#does this mean that the people who walk naked around the house that have plants- does - does this mean the plants see their- see their

[semi-personal]

I'm aorry but the plants fucking what-

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Sasaki headcanons

SFW

Afternoon naps with triceratops Sasaki.

his armpits and the back of his knees are ticklish

lets out the girliest scream when he's surprised.

Sasaki likes having lots of plants around, so he's developed quite the green thumb over the years.

His bedroom is a jungle, (it's just five very big house plat's that he's had for over a decade.

He is a giant sweetie to the people he cares about, he will dote on you a whole bunch.

Sasaki doesn't shy away from expressing himself, so he'll tell you as soon as he realizes he likes you. And it'll be in the most mundane and inconvenient way possible. Probably when you're in the middle of doing something important.

Sasaki sleeps curled up on his side, which leads to you sleeping in a lot of awkward positions.

He has a big triceratops plush toy in his room

The man only lifts weights and does no yoga or mobility exercises.

He can't bend down and touch his toes, even with his knees bent.

Sasaki is a huge tease.

In public, he will do small stuff, like tickle or pinch you when you pass each other in the halls.

in private he will do stuff like chase you and scoop you up into his arms and cover you with kisses.

He loves to make you laugh.

Sasaki will not share sweets with you

He will however share other foods, especially meat, with you.

I don't think Sasaki would eat a lot of meat, despite what his oral hardware might say.

He would probably eat a lot of veg, fruit, and lots of nuts.

He hates perfume and cologne, he has a very sensitive nose and that shit just gives him a headache which makes him cranky.

NSFW

Sex with Sasaki isn't the easiest, he's big and literally not very flexible. And I mean in the literal sense, his joints are not flexible.

So you will either be on top of him, or you will be bent over something.

He can manage shower/wall sex though, he just has to lean back.

Sasaki is quite noisy during sex and he drools.

He is a switch, through and through.

This man will let you peg the shit out of him.

Sasaki is rather easy to get going, a flash of your thighs or you sticking your tongue out at him is enough to get his engine going.

Sasaki loves to steal your panties, the fresher they are the better.

He will push you into a closet, and rip the pair you are currently wearing off.

When you holler at him he'll simply grin at you as he lifts them to his nose and takes a big whiff before going about his day like he doesn't have a pair of toasty panties wadded up in his pocket.

It is insanely fun to make him sexually frustrated throughout the day.

Wear that one set of clothes that makes you feel sexy.

Small touches here and there

brush your hands together when he hands you something

tailing your finger up his spine when he's leaned over his desk

slapping his ass

You don't even have to touch him, you can just run your hand over his favorite part of your body and he'll start drooling

Although you need to be prepared for what happens if you do.

Sasaki will fuck you like an animal soon as he can get his hands on you.

You will not be leaving your bed the day after, so clear your schedule.

He would love to sink his teeth into you if you're okay with that. He will tend to your injuries afterward.

Sasaki is the type of guy who will walk down to the kitchens, buck ass naked or in whatever get-up he was fucking you in, to get you fruit snacks.

Sasaki will try anything once, so don't hesitate to ask him to try new stuff.

Also in terms of his kinks, he's just as kinky as King, if not more so.

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[pingutats]

For the “ways to say i love you” prompts, 43 please!

thank you for the request! from this list, prompt 43: "I picked these for you."

warnings: none! this is just fluff!

word count: 1.8k

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

This is definitely Harry’s domain.

Y/N hugs her shoulders as she stands in her bedroom-turned-dressing-room, staring at the rack of expensive clothes that have been left for her. Through the door, she can hear the noise of the crew bustling around her living room. This house has, of course, been the site of many Harry-hosted parties that had packed in a lot more people than there are present here today — despite that, this smaller group is threatening to become overwhelming for her.

She’s doing this for Harry. A couple of months ago, he was approached by AnOther Magazine to do a big feature with them — a kind of sequel to the one that he did when they were still called Another Man — and he’s been pouring his heart and soul into it since then. It feels like every single day, he’s been off chatting with a writer or meeting with the creative director. He dragged boxes out of storage to rifle through for mementos of his life as a solo artist last week. Y/N knows that some of their friends have been interviewed to talk about Harry. She’s pretty sure Stevie Nicks is one of them.

The centrepiece, though, is a photoshoot more intimate than he’s ever shared before. In the same way that the shoot set in his hometown years ago illustrated where he came from before he rocketed to stardom, this one will reveal who he is underneath all the make-up and glamour of fame.

Harry as he exists in private: in his home, with his girl, sharing this image of himself for the very first time.

Y/N was apprehensive at first — hell, Harry was too — but they’ve discussed it at length. He’s always been a private man, but his ethos is that honesty is integral to his art. He sings in detail about her in his music and puts that into the world with minimal censoring. This magazine feature, at its core, is just another artistic venture. He doesn’t want to hold back. When she understood it like that, it was easy for her to agree.

Her conviction that this is an important thing to do for Harry doesn’t stop the nerves, though. She’s never been a model, or even remotely a figure of interest beyond her connection to Harry. It’s his limelight that she’s stepping into. She can’t help but feel nervous about it.

The first outfit she’s wearing is a boldly patterned dress, custom-made by Gucci at Harry’s request. This isn’t the first time she’s wearing something this expensive (there are no compromises on fashion when you’re with Harry) but it still makes her feel like a fish out of water. She holds the hanger at arms-length for a moment, vaguely anxious that she might have put on weight since the fitting and it won’t fit her anymore, then carefully slips it off. She steps into it gingerly and shrugs it over her shoulders, then reaches behind her to pull the zip up as far as she can reach. She stands in front of the mirror and looks at her reflection, frowning.

Her make-up, which was done earlier, is colourful and dramatic. The point of this home shoot is to show the dichotomy between Harry’s celebrity persona and his private life, illustrated through the elaborate costuming inside their relatively normal home. She doesn’t recognise herself in it.

There’s a knock at the door, startling her out of her thoughts. She whips around, back straightening. “What is it?”

“Can I come in?” It’s Harry’s voice, and just those four short words in his gentle tone are enough to dissolve some of her anxiety.

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself into a calmer headspace. “Yeah,” she answers.

He opens the door discreetly and slips inside, careful not to reveal her to the people in the living room while she’s not properly dressed. She appreciates his caution. Although he’s apparently comfortable enough to walk around near-strangers half-naked—he’s only wearing his boxers right now—she definitely isn’t.

“Everything alright, darling?” he asks. Every step that brings him closer puts her more at ease. She’s always been an anxious person, but he’s like a drug to her. From the very first time they met, he’s been the person she feels most natural with. They just work. Things feel right with him.

She smiles at him. It’s a weak stretch of her lips, but a smile nonetheless. “Yeah. Can you zip me up, please?”

“Of course.”

She turns back around to face the mirror and reaches behind her head to pull her hair out of his way. His fingers are warm against bare skin of her back, finding the zipper and dragging it up, his knuckles brushing against her skin more than is probably necessary. He fixes the way the straps sit over her shoulders with the same attention to detail that she’s seen his stylists give for him a hundred times before. His lip is tucked between his teeth as he does so, glancing from the mirror back to her, his face the image of concentration.

Finally satisfied, he takes a step back and rakes his gaze up and down her figure. “Y’look gorgeous.”

She shrugs, staring at herself. “Thanks, H.”

“I mean it.” He plants a kiss on her cheek, holding her by the waist as they look at each other through their reflections. “Pretty dress for a pretty girl.”

Heat rises in her face and she drops her gaze to the floor. “Now you’re doing too much.”

He shakes his head. “‘M not. Promise I’m not.”

She hums, appraising their reflection with a frown. Even in his underwear, Harry is Harry, and she… She feels like she’s playing dress up in someone else’s wardrobe, dipping her toes into someone else’s life. Harry is at ease in a place like this but she certainly isn’t.

Harry seems to sense this. “Something the matter?” he asks her gently.

“No, just —“ she wrings her hands in front of her, searching for the words. “I don’t feel like me.”

He furrows his brow. “I know what you mean. ’S weird when you do all this—” he flutters his hand around the room, at the rack of clothes and towards the door where they can hear someone giving directions to shift the couch slightly to the left “—just to get a photo done. And I know you’re not used to it.” He squeezes her waist gently. “But you look beautiful. Just like you always do.”

She can’t suppress a small smile at that, bumping her head against Harry’s shoulder with a quietly mouthed, “Thank you.”

He turns his head to kiss her hair, then releases his grip on her waist and moves over to the rack of clothes. “But did y’see…” He bends down to pick up a plastic container marked Look 1 from the shelf at the bottom. He opens it up to reveal various pieces of jewellery inside, and delicately picks out a couple pieces with nimble fingers. “I picked these for you.”

They’re her earrings. More specifically, they’re the earrings that he gave her for their first anniversary. A couple of dangling pearls—he’d bought them during his obsession with the gems. They’re a sweet memento of that time of their lives, of the honeymoon phase that felt like it lasted forever, that never really fizzled out even to this day. They’re her favourites.

She realises her mouth has dropped open. “When did you sneak those in?” she asks.

He shrugs, smirking. “I have my ways. I’m sneaky.” He returns to his previous position standing behind her, nudging her hair behind her ear with his knuckles. “May I?”

She nods, trying not to shiver as his fingers brush against her ears.

“There we go,” he says, stepping back. “Is that a bit better?”

The girl in the mirror looks familiar now. Despite the make-up and the dress, she can see herself. The same face, framed by the same earrings, that has accompanied Harry through all sorts of days and nights. Today is just another one of those things. Something they’re doing, together, and isn’t that all she wants, for them to do everything together?

Being with Harry is a dream she never wants to wake up from. They’ve built a paradise together and now they get to share a tiny part of it with the world—not for the world to share in it, but to see just how beautiful it is.

There’s a little part of Y/N that hopes it makes the rest of the world jealous. They should be, she thinks.

“It’s perfect, H,” she tells him, glancing over her shoulder so she looks at his real face, not just his reflection. “Honestly. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” He looks proud of himself—his eyes are shining and his dimples are on display as he looks her up and down once more. “It’s all you.”

Y/N mirrors him, her gaze travelling down his body. She bites her lip.

Harry seems to remember suddenly that he’s only in his underwear—his hands fly to cover his thinly-clothed privates and he looks at her, his mouth open in a sly grin. “This is not the time,” he scolds, his shoulders shaking as he suppresses laughter.

Y/N rolls her eyes, grabbing him by the shoulder and pushing him to turn around. “Go get dressed, you dork.”

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

The suit that Harry wears is made out of the same material as Y/N’s dress, bright and bold colours. The photographer is accomodating of her nerves as he has them sit on the couch. The window is wide open to allow the natural light to illuminate their faces, and the Y/N can feel the warmth of the sun on her face. The sky is a brilliant blue. It’s a perfect day.

“Okay, look this way,” the photographer tells her, drawing her attention from the window to the camera. “A little closer, Harry.”

Harry shifts over, his thigh pressing against hers. His hand comes to rest on her knee, then lifts suddenly as if he’s remembered something. “Hang on a minute,” he says to the photographer, holding up a finger.

He twists around to face Y/N and carefully sweeps her hair back over her shoulder, tucking it behind her ear to ensure the pearl earring is on clear display. She smiles at him, which he returns in a quick unspoken exchange of gratitude and care.

“Alright,” Harry says, settling back to face the photographer. His hand finds Y/N’s and he squeezes it. “We’re good.”

The camera clicks and the flash goes off. Their hands remain joined on Harry’s lap.

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, a reblog & any kind of message would be really appreciated. i'm open to any requests, from the prompt list linked above or from your own imagination, which you can send here. all my other writing is linked on my masterlist. have a lovely day!

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S1:E2; Chapter Two, The Weirdo On Maple Street - [Pt. 2]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

𝘠/𝘯, 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴, 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯.

|| 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

Lucas, Dustin and I take our seats once we get to class.

"Oh, that can't be good." I sigh, gesturing to Mike's empty seat.

"Yeah, he's never this late," Dustin added.

"I'm telling you, his stupid plan failed," Lucas stated.

"I thought you liked his plan?"

"Yeah, but obviously it's stupid, or he'd be here."

"If his mom found out a girl spent the night—" Dustin began.

"He's in deep shit right about now."

Dustin shifted in his seat, and leaned forward, whispering loud enough for us to hear. "Hey, what if she slept naked?"

"Ugh!" My face screws into a sour, disgusted look aimed at my brother, unintentionally speaking at the same time as Lucas. "Why would she do that, Dustin?"

"Oh, my God, she didn't."

"Oh, if Mrs. Wheeler tells our parents..."

The thought of Mom finding out was enough to elicit an anxious groan from me, and I let my forehead fall against desk where I buried my face.

"No way. Mike would never rat us out."

I hesitantly looked up, making eye contact with Lucas. He gave me a reassuring smile, knowing I worry easily.

"I don't know." Dustin said warily.

"All that matters is, after school, the freak will be back in the loony bin, and we can focus on what really matters, finding Will." I frown at his specific choice of words for El, thinking back on how scared she seemed last night. I desperately want to say something, but decided against it, not wanting to get in a fight. Fighting won't get us any closer to finding Will.

|| 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

Mike Wheeler rides his bike down the small slope of grass towards his front yard. When El refused to let Mike's mom know she was there, Mike had no choice but to resort to plan b. He had led his mom to believe that he had ridden to school when in reality he had stopped around the corner until both his parents were gone.

When he got to the driveway, he dismounted his bike and led it into the garage, however something caught his eye. He stared in awe as the once withered and frankly the most miserable looking plant he had ever seen in his life, was now a beautiful lush green and stood as tall his knees. 'How had Y/n done it?'

It took a solid moment for Mike to gather his thoughts and focus on the task at hand. He parked his bike and made his way inside.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"You want anything to drink?" Mike decided to take advantage of the empty house so that he could show El around. "We have OJ, skim milk... What else? Um, we have..."

Mike trailed off when he saw that El was more fascinated with the things in his living room, mostly his TV set.

"Oh, this is my living room. It's mostly just for watching TV."

El lightly traced her fingers around the frame of the TV as she examined it.

"Nice, right? It's a 22-inch.

That's, like, ten times bigger than Dustin's."

El turned her head and said quietly.

"Y/n."

"Well, yeah of course. Y/n too."

"Y/n. Brother?" She asked, making sure she remembered correctly.

"Yeah!" Mike smiled, then lightly shrugged. "Well, technically adopted. But yeah, they're still brothers."

El's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Ad-adopted?"

"Yeah, um, it means that he came from different parents. Mrs. Henderson adopted him because his parents were unable to take care of him. It's funny actually, Y/n is from Hawkins. Or at least that's where they found him. They didn't used to live in Hawkins; I don't know much about it cause Dustin was so young he doesn't remember any of it, but I think him and his mom were visiting family here and they just... found him, I think? I'm pretty sure that's why they moved here, or something."

El seemed to understand as she thought about it. She then turned to look at the all the pictures on top of the fireplace. She slowly walks to the fireplace and steps up onto the brick platform. She gazes at all the family photos. Particularly, the photo beside the one of Mike; of a smiling girl, a little older than herself, with long brown hair and a pink sweater.

She smiles longingly and speaks in a soft voice. "Pretty."

"I guess." Mike's face is contorted in confusion and a little in disgust.

"That's my sister Nancy. And that's baby Holly." He said as she moved to the slightly larger photo of a young baby. She then moved along to a photo with Mike, Nancy, and Holly, along with two other people she didn't recognize.

"And those are my parents. What are your parents like?" As usual, El says nothing and she steps down from the fireplace and walks up to a large green chair.

"Do they live close?" Mike continued. He notices El run her hand along the top of the plush green chair. "That's our La-Z-Boy. It's where my dad sleeps. You can try it if you want." He offers. El looked up at him, intrigued. "Yeah." He assured her, with a warm smile on his face. She cautiously sits down as Mike kneels down beside the chair. "It's fun!"

She looked to Mike, wondering what he is up to.

"Just trust me, okay?" She gives a quick nod, and braces herself, not knowing what to expect. She is taken aback by the sudden collapse of the chair, she is now laying down and the chair is rocking back and forth. She lets out a gasp, and then a nervous chuckle.

"See? Fun, right?"

With one hand on the back of the chair, and the other on the front, he brings the chair back into its default position. "Now you try."

With a small smile on her face, and feeling more confident she leans over the side and pulls the handle, letting her entire body go flying backward into a slow rock. Mike and El both look at each other and laugh gleefully.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Some random rock song on the radio that Jonathan barely recognized came to an end as Jonathan Byers drove to his dad's house. His eyes darted to the radio unit in his car for a moment as his heart fell when the familiar sound of "Should I Stay or Should I Go" rang throughout the car.

- 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

"Darlin', you got to let me know"

Jonathan is sat on the edge of the bed next to his younger brother Will. The two of them are in Will's room, bobbing their heads along to 'Should I Stay or Should I Go' by The Clash.

"Should I stay or should I go?"

"You like it?" Jonathan had to raise his voice so he could be heard over the loud song. Will looks to his older brother and grins.

"Yeah, it's cool!"

"All right, you can keep the mix if you want."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. All the best stuff's on there. Joy Division, Bowie, Television, The Smith's... It'll totally change your life."

"Yeah, totally," Will says with a smile. However, the smile is quick to leave when the two boys hear their mother yelling on the phone.

"Where the hell are you, Lonnie?"

Will slowly turns his head to the door, listening to his mother yell at his absent father.

"I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear it." Jonathan mimics his brother's actions and looks to the door. Finally, he gets up and walks towards the door.

"This is ridiculous! I'm so sick of your excuses.

"One day is fine and next is black"

Before Jonathan sits down, he lowers the volume on the stereo.

"He's not coming, is he?"

"Do you even like baseball?" Jonathan asks softly.

"No, but... I don't know." He shrugs sadly. "It's fun to go with him sometimes."

"Come on. Has he ever done anything with you that you actually like? You know, like the arcade or something?"

Will shrugs his shoulders weakly. "I don't know."

"No, all right? He hasn't. He's trying to force you to like normal things. And you shouldn't like things because people tell you you're supposed to. Okay?"

Will only looks down at his feet sadly.

"Especially not him."

Will silently nods his head in understanding.

Jonathan decided to change the subject.

"But you like The Clash? For real?"

Will nods his head eagerly with a smile. "For real. Definitely."

"So... is Y/n a fan of The Clash?" Jonathan asks, genuinely curious.

A faint blush dusts Will's cheeks as he looks down at his hands. "Um, yeah, I think so."

"Maybe you should show this to him. I bet he'll like it."

"Maybe. You think?"

"Yeah, from what I know, he has great taste. He's pretty cool."

A loving smile spreads across Will's face. "Yeah, he is pretty cool."

There's a small pause filled only with the now dulled melody of drums and guitar drifting through the air. They had talked about it before, but only vaguely, never fully addressing it and it dawned on Jonathan that there was probably still loads of fear for Will because of it. He looks down at his brother who he loved more than anything and sent him an encouraging, honest smile.

"Will, you guys are best friends. You two are just too close to ruin the friendship. Why don't you think about asking him to the arcade or something? Just the two of you, maybe come back here for some mac and cheese or something if that'd make you feel safer, and you could " he shrugs. "let him know how you feel?"

Will looked up at his brother, shocked. But his body was flushed with relief, he could feel the air in the room hitting his sweaty and clammey skin giving him chills. Not quite knowing how to handle his brothers reaction, his eyes simply fall to his hands where they fidgeting in his lap.

"But what if that does ruin the friendship? What if he doesn't feel the same way, and decides to stop hanging out with me. Or if someone finds out- I just- I just can't. I'm not ready."

"That's okay. All I'm saying is, he is way too nice to be the kind of person who would do that. And you are way too important to him. And hey, if you ever do feel ready, or you guys do go out in the future..." Jonathan trails off, sensing the awkwardness creep up. He chuckles and looks back to his brother.

"All I'm trying to say is, I'm here for you. Always."

Will smiles gratefully and Jonathan leans forward to the volume back up.

"Should I stay or should I go? So you gotta let me know, should I stay or should I go?"

- 𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

[hufflepuffhollander]

drive-in: tom holland one-shot

a/n | in honor of hitting 700 followers and also getting my real life heart broken and needing my unproblematic fictional boyfriend back, here’s an oldie from the drafts.✌🏻 enjoy kiddos

cw | language, angst, a lil smut, teasing banter, fluff! 1.5k words.

“Mmm, darling, let me at you,” Tom mumbled against your lips as you lightly squeezed his shoulders, his hands fidgeting with the hem of your shorts, trying to wriggle them down. Just as he’d made some progress, you heard a loud snicker on the other side of your door.

You pulled your face away from Tom’s and averted your gaze to the front of the room, where you could see two pairs of socks in the crevice between the floor and the door, standing on the other side. Without letting you dismantle from him, he grabbed the nearest pillow and flung it at the wall. “Fuck off, you pervs!” The kid-like chuckles coming from the socks continued.

The sudden interruption had killed the mood, so you just sat in Tom’s lap on his bed and laid your head against his chest, sighing. “Can’t they get a job?”

Tom combed a hand of fingers through your hair. “They do have jobs; they’re professional cockblocks.”

“And they need to work from home?”

“Everybody does, baby. We’re all stuck inside.”

“...right.”

You had to keep shifting around on Tom’s lap, uncomfortable from the sudden lack of pressure of his hands wandering over you. He had just gotten back from a press tour, you’d barely had any alone time with him since—and you were both getting pretty tired of not being able to rip each other’s clothes off like you’d wanted to since the moment he walked through the front door. Finally, you have a couple minutes to sneak away from the roommates you’re stuck quarantining with, and what do they do but follow you to Tom’s bedroom like absolute creeps. Creeps that seem to have a vendetta against you getting off. You’d spent too much time hanging out with them while Tom was gone, and now they were far too comfortable meddling in your personal life.

“How long do you think it’ll be til we’re actually alone again?” you asked, tracing over the freckles on his shoulders.

“I have no idea,” he sighed, falling back onto the pillows. “Who knows how long this will all last.”

“We might have to get pretty creative then, because I’m getting a little-”

“Thirsty?”

You smacked Tom’s arm as he giggled at you.

“I was going to say impatient.”

“So...horny.”

You pouted at him. “Can you blame me for missing you?”

He kissed your cheek and then your nose. “No, love, I missed you too. And if those idiots weren’t within earshot, I would’ve already had you screaming my name three times over by now.”

You kissed him back. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Long, countless days went by, the two of you stuck inside with Harrison, Tuwaine and Harry, trying to find a balance between friend time and couple time but failing miserably. The boys had made a bet behind your back on how long they could go before hearing you and Tom having sex through the walls, and they took their gambling way too seriously. It had been too long.

Seeing an ad for a distanced drive-in movie night being hosted at a nearby park, you jumped on the opportunity, convincing Tom to come with just so you could get out of the house. The night finally came, and you flicked off the group of boys as they shouted after you for leaving the bubble, more than ready for a good old fashioned date night.

“They really do hate us,” you chuckled as you zoomed away.

“Nah, babe, they love us—they’re just jealous we didn’t invite them.” He placed his hand on your own and squeezed it, playing with your fingers for the extent of the drive to the park, just as excited as you to get some one-on-one time.

You cozied up in the backseat of the car with Tom, wrapped in fuzzy blankets you’d brought with and watching Titanic on the large screen set up in the grass in front of where you parked. You were intently focused on the movie, as it was one of your favorites, but Tom spent half the time looking at you, feeling you breathe, smiling at the top of your head nestled into his arms.

Up on the screen, Jack and Rose were in that carriage car on the boat, finally getting their big sex scene, starting to steam up the windows. You turned to Tom as you felt him laughing and shaking his head at the movie.

“What’s so funny?”

He pointed at the screen like the characters would be able to hear him. “So unrealistic, isn’t it?”

“Not really, people have sex in cars all the time.”

“No, no, I mean the windows. How did they get so foggy so fast? There’s no way that happens in real life.”

You were suddenly very interested in what Tom had to say and raised an eyebrow as you spoke. “Tom, have you never gotten laid in a car?”

You could see him turn pink with embarrassment through the light emanating off of the movie screen. “I have no comment.”

You nudged him and started to giggle. “Oh my god, you totally haven’t.”

He made an overly dramatic defensive expression at you. “And you have?”

“Actually, yes.”

Tom’s eyes widened a little as he saw where the conversation was headed. Maybe he’d brought it all up intentionally because he felt so deprived of your body, maybe not—but if he had, he was a damn genius, because it was working.

“And it does get that steamy, if you’re doing it right.”

“I guess I’d just have to see for myself.”

He’d barely finished his sentence before you climbed onto him and firmly planted your lips on his. It usually didn’t take much for him to get you excited, just his husky voice and the right lighting; you hadn’t realized until now how pent up you were.

“God, take your clothes off,” he huffed out, wasting no time in getting to work nipping over your skin as it was revealed.

“Charming,” you laughed, working your hands up his torso to get his shirt off too, Tom wincing as you did.

“Oooh, y/n, your hands are so cold!”

“Deal with it, Holland, I’ve waited too long to be stopped by cold hands.”

Tom was getting more riled up by the second, pushing you into the back of the driver’s seat behind you and speaking impossibly low in your ear. “I need you bad.”

“Take me then.”

You’d managed to get practically naked after doing some pretzeling in the backseat, Tom pulling you on top of him again. You tried to get into it but it didn’t last long—the seat was too close to your knees for you to get at a good angle, and you had to duck so your head didn’t hit the roof of the car.

“Okay, maybe lying down-?” Tom pushed your back into the seats, hovering on top and immediately sinking himself into you the moment he got the chance. You took a sharp inhale and already felt a dizzying high.

“God, finally...”

Tom took a few slow, heavy thrusts into you. “Missed you so much baby,” he leaned down to kiss you, your bodies already sticky with sweat from the heat in the car.

Tom suddenly stopped his rhythm and made a face, trying to shift himself around. “What’s wrong?” you asked, whining at the loss of him.

“I barely have room to move my legs,” he groaned, your fingernails still claws on his biceps, begging him to come back.

“Make it work? Just don’t stop fucking me, please,” you pulled his neck back down to bite his bottom lip, knowing that always drives him crazy.

“Fuck, I know, let me try something...” he found another sweet spot and was suddenly filling you up again, his flushed breaths and small mews making you smile underneath him. It wasn’t graceful, but you made it happen.

You came together as Jack and Rose professed their love for each other, making the romantic scene all too fitting. Tom moved to give you space to sit up, putting his face in his hands and sounding defeated. “Car sex looks a lot easier in the movies.”

You giggled at him and put your clothes back on before someone peeped into the now-clouded window. “Told you it gets steamy.”

Arriving back home later, Harrison and Harry sat at the kitchen table looking like two angry parents about to lecture their teenager on keeping curfew. They stared as you and Tom came in together with arms wrapped around each other, skin looking happily flushed, faces practically glowing.

“What’s got you two lovebirds so happy?” Harrison asked.

“Oh, it was just a really good movie,” Tom smiled, taking your hand and leading you back to his bedroom. “We’re wiped. Goodnight!” he promptly shut the door and laughed with you at Harrison’s puzzled face.

Harry walked over and peered down the hallway. “Goodnight? But it’s barely past sundown-”

Harrison patted him on the shoulder. “I’m afraid you might owe me a few quid, bud.”

Harry stayed confused. “Why?”

Tuwaine appeared from his room, pulling his gaming headphones aside to yell his reply down the hallway. “They fucked, you div!”

Harry connected the dots and looked like he was going to be sick. “Ugh, gross! That’s my brother!”

~

moots & taglist if y’all still exist:

@peterspideysstuff @duskholland @sinisterspidey @ladykxxx08 @bothlovinglyandhatingly @tinyyoungblood @harrisonsoceaneyes @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @we--are---not--afraid @danicarosaline @bunbun9396 @sad-thinker-over  @spideymoe @words-to-accomplish-something @thenoddingbunny-blog @iriaaarb @hellsdragon @cap-marvxl @tomshufflepuff @itstaskeen @writertoo18 @ethereal-beauty-p​ @sufwubi​ @quaksonhehe @biebsmylife95 @fermuda2 @dorbiksbitch @jejegu @holyfrickfracks @iconic-hes @parker-hollandx @keithseabrook27 @sovereignparker @mlmarint @bangtanfancamp @quacksonholland @cosagach @hedwigprewett12

[sequinsmile-x]

Bait

In which Aaron looks like the victims of the case they are on, and Emily does not like Dave's suggestion that they use her boyfriend as bait.

This was originally meant to be a mini fic for here, but in a way that is very on brand I got carried away and now its a full on one shot.

Words: 4k 

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence 

Read on AO3 via this link, or below the cut

Let me know what you think! 

Emily wakes to the sounds of a phone ringing. She groans when the arm that had been wrapped around her waist moves, leaving the chill from the air to hit her skin.

“Hotchner.” His voice was rough with the early morning, and it was clear he’d had very limited sleep. She settles down further into the bed, trying to claim the last few moments of rest before they have to leave. “Ok thanks, Garcia. Call the others and tell them to go straight to the jet.”

He hangs up and lays back down behind her. He closes the gap between them, pressing his naked chest up against her back. He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her closer, nudging hair away from her neck with his nose so he can kiss her throat.

“Morning.” He says, nuzzling her neck. “We’ve got a case in Colorado. We’re meeting on the jet and Garcia is going to brief us in full once we’re wheels up.” He kisses the side of her head. “She’ll call you soon.”

“It’s way too early.” She grumbles, opening one eye to see it was only just 4am. She bats at him when he laughs into her neck. He grabs her hand and kisses her knuckles, laughing when she grumbles again, curse words whispered at him under her breath.

The longer they had been together, now 6 months since his fumbled attempt at asking her out on their first date, the more she felt uncomfortable that they were keeping this from the team. It was starting to feel like a dirty secret, when it was anything but. They loved each other, they’d had a serious conversation about their future. Discussions of a house, a wedding and children whilst laying in the dark together. But they still hadn’t taken that step, still hadn’t told the people they considered their family that they were a couple. Emily knows it’s because they were in too deep now, too far into this secret to claw their way out without there being some uncomfortable conversations.

She knew they’d be happy for them, but it would open their relationship that had been almost exclusively just for them up to scrutiny. The others would watch them, try to observe their behaviour around each other. Their relationship meant too much to her for it to be profiled like the criminals they chased.

She was surprised they hadn’t caught it at JJ’s wedding. Her and Aaron had danced together, his hand a little too low on her back for it to be considered friendly. How they had both disappeared into Dave’s house at the same time, gone for 30 minutes with poor excuses for their absence upon their return. She still couldn’t go into Dave’s first floor bathroom without blushing, memories of her pushed up against the door with Aaron’s hand over her mouth. His joy at her decision to stay, to turn down Clyde’s offer of a job across an ocean, was too great for them to wait until they got back to his home or hers.

Her phone rings and she sighs as she extracts herself from his embrace just enough to pick up her cell phone from the nightstand. “Hey, Pen.”

Emily tries to listen to Penelope as she gives her the same basic details she had given Aaron only moments before, but she is distracted by his lips against her neck, his hand drifting down her abdomen. She manages to catch it with her spare hand, gripping a little harder than necessary when she links their fingers, throwing him a look over her shoulder.

She hangs up the phone with a goodbye to Penelope, hoping the other woman hadn’t heard Aaron’s laugh he had attempted to press into her skin. “That was mean.”

“It’s not my fault you’re irresistible.”

Emily turns over and kisses him, anchoring her hand to the back of his head. She pulls back enough to smile at him. “Do you have a suit here?”

Aaron nods, kissing her gently. “Yes. And my go-bag is in my car.”

She smiles. “Perfect.” Another kiss. “That means we have time for a shower before you have to go.” _____________

When she steps onto the jet the only seat left is next to Aaron. He looks at her, an eyebrow raised as she sits next to him.

“You’re late, Prentiss.”

She looks at him pointedly, a subtle narrowing of her eyes that she knows he catches.

“Sorry, sir.” She says, biting back the temptation to say it was his fault she was late in the first place, their joint shower lasting twice as long as it should have done. He’d left her at her place less than half an hour ago, a kiss pressed to her lips as she was drying her hair, a promise that he would see her soon. “It won’t happen again.”

Emily fights a smirk at the brief sparkle in his eye. This had become part of their game, pushing the boundaries a little further each time, wondering when the team would catch on to what was going on between them.

They all make small talk as the jet takes off, pointless conversation over cups of coffee. Once they reach altitude Penelope calls and they start to go over the case. Emily freezes when she looks at the pictures of the victims. They are all male. Handsome. White, tall and broad with dark hair.

They all looked like Aaron.

And these men were being viciously beaten to death. She looked up and everyone was still listening to Penelope as she told them the details. It gave her a second to recover, forcing herself to tune back into the conversation around her. ____________

They were struggling to build a profile. The men who were being killed had little in common apart from how they looked and where they were being killed. The only bar in town, a dingy place that reminded Emily too much of her misspent youth.

On the second day they were in town another man was found dead in the alley behind the bar, his face beaten almost beyond recognition. Emily went and delivered the news to his widow, and desperately tried to ignore how much the man in the pictures displayed on the walls looked like Aaron.

She barely sleeps that night. They were good on cases, rarely sneaking into each other's rooms. She knew he had to have seen it too, that she wasn’t imagining how similar the victims looked to him, so she didn’t want to burden him with it. She didn’t want to make this about how it was making her feel. So she stayed in her room, and eventually drifted off to sleep in a bed she wished he was in too.

Emily wakes up gasping, images of Aaron’s dead body in that alley burned into her eyelids.

She doesn’t sleep again that night, and is grateful when he presses a coffee into her hands in the morning, his thumb discreetly skating over her knuckles. ____________

“What shall we do now?” JJ asks. There were concerns that the unsubs, because they had figured there must be more than one person given the size of the men being killed, would strike again that night. The devolution of their actions indicated that there would be an attack a night until they were caught.

“We just so happen to have someone on the team that matches the victim profile.” Dave says, acknowledging what none of them had said out loud in the three days they had been in Colorado. Everyone looks at Aaron expectantly, and Emily thinks she has never been closer to killing David Rossi. “We could plant you at the bar where the victims have gone missing from, see if we can draw the unsub in.”

“And what?” Emily says, somehow keeping her voice even. “Use Hotch as bait?”

“It’s our only option.” Aaron says, a flash of apology across his face as he briefly looks at her. “I can’t exactly wear this to a club.” He says gesturing to his suit. “I very clearly look like an FBI agent.”

Derek and Dave laugh at his attempt at humour, Emily does not.

“Hotch.” She says evenly, her voice not betraying the emotions that were tumbling around in her chest. He turns to look at her, his face neutral. “Can I have a quick word?” She tilts her head towards an empty office and he nods and follows. If the others think it's odd that she wants to speak to him alone they don’t say anything.

“I don’t like this, Aaron.” She says as soon as the door closes behind them, her voice a rushed whisper, not wanting anyone to potentially overhear if they walked past the tiny office. He opens his mouth to speak, but she talks again, cutting him off before he can even start. “We don’t know enough how the unsubs are doing this. Or why they are doing it. It’s too risky.”

“Emily.” Aaron says, his voice soft in a way he only usually used with her when they were alone, tangled up in his sheets or hers, or snuggled together on one of their couches. It makes her sigh, and she closes her eyes to briefly break eye contact with him, knowing he is about to convince her exactly why he had to do this despite her reservations. “We have no other choice. I fit the victimology and we can’t risk them killing someone else.”

“What if this was the other way around?” She asks, crossing her arms across her chest as she tries to reason with him. “Are you seriously telling me that you’d be fine with me going in there? That you’d be ok with me being used as bait after you’d spent the last few days looking at pictures of bodies of people who looked exactly like me?”

Aaron opens his mouth to disagree with her, but a simple raise of her eyebrows stops him. “No, I wouldn’t be ok. But we have no other choice.”

“I don’t like it.” She repeats, defeat making her voice shake slightly.

Aaron turns to look out of the window of the office they are in, and when the coast is still clear he grabs her hand, running his thumb back and forth over her wrist. “It will be fine, sweetheart.”

Emily nods, the protest that he doesn’t know everything would be fine dying in her throat. All she could do was sit back and watch as he put himself at risk. Her love for him stuffed into a box in her head where no one else could see it, the privilege JJ had of breaking down publicly when Will was in the bank not afforded to her. She squeezes his hand back, and wishes more than anything that she could kiss him.

“If anything happens to you, even just a scratch, I’m teaching Spencer just enough Italian to piss Dave off.”

That makes him laugh, a brief flash of his dimples settling her nerves in her stomach. “I would expect nothing less.”

“We should get back.” Emily says, extracting her hand from his. She grasps the lapels of his jacket. “And you’re right, you need to change. You look like a fed.” ____________

Emily keeps staring at the monitor, the CCTV from the bar displayed for the team to watch in the back room they were in. She keeps her eyes on Aaron, her thumbnail in between her teeth, as they waited for any sign that the unsubs were around. That someone besides them was watching him.

“You ok there, princess?” Derek asks, drawing her attention towards him. He is eyeing her curiously. “Worried about the boss?”

She can feel Dave and JJ’s eyes on her too, she pulls her thumb out of her mouth and clears her throat. “I’m just not comfortable with this idea.”

“And why is that? Hotch can hold his own.” He replies, an edge to his voice she doesn’t like.

“It’s because Emily and Hotch are sleeping together.” Spencer says without looking away from the monitors, his eyes still on Aaron.

“What?” Derek asks, snapping his head in Spencer’s direction.

“How the hell did you know, Reid?” Emily says, turning to Spencer. She always figured that it would be Dave who would have figured it out. His meddling tendencies well known.

Spencer turns to look at her, taking his attention off of the CCTV footage. “You’re both happier but trying to hide it. Jack said your name 9 times the last time we were all together, indicating that he is spending more time with you in a personal capacity, and you and Hotch both came to work this morning smelling of the same soap.” He explains, Emily’s blush deepening as he spoke. “Not to mention I saw you kissing in the parking garage last month.”

“You’ve known for a month?” JJ says, smacking his shoulder lightly. “Why didn’t you say anything?

Spencer shrugs, looking back at Emily. “I figured they weren’t telling us for a reason.”

“You are a terrible gossip.” Dave says before looking back at Emily. “So how long has this been going on?”

Emily sighs and rolls her eyes, wishing that this wasn’t happening now of all times, that she could at least have Aaron with her for back up.

“6 months.”

“6 months.”

She says at the same time as Spencer. She looks at him again, unable to cover her surprise at the fact he had apparently known all along.

“6 months?” Derek exclaims, genuine surprise on his face. “Why did you keep it from us that long?”

“Guys.” Spencer says, trying to interrupt the conversation but failing.

“We just did, ok?” She says, crossing her arms across her chest. “We were going to tell you.”

“Guys.” Spencer says again, firmer this time interrupting whatever Derek was about to say. They all look at him, varying degrees of annoyance on their faces. “Where is Hotch?”

Emily felt like ice water had been poured over her, fear flooding her veins as her head snapped back towards the screens. Her eyes flicked across each image displayed and she couldn’t see him anywhere.

“Derek.” She chokes out, her voice not quite sounding like her own.

“Shit.” Derek exclaimed, already striding out of the room, Emily and the rest of the team on his heels. ____________

They find him in the alley behind the bar, two men holding him down as they punch him, one of them managing to kick his ribs. There’s no time to figure it out, no time to wonder how the hell they got Aaron out of the bar in the two minutes they had been distracted.

“FBI.” Derek yells, his gun drawn and pointing at them, local cops right behind him with their guns raised too. The unsubs try to make a break for it, but don’t manage it. Derek being a little too hard with the takedown of one of them.

Emily doesn’t even think about what she does as soon as they are apprehended. She’s naturally drawn to Aaron’s side, helping him sit up.

“What the hell happened?” She asks, wincing as she takes in the blood on his face. His nose was bleeding, and his left eye was already bruising. She cups his face in her hands, thumbs gently moving over tender flesh.

He tries to shy away from her touch, his eyes on JJ and Spencer standing behind her. She turns to look at them and raises an eyebrow, both of them averting their gazes. She turns back to look at Aaron, a shy smile on her face.

“Everyone knows.”

He furrows his brow at her. “How?”

“That’s not important right now.” She says, cupping his face, wiping some of the blood that had gathered at the bottom of his nose away with her sleeve. “What happened? We had our eyes off of you for two minutes and you were gone.”

“I spotted them, they fit the partial profile we had.” He explains, as if it was obvious. “So I followed them.”

“What were you thinking?” She exclaims, smacking him in the shoulder, hard, before grabbing his face again and kissing him. “That was so stupid, Aaron.” She kisses him again.

Emily wraps her arms around him tightly, pulling him into a hug that makes him wince. She lets go instantly, her hands on his shoulders as she looks him over for any other obvious injuries.

“Shit, sorry. Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m ok.” He gets out, his face screwed up in pain despite his attempt at assuring her. “They just got a few good kicks to my ribs.”

She looks around, sees a paramedic standing back waiting for the scene to be cleared. “We need to get you looked at.”

“Em, I’m fine.” He protests, his breathlessness at the act of standing up giving him away as he pushes himself up off the ground.

She glares at him. “You are not fine, Aaron. You just had the shit kicked out of you by two men who wanted to kill you.” She holds his hand, links her fingers through his and gently tugs him towards where the ambulance is parked. “Let the nice paramedic look at you before I kill you myself.” ____________

He needed to get x-rays done. The paramedic was concerned that his ribs could be broken, and therefore insisted he went to the hospital to get checked out. Aaron tried to talk him out of it. He’d had broken ribs before, and claimed he knew how to handle them, but then he had looked at Emily’s face, how concerned she was, and he stopped resisting.

Emily was sitting nervously next to the gurney he was on whilst they waited for the results of the scans he had on arrival.

“Em.” Aaron says, making her look up at him from the spot she was staring at on the floor. “I’m ok.”

“You’re ok because we found you when we did.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “If we’d been only a couple minutes later…”

“But you weren’t.” He reaches out for her hand and she accepts it, fiercely holding his one hand between both of hers. “I’m ok.” He repeats, pulling their joint hands to his lips so he could kiss her knuckles.

“I love you.” She says, a sad smile on her face as she has to stop herself from looking at the dried blood on his shirt, or at how his eye was now swollen shut. She interrupts him before he can reciprocate, repeat the words back to her that they had only said out loud for the first time a few weeks ago, even though their actions had shown it long before. “You put yourself in unnecessary danger today.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, Aaron.” She says, moving so she was sat on the edge of the gurney. She leans down and presses her forehead to his, not caring how ridiculous she would look to anyone who walked in. Her FBI bullet proof vest is still on over her sweater, her gun on her hip. “You can’t do that.” She pulls back to look at him. “You can’t, ok?”

“Em, our jobs are dangerous.”

“I know that.” She replies through slightly gritted teeth. “We both have scars to prove it. But today didn’t need to happen.”

“It was a measured risk.”

“A measured risk that could have cost me you.” She says, her voice finally wavering. “I can’t lose you.” He opens his mouth to talk but she presses a finger to his lips. “And you can’t say that I won’t, love. We both know you can’t promise that. But you don’t have to offer yourself up to unsubs like a lamb to slaughter, ok?”

He clearly disagrees with her, she can see it written all over his face, and on some level she knows she isn’t being reasonable. That the emotion of the day is clouding her judgement, in a way she usually wouldn’t let it. He nods though, presses a kiss to the finger still against his lips and it makes her laugh.

“Ok.” ____________

He has three fractured ribs and several bruised ones. He initially refuses painkillers but Emily convinces him to take them, memories of how painful take off on the jet had been after her beating at the hands of Cyrus all those years ago.

Aaron falls asleep against her. He is sitting slightly slumped in his seat, his head leaning on her shoulder. His breath makes her hair tickle against her neck and it calms her, reminds her that he was still there, that he was still alive.

Emily looks up from her paperwork to the sound of a throat clearing, and she sees Derek sliding into the chair opposite her, a curious look on his face. The team had met them back at the jet. Dave explained that the unsubs were brothers, finding men who reminded them of their father who had all but drank himself to death in that very bar when they were young. It seemed so banal, so stereotypical to Emily it infuriated her.

The team clearly had questions about what they had discovered about her and Aaron, but they were silent about it. Emily wondered how long that would last, if they would at least wait until Aaron could see out of his left eye again before they started asking about their relationship.

“Can the Spanish inquisition wait at least until tomorrow, Derek? I’m tired.” She asks, a quirk to her smile.

He holds his hands up, mock surrender on his face. “I’ll leave it for now, Princess. But if you think for one second that our beloved technical analyst will do the same, you are kidding yourself.”

Emily laughs at that, before groaning. “She’s going to be delighted.” She says, looking briefly at Aaron before looking back at Derek. “She’s been trying to tell me to give this a chance for years.”

“Really?” Derek asks, his eyebrow raised.

“Oh yeah.” She replies, a smile on her face. “It’s a common topic on ladies night.”

Derek smiles and looks at her curiously. “You love him?”

Emily bites her lip “Yeah.” She nods. “I love him.”

“I’m happy for you, Emily. For both of you.” He stands, heads back to where he had been trying to nap before he had walked over, but he turns back to her. “You owe us all dinner. Somewhere fancy.”

Emily barks out a laugh, briefly disturbing Aaron from his slumber on her shoulder. “Whatever you say, Morgan.” _______________

She takes him back to her place. It was too late to get Jack from Jessica’s, and she figured he’d want some time to prepare his son for his injuries anyway.

He’s pretty out of it from the pain and the medication, but she gets him into her bed, managing to get him down to just his briefs and under her covers. She quickly gets ready for bed herself, forgoing her usual skincare routine with just a swipe of a makeup wipe over her face.

She climbs into bed next to him, careful to put more distance between the two of them than she usually would. She turns the lamp off and settles into her pillows, ready to try and get some sleep.

“What are you doing all the way over there?” He asks, his words thick with sleep.

Emily rolls onto her side and reaches out for him, stroking her fingers over his shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You never could.”

Emily suppresses a smile in the darkness. His inhibitions were always lowered at night in one of their bedrooms, his affection for her blowing over her like a warm breeze. “Baby, you have broken ribs.”

“Come here.” He reaches out for her and she moves towards him, not wanting him to hurt himself any further by dragging her across the bed. He shifts, grimacing as he does, and rests his head on her shoulder. “That’s better.”

She laughs. “We can’t sleep like this. It won’t do either of our backs any good.”

“Just 5 minutes.”

“Ok, honey.” She says, kissing the top of his head. “5 minutes.”

“Love you, Emily.”

“I love you, too.”

[1plus1kiyoomi]

Chapter 18: Heaven

[prev] [next]

[masterlist]

warnings: suggestive

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“Baby. Baby,” you call your husband, settling your body in between his legs, your head on his stomach. “Wake up!”

“What is it?” He speaks, eyes still closed.

“I want ice cream,” you say in a demanding tone, but your husband ignores you and goes back to sleep. “Babe, please. There’s a good ice cream shop in the night market!” You poke his cheek continuously, bugging him. Kita sighs and looks down at you, about to scold you. As he sees your pouty face and pleading eyes, he groans in defeat.

“What time is it?” Kita asks, rubbing the back of your head.

“2AM...” You respond timidly, preparing yourself for a scolding from Kita. Instead of getting mad at you, Kita chuckles.

“And you want ice cream?” Kita presses your cheeks with his fingers. You nod, puckering your lips and moving your body up so you can give him a quick kiss. “Okay.”

“Yehey!” Cheering, you jump out of bed and go to his closet. You take one random hoodie of his and put it on. Kita envelops his arms your waist, his head leaning on your shoulder. “We have to hurry babe! The ice cream parlor closes at 4AM!”

“Can you drive? I’m so sleepy?” He requests, and you willingly say yes. You carry him out of the bedroom, his weight slowing your walk. Rice wakes up from his sleep and glances at the two of you as if he’s judging you and then goes back to sleep.

“Even Rice is sleepy,” Kita whines so you stop walking.

“Then, let’s not go.” You shrug him off you and head back to your room. Kita sighs before pulling you back. “What? You said you didn’t want to go.”

“I never said that,” Kita defends himself, hugging you. Your furrowed eyebrows and puffed cheeks are giving off that you’re upset, and he doesn’t want you not to sleep in that mood just because he didn’t agree to buying ice cream with you.

“You did, but in subtext,” you argue and Kita lets out a laugh from your response. He pulls the hood of his jacket over you, pulling the strings until your nose, mouth and eyes are the only parts of your face visible. He peppers your face with kisses, making you giggle.

“You’re annoying but cute. Let’s get that ice cream you want,” he tells you, lifting your body in ease. He carries you like a sack, your hips on his shoulder. You poke his butt and he playfully smacks yours, so you let out a scandalous gasp. He puts you down and opens the truck door for you.

“I thought you wanted me to drive?”

“I changed my mind.” Kita starts the engine and drives off the night market. A few minutes in the drive and Kita wonders why you’ve become quiet. He takes a glance at your and sees you leaning on the window, eyes shut close. “I knew you were as sleepy.”

Since there aren’t much cars travelling, the road feels empty. Kita drives quickly but safely to the night market you mentioned. He gently wakes you up, teasing you. “Wake up. You’re the one who invited me to get ice cream at 2AM and you dare sleep.”

You get out of the car and head to the ice cream store. Even without a lot of people around, you are still diligently following Kita’s ‘No PDA’ rule so you are walking at least 2 feet away from him. He reaches his hand out to hold yours but you don’t notice it as you are staring ahead. “Move closer,” he orders.

“Oh, okay,” you reply, taking a step closer to his body. He takes your hand in his, and puts it in his pocket. Your head whips to face him, surprised. He has his usual nonchalant face so you blush. He’s holding your hand in public and even went out with you even if it’s already late. It’s a first. Kita’s spoils you too much, and you don’t mind at all. To be spoiled by Kita Shinsuke is a dream come true for you.

You arrive at the dessert place and order the ice cream you have been craving. After ordering the ice cream, which turned out to be a tub, you run back to his truck, not wanting it to melt. Kita is walking in his usual pace and just watches you waddle your way back to the vehicle. He snaps a picture of you, and smiles at the image.

“She looks adorable,” he says to himself. The fact that you are wearing only pajama pats and his hoodie makes Kita feel even happier. As cheesy as it may sound, it reminds him that you are his, and he’s yours. He finally arrives at the truck and finds out that you’re already eating.

“You want some?” You offer as he leans towards you to put your seatbelt on for you. He shakes his head and kisses your cheek before starting the engine. You are so focused on eating that you don’t notice that he isn’t driving back to your house but to the farm.

When you feel the car stop, you look up and finally see that you aren’t in your house. “Why are we at the farm?”

“The sunrise looks pretty here,” he reasons and gets out of the car. You get out as well, and head to the back of the truck, the tub of ice cream still in your hand. Kita is taking something out of the back seat so you stare at the dark space as you enjoy the sweet dessert.

“Isn’t it too early to for sunrises?” You tell him, checking the time on your phone which reads 3:30 AM. Kita shuts the door close and goes to where you’re standing, blankets on hand.

“Then let’s stargaze until the sun shows up,” Kita answers, bopping your nose. You can’t help but smile. He may not seem like it, but Kita is very romantic. The amount of saccharide he’s giving you through is action is more than the ice cream you are eating.

After he sets up the blankets on the back of the truck, you both lie down and stare up at the night sky. Your head is on his chest, body curled close to his. One of his arms is wrapped around you, the other supporting the back of his head.

“Do you know any constellations?” You ask him.

“No,” he replies and you laugh, confusing him.

“Then why are we stargazing?”

“To watch the stars?” Kita answers unsurely. “Isn’t that what stargazing means? To gaze at the stars?”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” you shrug and watch the twinkling stars. “You know, it’s my first time seeing stars shine brightly like this. In the city, they don’t show up because of the abundant amount of lights.”

“Is this a science fact?” Kita pokes fun at you so you hit his chest playfully in irritation.

“That’s basic knowledge. Stop making fun of me,” you pout and Kita chuckles, pulling your body closer to his. There is silence before you speak up again. “Thank you for showing me that stars actually light up the sky.”

Kita looks down to you and see your eyes fixated on the heavenly bodies. Your eyes twinkle more than all the stars combined and he can stare at them all night long. Cross that. He can stare at your eyes all day for the rest of his everydays. Your eyes are the most beautiful stars he has ever seen. The only stars he wants to gaze until he can’t see anymore.

Your mouth is the moon and the sun, and your voice the light they produce. They guide him throughout the day and night. Your lips the sunny day he loves. Your kisses the rainy days he’s thankful for. Without you around, he’d be lost. He wouldn’t know where to go, and what he’d do.

Your face is the blue skies he looks up to everyday. Your cheeks are the sunrise he kisses good morning. Your forehead the sunset he kisses good night. He loves the different colors of the skies, but he’s obsessed with your face. Maybe that’s why he sees your face in cloudy skies and empty horizons.

Kita had never believed that the heavens existed. His grandmother once told him that heaven is the happiest place on Earth. His mind changed when he met you. Anywhere he goes as long as you’re there, makes him feel bliss that he has never experience. Maybe heaven isn’t a place, but if it is, then you are his happiest place. His heaven.

“A shooting star! Make a wish!” You say excitedly, shutting your eyes close to make a wish. Kita smiles before doing the same thing. “I wish for a son.”

“If you say your wishes out loud, then they don’t come true,” Kita tells you, but smiles because of your wish. You two have been trying for a baby for a while now, so hearing that you really want one and even wishing for one, makes him feel at ease. You’re both on the same boat and hopefully, you arrive at your destination soon.

“That’s not true!” You sit up, folding your arms close to your chest. You glare at Kita, lips in a pout once again. “What’s your wish?”

‘You are my wish.’

“I told you already. If I tell you it won’t come true,” he explains and you huff. It’s childish, but he can’t afford to lose you. He won’t risk anything.

“That’s unfair,” you turn away from him. He pulls you back down and pins your body on bed floor while he hovers on top of you. “What are you doing?” You ask him as he starts kissing your neck, sucking and licking on your skin. “Shinsuke, someone might come.”

“No one will. It’s a Sunday and it’s 4AM,” he says to assure you, so you let him continue what he’s doing. You want this as much as he does so who are you to push him away?

He pulls the blanket over your bodies then his hands travel under your shirt. His cold fingertips burning your already hot skin. “Shinsuke, how about the sunrise?” You manage to ask.

“We’ll be done before that.” He pulls your shirt up, his hand cupping one of your breasts. He lips graze over your ear, nibbling on your lobe before he whispers to you. “Let’s make your wish come true.”

The stars at sky aren’t the only stars you’ll see.

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

Facts:

Farmers were the first to use the constellations. In some areas the changing of seasons was so subtle that the farmers depended on the stars to know when it was time to plant and when the time was right to harvest.

The Greeks are responsible for naming the constellations. Names came from their mythological heroes and legends. (It’s always them)

You can only see about 2,000 stars on a very dark night with the naked eye. You need to be in a monless night and with less light pollution.

Most stars travel the galaxy in clusters. But not all stars do that; our Sun, for example, moves through the galaxy without a stellar companion.

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[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Stalker X Stalker, Part 12

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Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever @toodaloo-kangaroo @khneltea @raeuberprinzessin

Tim had exactly zero idea what was going on.

Marinette had disappeared into the shower so he’d figured that, hey, work was over and he was 90% sure it was the day she usually shaved (something he knew because every time she shaved she excitedly asked him to touch her leg because it was smooth) so he had time to kill…

He walked over to her jewelry box.

He’d already bugged all of the new jewelry he had bought her but her old stuff was perfectly intact and he kind of wanted more insurance. Sure, they lived together now so it was unlikely she would have much reason to leave without him, but he was known for his millions of plans and contingencies and he wasn’t about to mess up when it was someone he cared about.

So, he went to work on the first necklace he grabbed. It had a tiny cat with green emeralds for eyes.

He looked at the tiny black pupils that the cat had. He pulled a tiny pick out of his pocket and carefully started carving a circle in it for the bug.

And then a bug-shaped god came flying out of the door for something.

There were a few beats as Tim and Tikki stared at each other.

Tikki broke it with a loud groan.

He watched her float past him for the towel hung on Marinette’s bedpost and then go back inside.

Shit.

He darted towards the bathroom, only to pause at the door. He really didn’t want to burst in while Marinette was probably naked, that was a huge breach of privacy, but he also didn’t want Tikki to tell him about all the bugs he was planting! Shit! He bit his lip, considering.

“Here’s your towel, Marinette,” Tikki said with a sharp edge to her tone.

“... are you mad?”

“Not at you. Where are the cookies you baked last night?”

“Uh, the fridge --?”

“Thank you.”

Why hadn’t she told her? Tim wasn’t complaining, of course, but he was a little confused. She was clearly mad about it and he doubted that Marinette had made some rule that said ‘you can’t tell me about people bugging me’ because that was oddly specific and not a very good idea… so… what?

He didn’t know. He was just going to thank the god of luck -- he was pretty sure that was Tikki -- and continue what he was doing.

~

Marinette didn’t have to struggle to keep everyone inside the first night. She liked that. More time to plan.

But how did she get herself let out, you may ask?

Remember how Tim had said that all-hands-on-deck situations are the only exceptions to the Stay Inside While Injured Rule? Well, guess what had happened.

Arkham had had a huge breakout and Marinette wasn’t going to complain… even if her kwami might be a little disappointed in how happy she was about it.

She was even happier when she’d found out that one of the people that had broken out was Scarecrow. She’d been meaning to tell him about her guesses about his brownie recipe for a while and she hadn’t really had a chance to do it when she was talking to him through a phone with a thick glass between them.

Batman -- Bruce? -- didn’t need to know that they’d broken into a bakery for the night to test out their theories before she had taken him back to Arkham.

He’d thank them when he got the brownies (the missing ingredient was Mexican cinnamon!). Or, at least, she hoped he would.

~

Tim had to say… Marinette's plan to get everyone in her house was working.

He could warn his siblings but, honestly, he found it kind of funny.

He was surprised to see Jason show up first. He raised his eyebrows at his brother. “Didn’t know you were in town, Flamebird.”

Jason did an exaggerated eye roll that Tim swore he could see despite the domino. “Marinette said she had something she wanted to show me.”

And she did. She walked over and dropped the Harry Potter books onto the window ledge beside him. “This is terrible and I hate you for making me read them.”

“It gets better later on --.”

“I read two books. That’s six hundred pages. If you can’t get your shit together in six hundred fucking pages then you don’t deserve my time.”

He scoffed. “They’re not that bad.”

“Oh yeah? Read it. It’s been years for you, right? Get to book three and tell me it’s good.”

Jason scowled and grabbed the books, taking a seat in the armchair.

Tim grinned and rested an arm around his girlfriend. “You don’t actually hate Harry Potter, do you?”

“Only the book version.”

He frowned. “I think we need to break up.”

“Nope. Not allowed to break up with me.”

“Oh, well, if I’m not allowed then I guess I won’t,” he said, leaning down to press a tiny kiss to her lips.

There was a groan from the window and they both rolled their eyes, turning to look at Damian.

“Why must you sully my good mood so early on with your disgusting displays of affection?”

“It’s our apartment, you just so happen to be here,” said Tim, glaring at his brother. “We can do what we want.”

Marinette, bravely, stepped between the two of them with a bright smile. “Now, boys, it’s not the time.”

“It is not the time for your libido, and yet...” argued Damian.

“Please, that isn’t even close to libi --,” Tim started, only to get elbowed in the stomach.

She gave him a look that told him to let her handle it and, while he didn’t think that was a good idea, he held up his hands in surrender.

“Robin, it’s unbecoming of you to argue with everyone you meet,” she chided lightly.

… did she speak Damian or something? Because Damian actually looked a little reprimanded at that and Tim needed to learn her ways.

Then, she leaned down with a grin. He could see her hands start to rest on her knees but she thought better of it at the last second. “I got some new stuff from the pet store and I wanted to know if you wanted to help test them out on Vanelope.”

Damian narrowed his eyes slightly. “What kinds of new things?”

“A bunch of cat toys.”

“... I suppose I can test them out for you.”

“I mean, I said you could help --,” she started, but Damian was already heading towards Vanelope without her.

Tim looked over at his girlfriend. She didn’t seem all that put out by this.

“You really had something planned out for everyone?”

She smirked and took a seat on the windowsill. “Yep. It should take Flamebird about two days to finish the first two books -- assuming he can even get through them that quickly -- and Robin is sure to be very thorough in his testing of all the cat toys.”

“Oh? And what’s your plan for everyone else?”

She shrugged just slightly. “Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”

When Dick appeared she set him up with Beat Saber, saying that she was curious about why the VR glasses gave her a headache and wanted to see if he had the same problem. Tim knew the problem was that they were made for men and therefore sometimes had negative side effects for women, but he bit his lip before he could offer to get a set custom-made for her in favor of watching Dick select the poppiest pop song in existence and instantly get addicted to the game.

Tim raised his eyebrows slightly when Steph appeared, textbook in hand.

“How did you know everyone would show up?” He asked once Marinette had set her up with a particularly long and difficult worksheet to make sure she got the lesson.

“Well, Spoiler shows up every Saturday night for tutoring, Robin comes by every other day or more and he didn’t stop by last night, Nightwing pops by most weekends, and I called Flamebird over myself… speaking of which…” She pulled out her phone and tapped a few buttons. “Right, Signal said he’ll be here in ten minutes seven minutes ago… so, he’s almost here.”

Tim grinned. “You forgot Cass.”

“She only ever really shows up to get away from all of you guys so, with everyone here, she’d have no reason to come over.” Her face split into a sheepish grin. “Also, she’d see through me pretty quickly.”

“Don’t you want B to have no help?”

She shrugged. “It should be a light night since almost everyone important is in Arkham right now but that doesn’t mean that the two of them can deal with all of Gotham’s petty crime on their own. I give them until three or four before they crack.”

“... you might be a little scary.”

“You don’t last long as a vigilante if you’re not at least a little smart,” she chirped. “I just choose to turn my brain off most of the time.”

He smiled. “Oh? And the exception is what? Making you stay inside?”

She waved him off. “Kind of. It’s more that I only put effort into making sure I’ll never be bored. What’s the point of thinking about anything else? All that does is make you sad.”

Well that didn’t sound healthy, now did it? Tim was pretty sure that was just repression but, honestly, he had no clue. His family famously did not use therapists.

Before he could figure out how to address that there was a knock on the door.

Marinette grinned and opened it to reveal Duke, who was holding a computer.

Duke looked around the apartment, raising his eyebrows at all the people there. “Uh… should I ask?”

“I’m spiting Bruce.”

“Wild. Whatever. Ready for GBBS?”

“Sure. Tim, you gonna watch it with us?”

He hesitated. Steph had been sending him pleading looks since she had gotten her worksheet and he felt kind of bad for her… but then Duke and Marinette sat on the couch and she rested her head on his shoulder lazily to get a better view of the computer and Tim figured that Steph was smart enough to do the worksheet on her own if she really tried.

He took a seat beside her and smiled a little when she switched to lean against him instead.

“So, who’s your favorite person for the season?” He asked.

She thought for a minute before shrugging. “The guy that always wins but keeps being anxious about his bakes. Forgot his name, though.”

“Rahul?!” said Duke.

“Sure.”

Duke frowned. “I’m not sure whether to be happy you like at least one contestant, be proud it’s Rahul, or be annoyed you didn’t remember his name.”

“Character development takes time,” said Tim wisely.

Marinette scoffed a little. “Just put on the damn show. I’m tired of listening to you assholes talk.”

Duke grinned. “Fine. Fine.”

Time passed as the three of them watched the show.

Other family members slowly made their way over one by one. Damian brought the cat with him. Jason came over to give his brain a break after all the reading he had done (and then, when Marinette pointed out that you never take breaks while reading good books, had gone straight back to Harry Potter). Steph decided she didn’t want to pass her class and came to lay across the top of the couch. Dick eventually got tired and rested his body after the intense game that is Beat Saber.

… B released her at almost exactly three thirty. They ignored their comms in favor of continuing to watch the season finale.

~

Marinette bit her lip anxiously as she preemptively turned off the notifications on her phone. Tim did the same.

They typed up matching tweets about how they were moving in with their partners, tagged each other...

Their fingers hovered over the tweet buttons.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I’m sure one of my siblings will do something stupid in a few days and the media will leave us alone,” said Tim.

She smiled awkwardly. “That isn’t what I’m worried about.”

He frowned just a little and slipped his arm around her. “Well, can I help with whatever it is?”

She hesitated. It would be better to warn him, she supposed. “Not really. You’re going to get the ‘shovel talk’ --.”

“My dad is Batman, Bean, I’ll live.”

“-- by the person who currently controls the embodiment of chaos and destruction.”

His face paled a little (which is dangerous, considering he was already pale enough). “Does Chat Noir not know we’re dating yet?”

“Nope.”

“... so he’s going to find out through the media?”

“Yep.”

“Shit.”

She nodded her agreement, curling into his side and glaring at the phone.

Adrien was going to be pissed. Especially since he was going to learn through the media. Sure, that was the intention, she was hoping that Tim would be left more or less alone because her friend would be too busy being hurt about not being told to focus on his anger at her boyfriend… but, yikes, she didn’t really want to deal with that just yet.

Also, she thought with a wince, Adrien was going to be even angrier when he figured out that she hadn’t exactly given up, as he called it, ‘stalking’ the people she was interested in. Marinette was pretty sure that Tim already knew about some of it but she wasn’t completely sure and, just in case, she wanted to keep it a secret for a while… a few years, at least, and she wanted to be the one to tell him because she was sure that Adrien would be a lot harsher about it than she would. He already called it ‘stalking’ when it was clearly different, she didn’t want to know what he would say if she let him talk about it in more depth.

Unfortunately, though, Adrien wasn’t stupid. He’d eventually catch on. The longer they dated without him knowing the guiltier he would assume she was.

She sighed and took his face in her hands. “I’m leaving it up to you. I’m not sure. I’m leaning towards being public but...”

He bit his lip as he considered it. She fought the urge to stretch his face until he let go.

He smiled hesitantly. “Well, I’ve lived long enough, I think.”

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll summon a lucky charm for you,” she half-joked.

He gave a puff of laughter that wasn’t quite real and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thanks, Bean, but I doubt that’ll be necessary. This is Gotham, no one dies here.”

“We don’t know how long that’ll take, though,” she said with a pout. “I’d prefer to have you back as soon as possible.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’ll always have my siblings.”

“But I want you,” she huffed. “You’re my favorite.”

She felt his cheeks warm beneath her hands.

“I’m your second favorite,” he reminded her. “Cass.”

She snickered. “True. You’re my favorite until Cass accepts my proposal.”

“Hm. I’ll have to enforce the bro code to make sure that never happens.”

“Oh no! I guess I’ll be stuck with you forever, then. What a shame!”

He smiled brightly. Sometimes she lamented the fact that he didn’t give a lot of genuine smiles. The grins and smirks were nice, of course, but she liked to watch the way he would duck his head slightly to try and cover his face with his bangs. Still, in the privacy of her own head, she had to admit that the fact she could get such a smile out of him when few others could made her heart rate spike. He smiled for her. Who wouldn’t be flattered by that?

She pulled the smile that she loved so much down for a kiss.

~

The first time they stepped out the door as an official couple they were hounded by reporters.

Tim wanted to ask how they knew where they lived. He settled for asking them to blur the area around them.

It was more than a little annoying to be harassed on your way to the grocery store. They had just wanted eggs, milk (Marinette kept leaving it out for some strange reason), some cat food, and enough miscellaneous snacks to keep Cass occupied. They did not want cameras shoved in their faces.

But years of being public figures had trained them to keep pleasant smiles on their faces and to answer questions with as little information as possible.

Finally, though, they made it inside and a manager kicked out the reporters.

Marinette let her shoulders slump a little beneath his arm and Tim flexed the muscles in his face before it could get stuck in that awkward half-smile forever.

He squeezed her a little. “You alright?”

She shrugged as much as she could without displacing his arm. “Yeah. Just… hate reporters.”

He nodded his understanding. He pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Want to buy some Oreos while we’re here?”

Her face lit up. “Can we?”

“I’m rich. Of course we can.”

And, so, they did. He made a mental note to start buying oreos in bulk. All the flavors, just in case she ever got sick of the normal version.

They glanced out the door and, though they couldn’t see the paparazzi waiting just outside, they were sure that they would be back soon. They ducked through back alleys to try and get away.

Only to stop in the middle of a dark alley at the high-pitched cry of: “Give me your money or else!”

Tim sighed and set down the cat food to hand over everything in his pockets. A glance back at Marinette confirmed she was doing the same --.

And then he stopped short. He turned more fully to look at their mugger and then started to laugh.

“I’ll… I’ll kill you!” Said the mugger, who was just a kid. They might not have even hit puberty yet.

“With a pocketknife?” Tim said.

Marinette turned around as well at that and a grin spread across her face. “Oh my gods, that’s so lame.”

“It’s Gotham, you gotta do better than that,” said Tim. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a butterfly knife. He handed it over. “Here, have this, at least. Christ, that’s terrible.”

The kid didn’t seem to know what to do about the fact that his would-be victims were laughing at her and apparently helping her mug people.

Marinette handed over everything except for the necklace Tim had given her. “Here, kid. And get a mask or something to hide your face, it’s not nearly dark enough in here for you to just go with a hood.”

“Oh, and here’s my address,” added Tim. He typed it into his phone -- damn, he should have brought more than a pager -- and then handed it over. “We always have a lot of extra food, so if you ever need it just knock on the window.”

“... thanks?” said their now adoptive kid (they didn’t make the rules, this kid was theirs now).

“Yeah, yeah, no problem. Can we go now? One of his siblings is coming over soon and he will start our show without us.”

“Uh… sure?”

~

Marinette sat on the kitchen island, squinting at the cast on her arm. Was it worth taking off for the sake of doing work? Maybe --.

Tim’s voice crackled through her ear and she perked up a little at the sound, smiling. He was talking, greeting guests it seemed. Right. He had a meeting today, Janet had mentioned it earlier that morning.

Marinette sighed a little at the reminder that, while she might not care about her broken arm, her boyfriend did. Yeah. Tim would probably be stressed if she took off her cast before the doctor said it was okay. She settled to lay back on the counter, head resting on her good arm, and stare at the ceiling as she listened to his voice...

Only to dart up when she felt a tap on her arm.

She looked over, eyes blown wide, and only relaxed slightly when she realized she recognized the person.

Adrien stood over her, arms crossed over his chest despite the glasses/miraculous he had hooked to the collar of his shirt, but he apparently wasn’t angry enough to not accept the usual kisses on both cheeks that Parisians did as greeting.

He said something that she couldn’t really understand with the part of her brain still concentrated on Tim explaining some sort of chart.

She sighed and reached a hand to her ear to turn off the bug. “Hey, can you repeat that?”

He didn’t. Instead he squinted at her ear suspiciously. “Does your ear hurt?”

“... no?” She said slowly, a little confused.

“Whatcha listening to?”

She paled. Shit. He was going to be pissed (or, at least, more pissed than he already was) if he found out that her supposed ‘stalking’ was getting worse. She needed an excuse.

“Uh, that one rapper, uh --.”

“BS. You don’t listen to rappers.”

He held a hand out and, reluctantly, she handed it over to him. She might as well get her murder over with.

He set it in his ear and, after a few attempts, turned it on. His face soured even more, somehow.

“This better not be who I think it is.”

She gave a tentative half-smile.

That was all the answer he needed. He grabbed her by the back of her shirt and started dragging her through the streets.

No one helped. Not that she expected them to, it was Gotham, but it was still a little hurtful.

Adrien stopped suddenly after a few minutes of walking.

“... wait… where’s his office?”

[tentamissilebrat]

Quick Obey Me Headcanons I have for my MC and stories

I wanted a place for this because I’ve been thinking about this stuff as I've been writing a story and because I'm feeling really in the mood for plotting this out in my own head.

Mammon definitely still sleeps in the nude but tries to do less so on account of the number of times Clang comes over because "Mamo? Do you think plants wish they could whisper secrets?" Because Clang has a lot of 3am questions and, look, it's easier to just wear pants then wake up naked, your crush/datefriend hovering over you, letting you scream before saying "I think it's a flaw that you can't turn off your tastebuds."

Belphie sleeps everywhere but is something of a stickler if he sees other people napping in weird places, especially his family. Like, no, of course he doesn't care, but no he does and he's woken up from sleeping on this couch with pains from his neck to his back so, hey, wake up, wake up so you don't damage your back idiot.

Clang encourages the worst of Lucifer's tea mania because they'll be out shopping and Clang will pull him into the tea shop and ten minutes later, there's 20 new tea pots, 15 different tea sets, and too many new orders of quality tea. Lord Diavolo loves it because Clang hosts more tea parties after a successful tea endeavor and thus there's more group hangouts where less stupid bull I mean, fun events are held against everyone's will!!

This is very specific to how I write Clang and their relationships but I'll throw it in here: Clang is only romantically involved with the boys, but is not uninterested in pursuing other relationships with the other Dateables. I do think as of now, Clang and Solomon are courting, Clang is....giving some time to Lord Diavolo because they don't trust him (more on that another time), and Clang admitted to not feeling romantic towards Simeon during his confession, but said that they would like to try. So they're in a half-courting thing while Clang worries over what's happening to him during season 4 (and if it has anything to do with them). Barbados and Clang are....not exactly icy, but when Barbados tells the MC ingame that "I'm curious over you, but I don't really care beyond that", Clang was like "No yeah, that checks."

Luke, during their first year in the Devildom, tried to remind Clang that he's "technically older! I should be the one taking care of you!" Clang just took this as "I should call him older brother". So they do. A lot. In public. Luke: (Sees Clang and Mammon walking together to class) Clang! Clang: (Turning around, sees Luke, big smile) Big Brother! It's very jarring for people who aren't in the know (actually, it's somewhat jarring for people anyway, since it looks like someone in their late 20s being deeply respectful to a pouty child who barely reaches the other one's stomach) but Luke actually likes it! Clang tends to be very respectful and affectionate towards him as well (Old habits die hard when you have cold parents) so he likes it! Clang likes that someone so genuinely likes considering them a part of their family.

I think when the boys used to miss Clang, they all collectively would do family bonding that Clang tried to encourage. Family movie night is never adhered to as much when Clang is gone, but it definitely happens. In fact, if someone tries to weasel out, one of the brothers looks over at them and goes "It's Friday so it's family movie night". When Clang comes back, they regale them with the movies they all saw and the games they played and all promise to do it now that everyone in the family is home.

After learning a few very simple recipes, Beel bakes a little more after that first year of the student exchange program. More often he eats the raw ingredients or whole bowls or pans of batter, but he tries again once he feels he can. Filling up the house with something warm and good makes him feel it's home. Sometimes, he does it because he misses his favorite human. Sometimes, he does it because the house feels too cold, too much like how it used to be. Sometimes....he bakes and wonders if Lilith would have liked it. He wishes he could show her, he hopes somehow that when Clang comes home, takes a bite out of something he makes, somehow Lilith can taste it. Or just the joy her precious descendant takes from his baking. He hopes Lilith can taste that too.

Satan is the only one Clang talks to about the timeline trauma willingly, because initially they needed help seeing if things were different and, if so, how much? Satan has had to hold Clang as they cried, confused and upset at the feeling of being a replacement for themselves, feeling like they jacked the life of a different Clang. Satan is a little more bitter towards Lord Diavolo once Clang pieces together that Lord Diavolo must have known they would die, he must have, and admits to Satan about feeling lied to, time and time again, by Lord Diavolo.

I don't really want to leave any boys out so uhhhhh Levi and Clang's relationship is sort of based on the fact that Levi really did think for the longest time that Clang was a normie who was only interested in like "normie anime" (think Naruto, Dragon Ball, and My Hero Academia if you've never had this lobbied at you or a friend) so he was trying to get them used to the "good shit". Cut to someone else (probably Satan) asking about what their personal library set up was like, and Levi overhears that Clang has a whole half of their bookcase dedicated to shoujo manga. Turns out, when Levi was trying to figure out what kind of anime to show them, he went to the general consensus for good anime and (I don't know if anyone's noticed) they're either ghibli movies or sci-fi/action shows. Cut to Levi being embarrassed that they never told him they were a huge weeb too!! ("You never asked, you just called me a normie and didn't even ask me for an 8x8." "I didn't even know you knew what that meant! I-I-I-! You just looked too nice and normal to get into anime!" "....You think I'm nice and normal? :D")

Asmo and Clang do a lot of skin care treatments and make up sessions together (mostly because Asmo drags them into it) and Clang will write about the experience and how romantic it was for them (if you've ever had a crush on someone who would occasionally do your make up, you know what I mean and it is a mad heart racing shoujo moment) and send them to Asmo. Asmo keeps these "love letters" and has only showed off a few to Solomon because those puppies are Asmo's and he is not sharing.

[kingofkingdom-archive]

So Much Like Stars - Part ONE

Pairing: Boba Fett x Fem!Reader

Part ONE (read part two here!)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You’ve known nothing but snow and cold wind your whole life. When a mysterious hunter arrives at your village, you find yourself drawn to him.

Warnings: Explicit sex, p-in-v sex, vaginal fingering, breathplay, power dynamics/power play, royalty kink (?), dom/sub dynamics, naked female clothed male, come marking, unprotected sex, mentions of death (no character death)

Word count: 8.2k+

A/N: This fic is entirely self-indulgent. No one asked for it, but here it is. Boba Fett fucks and we all know it. Or maybe you disagree, in which case you’re wrong. Anyway, enjoy! As usual, there’s no use of Y/N here and please heed the warnings before reading.

Across the windswept, snowy plain, you watch as the ship approaches its landing. It slows, rotates, and then lands face-up on the flat expanse. It’s maybe a kilometer and a half away from the outlook you’re perched on; your binocs are old, no longer reading distance, so the best you can do is guess. The wind blows the snow towards the east, blurring the landscape into obscurity for anyone without a trained eye.

Your cloak, woven from the heavy fur of the Kintur that roam your planet, keeps the driving wind from seeping into your bones. Every inch of your skin is covered, from your leather boots and thick leggings to your goggles and well-worn face mask. You carry a pack, as you always do, to which are strapped your net-shoes that allow you to traverse over massive snowdrifts. At your hip is an old Republic-issue blaster and at your side is your staff, which often acts more as a tool to clear paths and knock snow from tree boughs than anything else.

This planet is nearly uninhabited save for the village you were born in. Seeing a ship is rare, and it’s even rarer to see one that’s unaffiliated with a galactic government. You take note of its location and strain to see if you can spot the pilot as he emerges, but you have no such luck.

You sigh, the wind whistling in your ears, the drifts of snow shifting and growing around you. Father will want you back soon. The newcomer is undoubtedly going to head towards the village, and you’ll need to be there when he arrives. You stow your binocs away in your pack and unstrap your net-shoes, attaching them quickly to your boots.

The trek back is one you’ve managed countless times before - that doesn’t make it any less dangerous, but the sheer cliff faces and howling, punishing winds are not strangers to you. 

Your village is small by the standards of other planets in the galaxy, from what you’ve heard (the Elders’ stories of Coruscant never fail to amaze you), but in your eyes it’s vibrant and bustling despite the harsh climate. There’s almost always a tavern with its lights on and music flowing out, a friendly face and warm hearth never far.

It’s located in a secluded valley between towering mountains, out of sight of the vast plains from which the mountains seem to erupt without warning. There are no foothills; only flat land interrupted by harsh terrain. It’s very easy to find death in the mountains, but they have sustained your people for generations. Hunting is your main source of food, whether it be the Kintur that also provide their hide or the massive snow-bison whose fat and bones keep your diets regulated. In the warm season water flows endlessly - the streams that run from the mountain peaks are known to have healing properties, and often they seem to glow with a supernatural shimmer. There is a small mine some distance from the village where many men work, and though the job is a dangerous one, the mountains never run out of the ores you need.

Your people’s existence is not especially complex, but they are tougher than most. The landscape requires it.

You arrive back at the stone walls surrounding your village and greet the gatekeeper, a man who recently inherited the job from his father. 

“Hello, Isrwill.” You plant your staff next to you and lean on it, taking your weight off of your feet. “Have you heard anything of the visitor?”

The man nods. He’s about a decade older than you, but underneath the goggles and mask his face is youthful, eyes kind and always merry. “Savakya returned not long ago. She says he will make it here within the hour.”

“Did she say anything of his appearance?”

“Only that he wears armor, and a helmet. She could not make out any features, other than that he’s shaped like a man.” Isrwill leans back against the wall.

“Ah,” you reply. “Well-dressed for the weather, then.”

He shrugs. “Yes, but also well-dressed for battle.”

You can hear the concern in his voice. The question is one you’re sure your whole community is asking: what has brought this foreigner here? 

“Thank you,” you tell him, and he nods while pushing the gate open.

Once inside the walls, you remove your net-shoes as well as your goggles and immediately head toward the building where you know they’ll bring the stranger. Your father will already be there, conversing with the Elders and with the Committee to prepare for whatever news or needs this foreigner might have. There are protocols in place for such an event, but they haven’t been used in your lifetime. As you walk to the meeting-house, you try and recall the words you studied so long ago, when your father taught you your people’s laws and customs.

The meeting-house is constructed of solid, ancient wood, imported from a forest planet and stark against the gray stone that most of the village’s homes are built from. Inside there is a massive hearth cut from a single stone, the fire inside it already raging. In the center of the main room there is a curved table; on one side sit the Elders, on the other, the Committee. At the head sits your father, next to your empty seat.

“You made it safely, my child,” he greets you when you arrive, a swirl of snowflakes following you in. Smiling, you pull down your face mask.

“I always do, father.”

He smiles from his place at the table, giving you a look. “That does not mean I do not worry.”

Rolling your eyes affectionately, you lean over to kiss him on the cheek. The other people at the table chat amongst themselves, though you can feel the undercurrent of unease at the visitor’s imminent arrival.

You walk around to take your place, setting your pack, staff, and outer layers near the hearth to dry. You are left in a long-sleeved, high-neck shirt and tunic over your leggings, your hair done up in its usual braids. Usually you would go home and change into something more suitable for Committee business, but there was no time. 

You turn to your father, who sits next to you with all the grace and poise befitting a benevolent leader.

“Isrwill told me the stranger is arriving soon. Do we know any more?”

He nods, though he doesn’t look entirely pleased. “Yes. From what Savakya described, it seems he’s a Mandalorian.”

The name isn’t familiar to you. “Is that a race?”

“No.” Your father leans back in his chair. His arched brows bely a concern that is rare to see on him. He strokes his white beard, staring off into space. “The Mandalorians are more of a culture, a people. I’ve only ever heard stories of them. They say they are fierce warriors, and that many of them are bounty hunters by trade.”

That’s odd. You frown, confused. “Bounty hunters? Why wo-”

You are interrupted by three sharp knocks on the doors. Beside you, your father calls out “enter! ”, and the doors swing open.

Two village men, two of the strongest of your people, flank a man clad in armor. His helmet has a T-shaped visor with a short antenna, and on his back is a rifle. You take note of the blasters strapped to his hips as well as something that could be a weapon at his knee. 

Isrwill was right. Well-dressed for battle.

You sit up straight and keep your eyes trained on the Mandalorian. Though you are a member of the Committee, you are also well-versed in how to use a blaster, perhaps the best trained of any at the table. You are also a protector of your fellow Committee members, the Elders, and most importantly, your father. 

“What business brings you to our planet, Mandalorian?” Your father’s voice is stern, strong in a way you hope to emulate when you inevitably assume his role.

“I am in search of a bounty, your excellency.”

The hunter’s voice is deep and slightly muffled through the helmet’s vocoder. He sounds weathered and rough, though you imagine that’s life as a man who fights and kills for a living.

“Sir will suit me just fine,” your father tells him, a hint of a smirk in his voice. “As for your bounty, it is highly improbable that any individual has survived outside of our village longer than a day. There is no stranger here but you.”

The Mandalorian sighs, looking down at the floor and then back up again. “I’m afraid I disagree, sir. The tracker isn’t wrong. He must be hiding somewhere in the mountains.”

Your father shakes his head. “Those mountains are impossible to pass without a guide. If he was there, surely he is dead by now.”

Though you can’t see his face, the hunter’s helmet is surprisingly expressive. He looks at your father for a long moment, and then glances around at the other people at the table. His gaze finally lands on you.

You set your jaw and stare back, unintimidated. A man with guns does not scare you, no matter how he tries.

“Alright,” he says, but you suspect he is not satisfied with this information. “Might I at least inquire about some lodging for the night?”

-

Later that evening, you find yourself in your favorite tavern, sitting in your usual booth, watching the townsfolk mingle and chat. Your drink of choice is a fermented ale that is produced in the warm season and aged for consumption outside of those short couple of months. 

No one pays you any mind unless they’re a close friend or they have news. They know to leave you alone, to let you sit with yourself as you prefer to do.

You’re watching a young couple you grew up with dance to the music when the tavern’s door swings open. You glance over at it but do a double take when you realize who stands in the doorway.

The hunter.

Around you, conversation quiets as everyone takes in the stranger. His helmet scans the room, like he’s looking for someone in particular. Internally you scoff. The bounty would never show his face here, he’d stand out too much amongst your people.

The hunter’s visor stops moving, aimed directly at you.

Kriff, you think, taking a swig of your drink. He wants information, and he’s not going to give up quite as easily as he did with your father.

The Mandalorian walks into the room, headed directly towards your booth. People watch, heads turning to track the stranger’s movements across the floor. His steps are heavy, intentional, large frame imposing as he approaches you.

Certainly a man built for survival. For conflict. If he were a different person, you might find it attractive.

He stops when he reaches your booth, looking down at you just as you stare up at him, brow raised. 

“This seat taken?”

You shake your head and gesture to it. “Not at all.”

From the corner of your eye you can tell the rest of the tavern’s patrons are watching, waiting. As the hunter sits, you wave your hand discretely, telling them to return to their conversations, to each other.

The noise picks up again.

“You’ve got some influence here, princess.”

The name both rankles and sends a shiver of something unwanted down your spine. Now that he’s closer, knees almost brushing your own, you really get a sense of how intense this man’s presence is.

A warrior, to be sure. None would debate that. 

You narrow your eyes at him. “We are not the subjects of a king, hunter.”

He scoffs, leaning back and resting his arm on the back of the booth. “Forgive me. What are you to them?”

“I do not see how it concerns you.” The words are harsh but your face remains neutral. Your father taught you how to deal with men like this - how to steel yourself against posturing, against prodding, against teasing.

The Mandalorian chuckles. “I just like to know who I’m talkin’ to. No need for the theatrics.”

You don’t respond. He’s the one who approached you - you have no desire to get in his good graces.

He sighs, glancing over to the wall at your left, his right. “I’d never heard of this planet before the tracker brought me here, much less your people,” he tells you. It’s not a surprise.

“That’s how we like to keep it. We stand no chance against something like the Republic or the Empire. Our only means of survival is staying under the radar.”

His visor is trained directly on you, staring, studying your face. You stare back, wishing you could somehow get a sense of what he looks like underneath the mask.

“How long have your people lived here?”

You know it’s not because he’s genuinely curious. Your mind is buzzing with all the different reasons he’d have for asking - he wants to know how familiar you are with the landscape. He wants to know how well-established your system of governance is here. He wants to know if you know how your people arrived. 

He wants to know how vulnerable you are.

“Generations. Since before the Elders’ grandparents were born. Memory of our arrival here has been lost to time.”

He tilts his head. “Is yours the only settlement on the planet?”

You nod. As far as you know, anyway. Attempts have been made to reach out, to try and see if any other peoples live in the outer reaches of the landscape, but none have returned successful. 

The Mandalorian hums. He glances over into the tavern, at the other patrons and the bartender. You watch as the bartender, a woman a few years younger than your father, uses a rag to clean out a cup, but you can tell she’s watching your table from the corner of her eye. When she notices the hunter’s helmet turn towards her, her eyes flit up to you, then over to him.

The hunter waves, as if to signal that he wants something. The bartender glances back at you and you nod. She sets down the cup and begins walking over.

You look over at him. He’s already staring back, chin tilted down like you’re a riddle he’s trying to solve.

“What can I do for you, sir?” The bartender’s voice does not waver, but it’s tense nonetheless.

He gestures to your drink. “I’ll have what she’s having.”

The bartender nods and leaves. You take a sip of your ale, finding comfort and clarity in the warmth it brings you. 

Across from you, the bounty hunter shifts in his seat, removing his gloves to reveal a pair of  calloused hands. You glance down at them and follow their movement as they reach up, thumbs curling under the bottom of his helmet, and lift. 

The hunter’s weathered face greets you. He’s a man, like any other, like you expected him to be. His brows are arched and dark, but the rest of the hair on his head has been burnt away by something that left scars across the crown of his head and his face. His eyes are cold, haunted, calculating as they look at you.

He sets the helmet on the table with a thud . 

“You’ve seen death,” you observe, holding his gaze with your own. “Been close to it.” His brown eyes narrow and he crosses his arms over his chest.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, princess.”

Ah, you think. He underestimates me.  He thinks you’re the coddled daughter of a village leader, fed by the kindness of your people and adored for your status. You raise an eyebrow and take another swig of your drink, smirking into the amber liquid. 

You set the cup down on the table. “There is more in those mountains than snow and wind, hunter.”

He doesn’t move, save for a slow blink. “Tell me, then.”

You sense movement from the corner of your eye - the bartender has returned with his drink. He nods to her in thanks and she gives a tight smile, glancing at you before hastily returning to her station.

The hunter takes the cup and brings it to his lips. You watch as he takes a sip, swallows, and his eyes widen. A small cough forces its way up and out of his throat.

You smile at him, a hint of a grin that curls the corners of your mouth. 

“A bit strong for you?”

He glares over the rim of the cup and pointedly takes another swig. He sets the cup down, large hand dwarfing it. 

“What is in those mountains?” His voice has gotten lower, rougher, like you’ll be intimidated by a show of verbal force.

“Nothing you’ll concern yourself with,” you reply, refusing to back down. “Unless you want to encounter your own mortality again.”

“I am perfectly fine with a bit of a scare.”

You bark out a laugh. “You wouldn’t survive an hour out there without a guide. And no one here will take the job, not when the options are either a fruitless search for a dead body or a shootout between two criminals.”

He leans forward, face pressing close to yours, warm breath blowing across your cheeks. His nose is inches from your own.

His voice drops to a low murmur. “I didn’t come here for a bounty, little one.”

Your brow furrows and you draw back, pressing your shoulders against the cushioned stone behind you.

“Word has got out of a large deposit of kyber somewhere in this system. The Empire has not yet caught wind, but soon they will.”

You don’t recognize the name of the material he’s referring to, but you do recognize the Empire and know exactly what something like that might mean for a small, defenseless village such as your own.

It’s much different than a simple bounty hiding in the mountains.

“Why didn’t you tell the Committee this?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know if this is where the deposit is. I didn’t want to cause unnecessary concern, especially considering the… size and scale of your village”

You purse your lips and lean your head back, staring up as you consider this development. This man has come in search of something you aren’t sure exists, and if it does, it means certain death for you and your people. 

You look back down at the man across from you. “Then why did you decide to tell me? You’d have been better off going to my father with this information.”

He huffs out a chuckle, then grabs his drink and takes a swig. He sets the cup back down and rests his arm on the table beside it. “Because I need a guide, little one. Someone with knowledge of the terrain, who I won’t have to watch out for. I’m willing to pay handsomely.”

The dots begin to connect in your brain. You raise a brow at him. “I have no need for your credits. They’re next to useless here. Besides, how can we know this - this kyber is there at all?”

“Is there anything unnatural about the mountains? Anything that would point to something powerful within them?”

You frown, thinking on it for a moment. All of the ores found in the mine are naturally occurring, the creatures that live on the peaks are all native, and the --

It hits you. Your eyes widen ever so slightly, and your heart rate increases. A falling feeling in your stomach takes the sensation from your legs for a moment, ice cold and burning all at once.

“The water.”

The Mandalorian tilts his head. You glance around to make sure no one’s heard you. Everyone in the tavern seems oblivious to the two of you, despite their stares earlier.

“We have to leave,” you tell him, fishing a couple of coins out of your pocket and depositing them on the table. “We can’t discuss this here. Come with me.”

Hastily you stand, taking your cloak from its hook on the side of the booth and pulling it on. The hunter follows suit, sliding his helmet back on and looking around the room.

You start towards the door, heavy footsteps following behind you.

-

You bring him to your home, the only place where you know you won’t be interrupted. You live in a small building tucked in a quiet corner of the village, between a storage silo and the village’s north wall.

Inside, the hearth has been going all day, fueled by coal and snow-bison waste chips. There are four rooms; three downstairs and a bedroom upstairs. You bring the Mandalorian to your study, where the fire roars and there’s a few soft chairs and a couch to sit on. He takes a seat on the latter and removes his helmet, watching as you search your bookshelves for something.

“Care to tell me what you meant by ‘the water’?” He slouches, thick thighs spread over the couch cushion.

Your eyes follow the movement of his legs for a split second. It’s supremely distracting, how inviting he looks right now. You glance up at his face and see a small smirk on his lips. A blush colors your cheeks, caught in the act of looking. To hide it, you turn back to the bookshelf, scanning the spines of your books.

“In the warm season there are streams that flow from the mountaintops to the valley. It pools in an area not far from here and forms a small lake, not much more than a pond, that freezes over once the cold sets in again. For centuries we’ve brought our sick and dying there to be healed.”

The hunter hums. “And it works?”

You nod, turning to look over your shoulder at him. “I was brought there as a child. I would have died of the fever had it not been for the water. Our Elders drink if regularly after they reach a certain age, once they haven’t been killed by the elements.”

“Are you saying your people live longer because of it?”

You pause. That has never crossed your mind, since using the water’s magic has always been normal to you, a yearly practice like any other. “I don’t know. How long does man usually tend to live?”

“It depends,” he says. “I’d say a hundred years at most.”

That has you taken aback. You look over at the bookshelf again - this is life-changing, world-shattering information. Dread begins to settle in your chest, like everything you thought was real is a lie.

The hunter leans forward, hands on his knees, concern etched on his scarred face. “How long do your people live, little one? How many years?”

You inhale and look over at him. “Hundreds. A thousand, if we’re lucky.”

“Kriff,” he swears, leaning back with a hand over his mouth and nose. 

Turning back to the bookshelf, you resume your search to calm your racing mind. You find the book you were looking for, a collection of stories gathered by your family over generations.

“Here,” you say, sliding the book out of its place and taking it over to the hunter. He scoots over, but only slightly, so when you sit next to him you’re tucked snugly between him and the arm of the couch. His thigh is warm against your own and you get chills down your neck when he shifts to put his arm behind you, around your shoulders.

You clear your throat and open the book, letting it rest on your legs.

“There are a few accounts that speak of the water,” you tell him, flipping through the pages until you find the one you’re looking for. It’s half a page of writing, the other taken up by a crude map of the mountains.

“The waters are life-giving,” you read, tracing along the words with your index finger. “They shimmer and glow in the sun when it shines upon us. The source is deep within the mountain, covered by ice and snow in the cold season. No one has seen the source of the waters and survived. Many have tried. It lies in the heart of ongrol territory.”

“Ongrol?” The hunter’s voice is deep, low in your ear. You look up at him, absentmindedly biting your lip between your teeth.

“Yes,” you reply. “A vicious species of massive snow lion. It’s rare to see one and live to tell the tale. I’ve only ever seen their prints.”

He hums, eyes flitting across your face as he studies you up close. “How large are they?”

You shake your head. “We can only guess, but certainly bigger than this building.”

The Mandalorian nods, his eye contact with you intense and unwavering. You meet it head-on, the warmth you feel in your bones spreading into your thighs and your ribs and your --

You blink and turn back to the book. The map is shaded to indicate the creatures’ territory, with a dot to indicate the general location of where the source is thought to be.

You point to an area just outside the shaded region. “This is as far as I’ve been. I can get us to the source - it’s the ongrol that are the problem.” You look back up at the hunter. “You’re sure the kyber is what’s causing this?”

He nods. “It’s one of the most powerful materials in the known universe. Little else could heal your people the way it does.”

“How do we hide the signature from others, to keep them from finding it?” The unspoken question there hangs in the air as you speak; how do we protect ourselves from attack?

He furrows his brow, shaking his head ever so slightly. “I’m still trying to work that part out, little one.”

That does not do much ease your anxieties, but you have to accept it for now.

You close the book with a sigh and stand to return it to its place on the shelf. When you turn back, the hunter has placed his other arm on the back of the couch, spread out like a king on a throne.

He looks comfortable - at home, here in yours. It’s unlike you to bring a stranger into your dwelling and not feel uneasy about it. Yet here he is, and it’s like he belongs right there on your couch, armor and all. You cross your arms, observing him.

“Do you know the name Boba Fett, princess?”

You shake your head. “No, I do not.”

He smiles, like your answer pleases him. “It's mine.”

Boba. The name is unusual, but it suits the man before you.

“I’d tell you mine in return, but I’ve grown fond of the names you’ve chosen for me, Boba Fett.”

A deep sound pushes its way out of Boba’s chest through his throat - half a chuckle, half a growl. He gives you a once-over with his dark brown eyes, like he can see right through your thick base layer and loose tunic. You watch as he does so, trying to calm your nervous breathing. His gaze is so penetrating, so intense, that after a moment you have to turn away from him, towards the fireplace.

The orange-blue flames dance in front of you, warming your face even further. A mirror hangs above it, but your eyes are focused on the hearth.

You hear Boba shift behind you, metal on fabric. “Tell me, little one,” he says. You can sense him moving closer. “Do you have any suitors, here in the village?”

The question makes your heart race even faster. “No.” You refuse to look at him, knowing that what you see there will render words impossible. “I’ve not had any interest in them.”

“But have men tried? Asked to court you?” He’s right behind you now, the warmth of him nearly matching that of the flames in front of you. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end. You can see his shadow from the corner of your eye.

“Yes,” you nod. “They have tried.”

Boba hums. His hands come up to gently, but firmly, rest on your shoulders. He slowly smooths his gloved palms down your arms, taking them from being crossed over one another to resting loose at your sides.

You risk a glance up at the mirror in front of you. He’s already looking at you, eyes locked on yours. You meet his gaze and dip your chin ever so slightly, so you’re staring at him from beneath your lashes.

A ghost of a smirk dances across Boba’s lips. He breaks the eye contact and you watch as he looks down at the nape of your neck, one of few exposed pieces of your skin. His right hand brushes your hair from over your shoulder onto your back, gathering the long tresses together. The women in your village grow their hair out as long as they can, not only to use for braids, but also to keep warm. 

Boba’s fingers brush lightly against you, the rough material of his gloves a contrast to the smooth skin of your neck.

“Why haven’t they been successful, princess?”

You clench your jaw. Boba looks back up at you, his hand resting across your nape, fingers curled ever so slightly. The feeling of it makes your thighs tremble, your core responding to this silent, easy display of authority. It shows on your face, how much you like this, and you know Boba sees it.

“None of them could give me --”

Your words are cut off by Boba’s hand snaking around your neck, firm grip tightening around the column of your throat. You gasp, a soft, breathy noise, and the man behind you chuckles. His thumb and forefinger press into your jaw, forcing your head up, though your eyes are still locked onto his reflection in the mirror.

You choke out the rest of your sentence. “-- Give me what I need.”

“Is that so,” Boba murmurs, the words a deep rumble in his rough voice. He presses just a bit tighter, and your eyes flutter closed in response. “I think I know just what you need, my dear.”

His words burn through you like fire on wood, like a cold wind rushing through an open window. Your legs grow weak and your hands grapple at him, trying to find something to hold onto. Your left hand catches on the gauntlet covering his arm and you draw it around, so his arm covers your hip and his hand rests possessively on your lower stomach.

“What a pretty thing you are,” Boba mutters, sliding his hand lower on your front until his fingertips brush your mound. You let your head drop back against his shoulder at the feeling of him cupping your most private of areas, like it’s his, like it’s always been his. Your legs shift further apart to make room for his wide palm. “A stoic princess who desperately needs someone to take care of her.”

You whine at that, at what he’s offering you. It’s true; of all the eligible men in the village, not one has taken you to bed and been able to let you fully cede control to them. They see you as a leader, as someone not to be messed with, as someone to be respected above all else.

“Oh, yes,” Boba hums, curling the fingers of his left hand into your cunt, hooking them into you through your clothes. “They might follow your orders, little one, but you’ll follow mine.”

It sounds like paradise, letting him have you like this. You nod against the armor on his chest, movement limited and head growing dizzy thanks to the hand around your neck. Boba presses his lips close to your ear, his large body now curled around yours.

“Listen to me, sweetheart.” The pet name makes you melt against him. “I am going to go take a seat, and then you’re gonna take your clothes off for me. Can you do that?”

You open your eyes and there he is, in the corner of your vision, gaze dark and full of heated promises. You study his face for a moment, memorizing his features while he’s close like this, and then you nod.

“Yes, Boba.”

“Good,” he tells you. He then moves his hands away, and though you mourn the loss of his touch, knowing what’s to come keeps you patient.

He turns, walks back over to the sofa, and sits. He spreads his legs as he did before, arms on the back of the couch, watching you.

Boba looks so much like a king in that moment that it makes you want to bow before him, to prostrate yourself like you aren’t the daughter of the Chieftain. To worship him as he demands. 

The thought crosses your mind as your fingers begin to unwrap your tunic, taking the woven material from its intricate adornment on your body. You feel a blush rising on your cheeks at the implications - what would the village think of their leader’s daughter, the one to assume his role in the future, imagining such things about a stranger?

Your mind wanders, racing, thinking of seeing him upon a proper throne, all silent confidence and heated gazes from behind the visor of his helmet. Maybe he’d bring you there, show you off to a court, hold you in his wide palms like a treaty. Set you upon his lap like a rare trophy from your far-off snow planet. You’d wrap your arm around the back of his neck and listen to his dealings while he kept a firm hand on your upper thigh.

Dignitaries and crime lords alike would watch, whispering, unable to look away.

It thrills you, to have these secret desires.

You deposit the tunic on the floor next to you and toy with the hem of your top, pulling it out from where it was tucked in your pants. Boba’s eyes zero in on the strip of skin that is revealed as you raise the shirt higher, higher, and higher, until in one motion you’ve slipped it over your head and off entirely.

He stares at your chest and it makes you smile. Men will be men.

Feeling emboldened by the way Boba is looking at you, you turn around and hook your thumbs in the waistband of your pants. You slowly slip them down your hips, over your thighs, and past your knees, bending over as you do so.

Behind you, you hear shuffling. You toss the pants to join the tunic and shirt and turn to see Boba’s codpiece and gloves removed, his hand shoved down the front of his pants.

“I’m enjoying the show, little one,” he says, and waves at you with his other hand, even as you begin to see movement at the crotch of his trousers. “Continue.”

You smirk, a sly thing at seeing the effect your bare form has on him. You tuck your fingers under the band of your bra and pull up. Your arms block your view of Boba’s face as your breasts are revealed to him, but the hungry look in his eye once you can see him gives you a good idea of it.

“Kriff,” Boba swears, jerking himself faster, rougher. The sight of it makes your breathing become heavy, the labor of it causing your chest to heave. His eyes drop from your face to your tits - somehow, you don’t feel embarrassed or ashamed like you might usually. 

You just feel wanted. It’s intoxicating, that he wants you for you , not your title.

There’s only one article of clothing left on your body now. You turn around again, your back to him, and take the front hem of your underwear in your fingers. Slowly, almost teasing, you slip it over your hips, arching your back and pushing your ass out towards Boba. The underwear slips down your thighs until it falls to the floor.

You straighten up again and look over your shoulder at him. He gestures with his free hand, a ‘come here’ motion that you’re all too eager to follow.

“Beautiful kriffing body,” he murmurs as you approach. He reaches out and puts his hand on your hip, fingers curling into your ass cheek. His eyes stare at your mound, at the patch of hair there. “Bet you’re already wet for me, huh?”

He glances up at you. You blush, watching as he removes his hand from his pants and snakes it in between your legs, calloused fingers feeling the evidence of his effect on you. His fingertips catch on your clit, rubbing and feeling and stoking the fire within. You moan wantonly, comfortable in the privacy of your home.

“You are. Kriffing soaked. Just begging for my cock, aren’t you?”

His words make your pussy clench just as he slips one of his thick fingers into you, surely spreading his own fluids across your tight, hot skin. The girth of it forces a whine out of you, brows furrowed, and your hand flies down to hold onto his as he fucks you with his finger. Your other hand comes to rest on his shoulder, gripping his armor.

“Look at you,” he mutters, baring his teeth as he watches you writhe on his hand, using his thumb to rub your clit just so. Your mouth drops open in pleasure, sparks shooting down your legs and up into your belly at the feeling. 

Boba hums, circling his thumb and flicking it over your puffy, sensitive nub. “What would your people think if they saw you moaning like a whore for an old man, hm?”

Your legs turn to jelly at the force of the arousal that hits your cunt. You sway forward, knees buckling, and Boba catches you as you fall. 

He uses the hand on your ass to guide you into a sitting position on his lap, so now you’re straddling him, bare chest pressed to the cool metal of his armor. You tuck your face into his neck and revel in the feeling of a second finger teasing at your opening.

“You like that, little one?” His words cause his throat to vibrate, and the deep tone draws your lips in to kiss at it. Your nose brushes against the underside of his jaw as you move from kissing to licking, getting drunk on the taste of his sweat on your tongue.

Boba groans, sliding the second finger into your cunt with ease. You sigh, blowing cool air across the skin you’ve just wet with your tongue. “You do.” He runs his free hand up your thigh, holding tight to the firm muscle there, toned and strong from a lifetime in the ice and snow. “So desperate for my cock.”

You nod, though your lips hardly leave his neck. “Please, Boba,” you whisper into his skin, pressing yourself as close to him as you can get. 

His fingers still their movements within you and you whine. Boba shushes you, and you have to bite your lip to keep from pouting when he pulls his fingers from your pussy. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head and leans back.

“I want you on your hands and knees, princess. Right here on the couch.”

You nod frantically and there’s not a moment of hesitation in your haste to follow his order. You arrange yourself next to him, forearms propped on the arm of the couch and your knees keeping your ass aloft in the air.

Boba turns and positions himself behind you with ease, half standing with one foot on the floor, his other leg bent and kneeling on the cushion.

He may call himself an old man, but he’s got the physicality of someone half his age. It makes the spot between your legs hotter and wetter just to think of it. Your cunt throbs for him.

You look over your shoulder and watch as he reaches into his pants, hand spreading your wetness across his dick, and your eyes widen as he draws it out from the confines of his trousers. Your gaze zeros in on him; he’s thick and long, just as you suspected, and every inch is one you want to feel as deep inside you as possible. Honestly, it makes sense - you’ve always heard that the men with the most to make up for do so in their personalities. 

Men like Boba don’t have to compensate, which makes them all the more attractive.

You glance up to his face. He’s smirking down at you, eyes traveling down to your ass, pushed out and open for him. He runs a hand along the soft swell of your rear, caressing you like you’re precious, like you’re prized.

“I could get used to this,” he tells you, guiding the head of his cock to notch at your opening. “Seeing a future queen all bare and ripe for me.”

Your eyelids flutter as you feel him press in further, deeper. The sight of him kneeling behind you, fully clothed while you’re naked as the day you were born, sends a wave of arousal through you. Your brain doesn’t even register what he’s called you, how wrong he is, because you can’t think of anything beyond his dick.

“C’mon, Boba,” you whine, his slow pace driving you mad. “Fuck me like you mean it, old man.”

The noise that comes out of his mouth is almost non-human with the way it reverberates around the room. His hands dig into your hips and he thrusts , unrelenting and rough, spearing you onto his thick cock until his balls slap your clit. You choke out a moan, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at how perfectly full you feel.

“Ah,” he grunts out as he immediately sets to fucking you roughly, deeply. “The little princess does want to be treated like a whore.” His words are accompanied by the lewd sound of his cock moving in your wet cunt, his hips slapping against your own. You moan, loud and uninhibited, unable to conceive of shame or propriety.

For your whole life you’ve been looked up to, treated as both fragile and untouchable.

Boba Fett fucks you like you’re nothing more to him than a pet.

He snarls his words into the air. “Woulda fucked you there on that table in the cantina, shown the whole village how well you take me.”

You keen, arching your back further to give him a better angle. He runs his left hand up your side, gripping your waist and pulling you back onto his cock in time with his thrusts. He’s deeper inside you than anyone’s ever been - you’re beginning to think men in your village must be small, or maybe Boba’s just unnaturally big, because you think you can feel the head of his cock bruising your cervix. 

The thought of him taking you in the tavern has you clenching down on him even tighter. Maybe you would have gotten on your knees for him, hid beneath the tablecloth and kept his cock warm in your mouth.

“That turn you on, princess?” He slows his thrusts just slightly, drawing out so he can slam back in with even more force. You cry out, nodding, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

“Of course it does,” he grunts, and you can feel the crest of your climax steadily approaching as he speaks, letting yourself get lost in the fantasies he’s bringing to life. His thrusts speed up again, rough and brutal, just as you need.

“You were just waiting for someone to -- ungh -- come along and fuck all the thoughts outta that clever little head, weren’t you?”

You whine, because he’s right - your normally sharp, observant brain has been put out like water over a fire. Boba leans forward, placing his hand on the arm of the couch next to your elbow, and brushes his lips against the back of your neck. It changes his position enough that his cock hits you just that much deeper, pounding against that elusive sweet spot deep within your cunt.

“Kriff, Boba --” You barely get the words out, your voice hoarse and strained and your mind turned to mush. “So -- so big.”

Against your ear, you feel more than hear him chuckle. His teeth catch on your earlobe, hot breath skating down the side of your face.

“Yeah? You like having my big cock in your tight little pussy?”

You keen, high-pitched and desperate. “Please, Boba, I’m gonna --”

His teeth trail down the side of your neck, biting firmly enough to leave a trail of red marks across your skin. Once he’s satisfied with his work, he leans up again so he can grip your hips more firmly.

“Gonna come, little one? Go on --” his words trail off for a moment - or maybe your hearing fades out as the crisis within you rises to its limit. Right as you’re on the edge, your face flush with sensation and your cunt fluttering around him, his rough voice fades back in.

“-- wanna feel you, princess. Come for your king.”

You have no choice but to do as he says.

Boba’s words scratch that small, hidden itch in your brain you’d taken a glance at earlier. Your mind whites out for a split second, as blinding as a snowstorm, before you return to yourself.

He’s still fucking you. Using you. Oversensitive and trembling, your senses absorb the world around you - Boba's hands on your hips, the scrape of his armor against your thighs, the crackle of the fireplace somewhere over your shoulder. 

The rhythm of Boba's cock inside you, chasing the same high you'd found moments earlier.

You moan, pushing back, encouraging him to find his release. A glance over your shoulder gives you the sight of his eyes focused on where he's thrusting into you, lip curled, a drop of sweat trailing down over his jaw.

Boba glances up at you and smirks, though the flash of teeth makes it more of a sneer. "Where do you want me, princess?"

A serene smile crosses your face and you pretend to think on it for a moment, lazy in your post-orgasmic haze.

"On me," you reply. "Wherever you want."

He grunts, looking back down, and thrusts a few more times, deep and bruising. As soon as he pulls out you mourn the loss of him, the fullness inside of you, but you're rewarded with a vision unlike any you've seen before. Boba takes himself in hand, and with a loud groan, cums across your ass, his spend dripping down your thighs and onto your pussy lips. He covers you with himself, marking you up.

Once he's finished, Boba runs a hand through the cum on your skin, pressing firmly and rubbing it in.

"Been wanting to do that since I saw you in the meeting hall, little one."

You hum, eyes fluttering closed at the thought of it. What a scandal - the Chieftain's daughter falling for the stranger, the first foreigner to visit the village in living memory.

Behind you, Boba shifts off of the couch. He stands beside you and then you register that he's moving you, strong hands arranging your limp body so he can pick you up. One arm slips beneath your knees and the other under your back.

"Bedroom's upstairs," you murmur. 

He brings you there, tucking you into bed carefully and then turning to undo his armor. As you watch him methodically remove each piece, you get the feeling that you're privy to something rare. Though you're sleepy, your eyes remain open, intent on keeping this memory clear.

The thought crosses your mind that this man must know so much of the universe. He's probably been to hundreds of planets, has hundreds of stories.

You've only ever known snow and wind. 

"Boba?"

He's just finished with the last of his armor when you speak. He sits down on the edge of the bed next to you and puts his hand on your side.

"Yes, princess?"

You gaze up into his eyes, dark but soft when looking at you.

"What's the most beautiful place you've ever been to?"

He smiles at that, letting out a soft chuckle. "I've been to so many places that it's hard to keep track, little one."

You pout. He moves to settle into bed next to you, under the layers of fur and fleece that keep you warm.

"You must have a favorite," you insist, curling up against him, head resting on his bicep.

He's quiet for a minute, thinking. You wait, though sleep threatens to pull you under. Boba's words lull you out of the beginnings of your slumber.

"I think you'd like Naboo," he tells you. You've read about it, about their system of governance. You can't recall seeing any pictures or illustrations, though. 

"It's very green," he explains. "There's meadows and forests everywhere. Their cities are vast, the buildings beautiful in themselves. I traveled there with my father when I was young."

You want to ask more, to learn about this place so different from anything you know. Your mind is racing with imaginings when you fall asleep, cozy and warm against Boba Fett.

In the night, your dreams glow as bright as the sun.

[nikki-writes-stuff]

At the Edge of the Woods (Werewolf!Steve x Reader)

Summary: When you move into a cottage on the edge of the forest, you’re ready to start a new life in a new, quiet town. But when you attract the attention of Steve Rogers, a man who everyone in town seems to dislike and fear, your world is turned upside down after he decides that you belong to him. 

Pairing: Werewolf/Alpha!Steve x Omega!Reader

Read part two here! 

A/N: Hey, guys! So a couple warnings about this one: it contains stalking, a/b/o dynamics, non-con, dub-con, breeding kink, and a whole lotta sin. Also, this is my first time writing anything with alpha/omega stuff in it, so be kind! And let me know if you liked it or if there’s anything I need to work on when writing about this sorta thing. Thank you so much, and enjoy!

It was love at first sight. From the moment you laid eyes on the cottage, you knew it would become your home. The thing was tiny, barely any bigger than a shack, and it was a good fifteen minutes’ drive from the nearest sign of civilization. But you didn’t care; you were enamored with the thick layer of ivy that had overtaken the western wall of the structure, and there were huge bushes of honeysuckle growing along the edge of the forest just a few feet from the backdoor.

And when your real estate agent told you the price of the property, the deal was immediately sealed.

“You’re kidding,” you’d deadpanned. “That’s all?”

“Yep,” she’d grinned, clutching her binder of properties tight against her chest. “Quite the bargain, huh?”

“I mean… Yeah,” you’d laughed. “It must be too good to be true. What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, structurally,” she began, “The plumbing is on the older side of things, but it passed inspection. Same goes for the heating and air conditioning. There’s been a bit of a rodent problem in the past, but the appraiser said that a few mouse traps should do the trick to take care of that.”

Her smile had fallen at that point, though, and she shifted on her feet as she considered her next words.

“What is it?” you’d prompted.

“Well… The thing is,” she said sheepishly, “The locals have this superstition about the woods in this area. People say that they’re, uh…haunted.”

“…Haunted?”

You were barely able to contain an amused grin from overtaking your face, and with a shrug you turned back toward the kitchen, admiring the view of the trees through the little window above the stove.

“I know, it’s pretty weird,” the agent chuckled. “But people around here really do believe it. Something about an urban legend. I will say, though, that coyotes and wolves are known to roam around at night, so that’s probably where the paranoia comes from. Just try not to go out after dark. And if you get any chickens or outdoor animals, I’d keep them inside a kennel.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you assured her. “I’m not exactly a farmer. I’m just looking for a place to settle down.

“And I think this cottage is the perfect spot.”

A month later, after the papers were signed and your possessions were moved in, you found yourself happier than you’d ever been in your new abode. You’d purchased house plants and artwork, designing the small space until it was exactly to your liking. You’d even decided to take up gardening, and your tiny back porch had become dotted with pots filled with flourishing herbs.

You fell into an easy routine. On Mondays, you would venture into town, picking up groceries from the local mart and picking up any other supplies you needed. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays were dedicated to your work; you were the owner and manager of a blog that had become an overnight success several months ago, and so you spent those days curled up in the cottage, typing away at your laptop and creating content.

The only strange thing thus far had been the town residents’ reaction to you. Everyone was friendly, of course, and they’d made it clear that small town hospitality was a value the entire population seemed to share, but you weren’t oblivious to the way they side-eyed you. No one ever looked suspicious, per se, more like…expectant. Like they were waiting for you to say or do something, though you had no idea what it could be.

Earl, the bookstore owner, was by far one of the friendliest people you’d ever met, and after four weeks of the bizarre treatment, you finally asked him about it.

“Oh, don’t mind us,” he waved you off, sliding your new books into a paper bag. “It’s just that no one’s ever lasted long in that cottage o’ yours.”

“…Well, that’s a bit…unsettling. What happened to them?”

“Nothing,” he was quick to assure you. “Nothing bad happens to ‘em. It’s not like they’ve gotten hurt or anything. It’s just that, uh… Well. Strange things seem to happen in that part o’ the woods at night, and it’s scared the last couple o’ tenants off.”

“Huh… My real estate agent did mention something like that,” you admitted, starting to feel an irrational spark of apprehension. “What kind of things did they see?”

“Well… I don’t wanna scare you away,” he grumbled, scratching at his salt-and-pepper beard.

“I promise you won’t. I really like where I’m at right now. I’m just…curious, I guess.”

Earl seemed to consider it for a moment before giving in.

“Alright,” he sighed. “But for the record, I don’t believe any of the silly nonsense some folks ‘round here like to gossip about. This is a quiet town – a safe town. The only dangerous thing about this place is Mary Jo’s strawberry rhubarb pie down at the soda shop – I swear those things are the reason I got diabetes.”

You chuckled at Earl, and he gave you a warm smile before leaning towards you over the counter, propping himself up on his elbow.

“So, anyways, back to your house,” he started. “The last people there were this younger couple. They were nice kids – had just gotten hitched. But after a few weeks, they said they started noticin’ howls at night. Now, that’s normal for this area; we’ve got some wolves. But these howls were close, so loud that it woke em’ up most nights.

“Then, they started seeing people walking around the property around midnight. It coulda’ been that they were smokin’ some stuff they shouldn’a been smokin’, but they swore up and down that they saw naked men traipsin’ around. One time, there was one on their back porch, and the husband ran out to chase him off, but as quick as they saw him, he vanished.

“Again, I don’t know if I believe all of that junk,” Earl huffed. “But… the old lady who lived there before the couple said the same thing before she passed away, god rest her soul. And ol’ Lizzy didn’t lie about this sorta thing.”

You made a quiet hum of contemplation, nodding.

“Well,” you eventually spoke, “if I see any naked men hanging around, I have my handy dandy taser.”

A wide grin broke out over the older man’s face, and he reached over the counter to cuff your shoulder.

“Thata girl,” he chuckled. “I like it. And if you do see people hangin’ around on your property, give me a call, ok?” He fumbled around for a business card, eventually opening the cash register and pulling one out. “Call the bottom number if anyone gives you trouble, ok? I know I’m not the most intimidating guy around, but I keep a shotgun at the house just in case. And if the wolves become a problem, call the police. They’ll send some guys over from animal control to chase ‘em off.”

“Thanks, Earl,” you smiled, tucking the card into your wallet. “Oh, and before I forget, do you have any stationary? Letter writing paper, colored pens, that sort of thing?”

“I’m afraid we don’t. Oh, but Greg and Lou would probably have some. Try their art supply store; it’s right around the corner on the left side o’ the road.”

With that, you thanked Earl and walked out, clutching your paper bag of novels to your chest. You had to admit that the idea of wolves on your property was starting to scare you, but the thought of a naked guy just hanging out in the woods was enough to make you laugh to yourself. Even if it was true, you’d dealt with weirdos before. If that was the worst of your problems, then you’d be a happy camper.

You followed Earl’s instructions and immediately spotted a quaint store with a sign over the door reading “The Brushstroke”. Upon walking inside, you were greeted by the smell of paper and ink, and papier mache mobiles were hanging from the ceiling every few feet, dancing in the breeze that had flown in after you opened the door. Two men were standing behind the counter, sipping from steaming mugs of tea, and their heads popped up as you walked in.

“Hey, there!” one of them called, giving you a wave. “Welcome; come on in.”

“Hello,” you replied with a smile.

“We haven’t seen you around before,” the other man remarked, a kind smile on his face. “You wouldn’t happen to be the new girl in town, would you?”

“Word spreads quickly, I guess.”

“It does when you live in a town like this,” he nodded. “I’m Lou, by the way. And this is my husband Greg.”

Greg nodded in greeting, and you gave them a wide smile.

“It’s nice to meet you guys.”

“Likewise, hon. Can we help you find anything?”

You told them what you were looking for, and they instructed you towards the back of the store, where you found a wall filled with rows of neat packets of paper right next to a cubby of pens of all types and colors. You took your time in making your selections, not even noticing the door of the shop opening and closing; it was only when you heard Greg and Lou’s quiet conversation come to an abrupt halt that you glanced around the corner to see what was going on.

Your eyes widened when you saw the man standing in front of the counter; he was tall, maybe a few inches over six foot, and built like a tank. A thick, well-groomed beard adorned his face, and his hair was on the longer side, curling just past his ears in thick, easy waves. Despite the chilly weather outside, he was only dressed in a blue long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans, and you watched his biceps bulge under the fabric as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“…Steve,” Greg finally said. “Long time no see.”

The man – Steve, evidently – nodded his head as he approached the counter.

“Wh-what can we do for you?” Lou asked, seeming to shrink back as he walked towards them.

“I need a new sketchbook,” Steve mumbled, almost too quietly for you to hear. His voice was deep, resonating, and something about its gravelly edge made goosebumps rise up over your arms.

“You know where to find ‘em,” Greg stated after clearing his throat. “Just get whatever you need and go.”

It looked as if Steve was about to say something, but after a pause, he just nodded, ducking his head and turning directly towards you. You stiffened as he grew nearer, feeling an unexplainable urge to turn and run away from him, but then his eyes met yours, and you were frozen in place.

Blue irises stared directly into you, and you watched as surprise washed over his features. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath in through his nose, and you swore that you saw his pupils dilate as he looked you up and down. When his gaze finally met yours again, and you stumbled back a step, stunned at the look on his face. It was as if he knew you.

But that couldn’t be; you’d never seen this man before. If you had, you definitely would’ve remembered him.

“I-I…” you stuttered. “I’m sorry.”

You weren’t sure what you were apologizing for, but all of a sudden you were broken out of your strange stupor. Fixing your eyes firmly on the floor, you turned and blindly grabbed the first stack of papers that your extended hand came in contact with. You did the same with the pens, grabbing a random pack before turning on your heel and heading towards the front.

Or, rather, heading directly into a broad, firm chest. You hadn’t heard any footsteps, but while your back was turned Steve had apparently stalked up behind you, and now you were so close that you could smell the distinct scent of pine wafting off of him. Pine and…something else, something musky. It made your mouth water and your eyes flutter shut, and you could have sworn that you heard a deep growl sound from his chest.

The noise startled you so badly that you dropped everything, even your paper bag from Earl’s, and you felt as if your entire body was trembling as you turned away. On unsteady feet, you walked back to the front, glancing at Greg and Lou out of the corner of your eye as you headed towards the door. Lou was watching you with a concerned expression painted across his face, but Greg was still staring Steve down, as if he were sizing him up.

The cold, early-spring wind hit you square in the face once you exited the store, and it sobered you up enough to cease your nervous trembling. There was still a sense of blind panic, though, a deep-seated fear that drove you to march over to your car without turning back.

As you peeled out of your parking space and sped towards your home, you slowly began to calm down, taking slow, even breaths to slow the frantic beating of your heart. As you put more and more distance between you and the mysterious man from the art store, you found that, even later on when you were safe in your home, you still couldn’t rationalize why you’d felt the way you had. And that evening, when you were getting ready to go to bed, you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched.

Typically, you kept the curtains in your bedroom open, enjoying the sight of the forest laying just beyond the panes of glass. But tonight, before going to bed, you drew them shut before burrowing under the covers, hiding away from the lingering, unexplainable dread that had followed you home that day.

____________

You weren’t sure what had woken you. When you jolted out of your slumber, you were laying sprawled out over your mattress, your sheets tangled around your ankles. Everything was quiet, unsettlingly so. It was as if your cottage was holding its breath, waiting for something horrible to happen. The world was black beyond your windows, and the clock on your bedside table read 3:42 in the morni-

Wait.

The lingering tendrils of sleep within your brain melted away as you bolted upright, your wide eyes focused on your windows and the curtains that were neatly pulled away from them. Your heart was pounding in your ears as you slowly, deliberately, stood up from your bed, reaching for your phone blindly as you kept your eyes on the windows.

You drew the curtains closed as your thumb hovered over the emergency call button, and you gulped before turning towards your open bedroom door.

“H-hello?” you called out, voice still thick with sleep.

There was no answer, and you took a deep breath before stepping out into the living room. You were relieved to find nothing out of place; the kitchen, as well, was in perfect order, as was your tiny bathroom. You grew bolder as you searched your house, checking underneath your bed and inside of your wardrobe, but still you found nothing.

Eventually, you sauntered over to your back door, and that’s when you smelled it. Smelled him. The same scent that had flooded your senses back at the bookstore was thick in the air right next to the backdoor. You blinked rapidly, feeling a stirring in your gut as you inhaled it, and you gulped as you faced the door.

“…Steve?” you murmured, suddenly unable to make a sound any louder than a whisper.

Without realizing what you were doing, your hand came up to the doorknob, tracing the curve of it with your thumb. A tiny, experimental twist revealed that it wasn’t locked, and a small voice in the back of your head supplied that it was sure you’d locked it before going to sleep.

One more twist, and the door popped open, goosebumps rising up over your skin as the night air rushed over you. You turned on the porch light with a flick of your fingers and stepped out, wincing when the floorboards creaked under your feet. You half expected to see a naked man standing there just as Earl had said, but there was nobody.

You let out a shaky laugh, leaning against the doorway as your eyes flitted over the forest. You felt silly, getting all paranoid for no reason. With a small, sheepish smile, you straightened up and turned to head back inside, eager to climb back under your warm sheets and forget about the whole thing.

But that was when you saw it.

You stopped in your tracks and sucked in a deep breath as the wolf sauntered out from the tree line, its eyes focused directly on you just as yours were focused on it. Its fur was sandy and mottled with streaks of light brown and creamy white, and in the dim light you thought that you caught a flash of blue in its eyes. You took a step backwards as that same smell washed over you, and for a short, fleeting moment, you thought that there was something familiar about the beast.

It took another step towards you, and that was when you realized how massive it was. You’d seen pictures of wolves on the internet; you knew how big they were supposed to be compared to people. But this was another thing completely; this wolf looked to be the size of a grizzly bear, and you knew that if it were to stand up on its two hind legs, it would tower over you.

Abruptly, you broke out of your paralysis, blinking rapidly as you turned back towards your door. You heard a growl from behind you, but you ignored it as you fled back into your house, slamming the door shut and turning the lock back into place. A thud sounded on its other side, followed by the scratching of claws against wood.

You waited several moments, silently begging the animal to stop, but the thumping only carried on, accompanied by muted, distressed whining. Taking a deep breath, you turned to your phone, punching in ‘911’ and holding the device up to your ear.

“911, where is your emergency?”

“U-um… I-I’m at 432 Nottington Lane. Please, there’s this, this wolf outside and it’s trying to get it, and…”

As you spoke, the noises suddenly stopped. You paused, frowning at the door and straining your ears. But everything had once more gone silent.

“Hello, ma’am? Ma’am, are you still there?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m still here. Um… I think it’s gone now. It’s… Yeah, it’s gone. I’m really sorry to bother you guys. Just, uh… Just ignore this call, please. I’m sorry.”

You hung up and set your phone down on the kitchen counter, staring hard at your back door.

“…Shit.”

_______________

You didn’t close your curtains again after that night. You told yourself it was because there was no reason to, that you had nothing to hide yourself from. But, in the back of your mind, you knew that it was because you were too afraid of waking up with them open of someone else’s accord.

Two days went by with no further incident. You kept up with your little routine, throwing yourself into your work and acting as if you weren’t still shaken up from the ordeal. You called Earl and let him know you’d seen a wolf, just like he’d said, and the two of you had laughed over the scare it had given you. But the laughter didn’t reach your eyes or your heart, and it was still hard for you to fall asleep whenever night came around.

On the third day, though, you decided that you needed to get out. Every time your eyes strayed to the forest, you felt a pinprick of anxiety, and you were desperate to forget about what had happened. And so, dressing in your most comfortable leggings and oversized sweater, you ventured out into town, stopping for breakfast at the soda shop.

Mary Jo’s Soda Shop had been open and owned by Mary Jo herself since before you were born. It was located right in the center of town, and it was the closest thing to ‘busy’ that the small township’s population could be capable of. The front porch was lined with old, worn rocking chairs, and empty planter boxes sat beneath every single window; you were sure that they’d be overflowing with petunias as the weather turned warmer.

The atmosphere was warm and cozy as you stepped inside. People of all different races and walks of life found solace under Mary’s roof, and it was clear by the easy smiles, easy laughter, and easy conversation that pervaded the dining room. A teenaged girl, who you’d later find out to be Mary Jo’s granddaughter, showed you to your table and took your order, and as you settled down into the cracked-leather seat of your booth, you found yourself finally relaxing.

It was easy to get lost in your own thoughts, especially with the dull roar of voices and the soft sounds of country music playing over the radio as background noise. You stared off into space as you sipped your orange juice, content to just zone out for a few moments and let your brain go on autopilot.

Maybe that was why it startled you so much when a man abruptly slid into the seat across from you. You were pulled out of your revelry by a dark shadow suddenly appearing in your peripheral vision, and your initial fright only deepened when you looked up to see who it was.

“Steve…”

The man from yesterday was staring you down, dressed this time in a red and black flannel. His hair, too, looked like it had been combed out, and his beard was shiny and soft-looking, as if he’d rubbed oil into it that morning.

You didn’t know what to say as he sat across from you, his fingers laced together on top of the table, and for an uncomfortably long moment, the two of you were completely silent.

“What’s your name?” he finally asked, and you arched your eyebrow at him.

“Why do you want to know?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, and he let out a long sigh through his nose. He didn’t answer your question, and you started to shift in your seat as he continued to stare.

Finally, you told him, murmuring your name under your breath. Upon hearing it, he nodded, finally glancing up when your waitress came back to take your order. When her eyes fell onto the man seated across from you, she visibly paled, her mascara-lined eyes widening as her smile turned to a grimace.

“Mr. Rogers,” she said timidly, “my grandmother told you not to come in anymore-“

“It’ll be fine, Rosie,” he grunted. “I won’t cause any trouble; I’m just talking with (Y/N), here.”

Rosie looked over to you, and you blinked up at her, hoping your incredulity was showing through in your eyes.

“I… I’m not sure…”

Steve huffed and looked over at you, a predatory edge appearing in his visage.

“Go on,” he encouraged you. “Tell her.”

“I really don’t-“

Suddenly, his scent was flooding your senses once more, and you almost gagged on your words as you breathed it in. You wondered why Rosie didn’t seem to notice it as it washed over you, nearly suffocating in its intensity.

“I, uh…” Your voice trailed off distractedly, and Steve’s knee nudged yours under the table.

“I-it’s fine,” you finally managed to stutter, and a pleased smirk appeared over his features.

“See? Everything is fine,” he insisted. “Now, weren’t you coming to take our orders?”

Rosie hesitated, but finally she slipped a notepad out of her pocket and nodded.

“Perfect. I’ll have the sampler with crispy bacon. Eggs over easy. And, uh… a biscuit on the side,” Steve listed off.

After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat, prompting you to jump a little before telling Rosie what you would like.

“Oh! Uh… I’ll have the same,” you muttered, though you hadn’t really been planning on eating anything of the sort.

But Rosie jotted it down in her notepad, all but fleeing to the kitchen after you were done speaking.

“And I’ll take some coffee!” Steve called after her.

When it was finally just the two of you, he once again gave you his full attention, and you fought to keep your mind straight.

“I don’t…know you,” you mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut. “I don’t know you, and you’re making me uncomfortable. Please, just-“

“I really liked the nightgown you had on last night.”

Your eyes bugged open, and your head shot up to look at him. You felt your blood run cold as he watched you with that same smirk he’d worn while ordering Rosie around, and you clutched your purse tighter to yourself.

“Wh…What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” he insisted. “How are you liking living in that cottage? The last few people there-“

“What the fuck,” you interrupted. “You…you were watching me?”

He sighed at your interruption but nodded, leaning forward on his elbows.

“And you were watching me.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I never saw you, or I would’ve called the cops-“

“But you did see me,” he insisted. “While I was in my other form.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, but then understanding came over you, and you shook your head.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “You mean…the wolf?”

Steve nodded, looking up when Rosie came back with his coffee. She all but slammed the cup on the table, spilling a few drops of the beverage as she poured it. After shooting him a sour glare, she turned on her heel to attend to the other tables around you, the occupants thereof starting to notice who you were sitting with. The din of voices had gone just a bit quieter as they watched him, and you were starting to realize that the entire town knew who Steve was, and judging on the locals’ reaction to him, his reputation wasn’t on the favorable side of things.

“So… Let me get this straight,” you deadpanned, watching as Steve took a sip from his steaming mug. “You’re saying that you were the wolf I saw?”

He nodded, swallowing his coffee.

“I’m among the last of my kind,” he sighed, tapping his fingers against his cup. “At least in this area of the country. But, yeah, that was me, scratching at your door. I was honestly a little hurt by your reaction-“

“You’re fucking insane.”

A scowl overtook his features, and his hands tensed as his fingers went still.

“I would really prefer it,” he growled, “if you didn’t use that sort of language with me, Omega.”

“Ome- What?” You shook your head, unable to process how insane this man really was. “Ok, I’m done here.”

You grabbed your purse and stood up from the booth, but a hand clamped down on your upper arm as you made for the front door.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Steve insisted, and you felt fear course through you at how possessive he’d just sounded. “We have a lot we need to talk about.”

“Let go of me!” You tried to pull away from him, but you might as well have been struggling against an iron chain. Steve didn’t budge as he held you in place, and a whimper escaped your throat as he began pulling you to sit next to him in the booth.

“Steve.”

Both of you froze when you heard the voice, and you looked up to see three men standing over your table, frowning at the man who still had a firm hold on you.

“Steve, let the girl go,” one of them said, and you saw Steve’s lip curl out of the corner of your eye.

“Rhodey,” he grunted. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Not long enough,” the man fired back.

For a second, you were afraid that Steve was going to ignore them, but then his grip on you disappeared. You hurriedly stood up again, backing away until you were out of arm’s reach from him. The entire restaurant was silent as everybody within held their breath, watching Rhodey and Steve stare one another down.

“This isn’t any of your business,” Steve said, and it was then that you realized you couldn’t wait there any longer. You didn’t care how it played out; you just wanted to get out of there.

And so, while everyone was distracted, you turned on your heel and slipped out, pushing past the front door, running past the rocking chairs and planter boxes, crossing the street without first looking both ways. Your heart was pounding a mile a minute, and you didn’t fully know where you were running to until you were standing in the entry way of Earl’s bookstore.

“Hey, there,” he called out to you, but his typical cheerful greeting died on his tongue when he saw your face. “What happened?”

Twenty minutes later, you and Earl were seated in his office. You’d told him everything, save for the way Steve’s scent affected you. You knew it was crazy, and you didn’t want one of your only friends in your new town to think you were as insane as your stalker.

“…Shit.”

It was the first word he’d uttered since you began telling him your tale, and he rubbed his forehead as he took in your story.

“Shit. I mean… I always knew there was something off about that Rogers boy,” he admitted. “But he’s never pulled anything like this.”

You quirked an eyebrow, glancing up at him.

“Why does everyone dislike him?” you asked. “It seems like the whole town has something against him.”

Your friend sighed and sat back in his chair, stroking his beard in thought.

“It didn’t used to be that way,” he started. “Steve, he grew up here. He was always the golden boy – never cursed, never acted disrespectful. Hell, he was a boy scout for years, and all throughout high school he was the team quarterback. He won so many games that he became a local celebrity.

“But, uh… Well. Shit hit the fan the day he turned 18.”

You frowned; you couldn’t picture the crazy, creepy man you’d just been borderline-assaulted by as a popular, polite teenager.

“What happened when he turned 18?” you asked.

Earl hesitated, wringing his hands. For a pregnant pause, he didn’t say anything, but finally he took a deep breath.

“Look, I don’t personally have anything against the guy,” he finally huffed. “But even I get the creeps when I’m around him. That boy, he was never the same after that fourth of July. Hell, the town hasn’t been the same since.”

You raised your eyebrows expectantly, and finally Earl began the story.

“Steve’s folks were a nice couple. He was their only kid, so each year, Sarah and Joseph would throw Steve this big birthday party. I’m talkin’ fireworks, barbeque, the whole nine yards. But his 18th birthday outdid them all; the whole town practically showed up for it.

“But Steve was off the entire day; I think he was sick or something. He was real sweaty, and his eyes were all…red. Like he’d been scratchin’ at ‘em. And when the fireworks started goin’ off… The boy lost it.

“It was like a flip switched in him; next thing we knew, he was takin’ off into the woods, holdin’ his head like his skull was gonna split in two. His mama went runnin’ after him, and then his pops went to get ‘em after about five minutes or so when there was no sign of them comin’ back.

“After half an hour, we went searchin’ for ‘em, and it wasn’t till dawn that we found the three of them.”

Earl took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes with a trembling hand as he recalled the memory.

“I was in the team that found his parents, and… Hon, they were butchered. The bodies, they were hardly recognizable. Big bites had been taken outta them; blood was everywhere. Another team found Steve about half a mile away, completely naked and shivering by the river.”

“Oh, my god,” you murmured. “That’s… That’s horrible.”

Your friend nodded gravely, but he wasn’t done yet.

“We all figured that it was a coyote that got ‘em,” he continued. “Or a wolf. But Steve… He was in shock, you see, so take what I’m about to say with a grain o’ salt. But all the way to the police station, he kept sayin’… He kept sayin’, ‘I didn’t mean to kill them… I didn’t mean to kill them.’

“O’ course, no one really believed him; it was clear that an animal had gotten to them, and this was Steve Rogers we were talking about. The kid had never said an unkind word to anyone. And his family got along great.

“A few years passed, and Steve was never the same, but we expected as much. Everyone was still nice to him, and he tried for a while, you know? But then Peggy moved into town.”

“Who’s Peggy?”

“She was this real nice girl – British. She moved with her family to the area. Shoot, she was a firecracker. Didn’t take any shit from nobody; the whole town fell in love with her. Including poor ol’ Stevie.

“When the two started dating, we were thrilled for ‘em. Steve was finally starting to act more like himself; you shoulda seen him. The kid was head over heels, and she was the same. About six months went by, and we really thought that they were gonna make it.

“But then…”

Earl swallowed thickly, eyes darting back up to your face before resting once again on his hands.

“Peggy was found one day in the woods, just like Steve’s parents – mauled, butchered…dead.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“No one saw or heard from Steve for years after that. The kid just vanished into thin air without warning. And so soon after Peggy’s death, well… You can imagine the rumors that started flying around about him. Five years went by, and that was when people started hearing and seeing strange things in the woods. And your cottage, it’s right by where the bodies were found; you can’t be more than a quarter of a mile from where they found Peg.

“Eventually, Steve moved back into town, though no one recognized him. He’d always been a skinny, lean kinda guy, but when he moved back, he looked like he does now. And even if he hadn’t changed so much on the outside, no one would’ve recognized the polite young man we’d all watched grow up in this new Steve. He was mean; I can’t tell you how many fights he got in at the bar, or how many times he lashed out at someone just to have an excuse to throw some punches.

“Whatever happened to his family and his girl, he’s never been the same since. And if he really believes what he told you earlier at the soda shop, then he’s finally lost his mind.”

___________

You spent the night at Earl’s house. He and his wife set up their guest bedroom for you, and as you and Sherry ate dinner, Earl called the sheriff. You listened in as he told him everything that Steve had done, including watching you the night before, and after ending the call, Earl gave you the sheriff’s number.

“He said to call him at the first sign of trouble,” Earl instructed. “And he said that he’s gonna head over to Steve’s cabin to have a nice, long talk with him. Don’t you worry; Sheriff Wilson is a tough son of a bitch, and he’s a great man. You’re in good hands with him.”

You thanked the couple profusely, and you were finally able to sleep restfully through the night, knowing that you weren’t alone. You didn’t even mind that you could hear Earl and Sherry’s snoring from all the way down the hall; you hadn’t had such a good night’s sleep in days.

The next morning, Sheriff Wilson stopped by after Sherry had served up breakfast, and you had to admit that you did feel better after talking to him.

“So I set everything straight with Steve,” Sam explained. “He said that he’d been drunk that morning at breakfast, and he admitted to saying some things that he regretted. He asked me to apologize to you on his behalf, and he said that he would stay away from you from here on out, if it would make you more comfortable.”

“I’d be more comfortable if he moved to a different country altogether, but I’ll take it,” you’d joked weakly, coaxing a laugh out of the sheriff.

“Well, I’ll run it by him the next time we see each other,” he’d chuckled. “But for now, I think you’ll be just fine.”

After helping Sherry clean up from breakfast, you reluctantly got into your car and started back to your cottage, feeling your short-lived relief start to dwindle away as you approached your home. Who’s to say that Steve would stay true to his word? And there was something about the memory of him calling you ‘omega’ that didn’t sit well with you. You had no idea what that meant, but the conviction, the possessive, commanding tone in his voice still made shivers crawl up and down your spine.

Once you stepped into your cottage, you gave each room a cursory once-over, making sure nothing was out of place before plopping down onto your couch with your laptop. You were severely behind on work, and you needed the distraction to calm your nerves.

Before you knew it, the sun was starting to slip over the horizon, and as the evening turned to night, your eyelids started drooping. You’d finally managed to catch up on work, and although it took you until 9 o’clock at night, you were back on schedule with your blog.

Finally giving in to your sleepiness, you stood up and stretched before methodically going around to each door and window, making sure that they were all closed and locked. After once more checking that Steve wasn’t hiding in your wardrobe, shower, or backyard, you relaxed and went into your bedroom, changing into a flannel pajama set before crawling into bed.

Sleep came easily to you that night, but it didn’t stay for long.

_________

It was, once again, just after 3 in the morning when you woke up, although there was something different about this time around. There was an almost electric charge to the air, and it immediately made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You sat up in bed and looked around your room, and even though the curtains were still closed, just as you’d left them, you immediately noticed the smell.

Your hand fell onto your nightstand, blindly fumbling for your phone, but it wasn’t where you’d left it. Panic pierced through you, and you frantically reached for your charging chord, but it was no longer plugged into your cell. There was, however, something new sitting on your bedside table, and you flicked your lamp on to see clearly what it was.

Your blood went cold when you saw the paper bag from Earl’s, still filled with your new books, just as you’d left it in the art shop.

“I’d been meaning to give that back to you.”

A scream tore itself out of your lips, and your hand flew up to clap over your mouth as you turned to the man now leaning in your doorway.

Steve was watching you with an amused smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. His hair was wild, and you noticed the way his chest rose and fell with quick, uneven breaths. He looked…unhinged, and Earl’s voice started ringing in your ears, telling you all the gory details about the deaths that had followed this man through his life.

“Steve, please,” you begged, pressing your back against your headboard. “I don’t know what you want-“

“Oh, c’mon,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re a smart girl; I’m sure you can put two and two together.”

With that, he pushed off of the wall and sauntered towards you, ignoring the way you trembled as he took a seat on the edge of your bed.

“I read your blog, by the way,” he remarked. “I actually liked it; you’ve got a talent with writing.”

You gulped, not sure what to say as he turned to face you. For a moment, something flashed through his eyes, something other than the smug cynicism that usually dwelled there, but he looked away before you could get a good look at it.

“I’m sure Earl told you a lot of things about me,” he murmured. “And I’m sorry that’s how you had to hear them. But I’m not… I don’t want to hurt you. Honestly.”

“Wow, that really puts me at ease,” you grumbled. “It definitely makes the fact that you’ve broken into my house twice now totally ok.”

Steve huffed, and annoyance crossed his handsome features.

“Careful, omega,” he grunted. “I’m trying to be nice, here.”

You wanted to snap at him that he should really try harder, then, but you kept your mouth shut, knowing that you didn’t want to anger him if you didn’t have to.

“…Why do you keep calling me that?” you instead asked, and the fire in his gaze cooled just a bit.

“…I’ve given this a lot of thought,” he finally sighed. “And I can understand why this all sounds so crazy; if I were in your situation, I would probably think the same thing. But just… hear me out, ok? I’m going to tell you everything I know.”

You nodded, hugging your knees to your chest, and after another deep breath he began.

“I used to be normal, or so I thought,” he began. “I used to be like you; I didn’t know what was out there. I didn’t know that certain legends that we’ve all learned to accept as fiction were actually based on fact. But that all changed on my 18th birthday.

“That was the day that I first turned into a wolf.” Steve paused, looking pained for a moment, but after swallowing thickly he continued. “I had no clue what was happening to me. I just felt…wrong, like I was being torn apart from the inside. I fought to keep control of myself, but… I couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“People got hurt; I’m sure you’ve been told all the gritty details. But that wasn’t… It wasn’t me. I tried so hard, so goddamn hard, to keep it inside, bottled up, but eventually I couldn’t hold back anymore. And that was when I left.

“I went looking for people like me. It took me a while, but eventually I found a small group of them in New York. They called themselves the Howling Commandos.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head.

“Not the name I would’ve chosen, but they were good people. They helped me control it, taught me how to remain myself even when I’m in my other form. And I learned more about what it means to be a, uh…

“Werewolf.”

You bit your lip, staring at him as you grew even more fearful; he believed this. You could tell by the way his eyes were glistening with barely-contained tears, and if you weren’t so terrified of him, you would feel sorry for how sad he looked.

“Steve, you… you must realize that this is hard for me to believe, right? I mean… This isn’t Twilight; this is the real world.”

He rolled his eyes at the mention of that book.

“There’s about a thousand things wrong with that fucking story, and I’ll die mad about it,” he muttered under his breath, and you hugged yourself tighter as he stood up.

“You want me to prove it to you? Fine.”

Steve stood still for a long moment, closing his eyes, and you found your gaze straying to the door behind his back. He was distracted, evidently focused on transforming into a fucking wolf, oblivious to you as you slowly moved to set your feet on the floor.

Now is your moment, your brain whispered, and after taking a deep breath, you leapt to your feet. You didn’t notice the way his skin was slowly starting to grow patches of blonde fur, nor did you register that his voice had become more of an animalistic growl as he realized that you were trying to run. You were solely focused on making it out alive.

The back door was closer to you than the front, and you could practically feel Steve’s breath on the back of your neck as he gave chase, and so you nearly yanked the door off of its rusty, old hinges as you went flying out onto the back porch. You just barely managed to close the door behind you, and right before it slammed shut, you were able to make out an open maw filled with sharp teeth. The same thumping you’d heard several nights ago sounded from within your home, but with the way the wood was creaking and splintering, you knew it wouldn’t keep Steve trapped inside for long.

You began to run towards your car, but with a curse you realized that your keys were still resting on your coffee table inside the cottage, and you wouldn’t go back inside there if someone offered you a million dollars to. So, fully aware of what a terrible idea it was, you started running down the length of your gravel driveway, the small stones and twigs digging into your feet until you felt them starting to grow slick with blood.

You didn’t get far at all before you heard the sound of a low, deep howl split the silence of the night, and you pumped your legs even faster when you heard heavy footfalls starting to give chase behind you. Frantically, you turned and made a beeline for the forest, hoping to lose him in the woods. Low branches and brambles clawed at your face, and the cuts on your feet burned so bad that tears started rolling down your cheeks.

It was simultaneously an eternity and a millisecond before you felt a massive weight crash into you from behind, and with a cry you fell onto your belly. Your arms and legs scrambled about as you tried to crawl away, but you stopped with another scream when a set of impossibly sharp teeth nipped at your shoulder. Even though they didn’t cut deep, it was still enough to scare you into submission, and you immediately went still as your captor panted above you.

Your chest rose and fell as you fought to catch your breath, but it felt as if your heart had stopped beating entirely when you chanced a look to your right and saw…a paw. A huge, sandy-blonde paw about the size of your head was planted in the mud right next to your neck. You turned, and on your left side was the same thing.

Slowly, you rolled over onto your back, and you found yourself face to face with the wolf from before, only this time, you were close enough to see its blue eyes clearly – Steve’s eyes.

“…Steve?” you breathed.

Before your disbelieving eyes, the animal hovering over you started to shift and change, morphing gradually back into the man who’d terrorized you so much up to this point. Except now, as he straddled your hips, completely nude, you knew that he’d been right all along.

“Still think I’m crazy?” he panted, still out of breath from the chase.

“I… How…”

“I tried to tell you,” he grumbled, leaning down. You squirmed when you felt him press his nose to your neck, nuzzling it as he inhaled deeply, and you whimpered when his cock twitched against your thigh. “God, you have no idea what your scent does to me.”

You made a small noise of protest when his tongue darted out, laving over a spot right under your jaw.

“I thought it was too good to be true, you know,” he groaned, and you let out a noise that was dangerously close to a moan as you realized you could smell him once again. “I thought that people had to be a werewolf to be an alpha or an omega, but as soon as I smelled you in the art shop… Fuck, I knew you were mine.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried to protest, but you were silenced when Steve nipped at your neck.

“We both know that’s not true,” he chided. “We both know what my scent does to you.”

Steve dragged his teeth down the side of your neck, and you shivered at the sensation. You wanted to fight this; you didn’t want to give in to him. But something inside of you refused to do anything but lay there beneath him, panting as he tasted your skin.

“I’ve never been with an omega before,” he confessed. “The Commandos told me they were incredibly rare, a dying breed just like me. But fate must have brought us together for a reason.”

“I’m… I’m not an omega,” you insisted, but a soft mewl fell out of your lips when he ground his hips forward, the line of his cock sliding up the length of your clothed pussy.

“Then why do you have a mating gland?” he rasped, his tongue darting out to lick at a spot on your neck.

“A what?” you squeaked, but suddenly his hands were on your hips, flipping you over onto your hands and knees. His palms groped your ass, and suddenly you felt your pajamas being pulled down until they pooled around your knees.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Steve growled.

No, no, no. Your thoughts were swirling rapidly as Steve’s fingers slid down your spine. You didn’t want this; you weren’t an omega; Steve was crazy.

Why does your body want this so bad?

You couldn’t find the strength to try and crawl away when Steve’s hands left you, but your eyes widened when he suddenly spread your legs wider apart. The cold night air was icy against your cunt and your thighs, and when the warmth of his hands finally returned to your body, you couldn’t hold in your moan.

“That’s right, omega,” he panted, his hand reaching down to cup your pussy. “Fuck, you’re so wet; it’s already dripping down your thighs…”

Your pussy made an embarrassingly loud squelching noise as he pushed his finger inside, and your body’s reaction started drowning out your brain. As he thrust his finger in and out, your hips started pushing back against him as white noise echoed in your ears.

“Mmm,” you whined, clenching your teeth. “M-more, fuck-“

“More?” Steve cooed. “You want more?”

You nodded your head, and a gasp parted your lips as he added another finger, curling it in a way that had you seeing stars. Your legs spread wider, and you dropped to your elbows, pushing back in time with his hand.

“This is what you need,” he growled. “You need your alpha to take care of you, don’t you? To use your pretty little cunt and fill you up with my seed. Ain’t that right, doll?”

“Y-yes,” you moaned, feeling your walls start to flutter around him.

All too soon, though, he pulled his hand away, leaving you hanging on the precipice of your orgasm. You burrowed your face into your arms and whined at the loss, but a few seconds later, Steve was gripping your hips. You could feel his fully hard length against your ass, and your breath caught in your throat upon feeling how big it was.

“W-wait-“

Steve shushed you, tangling one of his hands in your hair as the tip of his cock glided through your folds, brushing against your clit.

“It’s ok, omega,” he whispered. “Just lay back and take it.”

With that, his head pressed against your entrance, and your lips parted in a silent scream as he impaled you. Your cervix ached as his dick pressed against it, and you were vaguely aware of the broken moans falling out of your lips.

“Fuck, doll,” your alpha breathed, and you felt him rest his forehead against your shoulder. “Feels so good, so fucking good. My good girl…”

You groaned when he drew his hips back and thrust forward again, jarring your whole body with the movement. Your teeth clenched together as he found his rhythm, the initial stretch still burning. You’d never felt anything like this before, and the pain was mixing with your pleasure until you couldn’t tell one from the other.

Slowly, as the minutes went by, your abused cunt started to adjust, and your moans became less and less strained as you once more felt pleasure start to crest within you.

“That’s it,” Steve praised, pushing your hair away so he could press a kiss to the side of your neck. “Just relax; let your alpha make you feel good.”

You whimpered as he started thrusting faster, his hips snapping as deep, gravelly growls spilled out of his throat. Your own moans filled the air as you once again felt your orgasm build up inside of you. Your pussy walls contracted and fluttered as you got closer and closer, and Steve’s hand came down hard on your ass.

“Go ahead, omega,” he commanded. “Cum for me; don’t hold back. Give it to me; let me feel it. Cum for me-“

With a wail, your body did as it was commanded, and you trembled as you reached your climax. Your cunt squeezed his cock as he slowed his thrusts, and your hips moved of their own accord as you rode it out. Quiet, hoarse moans were still trailing out of your mouth as you came down from your high, and Steve’s beard tickled your skin as he pressed kisses along the curve of your shoulder.

“Good girl,” he praised, and you were sickened to realize that you enjoyed his words of encouragement.

You were surprised when he pulled his cock out of you, and you allowed him to flip you over onto your back. His cheeks were flushed, and he was panting, and your eyes trailed down to see his cock still painfully hard.

Without warning, he shoved it back inside of you, and your hands flew up, digging your nails into his back as he once again started thrusting at a brutal pace.

“’M gonna fill your fucking pussy up,” he was moaning, his hair falling into his eyes while his mouth hung open. “Gonna breed you like the little bitch you are-“

Despite having just cum, shocks of pleasure spread through you as he filled you, and in this position, you could watch his muscles bulge and flex as he chased his release. His eyes were squeezed shut, and one of his hands was pawing and kneading at your breast as he used the other to support his weight. The veins in his neck throbbed as he grew closer and closer, and you were taken off guard to find that you were approaching your second climax with him.

“You already gonna cum again, baby?” he whispered. “Do it. Give it to me; I want it.”

You closed your eyes and arched up, frenzied moans of yes, please, God, more, I need more, spilling past your lips almost unintelligibly. You were so close – just a little more and you would be pushed over the edge.

Just before you could reach it, though, Steve’s eyes snapped open, focusing on your neck hungrily. You should have felt fear, knowing what he was, what had happened to his parent and his last lover. But instinct took over, and you found yourself tilting your head back, baring your neck to him in a sign of submission.

With a feral growl, he lunged forward, and you shrieked as his teeth pierced your skin, right where he’d claimed earlier your ‘mating gland’ was. You closed your eyes, expecting to feel your life fade away, ready to see blood spurting up from the wound. But that never happened; no, instead you felt as if you’d just been electrified. Every sensation you were feeling was suddenly amplified tenfold, and your vision went black as you came for the second time.

Your ears were ringing, but you were still able to hear the primal roar that Steve let out as he came, painting your inner walls with his seed as hips finally slowed to a stop. For several long seconds, the two of you were perfectly still save for your chests as they rose and fell with your heavy breathing. Steve’s cock began to soften inside of you, but he made no move to pull away. No, instead he collapsed over you, his head resting against your chest as his heated skin shielded you from the cold air.

“You were perfect,” you heard him whisper, and one of his fingers came up to trace the bite mark he’d left behind on your neck. “Your bond scar is gonna be so gorgeous, little omega.”

Sleep threatened to overtake you as you lay there, not truly processing Steve’s words as his weight atop you lulled you towards sleep.

“Go ahead and rest, doll,” he murmured. “I’ll carry you back home, and then we can go again. Don’t worry, doll; I won’t stop until you’re nice and round with my babies.”

You should have felt scared – you should have pulled away and ran into the woods. But instead, you let out a content noise of acknowledgement before doing just as he said. The last thing you registered before slipping into a deep, dreamless slumber was his arms as they wrapped around you and picked you up, carrying you away from the road and into the forest.

[your-eternal-muse]

Kinda Wish She Were Dead

Heather Series Part 8

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Bonus! Readers Card Confession Series Playlist 

Summery: During a night out on the town with the girls, Reader see’s something she wasn’t supposed to.

Words: 3.7k (my longest yet!)

Warnings: Swearing, a few sexual innuendos, Cheating, Mentions of Alcohol, and a fabulous right hook.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Heather Carmichael, Spencer Reid x eventual Female!Reader 

A/N: I’ve been waiting for this one....turn it up! Also, the song that inspired this chapter. For the meaning of the song, not that fucking boat scene.

~~~~

It’s hot.

Like “laying naked in the middle of your apartment with the air cranked and every fan blowing on you” hot.

I’m one of the lucky ones.

My old apartment was renovated to include central air a few years before I moved in.

Still, the humidity was smothering.

So why was I putting a full face of makeup on, knowing damn well I’m gonna sweat it off before the end of the night?

Because why the hell not?

It’s the first time I’ve made plans with the girls in months, and I deserve to feel pretty, even if only for an hour or two.

My therapist tells me I’m making progress.

And it finally feels like I am.

I don’t hate the day before it even starts when I wake up.

I hardly close my curtains anymore.

I’d like to say that with her help, everything went back to normal.

I go to work and come home. I hang out with my friends, water my potted plants. Talk to Spencer like I never confessed my love for him.

But it didn’t.

I haven’t really spoken to Spencer since the day I left.

I’ve wanted to.

I’ve wanted to tell him that I’m here. I’m still here. That I’m always going to be here.

That I care about him more than probably life itself.

Ever since I came back, we’ve had to work together, and we’ve had a few small conversations, but nothing like what we used to have.

I crave those conversations.

How we would bounce back and forth from idea to idea, topic to topic without so much as breaking a sweat.

The late night conversations about the probability of aliens, and life on the opposite side of the universe.

I crave him, and the intimacy he brought.

Lately though, he’s been coming to work with a sullen look on his face.

He shows up earlier, and stays later, drowning himself in his paperwork.

When her calls interrupt a caseload, he no longer eagerly picks up to hear what she has to say.

All I want to do is walk over and ask him how he’s doing. How the married life is treating him. If there’s anything I can do to help lift his spirits.

But I can’t.

I’d be overstepping a boundary I didn’t even know I created that night out on the balcony.

Knocking on my door snaps me out of my daze, and I quickly cap my lipstick, making my way towards my front door where my night stands, waiting.

JJ, Emily, and Penelope are waiting, big smiles and laughter bubbling from their lips.

I let the smile spread across my face.

“I just need to grab my shoes and then I’ll be ready.” I usher them into my hallway, running back to my bedroom to grab the pair of heels resting by my closet.

I sit on my bed, slipping them on with ease and grabbing my bag on my way out.

They all ooh and ahh when I step into the light of my kitchen, and JJ grabs my hand, twirling me in place so they can get a better look at my outfit.

“I almost forgot you had party attire, y/n.” 

“God, I wish I had an ass like that. I’m older than you. That’s not fair.” Emily says, landing a playful slap against the fabric of my skirt. 

“Oh stop it, you flatter me.” Once upon a time, the attention would have made me antsy. The voice in my head would whisper that they were lying to me, that they really thought I was the ugliest thing in existence. 

That was then, and this is now. Now the confidence shines off of me like a spotlight.

“You deserve to be flattered, you beautiful goddess you.” Penelope says, her hands waving in the air.

I take a look in the new mirror that hangs in my hallway, and I can’t help but agree. The tight black skirt accentuates my curves, the low cut golden crop top that sticks to me like another skin puts the girls on display, and my heels give me legs for days.

I look damn good.

“Okay okay okay, pre-game selfie!” Penelope grabs her phone and holds up in front of her while we gather around. 

She snaps the picture and within a few quick taps, a buzzing emits from my bag. 

I dig my phone out, seeing the picture pop up in my notifications. 

JJ has her arms wrapped around me, and I’m pressed to Penelope's side. Emily stands over us, one hand on JJ’s shoulder, the other on Penelopes. 

I don’t think I could fake a smile like the one on my face even if I wanted to. 

I save it to my phone.

~~~

If I thought being in my house, alone, with air conditioning was bad, then I shouldn't have even bothered coming out.

The bar, albeit small, was packed. 

Even if there was a breeze, or any airflow at all, the combined body heat of the crowd would have swallowed it up.

I couldn’t really bring it in me to care all that much, though.

The dim lights and heat left my skin with a sexy shine, bringing attention to all the right places. 

I could feel the eyes on me. 

The ones belonging to men wanting to drown their sorrows in a woman like me, one who appears vulnerable, willing to go along for the ride.

It’s been a while, since I’ve had the attention of the opposite gender, especially this very specific kind of attention.

It feels good, in a way. To be wanted so openly. But it doesn’t mean jack to me, not if it’s not the pair of eyes I’ve been desperate to catch.

I should stop thinking about him.

It’s a girls night out. I don’t have to think, or worry about anything. 

Besides, he’s probably busy doing other things. Thinking about me is the last thing on his mind.

I laugh and take a sip from the Shirley temple sitting in front of me, laughing as JJ recounts a story about will and a botched attempt at breakfast in bed.

I pick a cherry up from the fizzy drink, and bite the end off, relishing in the sweet flavor. I pop the stem in my mouth, twirling it around my tongue as I listen to the conversation, pulling it between my teeth and setting it down on the table in a knot.

“Oh my god. Did you just tie a cherry stem with your tongue?” Penelope is cheesing from the other side of the table, the bright pink straw of her margarita almost to her lips.

I laugh, holding it up for them to inspect. 

“You know what that means.” Emily says, taking a sip from her own drink, before continuing her thought. “You, my friend, can give great head.”

A blush covers my cheek, but I cock an eyebrow. “Who told you?”

The three women burst into high pitched laughter, and I see Pen pull out her phone. She holds it up to me. 

“Do it again. The internet needs to be blessed with this knowledge.”

I chuckle again, the spirit of the night enough to get me drunk off the energy. I grab another cherry from my drink, sucking the end into my mouth before popping it off, and swallowing it. 

“Alright, we have one, untied cherry stem before us.” I hold out the stem for the camera to see. “Now watch as I tie it with no hands.”  I stick out my tongue, placing it in the middle before closing my mouth. 

I rest my elbows on the table, working my tongue around the stem, forcing it into submission to do exactly what I want. 

Within 15 seconds, I pull it through my teeth, and hold up a tied cherry stem. 

“Ta-da! Magic.” I place it on the table as they clap, smiles wide and goofy from their own alcoholic concoctions. 

“She’s single people. And there’s a line forming so shoot your shot.” JJ is the one to speak to the camera, and I giggle, taking another sip. 

Penelope brings her phone down, and within a minute my phone buzzes again, this time with the notification of the video being posted. 

There are worse things to be posted on the internet about me.

“I never knew you could do that, y/n/n.” Pen says, taking a sip from her drink. 

I run a hand through my hair, shrugging. “Didn’t think I needed to put it on my resume. It’s mostly a party trick I use when I like someone. I haven’t used it in years though.”

The unspoken question lingers on the air. 

“No, I never showed Spencer. But I’m sure it’d blow his mind. The way that man applies math and logic to everything he does just solidifies the fact that I know he wouldn’t be able to do it.”

It’s been a while since I’ve joked about him openly, but it wasn’t forced. It didn’t hurt. 

It was just a natural statement.

“Have you guys noticed that something’s up with him? He seems distant lately.” JJ says, leaning in closer so she doesn’t have to talk over the crowd. 

“Okay, so it’s not just me.” I reply, playing with the straw in my drink.

“It’s gotta be something at home. I mean, he doesn’t even remotely act the way that he did when him and Heather first got together.” Emily's eyes look me up and down, reading my body language, but I’m done hiding. 

I let the building anger ripple through me.

“He seems...sad. And not like, normal Reid sad where it has to do with his mom or something, no this is like..” she stops herself from continuing the sentence.

I finish it for her. “It’s like, me, sad.”

JJ sighs. “I hate to say it, but do you think it has anything to do with Heather?”

A glass shatters across the room, and like the red sea, the crowd parts.

Everything happens in no more than a couple seconds, but it feels like a lifetime. 

Through the empty space, I see two people standing at the bar. The woman has her hands wound into the man's shirt, her body turned as she laughs at someone behind her, I’m assuming the one who dropped the glass. 

The man has his hands gripped on her hips, smiling into her hair, before she turns back around, connecting their lips in the most disgusting kiss I have had the displeasure of witnessing.

The rage builds swiftly in my stomach and it pulses from my soul outward. The world’s tint changes and I see red.

“Even if it doesn’t right now, it will.” 

When the hell did I stand up?

They stand with me, and I’m about to argue my point when Emily speaks. “You want something to record, Garcia?” She moves by me, fixing my hair, handing me her glass which holds a swig of her drink left. “Record this.” 

I take it, downing it for a little liquid luck, and start for the bar, the three of them on my heels.

I profile him as best I can in the 20 seconds it takes to get through the now reforming crowd. 

There’s a gold ring on his hand. His pants and shirt are dirty, and his boots are thick. He works in something having to do with construction, which means he’s probably done around 5 every night, and I know for a fact that it is way past that.

I walk up to them, grabbing her shoulder and pulling them apart, stepping in between them, getting face to face to him.

“Before you even think about laying a hand on me, my name is SSA Y/L/N of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the F.B.I. From the look of your clothes and the ring on your finger, I’m gonna go ahead and assume that your wife is waiting for you at home.” 

His hand instinctively falls to his back pocket.

“And since you just reached for what I’m assuming is your phone, she’s called you multiple times tonight. She knows. Now, fuck off and maybe you can salvage things with her, but believe me when I say this,” His breath smells sour. “You aren’t even half the man that she’s married to.” 

He opens his mouth to say something, looking from me, to Heather, to the three women surrounding her, keeping her from leaving, and the camera pointed directly at his face.

He looks back down to me, and huffs, stepping back and walking in the other direction.

For a moment, I stare at where he stood. 

And then a fire ignites in my stomach and it takes everything in me to not beat the girl standing behind me.

I turn, and lightning strikes behind her eyes. 

“You’re not gonna tell him.”

“Like hell I’m not!” I take a step forward, and she takes one back, bumping into Emily who has her arms crossed, and her shoulders raised. “You know, I tried so hard to give you the benefit of the doubt, Heather. You made him happy and I honestly thought you loved him, but I realize now that he deserves someone so much better than you.” 

“Oh what, someone like you?” She’s snide, her demeanor defensive and cocky at the same time. She thinks she’s gonna come out on top of this.

“You know what? Yes. Someone like me. Someone who wouldn’t even think about doing this to him, because the amount of pain that he is about to go through doesn’t even come close to the stupid fucking reward. Oh, so you slept with some douchebag because what? You’re not getting enough attention?” The words are cathartic, leaving my belly with the venom that has been brewing there for the past 2 and half years.

“I found your letter. I was right about you.”

That would have stopped me in my tracks 6 months ago. Now I don’t even flinch.

“Oh honey, it’s not a fucking secret anymore. You want to hear me say it? I love him. I am in love with Spencer fucking Reid, and the only reason that he is with you, is because I was a decent human being and could see that you made him happy, so I kept my mouth shut. But I don’t care anymore. I don’t give a flying fuck what happens now, because whatever it is, it has to be better than being with a lying, cheating bitch like you.”

“You think he’s gonna run to you? Is that what you’re hoping for? He’s not gonna believe you. And even if he did, I’d turn on the water works and make him believe it was just this one time.”

She doesn’t know she’s being filmed. 

I turn to the bartender. “Excuse me, is she a regular here?”

The bartender smirks, wiping down the wood. “Yep. She comes in at least a couple times a week with that dude you kicked to the curb. They almost always leave together.”

Heather scoffs, crossing her arms. “Again, he’ll never believe you.” 

“You sure about that hot stuff?” Penelope steps forward, shoving the camera in her face. “Smile for the camera.”

Heather's eyes go wide, before turning to me. “You wouldn’t dare.” 

“I would do it for a fucking corn chip.” 

I place my hands on my hips, getting so close to her our noses almost touch. My voice is dangerously low when I speak. “Either you tell him everything or I will. And trust me. I have my ways of finding out if you did.”

I step back, wishing the daggers in my eyes could inflict actual pain, as I turn to walk away. 

I hear her shout in frustration before I feel her hands on my back, pushing me forward into the mass of people. 

A couple people unaware of the confrontation help me back up with a smile, thinking I’ve just drunkenly tripped over myself.

Emily and JJ each hold one of my arms, making sure I’m stable, while Penelope keeps filming a look of shock on her face.

A wicked smile forms on my face.

I was hoping she’d do something like that.

I turn and my fist connects with her face, a nice cracking noise satisfying the lust building in my chest, as a thin coat of blood covers my knuckles. 

Though, it’s not my blood. 

She’s holding her nose in pain as she falls to the floor, taking down a bar stool with her, and I swear I see the bartender laugh.

I grab a napkin off the bar, wiping my knuckles before throwing it on the floor by her feet. 

“C’mon girls. The night is still young.” 

I see them cover their own smiles with their hands, and Penelope starts to giggle the shock away. 

I know I should feel bad. It was unprofessional of me. 

But she shoved me first. 

It is, legally, self-defense. 

Is it sick that I wish she would have punched me?

It doesn’t matter anyway. I know she won’t press charges. She’s smart enough to know she just dug her grave.

And now she has to lie in it.

~~~~

The atmosphere is different when I walk into the office the next morning. 

It’s tense. 

And one look from JJ and an inhale of air tells me why. 

Spencer’s here. 

I barely have time to set my bag down on my desk, before he grabs me suddenly by the arm, dragging me into a nearby conference room.

The anger is rolling off of him in waves, and I can see by the way he clenches and unclenches his fists, he is pissed.

He almost throws me into the room, slamming the door behind him. 

“You want to tell me why the fuck you punched Heather in the face for no damn reason?”

Stupid, stupid girl. 

Did she not think, that the way I would find out, would be from Spencer himself?

I can’t help but shake my head and laugh. “She didn’t tell you.”

“She told me that she was having a drink with a girlfriend of hers when you came up drunk, yelling at her, until you just punched her. Can you explain that to me?”

He’s finally yelling at me. After months of begging for him to yell at me, he finally is. 

It doesn’t feel as good as I had hoped it would.

I don’t say anything, just pull out my phone to find the video that Garcia sent me.

“Are you serious right now, Y/N? Put your fucking phone down and explain to me why you broke my wife's nose!”

I sit in a chair, setting the phone on the table and sliding it towards him. I lean back and cross my hands over my stomach.

“Watch the video, Spencer.”

“Why? Why should I listen to anything you tell me?”

I lean forward, onto my elbow, annunciating every syllable. “Watch the damn video.”

He stands, and I watch as he fights with himself, before huffing in defeat, sitting in a chair and pulling my phone towards him.

He presses play.

I watch as his anger flows away with each passing second, despair taking its place. 

This is what I wasn’t looking forward to. Seeing him see it for the first time.

Watching him break. 

It wasn’t pretty.

I watch as tears form in his eyes and silently drop down his cheeks. 

He clenches his jaw as he watches her shove me, and the punch that followed. 

The room is dead quite when the video ends.

I’m the one who speaks first, my voice soft. 

“I punched her, because she had the audacity to do this. She had the audacity to hurt you, and flaunt that fact publicly.” 

I swallow, taking a breath before speaking. 

“I meant everything I said in that video, Spence.” 

He looks up at the nickname, his anger no longer directed at me.

“She hurt you, and I saw red. I didn’t think about what I was doing, and frankly, I’m glad I didn’t. I don’t regret standing up for you. I never have, and I never will.”  I clasp my hands together, forcing myself to continue. 

“I love you Spencer. I don’t think that’s ever going to change. I’m going to have to live with you finding other people and falling in love, and I promise you, I will support you in that. But not with her. Not after that. You deserve so much better than a girl who thinks she can get away with this just because she’s pretty and jealous.”

He taps a couple things on my phone, before turning the screen off and sliding it back over to me. 

He stands. 

I don’t. I continue talking as he walks over to me.

“You mean everything to me, Spence. If I know you’re happy, truly happy, then I’m satisfied. I will defend you until the end of the universe comes. You are my best friend, and I love you. And I’m sorry I was never upfront about it before, but I am now.”

I look up at him as he stands in front of me. “I’m done hiding from you.”

He’s still for a moment. 

He reaches down and grabs my hands, pulling me up before he wraps his arms around my waist and buries himself into my neck. 

I pause, but only for a moment, before wrapping my arms around him and holding him tight against me. 

I can feel the wet spots on my neck as he cries, and his hands wind themselves into the fabric of my shirt.

When was the last time he was held like this?

I don’t count the time until he loosens his grip, stepping back from me and wiping his face. 

I would hold him until the end of time if he let me.

“Thank you.” He whispers, before moving towards the door. 

He opens it and walks out, and I grab my phone, running after him.

I stop in the doorway. 

“Hey!” 

He stops and turns, and the rest of the team is watching over their files. 

My heart is pounding, and I feel out of breath.

“I don’t have a choice,” I let him remember. “But I still choose you.”

A small smile flutters across his face, before he turns and walks away.

I look down at my phone.

Spence xp

[Video]

    Sent, 9:06 a.m.

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[saturngrqy]

hii, so i was wondering if you could write something about y/n and gray being in a long relationship but they end up breaking up for some reason and a month or two later rumours start about y/n seeing someone else which are not true but g believes them. and then they end up seeing each other at a party or something and theres a lot of sexual tension between them, so they end up fucking and g is being v possessive, so later y/n explains it all to him and they figure out that they can’t be without each other okay yeah this is a mess, hope you find it interesting enough to write it lol thaanks!!

Holy shit this is long, I’ll do my best:) Ty for submitting this<3 I’m gonna skip the smut tho because I’m not good at it LMAO

warnings- angst, fluff, cursing

You rolled your eyes at your phone, seeing yet another tea account on instagram creating some stupid rumor that you’re seeing someone else, solely because there was a male voice in the background of a story you posted on snapchat. The voice was your brother. 

The truth is, you could never move on, and if you did, it would take months. Your previous boyfriend, Grayson, was the love of your life. You were almost certain he was the one for you. You had been together for almost 2 years- he was your first for everything. First kiss, first time, first serious relationship, etc. However, Grayson ended things abruptly once fans found out that you two were dating.

Grayson himself wasn’t exactly sure why he broke up with you; he really did love you, but at the time he was only thinking about his career and reputation, something he did too often to admit. He was too afraid that the numbers would die, that his fans wouldn’t accept you and in turn stop supporting Ethan and him. As stupid as it sounds, it has happened before. 

Your stomach fluttered, your heart suddenly beating too fast, a sign to stop thinking about him. Your friend had made it very clear to you that Grayson was not worth it and that you deserved better- which you did agree with, however, even though he hurt you, you could still only ever see yourself with him and only him. 

-

Grayson adjusted the sleek black louis vuitton belt on his green pants, silently wishing he could just stay inside in sweatpants with no shirt. He stood up, walking to his closet to grab his signature scent perfume, quickly spraying it over his chest and torso, as well as his wrists. He walked out of his room, seeing Kristina and Ethan standing all prepared by the door. 

“You ready to go?” Ethan asked, referring to a new years party that they’d been invited to by one of their youtuber friends (again pretend covid does not exist). 

What neither of them knew was that you would also be attending as a plus one to Adele, the twin’s assistant. Despite the fact that Adele still worked for them daily, you still remained friends because she was the only one who hadn’t ditched you after your breakup. 

Ethan left to go use the bathroom, not before being scolded by Kristina and Grayson for not going while they were getting ready. Grayson sat down on the double sided couch, leaning back and going onto instagram to entertain himself. He ended up going through his tags, something he rarely ever did. However, this time, noticing a screen recording of your snapchat story was being reposted constantly. Hooked by your name, he clicked on the post, almost immediately regretting it as he read the caption. 

“Grayson Dolan’s ex- girlfriend, Y/n Y/l/n posted this video at a restaurant with an unknown male voice in the background. Could she be moving on? Thoughts?”

Grayson’s night was instantly ruined. Grayson was upset you could move on so quickly, he couldn’t even look at another girl without thinking of your beautiful face. His heart clenched in his chest, making his body erupt into an uncomfortable sweat. He was no longer in the mood to party. But of course, right as he was about to go back to his room to change and go to bed, Ethan came out of the bathroom, ushering Grayson up and out of the house. 

-

The stench of vodka consumed your nose, causing it to scrunch up in disgust. You definitely were not fond of drinking, you had drank before in high school and it only ever caused problems. When you met Grayson, he showed you that you didn’t need drugs and alcohol to have fun, and ever since, you hadn’t touched a single drop of it. 

Adele rushed you through the crowd of drunk adults, claiming she was gonna find you two a ‘spot’ to chill out with much less people. She led you to a secluded part of the massive house, a room with a couch and a table, and on the table was ‘cards against humanity’ a game you hadn’t played in years. On the couch sat Juanpa, Mando, Ethan, Kristina, and Grayson. 

Your breath got caught in your throat, and apparently Adele noticed, because she turned to you before breathing out a “I had no idea he’d be here, I promise,” but you knew she was lying. You just rolled your eyes, going to sit in between her and Juanpa at the end of the sofa. 

You felt a pair of eyes staring at you, so you looked up to notice a pair of hazel orbs gazing at you. You gulped, avoiding Grayson’s eyes. You excused yourself, going to the bar to get a coke. 

You poured the coke into a red solo cup, writing your name onto it in sharpie so no one drinks from it. As you screwed the cap back on the liter, a firm hand approached your shoulder. 

“Hey,” Grayson whispered.

You turned around quickly. “Hi,” you said awkwardly. 

“How are you?” He asked. You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. 

“Could be better, I’ve just been catching up on school. I’ve been working towards my bachelors degree,” you explained, quickly spilling information. That was something you’d always been insecure about; you always thought you talked too much about anything and everything. Grayson thought it was adorable. 

He smiled. “That’s good. Ethan and I have been working on some new projects. We are working on bath items for Wakeheart,” he informed, referring to his scent company with his twin. 

You just nodded, taking another sip. 

“I fucked up, Y/n,” Grayson spoke suddenly. 

“What do you mean?” You asked confused. 

“I fucked everything up. You were the best thing to ever happen to me, and I fucking ruined it. I’m so fucking sorry,” he spoke, quickly rushing all his words out. 

“Grayson,” you sighed, putting your cup down on the counter. 

“No, Y/n, listen to me. You mean so much to me, and I was such a fucking idiot for letting you go. If I could take it all back, I would do so in an instant.” He explained.

“Grayson, you had months to apologize. You broke me. Why are you just now telling me this?” You questioned. 

“I have no idea. I was nervous, I guess, because I know that you wouldn’t take any bullshit excuse. I don’t have any excuses, I have no clue why I did what I did. I love you so fucking much Y/n, and I always will.”

Instead of responding, you just grabbed his jawline, leaning in to plant a passionate kiss onto his lips. He quickly kissed back, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled away, grabbing your arm before walking you to a room down the hallway. 

-

You woke up to the sun shining through the plain white curtains, looking to the left to notice Grayson’s sleeping naked body spooning you. You smiled softly, turning to give him a kiss on his forehead. He grunted, stretching his arms before gently opening his eyes. 

“Good morning,” you whispered, leaning in to press a peck to his lips. He soflty hummed, pulling away, bringing you into his chest. 

“Good morning angel,” he spoke. “Can we talk?”

“Already? We just woke up,” you giggled. 

“I know, but it’s important,” he said sternly. You hummed in acceptance, putting all your attention onto the man in front of you. 

“Are you seeing anyone? Because theres this video going around of you and some guy, and I don’t want to intrude if you are seeing someone,” he whispered. 

You snorted, looking up at him. 

“Grayson. That was my brother,” you informed, watching his face twist in realization. He laughed, pulling you in even tighter. 

“Good, because I want you all to myself.”

This was trash ok bye

[peepeepotter]

New Girl Hogwarts AU Chapter 3: Ginny’s Visit

A/N: I don’t love this chapter, it’s more to show some of the pairings and get George and the reader closer. Also, this is based off of a New Girl episode. Most of this fic will be based off of the first two seasons. I’ll try to combine multiple episodes in the next chapter if you guys don’t mind it feeling a bit rushed? Otherwise I can write them out individually. 

Pairing: George Weasley x (Fem!)reader

Warning: Cursing, sexually suggestive? Idk we’re still PG-13 for now

Word Count: ~3.5k

Series Masterlist

“Hey can you come pick me up? I don’t think I’m sober enough to apparate right now.” Ginny asked immediately after Y/N picked up the phone.

“What about that guy you were seeing? The one that takes his shirt off too much, whatever his name is. Why can’t he take you home?” Y/N asked, getting out of bed and slipping shoes on quickly. She figured she might already know the answer.

“He’s an ASSHOLE that keeps flirting with other girls. I just caught him making out with some bitch in the club-”

“No other bitch, just you! You’re my bitch!”

“Viktor, that doesn’t mean what you think it means, you absolute blubbering idiot.” Y/N could hear the two of them arguing through the speaker of her slightly cracked iPhone 4. She rolled her eyes as she grabbed her keys for the loft.

“Where are you? I’m coming.”

“The Golden Snitch. That new one in diagon.” Y/N rolled her eyes. All of those lame ass quidditch lovers ended up at that club. She knew her best friend played professionally, but she couldn’t help but think about the fact that some of those quidditch players didn’t have a personality outside of the sport.

“I’ll be there in two shakes,” before Y/N could finish her old phrase, she was cut off by George entering her room and speaking.

“You bloody American, would you please stop using old farmer’s phrases?”

“Do you mind, like, knocking?” Y/N rolled her eyes as she turned his way.

“Oh you mean like how you totally DIDN’T a few weeks ago?”

“Oh my god, I DID knock, it’s not my fault you BLAST your music!”

“Will you two shut the fuck up and get a room?” Ginny interrupted the bickering.

“Actually we’re in a room, sister dear.”

“I don’t think that’s the quip you think it is.” Ginny laughed, definitely better at teasing her brother than a decade ago.

“Whatever, what the fuck do you want anyway?” George asked, getting closer to Y/N and her phone.

“See, this is why I NEVER call you for help,” Ginny grunted.

“I’m picking her up from the Golden Snitch and taking her home.” Y/N interrupted the argument just waiting to happen between the siblings.

“Actually, can I stay at your place? Viktor’s shit is at my place and I’d really rather not see him.”

“Yeah that’s fine,” Y/N said at the same time George spoke.

“Absolutely not.”

“George, give your sister a break. Can you please go make sure the couch is made up for her and that the guys aren’t naked when I’m back?” Y/N asked George.

“No promises,” George winked before exiting the room.

“God I swear I can HEAR the sexual tension between you two.” Ginny mumbled.

“Gross, Gin, that’s your brother you’re talking about. Anyway, I’ll be there in like three minutes.” Y/N hung up, and in the blink of an eye she was in diagon alley, walking quickly toward the club playing the Weird Sisters. It was a matter of minutes before Y/N found her way towards the DJ’s booth where Ginny was arguing with Viktor. She was about ready to hex him, or the DJ he had apparently made out with, when Y/N decided to intervene.

“Ginerva darling, I’m here, let’s go home.” Y/N grabbed Ginny’s hand, ready to drag her out of the club. As they walked away Y/N could hear Ginny whisper a hex, and the ensuing shriek from Viktor. Soon they made it to the apparition spot where Ginny side-alonged Y/N to just outside the loft door.

“Why do you guys have protection charms again? What year is this, 1886?”

“I literally live with the chosen one. I feel like that’s justification enough.” Y/N rolled her eyes, mumbling a few spells to disarm the hexes as she unlocked the door with her key. They stumbled into the loft, where, unsurprisingly, Draco stood in just his underwear, Harry without a shirt, George sat on the couch with a beer in hand, and Neville sat with a plant in his lap.

“GEORGE!” Y/N yelled over the argument Draco and Harry were having. He looked over at her and shrugged.

“What can you really do with these guys, ya know?” Y/N flipped him off before pulling the grown men apart.

“Get a room lovers.” Y/N rolled her eyes pushing them apart as she shooed George and Neville off the couch and started making a bed for Ginny.

“LOVERS? God, it’s like you don’t even know us.” Draco shouted, clearly fuming at Harry for...reasons unknown.

“Draco, babe, it’s called sarcasm.” Y/N said as she tucked a sheet around the couch cushions.

“Hey Gin,” Harry pulled her in for a side hug as Ginny turned pink. A childhood crush that never seemed to go anywhere still seemed to bother Ginny. Ginny returned the side hug, and then started taking off her shoes.

“I feel like you’re about half naked every time I see you.” Draco remarked to Ginny, who had a black minidress on, as he sat down on the side of the couch Y/N wasn’t making into a bed. Y/N smacked him.

“Awfully bold of you to say when you’re only in your knickers.” Ginny quipped, rolling her eyes.

“Potter, control your girlfriend.”

“PARDON?” Ginny yelled as Y/N hit his chest again.

“Malfoy, I will actually sectumsempra your ass again.” Harry said, coming up behind Draco to smack the side of his head.

“ANYWAY...you’re making me sleep on the couch?” Ginny asked, plopping down on the unfinished bed Y/N had been in the middle of making.

“Um, yeah, Gin. You steal the covers and we live in a loft. You could say it’s a bit,” Y/N giggled to herself before finishing the joke. “Lofty in here.”

“I hate it here.” Said Harry.

“Literally get out.” Unsurprisingly, from Draco.

“Oh, Merlin, yeah that was pretty bad Y/N.” Neville spoke gently.

“George, oh my god, are you laughing at that?” Ginny accused.

“What? No! Puns are the bane of my existence.” George said, clearly trying to stifle his giggles.

“Bad jokes aside, I hate this couch. It’s got a permanent dip in it from when George didn’t get up off of it for like, a week, when you showed him that one muggle show.” Ginny said

“Friends is so much more than a muggle show.” George hissed.

“George, every year without your far funnier twin your sense of humor gets significantly worse.” Draco said without looking up from his phone. George tensed as Y/N once again smacked Draco on the chest.

“You’re awfully moody tonight, yeah?” Y/N whispered angrily at Draco.

“Sorry, just shit going on at work.”

“You mean how your work wife is engaged?” “Shut the fuck-”

“You know you could just...tell her how you feel?” Y/N suggested as she plopped down in between George and Draco.

“He’s a man, he’ll never do that. I bet he’ll do something dramatic like sabotage the wedding instead.” At that, Draco looked up from his phone and over to Ginny with a grin.

“Maybe one of the Weasley’s are intelligent afterall.” Draco smirked.

“Don’t do that.” Y/N said, hoping that Draco wouldn’t ruin the only other friendship she had outside of the people in the loft.

“No promises. Anyway, I still have time to break them up.” Which made everyone in the loft groan.

“Can I complain about sleeping on the couch again? When is someone going to offer me their bed?” Ginny said, glaring Y/N down.

“You can sleep in my bed.” Harry said, sitting on the floor staring at his phone. Ginny turned pink.

“In my own house? Oh my,” George giggled, but stopped after Ginny glared at him. Harry looked up.

“We practically grew up together. It’s fine.” He shrugged, although Y/N noticed a hint of a blush in his cheeks as well. Y/N found herself smirking. “Yeah George, they’re grown ups. Grown ups can share a bed platonically.” She said, hinting at him to drop it. He smirked as well, nodding.

--

The next morning, Y/N arose to hear rushed whispers in the living room. She cracked her door, knowing that if she entered the conversation would likely stop.

“I’m IN!!”

“Dude, holding her hand is not ‘in.’”

“Whatever, you’re just mad because you’ve never held H-”

“Don’t finish that.” Draco warned.

Y/N tip-toed out to the kitchen where the two were chatting.

“You DO like her!! You big idiot!!” Y/N whispered, scaring Harry at the sudden appearance.

“How am I a big idiot? We shared a bed last night, I made a move!”

“That girl has had a crush on you since she was like ten! You call sharing a bed making a move? The right move to make would be, like, confessing your love for her or something.” Y/N sighed, moving over to the coffee pot of which only she used.

“Whatever, at least I can pick up on signals.” Harry mumbled.

“What is THAT supposed to mean?” Y/N said, turning around to face him quickly.

“Oh nothing, other than that George totally likes you.” Draco chipped in.

“He does not! Did he say that to you?” Y/N stopped, her heart dropping. Her stomach had a weird feeling she couldn’t quite place.

“No, but he doesn’t need to. It’s in the body language. Besides, puns really used to be the absolute bane of his existence. He and Fred were quite high and mighty with their senses of humor.” Harry shrugged.

“I’m sorry, do you call pranking high and mighty?”

“What about pranking?” George said, strolling into the room, his hair a mess and wearing the same clothes from yesterday.

“Nothing.” Draco, Harry, and Y/N unisoned.

“Good morning sunshine.” Y/N grinned as Ginny walked into the room looking an even bigger mess than George.

“Sleeping beauty.” Draco chimed.

“Shut the fuck up. You, don’t.” Ginny said, stopping Harry before he could join in the teasing.

“Well George, it must be nice to know the messy sleeping runs in the family.” Y/N said, gesturing to his hair.

“What? What are you talking about?” George furrowed his brow, reaching up to fix his hair and making it worse.

--

“Do you think my ass looks good in leggings?”

“Are you joking? Of course it does, I wish my ass looked like yours.” Y/N replied to Ginny. She sighed, thinking about what Harry and Draco said to her earlier. “Do you think George…” Y/N drifted off, deciding she didn’t really want to ask anymore.

“Has a crush on you? Absolutely.”

“See, what the fuck? I don’t see it.”

“That’s because you’re absolutely terrible at picking up signals. Remember that last time we went to the club and a guy kept buying you drinks and then you were SURPRISED when he asked you to dance with him?”

“That’s different. I don’t like dancing with strangers!” “Sure, but you were surprised, Y/N.” Ginny gave Y/N a pointed look, to which Y/N sighed.

“Anyway, no one will ever known, because George doesn’t share his feelings with anyone ever.”

“Just try and pick up on his body language. You know, if he points his feet to you or whatever.” Ginny said, staring at her phone with a furrowed brow. “Thank God, Viktor is moving his shit out of my place as we speak. I might be out of here by tomorrow.” Ginny turned and grinned at Y/N. 

“Hey,” George said, once again walking right into Y/N’s room and plopping down on her bed.

“Seriously, do we just not knock here anymore?”

“Well, we’ve seen each other naked, so honestly what’s the point?” George offered, to which Y/N rolled her eyes.

“I’m sorry, what? What did I miss?” Ginny said, tossing her phone onto the bed next to George.

“One time-”

“No, it’s not important, it wasn’t in a sexual way, it’s loft shit. We don’t talk about loft shit to outsiders.” Y/N said, not wanting to recount the story.

“Outsiders? I’m your best friend!”

“Well, you don’t live here.” George shrugged.

“I’m literally your sister!”

“I’m sorry, what does that have to do with the loft? You still don’t live here.” George smirked at her. She screamed and stormed out of Y/N’s room. “Anyway, want to go to the market with me? I need a few things and I’m quite tired of going on my own.” He perched himself up on his elbows to look at Y/N and something about the position he was in on her bed made her feel...some type of way.

“I-- I don't need anything, though.” Y/N said, now wanting to avoid George.

“Can you go and pick me up some tampons? I think you’re out.” Ginny poked her head back into the room, smirking at Y/N.

“You bitch.” Y/N mouthed at Ginny. “Yeah. Okay, I’ll go with.” Y/N announced, looking quickly over at George.

--

Ginny walked around the loft with just her bra and leggings on, as she would in her own apartment.

“Merlin, woman, put some clothes on.” Neville said, covering his eyes with one hand from the couch, covering a leaf on his plant with his other hand.

“Or don’t, I’m starting to appreciate the divine femme energy you’ve got going on.” Draco smirked, practically staring right at Ginny’s boobs.

“Malfoy, I swear to-”

“What, Potter? Don’t like me hitting on your girlfriend?”

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll kiss you.”

“You’ll wha-” before Draco could finish his question, Harry grabbed the back of Draco’s head and left a wet kissed on his lips.”You know, I could’ve gone my whole life without doing that.” Draco mumbled, rubbing his lips on his arm. Ginny stared at the three men in the apartment, rather confused.

“I’m confused,” Ginny said.

“Why?” Harry said, looking over at her.

“Are you guys actually gay?” Ginny whispered, as if it was offensive to ask.

“No, it’s just loft shit. You wouldn’t get it.” Harry shrugged.

“Yeah you wouldn’t get it.” Draco grinned at her. Ginny, in confusion, looked to Neville for an explanation.

“No offense Ginny, but you wouldn’t. It’s just kind of weird here.” Neville shrugged at her.

--

Y/N found herself staring at George’s feet the entire time they were shopping for groceries. He did point his feet at her a lot. But did that actually mean anything?

“Hey, I asked you a question! Where are you today?” George furrowed his brow, waving a hand in front of Y/N’s face.

“Sorry, what?” She kept glancing between George’s face and his feet. She moved around, and his feet would follow her as he continued to face her no matter where she moved.

“You’re acting weird. Anyway didn’t Ginny need something?”

“Oh yeah, I’ll just go get the tampons. I’ll find you later.” Y/N sighed in relief as she was able to quickly get away from George. Why was she so uncomfortable suddenly? She couldn’t decide how she would feel if George did have feelings for her. Her stomach had a weird feeling again. She hadn’t really ever felt this way. She was warm.

“Oh my god.” She said, staring at the tampon boxes. “Am I blushing?” She raised her hands to her face, feeling how warm her cheeks were. “Oh my god.” She whispered to herself. She grabbed a random box from in front of her and stormed off to where George was. She tossed the box angrily into the basket.

“Woah, sassy pants. What’s got your knickers in a twist?” George asked.

“Nothing.” She furrowed his brow at him. “They were just out of the brand I usually get.” She felt herself staring him down. He looked down at the basket to escape her pointed look.

“Super max?”

“I have wide set hips.”

“I believe they call those birthing hips.”

“Who is ‘they?’”

“I don’t know. It was a joke.”

“I know, I’m pointing out the flaw in your joke.”

“Ouch?”

--

“Can one of you make me a sandwich?” Ginny was staring at her phone, now wearing spandex shorts with her bra. It was like the boys had turned on the heat so she would strip (which they had, but she didn’t need to know that). 

“On it.” Draco said, quickly stopping what he was doing (drooling over her legs) as he rushed off to the kitchen.

“No, you know I’m a better cook than you.” Harry rushed off after Draco. Ginny giggled to herself. She liked having men chasing after her, and thought this game was kind of fun. It was like a game of who needed to get laid more.

“You know, what you’re doing isn’t very nice, Gin.”

“Neville, when did anyone ever use the word ‘nice’ to describe me?”

--

“Flowers for sale! Two for one dollar!”

“Oh that’s so cute, here, do you want a flower?” George offered, not waiting for an answer from Y/N as she crossed her arms and started shaking her legs as she did when she was uncomfortable. She started to spiral when he handed her the roses. She stared at them, wondering what they meant.

“You didn’t need to do that.”

“I know, but I like to support small businesses.” He shrugged, his feet weren’t pointed towards hers anymore. Maybe he didn’t like her like that. Maybe she was overthinking this.

“Oh, good point, I guess.” He giggled and pointed his toe.

“Good POINTE, right?”

“I--what?”

“You’re a dancer, right? I’m on pointe.” He giggled, continuing to walk towards the apartment. Y/N felt uncomfortable again. She mentioned it once in passing that she did ballet as a kid. Her stomach hurt again. She felt tears start to well in her eyes.

“I-I...I’ve gotta go!” She said suddenly, running off in the opposite direction of their apartment. George furrowed his brow, confused at Y/N’s odd behavior.

--

“Ginny,” Y/N burst into the door, out of breath. She had clearly been running. “I’m confused.” She looked up and became more confused when she saw Ginny was getting pampered by Draco and Harry. “I...what did I miss?”

“There you are! I looked for you everywhere! You can’t just run off like that, what are you, insane?” George stormed into the apartment. He noticed dried tear trails on Y/N’s face and dropped what he was saying. He looked towards Ginny and the guys and furrowed his brow. “What the fuck, guys?”

“How did this happen?” Y/N asked, gesturing to Draco who seemed to be giving Ginny a facial as Harry rubbed her feet.

“I don’t really remember.” Harry sighed.

“Ginny, get up.” Y/N was ready to lecture her. Ginny sighed and stood up.

“Thanks mum and dad, you two really have to ruin everything.” She sassed. George and Y/N looked at each other with wide eyes. George smirked suddenly.

“Ginny, don’t I recall hearing that Viktor is moving out? Why don’t you give him a call and see if he’s done.” George grinned, trying to expedite the process of getting Ginny out of the loft. Y/N giggled, looking at George’s side profile. He looked back over and nodded his head back towards his room. Or maybe her room, she couldn’t tell, their rooms too close together.

She followed him into his bedroom. He sat down on the bed as she closed the door and stood right by it.

“You were a bit weird today.”

“The guys and Gin were messing with me and...I don’t know. I had my knickers in a twist.”

“Oh finally, a british phrase. There we go, America.” He smiled at her. She offered a half smile. “I’d like to think that I’m your best friend next to Ginny, so you don’t have to be so weird around me.” Y/N’s heart sank. Best friends, that’s what they were.

“Yeah, you’re right. I was just surprised when you mentioned the dance thing, I guess. I’m not used to anyone other than Ginny remembering things about me.”

“Yikes, you must have awfully bad taste in men, and friends.” George pointed his head towards the direction of their living room, laughing.

“Yeah, you could say that.” She rolled her eyes, laughing, too. “I’m glad I have you. I guess. Don’t let that get to your head.”

“I would never.” George smiled.

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[mourningbirds1]

Prospect fic: He Is Home

An Ezra x Reader one-shot

Rating: Explicit for smut Relationship: Ezra x Fem Reader (You) Tags: Smut; Taking A Bath Together; Soft Touching; Oral Sex, F Receiving; Vaginal Sex; Hurt/Comfort; Forehead Kisses; Angsty Fluff; Magical Healing Cock Wordcount: 3K

Also posted on Ao3 - link is in my Masterlist. I also have a Javi x Reader one-shot A Walk In The Woods (smut)

A/N: Written for @yespolkadotkitty​‘s follower celebration writing challenge for the prompt All along, I believed I would find you. Thank you to Kitty for the beta 💗

Summary: You are walking in the rain and feel lost and confused, so you take refuge in Ezra’s house and he looks after you. 

He Is Home

You thought you’d grown strong enough to cope with bad weather after walking for so long, through all seasons. It had been hard at first, but you’d soon learned how to protect yourself from the elements. There were still odd days when you struggled, but you’d remind yourself that everything was temporary. And anyway, even the harshest sun would mellow into a soft glow at dusk. The hardest rain would eventually ease and reward you with the sweet scent of new growth. 

But something has changed today. You tell yourself it must be the cumulative effect of the journey so far. You just need a break, that’s all. Only there’s no place to stop. 

This wind is not the strongest you’ve walked through, but today you’re gasping as it whips around your face and steals the breath from your nose and the words from your mouth. You keep your head down and brace your body against it, but you can’t seem to pick up speed like you would have done yesterday.

Objectively, you know you’ve withstood heavier rain than this. But your shoes have holes that were not there yesterday. And you swear your coat used to be waterproof, but today it is letting in the rain. 

Even so, you know you’d have coped with these setbacks once. But you are suddenly, inexplicably, unable to cope anymore. 

You turn a corner and for a moment your heart feels lighter. You forget your wet feet and your freezing hands because you can see a light up ahead. If you can just keep going for a few more minutes everything will be okay, because you know that is where Ezra lives. 

And the light means he is home.

So you cover your mouth and nose with your scarf to block out the wind, and you pull up the collar of your coat and bring all your attention to your feet. Telling yourself that if you put one foot in front of the other enough times, eventually you will reach him. And so you do.

You open his garden gate and walk up the little path that’s lined with fragrant lavender bushes. You can smell something savoury and herbal and you look down to see that you’re standing on little thyme plants that are growing in the cracks of the path. 

His door is solid wood and you brace yourself as you lift your hand to knock on it, because you know that it will hurt. Your knuckles are so raw from the cold wind. But before your fist makes contact, you hear locks turning from the inside and you know that Ezra is opening the door for you.

He looks just as you remember him. The tuft of pale hair. The silvery scar on his cheek. Soft, dark eyes that turn down at the corners. There are crinkles around them and you find this so comforting because you know these lines are markers of his experience and wisdom. He has already crossed rough terrains and withstood plenty of harsh weather and now he can guide you through them and shelter you from the worst of them.

He’s horrified that you are in such a terrible state. “Come inside, little bird!” 

But you just stand there, feeling too weak to take another step. Too drained by the huge burst of energy you had to summon to come this far. 

He can see that you need him to help you. He steps out and wraps his strong arm around your waist and takes your hand, encouraging you to lean on him.

“I di--didn’t know where else to go,” you tell him, your teeth chattering as you step into his little house.

He closes the door, shutting out the weather, and guides you into his arms. He is so warm. His arms tighten around you, urging you to press the length of your body against him. He doesn’t seem to care that you’re making him wet. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and breathe in his comforting, familiar smell. Your lips are wet with rainwater and you press them against the bare skin of his neck and feel his pulse. He is alive. He is real. He is holding you with all the patience in the world. 

“It’s alright now, sweetheart,” he says. He’s stroking your wet hair and pressing kisses there. His breath is warm and you can feel the soft brush of his scruff against your scalp.

He puts a gentle finger under your chin and tilts up your face so that he can kiss you and warm your frozen mouth with his lips. You place your palms against his broad chest and your fingers clutch lightly at his soft black shirt. 

He draws away and takes hold of your hands. When he feels how cold they are he makes a disapproving noise and brings them together, covering them completely with his big hands and rubbing to generate heat.

It’s been so long since anyone has touched you like this and his tenderness makes you let out a little sob of relief. 

He takes you back into his arms. “Shhh, now. Y’just need a hot bath and a warm, soft bed. How does that sound?” You make a quiet noise of agreement and nod against his chest. 

He leads you into his kitchen and pulls out a chair for you. “Sit here while I fix you something warming to drink,” he says. He speaks softly, with that same kindness you remember. “Shall I make you that drink you always liked so much?” he asks. 

You nod, “Yes, that’d be nice.” Until this moment you had forgotten all about it. You suppose that your recent struggles must have pushed out nice memories like that to make space for your problems. You wonder what else you’ve forgotten.

There are copper saucepans suspended from a rack above the stove. He takes the smallest and fills it with water and sets it to heat up on the burner. You aren’t sure what he adds to the water. This was always something he used to do for you when you’d had a bad day. 

While it’s heating he disappears for a minute and returns with a towel and a thick blanket that he unfolds and drapes over your shoulders. After he’s tucked it securely around you, he crouches down and removes your wet shoes and wraps your cold, wet feet in the warm, fluffy towel. 

He kisses your forehead and goes back to work on your drink. 

When it’s ready he pours it into your favourite cup and places it into your hands. “I can’t believe you still have this,” you say.

“Of course! Why would I discard something important to one who’s so dear to me?”

Sweet, sweet Ezra. Why did you ever leave him?

While you drink, he crouches at your feet to rub them with the towel, drying between your toes and pressing the soft cotton to your skin, the heat of his hands seeping through the fabric and warming you. 

“Now I’m gonna go run your bath. You want to wait here or come with me?”

You don’t want him to leave you. Can’t bear to let him out of your sight now that you’ve finally found him again. “I want to stay with you, Ez.”

“Then so you shall, beautiful girl.” 

You stand up and find that the drink must have bolstered you because it’s a bit easier to walk now. You follow him to the bathroom and sit on a chair with your drink while he draws your bath. 

He adds bubbles and some scented oil. The room is soon filled with fragrant steam and you breathe it in and it warms your throat and lungs. 

While the tub is filling up he takes your empty cup and sets it aside.

“Shall I leave you alone now, little bird?” he asks.

You look at the tub. It’s a huge, antique thing. Freestanding, with clawed feet. Plenty big enough for two people. “Will you get in with me?” 

He holds your face in his big, gentle hands. “If that’s what you want, nothing would make me happier.” 

You watch as he pulls off his shirt and takes off his pants and then he’s naked before you. He lets you look at him for a moment, unembarrassed by your gaze. Every part of him is beautiful. His broad chest and long arms. The softness of his belly. The little patch of pale skin at his hips. His pretty cock and his sturdy thighs. You reach out and run your fingers over a few new scars. They do nothing to diminish his beauty. 

He smiles fondly, “I can see you’re enjoying the view, sweetheart, but it’s time to get out of these wet clothes.”

He helps you undress because your fingers are clumsy. Still a little numb from the cold.

Ezra gets in first. He leans against the curved end of the tub and makes space for you to sit between his legs. You’re still a little wobbly so he reaches up and gives you his hand to hold while you step in and sink into the blissful heat of the water. It’s the perfect temperature. Exactly what you dreamed of as you trudged through miles of relentless rain and wind. 

You ease yourself down and settle between Ezra’s thighs and he guides you to lean back against him. You breathe out a long, shaky sigh as you relax against his warm, broad body. You can feel his firm chest cradling your shoulders and his belly against your back, then his scruff of hair and his soft cock.

His strong arms are draped around you, caging you into his body and keeping you safe. You let your head tilt back and rest on his shoulder and he nuzzles into your neck, giving you sweet, open-mouthed kisses, and little puffs of air as he breathes against your skin. 

You lie there for a while like that while he kisses your neck and your shoulders. And you touch him, too. You stroke his thighs and his arms. You trace your fingertips over his hands and lift each of them to your mouth so you can kiss them, delighting in their size and how powerful and capable they are.

Ezra washes your hair and your body with soap that smells of orange blossom. His broad palms feel just as roughened and calloused as they ever did as he strokes them over the soapy-slick skin of your breasts and your chest, and then your arms. 

You sigh again, so calmed by the reassuring feel of him behind you and the soothing touches of his hands. The warm water is easing your aching muscles and you feel languid and relaxed. You hook your leg over the side of the tub and nudge lightly at his hand, urging it between your spread legs. Ezra’s hand drifts down to your patch of hair and he lets his fingertips trail over your mound and outer lips. Back and forth, swirling, slow and lazy.

“Is this what you need, sweetheart?” he whispers.

You make a contented noise and tilt your hips into his touch. You can feel his cock getting hard but he ignores it and just carries on stroking you. It’s so relaxing that you drift off to sleep. He wakes you by kissing behind your ear. 

“Water’s gettin’ a bit cold now. How about that soft bed?”

“Mmm, that sounds perfect,” you say, smiling and drowsy.

You get out of the tub and he gives you a big soft towel and you both get as dry as you can and, leaving the towels in the bathroom, you walk naked to Ezra’s bedroom. There’s a little fireplace in there and it’s already built up with kindling and logs. You watch him as he crouches and lights it. 

When he’s done he turns and sees you standing by the bed. “Get in, little bird. We’ve only just got you warmed up.” He pulls back the bed covers. It’s the most comfortable bed you’ve ever laid in. The sheets are so soft against your naked skin. 

The rain is beating against the window pane and the wind howls around the chimney, making little whistling noises. But it can’t reach you here. You stretch out and give a little laugh and wiggle your toes. Delighting in being so warm and dry at last. Ezra is propped up on his elbow watching you, smiling and pleased at how happy you are, and he leans in and kisses you deeply, stroking his tongue against yours, slowly and thoroughly. 

You pull him closer and arch your chest towards his, letting your breasts touch his bare skin and feeling him moan into your mouth as he kisses you. Ezra loves how soft you feel against him. You run your hands across his broad back and can feel his muscles shift beneath his skin as he climbs on top of you, making space for himself between your thighs. When your hands trail lower and squeeze his behind, you feel his lips smile against your mouth. You smile, too. 

“Let me feel you, Ez,” you say. He adjusts his arms to allow his warm, heavy weight to cover you, pressing you into the mattress with the length of his body while he kisses you. When he feels you shift, he lifts his weight off you and kisses down your throat and then your breasts and then down, down until he’s nuzzling sweetly into your cunt. You watch him as he goes down on you. He takes his time over it, holding your thighs open and using his clever tongue to give you a blissful orgasm.

After you’ve come he kneels back and you watch his beautiful cock twitch as he licks the taste of you from his lips and takes in the sight of you, happily pliant and relaxed. All ready for him to take his place between your thighs. You spread your legs wider for him, welcoming him as leans in to press his hard cock where you’re wet for him. 

He braces above you on one arm and reaches down with the other to take hold of himself and he pushes into you, slow and easy, like you are where he has always belonged and always will. Filling you like no one else ever has. You lift your legs and wrap them around his hips, letting him push deeper until he’s fully seated inside you.

“Kevva, you feel so good, sweetheart,” he says, and he rocks into you and you move with him. He makes love to you with slow, powerful strokes, letting you feel the delicious stretch of him filling you again and again and again. 

You think about rolling him onto his back and riding him so he can watch his cock sinking in and out of you, but this feels too good. This is what you need. His arms are braced either side of you and his chest is pressed against yours. You love how he’s covering you with his body, and filling you with his cock. Keeping you safe and satisfied. 

He’s grunting softly and you’ve always loved that about him - that he lets you hear how good you make him feel. 

“Can you come like this?” he asks, as he grinds against your clit. His voice is tight and hopeful, but you know he’d give you whatever you need. You wouldn’t always be able to come without the direct pressure of a fingertip on your clit, but you’re so turned on and it’s been so long since you’ve felt him inside you that you know this will be enough tonight. And anyway you can’t bear to have him draw back to make space for your hand. Neither can he, you think. You nod quickly, yes. 

“Good girl,” he says. He speeds up his thrusts, his breathing growing harsh and feverish, his eyes losing focus now as he savours the exquisite clutch of your slick heat enveloping him completely. His breathy grunts become louder and more desperate and the sound of him, so overwhelmed by you, is enough to make you come. He fucks you through your orgasm, telling you you’re a good girl and you’re beautiful. He praises how incredible you feel coming on his cock. His hips stutter against you, once, twice, and he moans with relief and pleasure as his come pulses into you. You tilt up your hips and spread your fingers over his behind and urge him to bury himself deeper, deeper. You want to keep him this close, always. Inside you and flush against you. Right where he belongs. You never want to let him go.

Finally he goes still and heavy. He keeps his cock buried deep inside you so you can feel it while he tells you, “I love you, my darling girl.” 

You realise you knew this already, but you aren’t sure how. Perhaps he’s told you those words before, and this was another memory that’s been pushed out of your brain to make space for worry.

“I love you, Ezra,” you say. And his soft smile tells you that he’s known this all along.

He eases himself out of you and rolls to the side, taking you with him and lifting you onto his chest. You drift off to sleep in his arms, feeling peaceful and full of afterglow.

In the morning Ezra brings you hot coffee and good things to eat. It’s still raining but there’s nowhere you need to go, so you sit in his cosy kitchen, basking in the heat of the wood-burning stove while he tells you about the good books he’s been reading and his new favourite project – raising plants from the seeds he gathered in his prospecting days.

Life is coming back into focus now. Good memories making space for themselves where once there was only room for fear. 

“I’m sorry I went away, Ezra. I don’t know how it happened. I won’t leave again.”

“Little bird, I know you think you flew away but you never really left. You were right here with me all along, safe inside my heart.”

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

Masterlist I also have a Javi x Reader one-shot A Walk In The Woods (smut)

[doyumacy]

FALLOUT |LH| THREE

gif not mine

PAIRING: donghyuck x reader bodyguard!donghyuck

WARNINGS: mentions of taeyong. swearing, blood (i’ll let you know when there are parts with blood mentions), smut (let you know), violence, angst

WORD COUNT: 2,7K

ONE TWO THREE FOUR

“Thank you for meeting me at a late hour,” said the man in front of Donghyuck.

“Sure, no problem,” Donghyuck nodded. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“I saw you’re getting along with my daughter, and before you say something I saw you two getting along pretty girl this morning,” he looked at him.” And to be honest, I don't care how you do your work, but I needed to remind you why I hired you,” your father stared at him.

“I haven’t forgotten it, sir. I’m going at my own pace, besides it would be very suspicious to kill her right after I spend 12 hours with her a day,” Donghyuck let him know. “I’ll get the job done. You don't have to worry.”

“I do worry though,” your father placed a hand on his chin. “She’s supposed to meet with the Prime Minister in 2 months. I’m sure he’ll work with her, I mean, the UN is doing so, why wouldn't he as well?

“I don’t care what you have to do. I want her dead. She’s getting bigger and bigger and stealing my best clients,” he groaned. “This is my business and she suddenly thinks she can come over and take what’s mine? No. Get fucking rid of her.”

Donghyuck nodded. “I will.”

…

After another long week, you decided to meet with Taeyong and Lena and have dinner with them since it had been so long since you saw them.

When you arrived at the restaurant, you turned to Donghyuck and smiled kindly to him, “you can go now. Take the night off. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I don’t think I should leave you here alone,” Donghyuck said to you.

“I’m not alone, Taeyong’s bodyguards are here and Lena’s security team will stay as well,” You informed him. “I’m well secured.”

“I still don’t feel comfortable by leaving you,” he confessed.

You  grinned and put a hand on Donghyuck’s shoulder, “I’ll be fine, Donghyuck. Really.”

Donghyuck looked at you directly in the eye for a couple of seconds and wished he could kiss you. He nodded, “fine, I’ll have my phone with me all night in case you need something.”

“Noted,” you smirked, “goodnight, Hyuck.”

“Hyuck?” Donghyuck beamed.

“Well, since you won't stop calling me ‘ma’am’ I decided to give you a nickname as well,” you shrugged.

“But ma’am is not a nickname…” Donghyuck looked at you.

“You don't want me to call you Hyuck?” you pouted.

“You can call me whatever you want, (Y/N)” He winked at you.

You bit your lip and smiled at him. “Maybe I will.”

Donghyuck smirked and turned, but before he started to walk, he turned again to you, “let me stay. I don't feel good leaving you here all alone.”

You pressed your lips for a moment and then nodded. “But you’re staying as my friend, not my bodyguard.”

“Deal.”

You didn't remember when was the last time you had fun and even got tipsy. A year ago maybe? You were not a bad drinker and you could take some shots with Lena, but not with Taeyong. His alcohol tolerance was so low.

By almost 1 am, you hugged your friends goodbye and Donghyuck had one arm around you as he half-carried, half-guided you to the car. Maybe you had more shots than the ones you could take.

"I signed up to be your bodyguard, not your designated driver." Donghyuck joked as he looked for the car keys inside his suit jacket.

"You could be both," You said slowly, having to put more effort into your words than usual since you were sloshed.

Donghyuck  laughed. "Maybe so, but I preferred just doing one."

"Heeeey, you could do the partner thing soon."

"I don't remember mentioning a partner thing."

You licked your lips as you tried to remember what the phrase he'd first used was. "Designated driver. Only, instead of just dragging me to a car, we'd be getting sloshed together."

"That does sound more fun,” he said as he helped you to get in the car and fasten the seat belt.

You smiled dumbly and looked at him. “Have I told you you’re gorgeous? God, I love your skin and oh! Your moles in your cheeks are beautiful, I wanna plant some kisses on them.”

"Thanks," he said, trying to hide his smile. "It's nice to be appreciated."

"In all my life, I've never met someone that made me feel like you do," You said, speaking a foreing language.

"I don't know what you just said, but I'm going to assume it was complimentary."

You nodded. You kissed Donghyuck's left cheek because it was there. "The prettiest thing I've ever seen."  

Donghyuck swallowed thickly. He didn't need to understand the language to know that whatever you said was something he would appreciate. The kiss sent tingles down his spine, and your mouth was still resting close enough to him that you could feel his breath hot against your skin. "As much as we would enjoy that, we need to stop. It’s not correct.”

"You're right. But you're just so pretty," you whined. "It's really not fair. You should try to be less pretty; it would make my life easier."

"You can live with it," Donghyuck said.

The ride to your place wasn't long. He finally found the keycard and put it in the door for him. He unlocked it and pushed the door open. You looked pretty comfy where you were, and it made shuffling him inside your big modern flat roof house. "C'mon baby, you've got to get in bed."  

"But you're not there," You said, sounding awfully petulant about it.

Donghyuck chuckled. "No, but you'll get to sleep just fine without it."

"That's what you think."

"Love, you're drunk enough that you'll definitely pass out before the night's through."

"Aww, you called me 'love'. No ma'am."

Donghyuck was still right next to you though, so he was able to keep you from falling over. "My last boyfriend, well, Yuta was never my boyfriend, but he called me 'doll' but I sort of hated it."

"You do seem like you'd prefer the sweeter pet names. Sweetheart, things like that."

"Feel free to call me sweetheart as much as you want. Sounds beautiful coming out of your mouth."

"I think I will. After I stop working on protecting you, that is."

"Boring." You yawned. "You sure I can't convince you to stay?"

"Not while I'm working for you, and definitely not while you're sloshed." Donghyuck brought you to your room and took off your shoes when you collapsed back on the bed. "If you want to get undressed more, you're going to have to do it yourself, sweetheart," he said, then kissed your forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow."

“I’m coming!” You groaned, walking to the front door where someone was ringing the doorbell. You opened it and you found a smiley Taeyong holding a kraft delivery bag. How did he look all shiny after leaving the restaurant in the same state as you?

“Good morning, sunshine,” he greeted you. “You look terrible this morning.”

“I was looking forward to hearing that, ass,” you grunted. “Come on in, the sunlight is killing me.”

“I’m not gonna find a naked Donghyuck, am I?” Taeyong looked at you.

You rolled your eyes and he entered your house. You shut the door behind him. “By the way, where is he? I didn’t see him in the entrance.”

“He has the day off,” you said, walking to the kitchen.

“So, you fucked with him?” Taeyong placed the food bag on the counter and he took off his jacket.

“No… but I did try to seduce him,” you grimaced.

“You did what?” His mouth gaped open.

“I told him he has the prettiest man I’ve ever seen and kissed his cheek,” you laughed a little. “Not that I lied. And then I invited him to stay over and he said it was not correct.”

Taeyong chuckled. “Oh my, God, this is so good. And then what happened?”

“Nothing, he left!” You sighed and then goggled. “What if he sues me? Did I harass him?”

“Woah, woah,” Taeyong shook his hands in the air, “he likes you, I can tell by the way he looked at you all night and he would’ve totally fucked you if he wasn't your bodyguard.”

“I don't even know how to look at him now,” you ran a hand through your hair. “He’s so hot that it makes me mad. All I want is him to pin me to a wall and fu-”

“I don't need the details, thanks,” Taeyong shut you down, “but what I can tell you is that you will end up pinned to a wall, any day now.”

You giggled. “Hopefully.”

Monday. Long day at the office. You barely had seen Donghyuck since you spent all day inside your office and he stayed right outside the door. You felt… sad? You missed his voice that day and his gorgeous face. You suddenly hated Mondays.

Lia knocked at your door right before the lunch break and left some papers for you to read and sign and some correspondence as well. When you finished reading and signing the papers, you opened a few envelopes where some people and companies were inviting you to some events. The last envelope was different from the rest since it was red and had a black stamp on it. You frowned and pursued to open it.

Inside the envelope there was a note written with letters clippings from a magazine and said:

IF I WERE YOU, I WOULD SLEEP WITH ONE EYE OPEN AT NIGHT.

YOU’RE DEAD.

You put the letter on the desk and swallowed. You weren't usually scared of hate comments, but this wasn't a hate comment. It was a letter. Threatening you.

You felt dizzy and your entire body started shaking. Who had sent you that? And why? You took a deep breath and stood up trying to walk to your bathroom in your office but failed. You tripped on your heels and hit the ground.

Then it hit you. They were inside the building. You weren't even safe in your own office. You wanted to throw up. You wanted to cry.

You tried to stand up but couldn't. Your legs weren’t responding and seconds later, you bursted into tears. You were scared. So scared.

Donghyuck had been replaying Friday’s night in his head during the whole weekend. He couldn't stop thinking about you and how good your lips felt against his skin. He hated himself so much for not being able to forget it.

On Monday he barely saw you and he hated it. He got you were busy but Donghyuck needed, at least, to talk to you and hear your voice and he didn't get that.

After he ate lunch, he returned and stood in the same place he had been standing all morning, hoping you’d get out of your office and going somewhere where you two could talk but didn't happen.

Donghyuck checked his watch on his left wrist and frowned. It was almost 2 pm and you hadn't had lunch yet. He turned and knocked at the door twice and he didn't get any response. He knocked one more time and decided to open it when you didn't respond again.

And that's when he saw you on the floor, crying and shaking. Donghyuck almost ran to you and kneeled in front of you cupping your face. “(Y/N)? What happened? Are you hurt?”

You choked on your words and got closer to him, holding him tight. He held you instantly and placed a hand on your head. “Talk to me, what happened, baby?” Donghyuck whispered in your ear.

The letter still sat on your desk.

Sungho was on the phone to the police while you sat with your arms wrapped around Donghyuck who was simply staring at the offensive stationary. Less than twenty minutes later the entire apartment was invaded by police, looking for clues to who had left it for you.

“Miss (Y/LN)” the Captain took the seat across from you, “Are you okay?”

You lifted your chin slightly, “I’m better, Captain. Just angry and scared at whoever sent this.”

He didn’t miss the way you kept your eyes averted from the piece of paper.

“They didn’t send it, (Y/L/N),” he stated, “It was an inside job"

You took in a sharp breath and Donghyuck held you tighter.

“I suggest you hire more security. My men will be here as well,” he  told you, “But I can’t leave them here indefinitely.”

You nodded. "Thanks, captain."

When the police left, Donghyuck and Sungho decided it was the best to leave the office and you obeyed them. When you got home, Donghyuck told you to change the passcodes of every door in your house and he’d stay there until they knew who had sent the letter. You agreed since you didn't want to be alone in your house.

When you got home you did what Donghyuck told you and changed every passcode. You sighed and hugged yourself. You felt exhausted.

Donghyuck approached you and looked at you. “You feel better?”

“Kinda,” you admitted. “My head is killing me.”

“Why don’t you go and take a bath while I make something for you to eat?” He caressed your cheek with his right thumb. “You need to eat something.”

You nodded. “Thank you. I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” he placed a kiss on your forehead and you wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Is there a chance you could come with me?”

“Not even the slightest,” he now kissed your cheek.

You sighed. “Fine. I’ll be right back.”

You looked at yourself in the mirror and furrowed. Did you deserve this? Maybe. Was he maybe behind the letter? You didn't think so.

When you sold Kim Doyoung that powerful software one year back he was clear he wouldn't even bother you. Did he maybe hear about your meeting with the Prime Minister? Did he know you were about to sell him off so you could do business with the government?

Donghyuck was chopping some vegetables and couldn't stop thinking who could be behind the letter. It was not certainly your father since he had hired him to kill you, but who was it?

You were clean. Way too clean.

Unless… you werent.

You came back downstairs and smiled when you found Doyoung in your kitchen. You could get used to that.

"What am I protecting you from (Y/N)?" he asked softly after you two finished eating, trying to meet your gaze as you looked at him over the brim of your glass. "What is it that you're not telling me?"

You blinked a few times. "What do you mean?"

Donghycuk sighed and repeated his question.

You didn't reply. You just stood up, placing your glass down silently before you walked towards the kitchen.

Donghyuck followed you without second thought, cornering you again in the hallway leading towards the kitchen. "What are you hiding from me?" he demanded, his hand pushing against your chest and pressing you against the wall. "I want the truth."

"It's... nothing," you came in the response and it only served to infuriate him more.

Donghyuck wanted to scream at you until you told him the truth, but as you stood there, staring into his eyes and standing close enough to feel your breath on his face... Instead, he did something that surprised both of you.

Lee Donghyuck kissed you.

It was impulsive and it was reckless. It took you a second to come to terms with what was happening but your lips were moving against Donghyuck in perfect synchronisation, your lips slotting together like they’ve always meant to be like that.

Donghyuck felt like his entire body was doused in gasoline and you had the match, every inch of him ready to combust. His heart raced as the adrenaline ran through his veins and he couldn't help but note that this feeling was so addictive he didn't think he would ever be able to stop if he didn't right now.

Donghyuck loved how heavenly his lips felt against yours, how warm your touch was and how it sent electricity coursing through his vein each time your soft fingers explored a new part of his body.

You were the one to pull apart and as much as Donghyuck hated it, he felt a pang of disappointment. "Trust me."

Donghyuck swallowed and looked at your swollen red lips. "I would never forgive myself if something happens to you."

"I'm gonna be fine. You're with me." You looked at him.