate with him again. You close your eyes, sighing.

“I don’t want to see him,” you say, looking down at your tea, gripping it harder like you’re about to be told you don’t have a choice. You feel guilty. It doesn’t feel real. It’s like it’s the end of a massive part of your life. If you never see him again, will you ever forgive yourself? A hand rests on the top of your back, and you look up seeing Kyle smile down at you. You look over at John. He’s watching you, and you can’t tell if he looks disappointed or not. Simon’s still standing behind him with his arms crossed. You can never tell what he’s thinking.

“If you ever change your mind.”

You shake your head.

“He’s been the only other constant in my life. He did love me. I feel like I should give him the benefit of the doubt.” You look back down.

“You don’t owe him anything,” John says. You don’t know if you believe him or not. The last time you saw the Professor, he was breaking your ankle for trying to leave. Kyle's hand runs across your back.

“He tortured you. You spent your whole life being hurt. He doesn’t deserve the right to even ask. You never have to see him again. You shouldn’t see him again,” Simon says, his voice is sharp in the air. You look up at him. You’ve come to learn that Simon’s not the most talkative person but he means everything he says.

“He’s right,” Kyle says. “You have no reason to talk to him.”

You look down at your mug. You feel the tears coming, your eyes welling up as you try to stop them, squeezing your eyes shut. You have to be strong, you don’t get to cry for him. Simon’s right and Kyle is right. You never have to see him again. When you open your eyes everything is blurry. You swallow the lump in your throat away.

You don’t know what happens but the next thing you know Kyle’s hand has left your back and everyone is walking out of the building. John stays seated. You bring your sleeve up to wipe your eyes. You try to hide it but you’re not doing the best job. John waits until the building is empty before getting up and sitting in the seat next to you. He turns your chair to face him slightly. You let go of your cup, as you turn to look at him. His hand comes up to your chin pulling your face up to look at him. He leans down and kisses your forehead.

“Simon’s right, Professor Hale doesn’t deserve the right to even ask you. If it was up to me, I wouldn’t even be asking,” he says, his thumb stroking your cheek. He brushes one of your tears away.

“I feel guilty,” you admit. You want to look down but John’s hand on your face won’t let you. John nods.

“You don’t have anything to feel guilty about.” His thumb brushes your cheek. You nod. He stands up, offering you his hand. You take it and he leads you to the sofa. You sit down and you sit next to him. He spreads his arm over the back of the sofa and you smile at him as you lean up against him. He reaches over to pick up the remote.

“More of the screaming women?” he asks, flicking through the channel as smile.

“You pick,” you say, snuggling up against him more.

“John?” He hums rubbing your arm. “Are you going to kill the Professor?” There’s silence. You don’t know why you were expecting a quick answer. You don’t know if you’re going to like the answer.

“I would kill him. If I had to.” You look up at him. He smiles at you.

“Do you ever regret it? Killing anyone?”

“From time to time, sometimes people get mixed up in all sorts of things.”

“How do you do it?”

“The good outweighs the bad.” He squeezes you tighter. “You don’t need to worry about that kind of stuff.” You sigh, stretching your arm across his stomach. You let yourself relax. You don’t know how you would feel if the Professor was to die. Maybe you would feel relief, or maybe you would feel even more guilty.

John starts talking about what’s happening on the TV but you’re only half paying attention, your mind preoccupied with the Professor. It doesn’t feel like you’ve been laid there for very long when the door to the building opens. John turns and you sit up to see who’s walked in.

“Johnny’s shoulder’s playing up. Si’s taken him to see the doc,” Kyle says as he sticks his head in the door.

“Dr. Piper?” you ask as you sit up, a lump forming in your stomach. John said he was fine. Kyle nods and John gets up off the sofa. You follow him as he walks out of the building. All of you take a quick walk across the green to the lab. When you get in, a few scientists look over at you all. You see Dr. Miller who smiles at you.

“She’s upstairs if you’re looking for her,” he says. John thanks him and you make your way up to the medical room. When you walk in, Simon is leaned up against the wall on the far side of the room, his arms crossed. Johnny is sat on the edge of the bed with his shirt off. Dr. Piper’s taking the bandage off his shoulder. You feel blood rush to your cheeks as you see him topless. He’s fitter than John is, and hairier too which you didn’t expect. He winks as you and you look away trying not to feel embarrassed.

“It’s healed fine. You say it’s still painful?” she asks, pressing down on and around where the scar is.

“It healed that quickly?” John asks, shocked crossing his arms as he leans in to look.

“Yeah, one of the wonders of the drug,” she says, smiling. “If it still hurts tomorrow we’ll do an x-ray but it’s most likely your bones just taking a little longer to heal. I’ll get you a sling.” She heads through the door in the room. You peek your head in seeing a bed and some storage.

“Physical wounds and broken bones will repair themselves relatively quickly, most of the time within 24-48 hours, as long as you’re in good health. Blood is a big factor too. Lose too much of it and you will not be able to repair yourself,” Dr. Piper says as she hands Johnny his shirt back. He pulls it on.

“What about getting sick?” Kyle asks.

“You have a stronger immune system but you can still get sick, also of course the healthier you are the better it works,” Dr. Piper says.

“Okay so we don’t have to worry about getting shot in the field,” Johnny chuckles.

“Well if you get shot in the head or the heart, you’ll still probably be dead. Trauma is still trauma,” Dr. Piper says, helping him secure the sling.

“I can show you,” you say looking round the room. They look at you confused for a few seconds. You walk over to a tray and pick up a scalpel.

“Woah, wait!” They all start to protest as you bring the blade to your lower arm.

“It’s okay, the Professor used to make me do it all the time,” you say, shrugging.

“Stop!” John’s voice is harsh in the air as you look at him waiting for what he will say next. “You don’t have to hurt yourself to show us.” You look up at Dr. Piper who shrugs. You move putting the scalpel back down. You feel the collective sigh in the room as you look around them.

“Okay, so we still need to continue to treat injuries seriously,” John says to everyone. Johnny jumps down off the bed.

“If you want I can look into maybe making something that can speed up the wound healing process? Professor Hale was pretty close to a breakthrough before you rescued the omega,” Dr. Piper says as she walks around everyone, opening the door to back out to the lab.

“Sure, if you think you can,” John says as everyone piles out. You smile at Dr. Piper as you pass her.

“You should all get some food before the mess closes,” John says, stopping at the top of the steps.

“What about you?” you ask him. Now that you think of it, when does he ever get time to eat? You’ve only seen him eat a few times.

“I’ll catch up, just have to have a word with Dr. Montgomery first,” he says, placing his hand on the small of your back and gently pressing you to the steps. You sigh following Kyle down the steps. The lab is empty. Most of the scientists will have gone for breaks since it is almost midday. Kyle waits for you, holding the door open as you all exit.

“So did Professor Hale make you hurt yourself a lot?” he asks as you walk next to Kyle across the grass.

“It’s the best way to prove to people it works. He would have people come and I got to show off for them.”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“Well like, he would have these people called ‘investors’ I think, and I would get to dress nice and get out of my room for the day. He would show them around the lab and they would meet all the scientists, and then they would meet me. I would show them the ‘miracles’ of the formula,” you explain as you make it to the mess.

“Do you remember any of them?” It’s Simon ahead of you who asks the question. You shake your head.

“They were always men, always in such nice clothes. I never knew their names. He would always just call them ‘investor,’” you say, picking up a tray. Simon hums and you follow him and Johnny piling your plate with food and two pudding cups.

“Dr. Piper might know,” you say. Simon nods. You want to be helpful, but a lot of the time when it comes to what happened in the bunker, it can get blurry. You’re never quite sure where the real memories start. Besides, thinking about them upsets you. It’s enough that you have nightmares, you don’t need to worry about it during the day too. You follow Kyle to a table sitting down in front of Simon. You’re so caught up in your thoughts you don’t even realise Simon has pulled the bottom of his mask up.

You think back to a few days ago when you saw the top of his head and his blonde hair. You’re trying to piece the two together to imagine what his whole face might look like. You’re staring at him, gawking at him as he chews on his food. His head tips to the side as he looks at you, and you watch him swallow as his fork comes back up to his mouth.

“It’s rude to stare,” he says. You immediately feel heat come to your cheeks, looking back down at your tray. Your hands fiddle with the lid on your pudding cup as you let the wave of embarrassment wash over you.

“Be nice LT,” Johnny hisses under his breath, nudging him. You feel like you’ve invaded his privacy. Maybe you should apologize. You look back up at him as you pick up your spoon. You don’t know what to say, so you just spoon some pudding in your mouth. As soon as it hits your tongue it tastes bitter. You almost want to spit it out but you swallow it, frowning as you look at the cup.

“Not good?” Johnny asks. You look at the flavor, butterscotch. You don’t think you’ve ever tried that one before.

“I don’t think I like butterscotch,” you say, putting your spoon down. Johnny reaches over picking up the unopened one.

“That’s not possible.” Johnny smiles at you. You smile back picking up your fork. Guess it serves you right for skipping straight to dessert. You eat your food listening to Johnny and Kyle talk, but you can’t help your eyes wondering to Simon every now and then. You really want to see him smile. You wish you could see him without the mask. Maybe you will, if he’s getting more comfortable around you. At one point he turns and your eyes meet his, you smile at him but instead he ignores you, turning back to listen into the conversation between Johnny and Kyle.

You spend most of the meal just pushing food around the plate. You’re distracted by something you can’t quite put your finger on. You’re not hungry, just tired. You want to crawl into your nest with a book and sleep. You’ve been sleeping in there more than in your bed. It’s not comfortable sleeping on the floor but you feel like that you have less nightmares when you’re safe in your nest compared to in your bed.

You excuse yourself from the table, ignoring Kyle’s comments that you’ve hardly eaten anything. When you make it outside, the dark clouds make the air feel electric. Maybe there’s a storm coming. You can hear the distant rumbles as you make your way across the green to the barracks. The lights are off. John must not be back yet. You turn the one in the common room on then walk to your room.

Your nest is still a mess from earlier. You pull the duvet and pillows off your bed and bend down fixing it. You stack all the pillows back up, laying blankets over them as you arrange everything around. You keep going till it feels right again. You go over to the books on the table. You don’t know what you want to read. You pick up ‘ The Secret Garden’ if not just for the pretty cover. You take it over to your nest climbing in and leaning up against the wall.

You hear Johnny, Kyle and Simon coming back from the mess a few pages into the book. You hear their voices in the common room, the sound of doors opening and closing. You smile, letting yourself relax, and you read until you fall asleep.

When John makes it back to the barracks Johnny and Kyle are laid out on the sofa. Simon is sat at the table with a mug in his hand. John stands in the doorway as everyone turns to look at him. Simon meets his eye line, John tips his head gesturing outside.

‘Follow me.’

Simon gets up immediately leaving the table as John steps back outside. He walks away from the building to the wall round the edge of the base. He waits a few seconds before speaking.

“The labs have been bugged,” John says.

“Think it’s Graves?” Simon asks. John sighs.

“Don’t know, she only found it yesterday.”

“Mic? Camera?”

“Microphone,” he replies.

“Think there's more?” Simon asks.

“Think so, why only plant one.”

“What do you want to do?”

“If it is Graves, I don’t want him to know we’re on to him. It could be something else though.” John sighs scratching his chin.

“Who? Shepherd?”

“I don’t know. If the lab is bugged though there’s a chance the barracks are too.”

“Want to search it?”

“I want to do it without raising suspicion, from Graves, Shepherd, anyone.”

“What about Soap and Gaz?” Simon asks as they make it back towards the barracks.

“No, let's keep it between us, until we have proof or know who’s doing it. Dr. Montgomery is going to keep an eye out. She’ll let me know if she finds anything,” John says, stopping at the door to the barracks. Kyle and Johnny are still sitting on the sofa as they both walk in.

“Hey LT, Kyle found the football!” Johnny says enthusiastically.

“Manchester United, that's the good one right?” Johnny smiles. Simon sighs going back over to the table to get his cup of tea.

“Just keep it down,” John says, going to his office.

“It’s the first match of the league Cap, wanna watch?” Kyle calls. He does but he shakes his head, he has work to do. He watches Simon take his tea over to the sofa chair. He looks down the hall seeing your bedroom door closed, and he takes in a long breath. He can smell you in the air, strawberries. He smiles and walks into his office.

next Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui Beta reader and editor - rememberwren

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my-religion-greek-myth · 2 months ago

Text

Freedom far away - B

Yap, until my kink is satisfied, I'll keep writing these lol Who knows, once I'm satisfied, I'll stop writing suddenly. I'll prolly writing whole night tho..

Thanks all for liking this. Some of you probably noticed, that this story isn't set in America cuz this is all inspired by my own fanart (Korean Joseon Era), but I try to be subtle about any indications, so you can just imagine as some whre in western or other american town other than westview or salem.

Freeom far away - A

Fem Reader X Agatha X Rio

The first time you met Agatha and Rio, their presence lingered in your mind long after you exchanged names and hurried home. As you retreated, Rio's voice had called out, "See you later," her tone playful and lilting with a hint of laughter. You did not dare look back, but their gazes had felt almost tangible—slithering and coiling around you as if urging you to turn. It took every ounce of willpower to keep walking, to not succumb to the strange pull that seemed to emanate from them.

Days had passed since that encounter at the well, but their image haunted you. Whether you were studying, eating, or even engaging in conversation with your family, part of your mind was consumed by thoughts of the duo. You found yourself unconsciously touching your right hand, where Agatha's fingers had briefly brushed against yours. No other touch had ever left you feeling so electric, so unsettled. Their memory persisted like a faint melody you could not shake, and you found yourself debating—should you return to the well? Could you face them again? Would they even still be there?

With a deep sigh, you made up your mind. Opening the door to the courtyard, you noticed three servants diligently cleaning. One of them glanced up and immediately bowed when he saw you.

"Is there something you need, milady?" he asked nervously, his voice trembling as if he feared some unspoken reprimand.

You blinked, realising you had been unconsciously glaring in his direction, your mind preoccupied with Agatha and Rio. You opened your mouth to respond but thought better of it, shaking your head instead. You slipped on your shoes and made for the main entrance without another word.

"Where are you going?" came the familiar voice of your younger sister behind you.

You turned sharply, raising an eyebrow at her. Standing beside her was your younger brother, both looking at you with curious expressions.

"Did grandfather send you to keep an eye on me?" you asked, your tone sharper than you intended.

Your siblings and even the nearby servants visibly recoiled at the authoritative edge in your voice. It was a tone you seldom used, but it had a way of surfacing when you were particularly annoyed—or, in this case, deeply conflicted. And today, your irritation was palpable. The pull towards Agatha and Rio, the confusion they stirred in you, made you want to brush off any interaction with your family and rush to them.

Your sister quickly composed herself, though a frown etched on her face. "I was just asking. No need to snap," she muttered.

"We’re going to Jun’s house for archery practice. Want to come with us?" your younger brother interjected, clearly trying to ease the tension before it could escalate. He knew all too well how quickly tempers could flare between you and your sister.

"No, thank you," you replied curtly. "I have other matters to attend to."

"As if," your sister scoffed. You could almost picture her shaking her head in exasperation, arms crossed in that typical defiant stance of hers. But you did not care. Ignoring her remark, you stepped outside, your pace quickening as you made your way back to the well, determined to see if Agatha and Rio were still there.

---RAR---

The looming shadow of the mountain cast a dark veil over the well, making the place feel unusually eerie despite the daylight. You glanced around nervously, unsure why the familiar space suddenly made your body shiver. Your eyes caught the fluttering ribbons tied to the shaman's tree, their vibrant colours contrasting with the oppressive silence.

"Well, well, we have the pretty lady back here," came a lively voice.

Startled, you jumped and turned to see Rio, her warm brown eyes glinting with amusement as she chuckled softly. In her left hand, however, was a small dagger that gleamed faintly in the dim light. Beside her, Agatha stood poised, her fingers grazing her lips, a faint smile playing on her face as if she were appraising you.

"I told you we'd meet again, didn’t I?" Rio said, her steps deliberate and confident as she walked toward you.

Instinctively, you stepped back, but in your haste, your heel caught the edge of the well. Your breath hitched as you felt yourself teetering backward, the dark depths of the well below you. Before you could fall, a firm hand grabbed your arm. Rio, her grip strong yet gentle, pulled you back to safety.

The touch sent a jolt through you—an unfamiliar sensation that made time to slow. You had read about such moments in the romantic novels you had secretly consumed with your noble friends, moments you had laughed at for their absurdity. Yet here it was, and it was undeniably real. A sudden warmth spread across your face as you realised what had happened. Rio smirked, her gaze sharp yet teasing.

"Oh, don’t tell me you’re blushing, doll," Agatha said, her melodic laughter carrying a mischievous edge. She stepped closer, her ocean-blue eyes darkening briefly, like the sky before a storm. For a moment, you could not decide whether her eyes were a deep navy or an ethereal blue, but you knew they were the most captivating thing you had ever seen.

Before you could reply, Rio suddenly pulled you closer. Your face pressed against her chest—a distinctly feminine curve beneath the garments that suggested otherwise. Her warmth and the steady rhythm of her heartbeat enveloped you in a strange comfort. Without thinking, your arms circled her in an unconscious embrace.

Agatha pouted dramatically, crossing her arms as she watched. "Seems someone’s getting all the attention," she remarked, her tone playfully aggrieved.

"Don’t worry," Rio murmured above you, her voice teasingly soft as her breath tickled your hair. "I think the pretty lady has enough love for both of us."

The comment made you stiffen. You pushed against Rio’s chest, but she let you go with an easy laugh, nudging you backward—right into Agatha’s arms.

You gasped as you felt Agatha’s hands steady you, her grip firm yet gentle around your middle. Her scent—subtle and intoxicating—filled your senses as she leaned down, resting her chin lightly on your head.

"You smell nice, doll," Agatha murmured, her voice low and velvety, sending shivers down your spine.

Your heart raced your mind a whirl of confusion and resistance. You had come to the well seeking answers to the strange pull you felt toward them, but now they were toying with you, unravelling your composure as if it were child’s play.

"Why are you here, pretty lady?" Rio asked, stepping closer. Her long fingers lifted your chin effortlessly, forcing your gaze to meet hers.

You froze, unable to look away. Her darkened eyes were filled with a predatory intensity that made her presence feel overwhelming. Behind you, Agatha’s hands brushed through your hair, loosening it from its neat styling. The gentle motion was so intimate that it made your breath hitch again.

"Answer her, doll," Agatha’s voice purred in your ear, her warm breath caressing your skin.

You could not speak. The sensations overwhelmed you; Rio’s fingers tracing your face, Agatha’s hand trailing through your hair, the suffocating awareness of their proximity.

"How are we supposed to get to know you if you won’t answer?" Rio whispered, her face now so close to yours that her nose almost brushed against yours.

Agatha’s fingers tangled gently in your hair, her touch sending a new wave of shivers through your body. You were caught between them, their presence intoxicating and inescapable, as if the world had narrowed to just the three of you. You did not know whether to flee or surrender to the strange pull that bound you to them.

"I'm…" Your voice trembled. "I'm not scared of you two."

"That's not an answer," Agatha's voice carried a hint of a frown, but it softened quickly. "But I'm glad you're not scared of us." Her lips brushed lightly against your ear, sending a burning sensation through it.

"I can't stop thinking about you two," you finally admitted, gulping hard.

Rio pulled her face back, and, to your surprise, you felt a pang of disappointment.

"Why?" Rio asked, tilting her head, her eyes gleaming with mischief as they roamed over you. "We only told you our names."

"That's why I'm here," you said, frustration bubbling up. "I've never felt like this in my life!"

Agatha chuckled, her laugh light but somehow weighted with something you could not identify. She finally released you, and seizing the moment, you stepped back. Both of them watched you with amusement, their darkened eyes betraying some unreadable intent you could not comprehend.

"You’ve never been in love before?" Agatha asked, smiling that same captivating smile she had worn when you first met. It was hypnotic, alluring—utterly impossible to look away from.

Your eyes widened. Love? The very idea made your stomach twist. Love? With them? You had only just met them, and to feel this way for two people at the same time? It defied all logic and everything you had ever been taught.

You took another step back, and still, they did not stop you. Their smiles only grew wider.

Panic surged within you, and you turned, fleeing towards the safety of your home.

As you ran, Agatha’s melodic voice rang out behind you, the sound trailing you like a spell.

"See you later, doll!"

---RAR---

Your footsteps thundered against the path as you bolted away from the well. Your mind was a cacophony of emotions—confusion, embarrassment, and a simmering warmth you could not quite place. Love? How absurd, you thought, shaking your head. You had only just met them. And two people? At once? The very idea seemed preposterous, something out of fanciful tales told to wide-eyed children.

The cool air brushed your face, but it did little to cool the heat rising in your cheeks. You could not forget the way Agatha’s lips brushed your ear or Rio’s gaze seemed to peel back every layer of your being, leaving you bare and exposed.

As you reached the entrance of your household, you slowed to a halt, clutching your chest as you tried to steady your racing heart. What was it about them? Their presence was unlike anything you had ever encountered—intoxicating, overwhelming, and magnetic.

"Milady?" a servant called, stepping cautiously into the courtyard from the backyard. "Is everything alright?"

You startled slightly, realising how dishevelled you must have looked from running. Straightening your posture, you smoothed your dress and forced a neutral expression onto your face.

"Yes," you replied curtly, brushing past her and heading toward your chambers.

Once inside, you closed the door firmly and leaned against it. The silence of the room felt suffocating, yet your thoughts continued to churn. Despite your attempts to banish them from your mind, their faces—Agatha’s piercing, ocean-like eyes and Rio’s mischievous grin—kept invading your thoughts.

You slid down against the door, your knees drawing up to your chest. What are they doing to me? You could not shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.

#agatha harkness x rio vidal #agatha harkness x rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agatha all along #rio vidal #fem reader

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zepskies · 1 year ago

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Hello. I was wondering if you could write an imagine in the BMD-verse (been following it for a while now; love, love, love it, by the way!) where Ben cries?

Like something really bad happens in general or to the Reader, and he losses it? I mean, personally, I have never known this man to cry, and I would love to see you conjure up something that could possibly elicite that reaction from him.

But no pressure - will definitely understand if you don't want to write it!

Oooh, so you really wanna kill me, huh? 🫠😭😭

Lol it's okay, thank you for loving Break Me Down!! It's one of my favorite story verses that I've been able to create on here. ❤️❤️

This request was difficult for me on multiple levels, but I think I was able to pull it off? (I'll let you be the judge.) This is set in the BMD-verse, shortly after "Love Actually."

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Word Count: 2,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst, show-level violence, hurt/comfort, "twist" ending (you'll want to read until the end, trust me).

Imagine: Ben loses you.

Ben restrained another sigh when he realized you were no longer walking next to him.

He turned and saw you stopping in another damn kiosk, this time looking at a selection of Pashmina scarves. As if you didn’t have enough clothes.

“We’re not here for a damn shopping spree,” he called after you.

He ignored the people who glanced at him as they walked past, a couple of them even shooting him an annoyed look.

One didn’t just stop in the middle of a busy sidewalk in New York City, but as with most societal protocols, Ben couldn't really give a fuck.

He almost started tapping his foot. Instead, he crossed his arms as he glared in your general direction. You were smiling and chatting with the woman selling her wares as you finished the transaction.

Ben at least could admire the view of you bent over in those tight jeans and ankle boots. You also wore the dark green winter coat he bought you last month, lined with faux fur to keep you warm.

When you eventually came back to him, you shot him an amused smile. You held a new scarf in shades of green and blue, to match your coat. But you also held out a new pair of leather gloves for him.

“Here you go, Grumpy. I didn't forget about you,” you teased. He raised a wry brow at you and took the gloves. He inspected them with a half-critical eye.

“And how much did these cost, five cents?”

You rolled your eyes and kept walking. He caught up with you and slipped the gloves into his pocket.

“My hands don’t get cold anyway,” he reminded you. And you often complained that his body heat was like a radiator, especially at night. Although, you hadn’t been complaining since the winter turned frigid this February.

“All right, whatever. Just don’t say I never get you anything,” you quipped. “Besides, you know you love to accessorize.”

A smirk pulled at Ben’s lips. The gloves were a half-assed gift, but he still wore the watch you got him for Christmas proudly on his wrist. That was a nice silver Rolex.

“All I know is, we’d better not be late for this damn meeting,” he said. “I don’t wanna hear Mallory’s fucking mouth.”

The two of you had made a day of coming into the city, hitting a nice brunch spot and ice skating at Rockefeller center before your date had been rudely interrupted—by a call for a new mission.

Grace Mallory had been a bit cryptic on the phone, but it had something to do with the mess Ben left of the drug cartels in South America. After they got back to the States, Ben left that “business” behind…he just hadn’t thought of how that would shake out in Colombia.

So now, you two were headed to the Supe Affairs building. You slipped your arm around his, while his hands were in his pockets. You looked up at him with a smile.

“Try to enjoy the little things, Ben,” you told him. “We had mimosas and some bougie ass lobster tails with our eggs this morning. I skated circles around you on the ice. And now we’re going to get some work done.”

“On our day off,” he retorted.

“To be fair, you made the mess, Mr. Kingpin,” you pointed out. “We’ve just gotta clean it up…as usual.”

“Hey," he eyed you. But you both knew the warning had little heat behind it.

He still reached for your cheek and brushed his thumb across it. He felt how cold your face was, and he stopped for a moment in the middle of the sidewalk. Neither of you cared when pedestrians gave you dirty looks as they passed by.

Maybe you were right though. Maybe he should take stock of the small moments. Ben held your face with both hands and caressed some warmth back into your skin.

Your smile softened, and your eyes closed when his lips found their way to your forehead. He then took the newly bought scarf out of your hand and wrapped it comfortably around your neck.

“What a gentleman,” you said, with a small grin.

Ben smirked down at you…until his face fell.

He heard the whistle of the bullet before he saw it.

It took him another second to move, grabbing you and shielding you with his entire body when it hit his back. The bullet itself bounced harmlessly off his skin, but the inner compartment of Novichok exploded like a small smoke bomb. The smell was too familiar to him to be anything else.

Ben coughed and was forced to push you away from him before the gas reached you. You yelped and almost tripped on your feet, but you scrambled back against the wall of a drycleaners. Your wide eyes met his as his knees buckled; the gas had clouded around his head.

“Run!” he shouted through fits of coughing.

You hesitated, for just a second. But when another bullet ricocheted into the wall behind you, near your head, you ducked and had to take off running.

You wove through the busy sidewalk, pushing people out of your way as you went. Whoever was after him this time, you had a feeling these were the people Ben had pissed off in Colombia.

Fuck! You sprinted past an alleyway and saw the hand coming for your arm, but even when you turned, there was another man, dressed a black military-style uniform with his face covered by a black mask, waiting to grab you from behind.

It was muscle memory. You released an elbow into the man’s neck, a punch straight into his teeth and nose, then kicked his knee out with the heel of your boot.

You grabbed your gun from under your jacket and would've shot him, except the next man wheelhouse kicked it out of your hand. You stepped back on instinct, ducking the following punch, and the rest of his arm to run in the opposite direction.

The first man pointed a large automatic gun straight in your face. You gasped and put your hands up. With a quick glance in either direction, you realized that they’d cornered you.

Your hands were pulled behind your back by someone else. That’s when they started dragging you toward a black SUV parked in the corner.

Except that car was soon destroyed, by an old Honda Civic being shoved into it. The SUV's hood constantined like an accordion.

You looked up with wide eyes, and there stood Ben, at the crossroads of the alley. He was furious.

“Soldier Boy,” greeted the man who once again held the automatic gun poised at you. He pulled down his mask, revealing the tan face of a middle-aged man.

He moved over to you and grabbed your arm from his subordinate. He raised the gun to your back. With one press of his finger, your insides could become Swiss cheese.

Your jaw clenched as you tried to take in even breaths. You focused on Ben. His green eyes met yours, and briefly you caught the worry behind them before his steely gaze moved back to the man who held you.

“Pretty ballsy, Reyes,” Ben said. His voice was a drawl, more controlled than he felt. “You really thought this was gonna go down that easy?”

Reyes scoffed. “You’re the ballsy one. Taking off with all that product you stole.”

“You’ll have to take up with the CIA on that one,” Ben replied. “They confiscated all the smack from my place. Probably reselling it to a few hobos down the street. You’re welcome to check under the bridge over there.”

He gestured in the direction of the Hudson River.

Reyes shrugged. The sound of a gun’s safety being clipped back resounded through the alley. You felt the vibration of it on your back. Your eyes closed for a moment.

“Bad news for her,” he said.

"Hey," Ben snapped. "There's no fucking need for that."

"I think I'll decide what we need," said Reyes. Your lips pursed as the gun dug into your back. "Maybe it's your bitch's insides at your feet."

Ben slowly raised a placating hand. Though his gait was still relaxed and arrogant, as always, you knew it was a well-crafted act. To hide his anger. His fear. To seem in control of himself, and to reinforce the intimidating presence he still was, even unarmed.

“Listen. If it’s money you want, we can work it out,” Ben replied.

His eyes once again found yours. He could see you were holding your breath. You were good at hiding it, but he knew you were scared. He wanted to tell you that he had this handled. That everything would be all right.

He focused on Reyes again. The other man considered the supe with a tilt of his head. He sucked his teeth and spit on the ground, out of the corner of his mouth. It was mixed with a bit of blood from when you'd punched him in the teeth.

“Okay, my friend,” said Reyes. “Let’s work this out. Pull out your phone.”

Ben made slow movements in grabbing his phone from his pocket. They all stepped further into the alley to avoid prying eyes and discussed the transfer of funds, and how much was fair. Ben claimed he was giving him a deal with his first offer.

Reyes demanded three times that amount. Ben raised his brows...but he complied. The money transferred from his bank account.

“Okay, we’re fucking done,” Ben snarked. He gestured at you with his eyes. “Let her go.”

In his mind, he was already contemplating how thoroughly he'd rip Reyes apart for this. After you were safe. He'd have a first class ticket to Medellin by tonight, ready to Colombian-necktie this cocksucker.

Reyes sighed through his nose. There was still about ten feet between him and Ben. He didn't seem to think it was enough. He took the gun off your back and backed up with you a few steps. Eventually, he released your arm.

“Come ‘ere, sweetheart,” Ben reached a hand out, beckoning for you. You met his gaze once again, and let out a subtle breath.

You took three hesitant steps forward.

And the gunshots echoed horribly through the alley.

As it turned out, Reyes always had an escape plan. You were merely the distraction.

It proved effective, as Ben’s protest rang out as soon as the bullets fired. He raced forward and caught you as you stumbled, but his hands soon became coated in your blood; it fled from your back in thin rivulets.

You gasped and clung to his arms. His ears rang with the sound, along with tires squealing and shouts and police sirens. All he could focus on was the color draining from your face.

Both of your breaths came out ragged as he slid with you down to his knees. He brushed your hair away from your face, even as his blood-covered hand stained your cheek. Your pained eyes drew up to his face. You tried to speak, but you didn't have the strength.

“I hear the sirens. They’re coming for you, take you to the hospital,” he promised. His voice was rough, but his throat was tight. His eyes scanned over you. “All you need is my blood and…Christ. Fuck it all.”

He laid you down on the dirty asphalt and hurriedly yanked up his coat sleeve until it ripped. It exposed his arm. He was about to drag a blunt nail across his own skin to bleed into you.

“Ben.” Your fingers twitched against his knee.

When he looked at your face, there was no longer life in your eyes.

His own were wide, almost uncomprehending. His breathing was harsh as empty hands fell to his thighs. His head felt heavy, though his ears were still ringing.

He drew enough strength in his hand to wipe the blood from your cold cheek…but your face was beginning to blur.

Or not, he realized, as the sting in his eyes took him by surprise.

In a fit of mania, he gathered you back up in his arms and ignored the wetness covering your back. He held you, impossibly tight. Tighter than he’d ever held you, because he was alone in the alley…because he was alone again.

And it was his own fault.

His eyes squeezed shut against the burn, but it was futile. Everything was. His breaths were sharp and stifled as pain tore inside. A pain worse than anything the Russian's could've inflicted on him.

His lips pressed against your forehead, trembling there. The first drops of wetness rolled down his cheek. He couldn't stop it from happening, but then again. He guessed he truly was a failure, after all.

You made the mess…

His first tears had been spent at his mother’s funeral, when he stood alone at her gravestone.

His last ones would fall and die with you.

“Ben,” your voice was soft but insistent.

He finally woke with a start. A sharp inhale through his nose.

He had been sleeping on his side. Before he even truly registered where he was, in the safety of his bedroom, he turned his head toward you.

His eyes found your face in the dark, over his shoulder. Your hair was frizzy from sleep. The strap of your nightgown had fallen off one shoulder. Your face looked bleary and tired, but you frowned in concern.

“You okay, baby?” you asked. Your hand soothed across the dewy skin on his arm.

Ben’s throat constricted. He was starting to remember bits and pieces of the dream…the nightmare. He rubbed at his eyes, then dragged a hand over his mouth.

“Yeah,” he said at last.

“Hmm.” Your gaze narrowed at him. “You sure?”

Ben had only enough energy in him to nod in response. His heart was still racing. Maybe you sensed that, because you leaned onto his arm and dropped a hand down his chest. You kissed his bare shoulder with soft lips, and he couldn’t help himself.

He raised a hand to cup the back of your head. He let out a long, relieved sigh through his nose, closing his eyes. Then he turned onto his back and brought you closer, with an arm slipping around your frame and pulling you against his chest. You made a sound of surprise, but you went willingly.

You brushed the sweaty strands of hair away from his face and pressed a kiss against his neck, to his jaw, his cheek and above his brow. He accepted it all and tried to calm his breathing with the feeling of your touch, and the smell of your flowery soap that lingered on your skin.

With a hand still cupping your head, he guided your lips to his. He claimed you slowly, but with purpose. You answered him by tilting your head, deepening the kiss for a moment.

You parted from him just as slowly. You knew everything wasn’t okay, but you also knew it wasn’t the time to push him for an answer.

Maybe in the morning, you thought. …I’ll make pancakes. Haven't done that in a while. And he’s always happier with something sweet.

You rested contentedly against his warm chest and let his heartbeat, gradually slowing back into a steady rhythm, lull you back to sleep.

Ben tangled his fingers into your hair. He laid one more kiss on the top of your head.

And for damn sure, he was going to cancel that trip into the city tomorrow.

AN: I know, I know. The "it was all a dream" thing is super cheesy, but I couldn't leave it on heartbreak. I just don't have it in me with these two. 🥲❤️‍🩹

Read the Sequel:

A friend of mine requested a sequel to this imagine: "You confront Ben about his fears."

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List (Part 1):

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann814 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67

#ask me stuff #soldier boy #Imagine Ben losing you #angst to the max #hurt/comfort #Soldier Boy imagine #soft!Ben #BMD verse #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #Break Me Down verse #zepskies answers

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liliewrites · 7 months ago

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Let's see then 🤔🤔 Ngl lately I've been having such a hyper fixation on Arlecchino's hands, like not even in a sexual way (although.. 😏), I just think her hands are absolutely beautiful and the prettiest thing I've seen sooo...

Could I request sitting next to Arle while she's working or literally doing whatever and just absentmindedly playing with her hand cause they're just so pretty and how she might react to her s/o liking that part of her so much 🙏 Would NOT complain if it somehow lead to nsfw but I'm perfectly fine with maximum fluff 😌

Honestly, wdym "enough yapping", there is never enough yapping about Arlecchino.. I just think she's neat fr, I wanted to hug her so bad while catching up on the Fontaine story quests as well as her companion quest lol. And I am absolutely here to hype you tf up 😤😤😤💪💪 Keep up the great work as always ! Have a wonderful day

-🔥

HELLLOOOOOOO 🔥 ANONN!!:)) AHAHAHAHAH thank u for the ask, oh yes , FINALLY i have the opportunity to write about arlecchino's hands.. hoyoverse did her justice like oh THEY KNEW what they were doing to the sapphics.

- warning/s ; no smut, but a bit of suggestive content at the end:)

(men please dni utc!)

"hello, darling!"

you cheerfully greeted your wife, whom was working in the study room. she looks at you, nods at you, then looks back at the papers.

"hello my beloved, are the kids asleep?" she asks as you sit down beside her. you nod at her question, scooting over to peek at her papers, but not too close to invade her personal space and interrupt her. "yes, my love. the kids are taking their afternoon nap but.. what are you working on, hm?" you ask, staring down at her hands that held the papers. you could make out numbers and lengthy paragraphs of formal and fancy words, all of which arlecchino was reading and signing.

"just some financial reports, darling. nothing special, i was thinking of expanding our home to better.."

oh, you tried to listen, but as soon as your eyes focused on her hand, it made it hard for you to listen. "... and then we could improve our training facilities.." you heard, absentmindedly nodding at her words. ".. so we could make the children have more.." again, you nodded.

damn it, your wife wouldn't mind it if you held her hand just so you could focus better on her words, right?

so you grabbed her right hand in yours, the one that held the pen. she wasn't using it anyway since she was busy explaining to you her plans and ideals for the orphanage. "- and so i was thinking, beloved. in order to raise the children's competency, i wanted to have them isolated in the mountains, without any kind of support whatsoever. it will help improve their surviv-"

"WHAT? NO!"

you immediately cut her off, looking her with an absurd stare due to her suggestion. how could she even suggest that in the first place?

"of course, no, i wasn't serious with that suggestion, darling. i was testing whether you were listening or not, and you probably were not."

oh, you let out a sheepish chuckle, feeling a teensy bit embarrassed for being caught. regardless, arlecchino did not look upset and squeezed your hand that held hers. "is there something the matter, beloved? usually, you always diligently listen to my reports." she asks, genuinely concerned about you and it makes your heart flutter. it made you feel guilty, having to be distracted by a silly little reason, so you decided to listen to her better this time. "nothing, beloved. my mind was.. just preoccupied. let's talk about it later after you tell me your report." you told her, and arlecchino protested no further, explaining to you all over again her plans for the house.

you definitely did listen better this time, with your hands unconsciously fiddling with her hand. you were pressing on her palm, intertwining your fingers with hers, your thumb tracing small shapes and doodles on her palm. your mind taking little side notes like.. the texture of her hand wasn't that rough, but it was definitely a bit different from normal skin. at first, you were worried if this was causing her pain or any physical harm, but she assured you that it wasn't. still, you wanted to know the cause of her blackened skin and the pattern on her arms.

on the other hand (haha get it), arlecchino told you about expanding the facilities of the orphanage, adding another bedroom to make room for more children, etc etc, much to your relief as none of her plans included isolating them in the mountain.

after she talked, now it was your turn to provide your insights and opinions,adding some suggestions of your own. arlecchino listened to you intently as she greatly appreciated you and your passion for the children, she could tell that you genuinely were concerned about their well being and that you loved them greatly. she couldn't help but spare loving glances at you.. and knowing glances down at her hand. now she thinks she knows why you were so distracted.

after finally putting down your suggestions, you decided it was time for a little break. "well, my beloved. i assume we can wrap this up? i think all that should be fine for now." you told her, placing the pen down. for the whole time you had been talking, you never let go of arlecchino's hand. it was either two hands holding hers, but if you had to write, then only one. this didn't go unnoticed by your wife, but you did forget about it halfway into the discussion.

"i agree, i say we talk about some other thing, my dear."

"hm, like what?" you curiously ask. oh, there's more to talk about?

".. like how you've been distracted the first time i talked, but when you held my hand, your focus seems to have returned. perhaps you'd like to confess, darling?"

you only blink for a minute, then looking down at your hands holding hers. "o-oh! oh, right.." you stuttered, obviously flustered that you've been caught. you looked away, slowly letting go of her hand. "i didn't say to let go now, did i?" she told you, before pulling you on to her lap. she held her hands out in front of you, leaning her chin on your shoulder. "now, beloved, what is it about my hands that interest you so much?" she asked, and you thought for a little while, gather your little notes from earlier.

you intertwined your hands with her, and arlecchino saw the cute smile on your face as you started to talk. "your hands.. they're rough and calloused, they've probably done things humankind would deem twisted and cruel but.." you brought both hands to your lips, pressing a kiss on her skin. the small gesture made arlecchino feel her heart flutter, you looked so adorable on her lap, while speaking words of affection. ".. but these are the very same hands that work hard to provide for me and the children, the same hand that gives me warmth and security even on the coldest of nights and.." your thumb brushed against that one significant ring on her left hand, a ring that matched yours. "- these hands belong to the woman i dearly love."

that was it for arlecchino, she couldn't help but burst in joy- and she showed it in the form of spreading soft, ticklish kisses on your bare neck in front of her. you couldn't help but giggle at your wife's attempts at being playful again. she wrapped her arms tightly around your waist, making you unable to lean away from her. "my, you say such sweet words that directly hit my heart- and you expect the knave not to retaliate with an attack of her own?" she joked, continuing to tickle you, wanting to hear more of you sweet giggles. "i-i get it! i get it, i surrender, my love!" you exclaimed, feigning defeat. as the playful little moment between the both of you died down, arlecchino had her arms wrapped around you, a loving smile on her face as her forehead leaned on your back. "hm, can i have a kiss? as compensation for winning?" she asked, making you laugh at her words. oh, it was funny- more so that it came from the woman whom the public claims as dull and emotionless, as in front of you, said woman was currently looking like a fool in love as she held you in her lap.

you got up and shifted your position on her lap, now facing her. at the sight of your pretty, gorgeous face that she's come to love coupled with your weight pressing down on you-know-where, she couldn't help but feeling a certain type of yearning for you. her hand cupped your chin, pulling you in for a kiss that was not sweet nor innocent in any way. her tongue tied with yours, running along your bottom lip, and continued kissing you with intense fervor that you were unable to keep up. when she pulled away, however, a grin on her face that made shivers run down your spine was plastered on her face. her hand on your chin, the other rested on your hip.

"hm.. beloved, do you want to see what else these hands can do for you?"

#arlecchino x female reader #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino genshin impact #lilac writes💜#lilac asks💜#arlecchino is so precious in this one i can't wajksdkhwas #pls handle soft arle w care #🔥 anon

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luvzxr · 9 days ago

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Little Pougie

Hello! Hopefully you guys are enjoying this story as much as I am. I noticed a mistake I made in the last with the MC name but it's fixed now!

Thank you to the people who reblogged, it means so much to me that people enjoy my writing and I hope you continue to do so! now onto chapter 3!

Warnings: Mentions of drug use and alcohol, mention of physical abuse, possible smut in the future throughout this book.

Thank you for reading! xx

previous and next chapters

03. Jaw Breaker

JJ Maybank was trying his hardest to hold it together.

He cranked the wrench over and over again, tightening up a bolt on the inside of his bike. He was trying to find things to do to keep himself from going absolutely ballistic, But over time it was becoming increasingly hard to control.

Normally, he would have lost it by now. He would let his emotions get the best of him until that's all left to control him but instead of seeing different emotions; Sad, Happy, Anxious- But the only emotion that ever showed was pure rage.

Unfortunately, anger was the only thing he could ever show.

He was being evicted.

Usually, this situation wouldn't have remotely been something he was worried about since there were numerous occasions he was being thrown out, and then he'd work his magic like he always had and promised the property owner that he'd do some under-the-table work for them and that would help pay the bill.

But they wouldn't take that as payment this time around, unfortunately.

And what he truly felt the need to do was pummel someone's face in. He wanted to grab someone by the back of their head and slam it repeatedly into the ground. He wanted to feel the electricity shock igniting throughout his body, starting from his knuckles and ending up buried deep into someone else's cheekbone. He had nothing but the unkempt rage that he so desperately needed to let out in the form of violence.

He knew that John B would have no problem with taking him in and giving him a place to stay, for JJ was like a brother he never had- but John B didn't know, no one had. And he'd be damned if John B was going to have the opportunity to look at him like a charity case.

He grasped his chest, watching as his free hand shook from the amount of suppressed adrenaline rushing through his body like gasoline. And the longer he stood doing nothing was the exact moment he decided to change that.

He swung around to land the hardest punch he could on the closest firm object around him which just so happened to be the tree.

Two punch, three punch, four. His fifth hit the bark with a loud 'crack.' And with that, he knew he broke something- Was it his knuckles? or his hand? It certainly could of been his middle finger. But he didn't have the time or patience to care.

He turned his body back around and felt it slide down the bark. He glanced down at his fingers, a grimace working its way up his face once he saw the raw skin surrounding them. He used an old, grease-filled rag to wrap up his poor hand temporarily until he could use proper bandages.

Anger and violence were all that JJ knew. It progressively became worse over time. He didn't care what he broke. He didn't care how much blood was shed. He'd hit anything and everything that came into view.

The part he hated the most afterward was that he felt nothing but the antagonizing pain that came with busting his hand. That was the only thing he could feel, for the throbbing aligned with his heartbeat.

And this was the part where he'd crack open can after can until his liver was screaming at him, but at least he would have been way too intoxicated to feel a damn thing.

But he hadn't made that decision because he didn't want to.

A part of him hated himself. scratch that, he did hate himself but the part of him he hated the most was that he resorted to the same things that his own father fell back on, and that made him just as bad. But what should he care? The town had already seen him as the same piece of trash as they did his father.

He heard the rustling of someone approaching. He then began to find the figure to be a very familiar girl he's been trying so hard to avoid recently.

"JJ,"

"What do you want?" he barked, pinching the bridge of his nose before he decided to push himself up off the ground. He saw the person who stood before him was none other than, Kiara Carrera.

"We need to talk dude," Kiara said, approaching closer to him until the only thing separating the two of them was his bike.

"Do we really need to fucking talk right now?" JJ snapped.

"Yes. We do JJ."

"Then talk," He muttered. He loved Kie with every piece he had left of him, and he in a way understood where she was coming from- she just couldn't have been worse with the timing.

"JJ, something happened with us the other night-" She paused, noticing the dulled red cloth wrapped around his hand, "oh my god JJ, what happened?"

"Nothing that I haven't done before," He muttered unhappily.

"What was it this time?" Kiara asked, carefully.

For someone who wasn't born on the South Side of Outer Banks, Kiara Carrera was one of the most compassionate people JJ knew, other than Sophie. It was always one of the most amazing things to him how the girl managed to keep herself together; both around the Pouges and her own family.

"Don't worry about it."

"Please talk to me, JJ"

"What is there to talk about, Kie?"

"Us. What happened between us a few nights ago? It was weird but not a bad weird."

"No. It wasn't a bad weird." He was practically inches away from her now, glancing between her eyes and lips before he pulled himself back, "What are we doing? We shouldn't be doing this. Nah,"

"It would all blow up anyway, y'know. Like, look at you. You got your new Freds on,"

"Nah, y'know. You got parents that live on figure 8," His hand raised, curting in the direction Kiara came from.

"That's not my fault," her voice was soft, almost fragile as if it and her heart would break any minute. But perhaps her heart was already broken.

"You got that," His hands grazing through his hair before wringing his fingers together at the back of his head.

She sighed, "If you need us; we're gonna help you. I'm-" Kiara was on the verge of tears, trying so desperately to hold herself together, "I'll help."

"Kay, that right there!" He swung around, pointing his index finger in her general direction.

help. He's heard that word so many times that it was beginning to sound tedious to him, "okay. like, It's so easy for you to say that. You know why?" His voice began to break.

"Because you're a Kook. You're a Kook Kiara," He spat, referring crudely to the fact she never had to worry about not having somewhere to go or being able to have food on the table. She didn't know the true struggle of life that JJ had been hit with more times than he could count.

"JJ-"

"You wanna help?" He scoffed in disbelief, "Let it go. Because It's never gonna work, Kie."

(Y/n) could hardly keep her eye's open.

Despite the infinite amount of appreciation, (Y/n) had for Kie- she had been the one who got (Y/n/n) the job after all. The Wreck was completely desolated of Pouges, Kooks, and employees alike. Which only bored Sophie, because she couldn't stand how inactive and dead it was.

Actually, disregard that completely. She loved inactivity. Just hated it when she was working a twelve hour shift and had nothing else productive to do with her time.

She had hoped that maybe JJ or even John B would show to keep her company but soon came to realize that probably wasn't going to happen either, which was only more of a bummer. Usually, she'd be working alongside Kiara, and things never got boring. But Kiara hadn't shown up for her shift, which worried (y/n) a bit but neither of Kie's parents seemed too surprised about her absence at the restaurant, for they probably assumed she ditched to hang with JJ or the other Pouges.

She'd never worked this late before. John B would never let her. But (Y/n) had practically begged him and She pulled off the old-fashioned puppy dog eyes to let her pick up a few extra hours. John B couldn't possibly tell her no then- though now, she was slowly beginning to regret her little scheme against her older brother.

(Y/n) watched as it began to get darker with each passing hour and If it hadn't been for the fact that John B always picked her up after her shifts, she probably wouldn't even step foot outside.

She also could always just become a big girl and catch a ride in an Uber- but that required money that she desperately needed in order to help pay the bills, And the fact in general that catching a ride with a complete stranger scared her. Her whole life she was told not to trust strangers or Kooks, but she truly didn't trust anybody she didn't know. So getting into a car with a complete stranger wasn't exactly at the top of her bucket list.

Her shift was nearing the end and she was practically jumping for joy. Her feet felt achy and her eyes felt like ten pounds were added to them just on their own- she couldn't wait to kick off her shoes and crash on the couch watching a dumb cartoon play reruns as background noise while she dozed off.

She heard the single door to the small restaurant sliding open, catching her attention momentarily. She then saw an unfamiliar, masculine figure out of the corner of her eye, hardly being able to ignore it.

"Well, aren't you a pretty little dime."

She hesitated. Did she hear that correctly? Was this strange man talking to her? He had to of been, for she was the only one in the room momentarily which had only made her stomach churn. She was in this room- alone, with this much older man and she had no clue who he was.

He stood in the doorway, momentarily. And at first, it seemed that was as close as he'd ever get but eventually he staggered over- Inching closer and closer, shortening the space between (Y/n) and himself.

(Y/n) tried to disengage, she tried to keep to herself and not give the man even a smidge of attention- for that would probably only make the man stay for a much longer period of time and she certainly didn't want that.

She tried explaining that they were closing and he would have to come back tomorrow or another day but that didn't seem to phase him. He wasn't leaving.

"Come on, sweetheart. I just wanna talk to ya,"

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm just a bit busy trying to close up and my ride should be here shortly," She muttered back. She was panicking deep down inside and it only got worse the longer she had to stand and listen to the disgusting pet names. She simply wanted to slam her head face-first into a wall.

She took a few steps back from the man. He was practically breathing down her throat and it was beginning to make her increasingly uncomfortable; more than she already was.

The man made a swift movement, gripping her wrist, "Come on, I just wanna take you back to my place. We don't even have to talk because your pretty little lips would be preoccupied with something els-"

"You're disgusting," (Y/n) interjected, utterly revolted by the words slipping from this man's mouth and the undermining confidence in them. It was as if he personally convinced himself that there was a way of persuading her. It made her stomach churn even more.

"Ooh, look at the pretty girl finally gathering enough courage to speak up when only moments ago she wouldn't even look at me," He smirked. (Y/n)'s cheeks reddened at the way he mocked her; he didn't even know her but knew all the ways to make her feel so little compared to him. The fact he knew just the right things to say to make a girl feel so powerless, quite literally, unnerved her.

Her tone was soft and hesitant, "Please, stop,"

"I've heard those words a million times, love." His face crept closer to hers, and that was when she could smell the overpowering stench of alcohol on his tongue.

(Y/n)'s lips began to purse at his crude statement, the lump in her throat was threatening to choke her. Her heart was racing, and if it had a mind of its own; it probably would of chosen to kill her at this very moment. But at least it would save her from the horrid things this man had cooking up in his own head.

"The things I'm going to do to you, sweethea—"

Before the man could finish his sentence he was being ripped away from (Y/n), his grip on her wrist moments ago was no longer. A loud and elicited groan from the man fell from his lips while he now was being pinned against the brick wall behind him.

A loud yelp was earned by (Y/n). Neither of them was expecting the sudden switch- For as Sophie was expecting to be dragged out of there and all that would be left to find from her was her body; months later in a ditch somewhere.

JJ Maybank was standing before her, practically turning the man against the wall into a mixture of fear and confusion, and a part of him almost wanted to laugh, for it was something worth taking a picture of and framing. The man was trembling in JJ's grasp when moments ago he had ahold of a sweet, Innocent girl the same exact way.

JJ was ready to punch him- he wanted to. He wanted to beat the ever-living hell out of him until the man was begging for his life while laying in a puddle of his own blood. The veins in his arms protruded, his knuckles turning ghost white from the pressure he held with his balled-up fists.

"You want to finish that sentence, man?!"

"What the fuc-" The man's eyes grew frantic, desperately trying to wiggle out of JJ's grasp.

"What were you gonna say? You'd do what exactly to her?!" JJ shouted.

"No- No!- I was just leaving! Let g-"

"You like touching her and girls like her?"

"I- I didn't- I didn't touch her!"

JJ adjusted his grip, shaking the man with a voice of furious resentment.

"Ooh, you didn't touch her? It looked pretty clear to me that you were!" He bellowed, slamming the man harder against the wall, fury coursing through his own veins like wildfire.

This was the side of JJ that he rarely let loose. The side of him where he didn't care anymore, he didn't care how long he'd be in jail or if he'd ever get out cause he caught a case where the murder was what the trial was for. It was terrifying.

He was being blinded by vexation, exasperated to the point he couldn't possibly believe that a pervert like him would be so messed up in the head to even remotely try and touch an innocent girl like (Y/n).

Millions of thoughts ran through JJ's head, each one more crude than the last.

The things I'm going to do to you.

He could feel the man trying to escape him, trying to push JJ off or pull away from his grasp. He could see fear in the man's eyes as his grip only grew tighter against the balled up cloth held in JJ's fists.

Your pretty little lips would be preoccupied.

He wanted to take advantage of her. He wanted to use (Y/n), Innocent (Y/n), one of the only people who would trade her own happiness just so someone else could finally be happy.

I've heard those words a million times, love.

JJ lost it. He couldn't hold himself together anymore.

He retracted his fist, closing up the small amount of space between the man's neck and his forearm before clenching his jaw, pursing his lips, broadening up his stance, and striking the poor guy right across his jaw.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank angst #jj outer banks #obx4 #obx fic #obx fanfiction #outer banks #john b routledge

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chaileaf · 2 years ago

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𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐒

part two of anonymous bidder

› featuring: med student!shuntaro chishiya + fem!reader

› word count: 2,674 words

› synopsis: it had been three years since you last seen shuntaro chishiya after graduation. suddenly, a fateful interaction brings you two back together. the question is: will you forgive him?

› rating: nsfw, +18

› cw: vulgar language, explicit content, sex on camera, angst, brief rough sex scene

› setting: after college au where reader is interning as a biotechnologist in a hospital and chishiya is a medical student doing clinical rotations

⤷ chai's note: hey y'all! i really appreciate all the love i received on anonymous bidder so i decided to enlogate it into four to five parts. i know this is a bit short (and extremely less smutty) but i hope you still enjoy it! (also dw pt 3 is gna be way more explicit) i haven't been able to write much because i've been away at medic training for the army (long story) but i wanted to get part two to you guys asap. if you want to be added to the tag list, let me know! anyone who's in my tag list will be tagged in all of my future writings so if you'd rather be tagged in only anonymous bidder update, please lmk! i love you all so much! thank you for allowing me to create beautiful pieces for you guys. i appreciate everything. much love, chai !!

⤷tags: @poetrieshouse @tungstenorc @mackjestic @seraphvm @naegisimp @fishisahappydog @parkersmyth @huachengsbestie01 @chlooooop @bxcndd @kowzs @sleepysnk @luuminou ily guys sm for supporting my writing, you have no idea how much i appreciate it 🫶🏻

your fingers flipped the pages of your notes while your eyes scanned over the material. “let’s see… test subject a responded to chemicals a and e very well. that’s a good sign.” you whispered to yourself, highlighting the text with your pink pen. “but chemical b and c did not react well. that could be detrimental when putting it into certain med-”

“y/n? is that… is that you?” a somewhat familiar voice questioned from the breakroom door you didn’t even realize opened. your eyes widened as you turned to face chishiya shuntaro, cheeks going pale and mouth propping itself somewhat open.

“chishiya?” you said out of shock more than actually questioning it. you never thought you’d see him again after college graduation, thinking he’d go to some hot shot hospital for his medical rotations. instead, he was still in shibuya. the hospital was nice, sure, but there were better options for the school’s valedictorian.

“how’ve you been? it’s been, what, almost three years?” chishiya asked with a chortle at the end, crossing his arms against his chest and leaning against the countertop with his hip. he looked nearly the same as he did when you’d seen him last. his silky blonde strands were still touching his shoulders. the brown eyes that had a habit of scanning everyone in the room were glistening with judgement. his frame looked bigger, as if he’d been working out in his free time. yet, something was off. he wasn’t the same chishiya. his presence seemed softer, as if he was less intense. could it be working with patients made him more susceptible to empathy and sympathy?

“i’ve been good!” your voice sounded excited and somewhat exasperated, as if you were holding a breath before speaking. “i started an internship here under the lead researcher for the hospital so work has been… draining?” you questioned, not sure if that was the right word to use. “but i really like it here! everyone is so nice and welcoming, surprisingly. i thought biotechnologists were snarky assholes.” the last sentence was whispered with a laugh. chishiya stared at you intently, causing the smile that creeped on your lips to fade. “is… is something wrong, chishi-”

“you just look as beautiful as the last time i saw you.” chishiya cut you off. the words were simple, but everything in your brain scattered as if the things he’d said were a complex math problem. you gulped, feeling a familiar crimson rush to your face. the room seemed about ten degrees hotter, causing your breathing to increase ever so slightly with your heart rate. his face was plain, but it felt like he was staring straight into your soul.

“i-” you tried to speak after a few moments of silence to kill the awkwardness. it was to no avail when the words decided to get stuck in your throat. you brushed the strands of hair coming out of your ponytail behind your ear out of embarrassment. “thanks…” your voice was so soft that he almost didn’t hear you. chishiya let out a small laugh, shaking his head. the almost-silver strands fell to cover his face, but you could still see his smile. he was definitely a softer version of the chishiya shuntaro you knew in college.

“you don’t have to be embarrassed, y/n. it’s just a compliment. relax.” you let out an exhale you didn’t realize was trapped in your lungs at the end of his statement. an awkward laugh escaped your mouth as you turned back to your notes, pretending to focus on them instead of letting memories of the past seep in. “anyways, we should go out for lunch today. you down?” he asked. it didn't seem malicious, but you couldn’t help but think that he wanted something else.

your body was pinned under his, hands wrapped around your wrists as you screamed out of pleasure into the pillow. your back kept arching into him with each stroke of his thick cock. “you love that, don’t ya? fucking whore…” the last two words were mumbled under his breath as he continuously kissed your g-spot with the tip of his member. chishiya uncuffed a hand from your wrists and went to the locks of hair by the nape of your neck, pulling your head backwards to where his lips were pressed against your ear. “i wanna hear you scream my fucking name. show them how much you want me, pretty girl.” he relentlessly pounded into your cunt as you moaned loud enough for the camera to pick up. “show them you’re mine.”

it had been two weeks since the library incident, and you were absolutely needy for chishiya shuntaro. your pussy ached every time you seen his face around campus, as if it was made for him. your avoidance didn’t help, but instead made everything worse; especially since you watched him every time he livestreamed as k1ng0fd1am0nds. eventually, he cornered you in the dorms the same way he did in the library. one thing led to another until you were yet again underneath the beautiful man that was chishiya.

‘friends with benefits’ was what he’d call the situationship that lasted up to graduation. it was a wonderful experience, to say the least. chishiya was a very selfless person in bed and always made sure you got off multiple times before he did. you even gave in to his requests to perform with him on his cam streams. it was an anxiety inducing situation, considering nearly the whole school found out. it was the talk of the town for an entire two weeks, with some teachers even giving you a side eye. by the time everything went back to normal, graduation was nearing closer and you could see the finish line.

being done with chishiya was bittersweet. on one hand, you could finally be free of his grasp and actually try to find a real relationship. on the other, you knew you’d miss him. he was genuinely a fun person to be around whenever you weren’t at school. chishiya knew how to crack a good joke. he would pay the tab no matter where you two went out to eat. he also did his best to calm your anxiety whenever you were studying; in some cases, giving you head or fingering you while asking questions and stopping whenever you got the answer wrong.

at the end of it all, he didn’t seem bothered. chishiya didn’t even say goodbye. his dorm was empty and cleared out before you could get the chance to wish him well in his future. for some reason, it made your heart ache. you thought about it for a month straight trying to figure out what you might’ve done wrong. he never answered your texts or calls. he disappeared.

“no.” you stated before closing your notes. chishiya scoffed in disbelief, and he must have thought you were joking with the smile that was still plastered on his face.

“oh, you’re serious.” chishiya’s mouth downturned into a frown as his eyebrows furrowed with confusion. “i don’t get it. it’s just lunch, y/n.” you almost felt bad. almost. you continued to pack your things into your satchel bag and put it over your shoulder. looking at him in the eyes hurt too much, so you focused on the wall above his head to make it seem like you were staring at him.

“chishiya, if you want to fuck someone, go find some other girl for your cam show. we ended things three years ago, let’s keep it that way.” the words flowed out of your mouth before you could stop them. you could tell they stung by the way chishiya was looking at you with skepticism. the emotional poison he’d given you three years ago was finally out of your body and returned the original snake.

“y/n-” chishiya started, but was soon cut off by your own voice.

“goodbye.” and with that, you left the breakroom with a slam of the door.

your heart was racing as you walked into work the next day, terrified that you’d be face to face with chishiya shuntaro again. you knew your words hurt, but you didn’t care. he hurt you. isn’t it fair?

guilt started to pour into your chest and made it feel heavier than usual. you did your best to shake it off on the way to the elevator, but it was to no avail. you wanted to apologize. you wanted to scream. you wanted to disappear, just like he did. all of these thoughts clouded your mind and you just wanted peace.

ding!

the doors to the elevators opened and hospital staff fled out as if they’d been in there for hours. you let out a deep breath, walking in after everyone cleared out and pressing the button for the lab. the doors shut quickly, leaving you alone with your thoughts. you clutched your satchel bag to your chest and rested your chin on the top. “i’m so fucking stupid…” you whispered to yourself while tears dared to well inside of your eyes.

ding!

the sound of the elevator brought you out of your thoughts and you leaned sideways on the elevator walls, facing a different direction than the entrance to hide the emotions that were slowly appearing on your face. “y/n?” chishiya’s voice felt like a burn to your ears. you closed your eyes and muttered a desperate ‘fuck’ under your breath. “are you okay?” his concerned voice was followed by the sound of the elevator creaking, causing you to look around with a somewhat panicked expression until the noise stopped and the elevator kept moving.

“yeah. yeah, i’m fine.” a sigh escaped your lungs as you leaned your head back onto the wall, ready to get this interaction over with.

“y/n, listen.” chishiya began, trying his best to speak before you could intervene. however, you weren’t about to let that happen.

“i don’t want to listen, chishiya.” you opened your eyes and positioned your head to where you could look him dead in the eyes. your gaze was nearly piercing his skull with every second you looked at him. “you disappeared, why can’t i disappear? why-” your voice became shakier with each word. you took an extensive inhale before letting it out and continuing. “why do i have to feel guilty for expressing my feelings in the breakroom yesterday? why do i want to apologize to you when you were the one who left me!” the tears that had left you returned at full force, dripping down your cheeks like a small waterfall in a forest.

the creaking noise of the elevator had gotten louder, but your frustrations drowned out every sound except the words coming out of your mouth. chishiya was staring sorrowfully at you, as if his own heart was breaking listening to you. his face was the least of your concerns as the elevator came to a halt. both of you grabbed onto the railings placed on either wall of the enclosed space, a thud bringing you both out of the current conversation. an automated voice rang through the elevator speakers, replacing the jingles that were playing prior to the sudden stop.

“please hold tight. assistance is on the way. do not panic.”

“jesus fucking christ.” you said with nothing but exhaustion and irritation. your head leaned against the wall again with a thump. this is not where you expected to be when you played the day’s events in your head this morning. “just my luck…” you mumbled, opening your eyes only to roll them.

“y/n, i didn’t want to do that.” chishiya started the conversation back up, walking closer to you in order to get you to look in his direction. you tried to back up, only flushing yourself further into the wall, as you stared him down. he stopped in his tracks. his body was clad in light blue scrubs and a white doctor’s coat. his hands came up and adjusted the lanyard and stethoscope around his neck out of what you presumed was anxiety. “do you want the honest answer, or do you want to keep going on hating me with no answer to why i disappeared?” chishiya quizzed, crossing his arms the same way he did when he was in college. his shoulder length hair was meticulously placed into a ponytail with only his bangs left out to frame his face.

you stared at him, waiting for him to continue talking instead of cooperating with a nod. chishiya inched closer, standing next to you against the wall so that you both were facing the elevator doors. he let out a profound sigh and began again. “i knew that i had feelings from you after the first time in the library, even before that, i knew.” he confessed, leaning his head against the wall as if to mimick you. your head turned to watch him as he spoke. “i didn’t want to accept it. i thought that i could keep you at a distance but everything kept telling me to go to you. i’d see you in the cafeteria and wave. you always avoided me, so i never even had the chance to tell you how i felt.” chishiya’s voice was lower now, almost as if he was embarrassed. “when i finally got you alone, we had sex. it was wonderful, don’t get me wrong.” he laughed to himself, causing you to chortle. the sentence almost made you blush, but it felt so natural to hear him talk like this. “anyways, i didn’t think that it would be the best impression if i asked you out after that. even when we were friends with benefits,” chishiya put air quotes around friends with benefits, making you stifle a laugh. “i didn’t want to ask you out. why?” he shook his head, strands of his bangs moving with him. “i have no idea. it would’ve been perfect. but part of me didn’t feel good enough. you deserved better. a clean slate of a relationship where it starts out as a relationship, not a fuck in the library. so i left.”

the end of his explanation came far too soon. you sat in silence, staring at his face that was focused on the elevator flooring. you wanted to feel guilty, but you didn’t. you had no reason to apologize since your feelings were valid and justified in this situation. his explanation was not an excuse. but… “i forgive you.”

the words were like an alarm to his ears, making him perk his head up and look at you. chishiya’s expression was that of a puppy you just asked to go for a walk. “what?” he questioned as if the words didn’t register into his brain.

“i forgive you.” you stated calmly with a profound sigh. “i understand that it might’ve been hard to come to terms with your feelings, so you did what you knew how to do. you closed yourself off and left. so, i forgive you.”

you both stood in the elevator for what seemed like an eternity of silence. the only sound present was a drowned out beeping noise from the elevator’s alarm system. it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, nor was it awkward. you couldn’t help but feel as if you both were healing from the past wounds with each other's presence.

“so, y/n...” chishiya said with a cracked voice before clearing his throat. it made you chuckle, as an unconfident chishiya wasn’t exactly usual. “would you like to go on a date with me?” his eyes veered over to yours and you retained the smile from your previous chuckle, nodding your head slowly.

“yeah, chishiya. i would.”

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