#he’s six and the worst he’s ever gotten is a scratch or two and a very recent notch in his ear. he literally looks both ways before crossin

[lilac-multifandom-multishipper]

okay so letting cats go outside unsupervised is animal abuse now. terrible job everyone

[zmediaoutlet]

Sweaty crumple of mixed bedding and discarded clothes. Even with Sam's hulk feeling like he's going to fuse to Dean's skin, it feels—pretty good, honestly. Dean adjusts his sore neck and Sam accommodates him, resettles. His fingertips occupied with a bruise under Dean's collarbone, testing the edges just careful enough that it almost, almost hurts. If Dean were younger he'd be revving up for round two; as is it's…

"Tell me more about Eliot Ness," Sam says.

Dean slits an eye open but Sam's not making fun. He's watching his fingers, his hair screwed up six ways from Sunday. "He so did call me untouchable, for one thing," Dean says, and Sam blows a lazy raspberry. Dean grins, rolls his hips flat so he can spread out. Heels stretching off the crappy bedroll, skidding in the dust.

"Coolest day in a long time," Dean says. Sam makes a little noise. "Dude was a hunter, you know? Real deal. Wasn't one to suffer fools, either."

"Amazing that he put up with you," Sam says. Dean kicks vaguely but Sam wraps one of those stupid giganto legs over his and he subsides.

What can he say. That—there was about ten minutes where he was positive he was gonna get stuck in the past, with Eliot freakin' Ness and a god of time on the loose and no way to get back, and that was the worst feeling in the world but also—it was a time without Leviathan. A time before everything that'd gone wrong had gone wrong. The sheer terror of the gap at his right hand where Sam should've been aside, there was this. Thought. Kept nagging him.

Camp lantern's still on, sitting on the floor above their heads. Sam's got a blue-white halo. He looks up from Dean's chest eventually, raises his eyebrows.

"What would you've done?" Dean says. Eyebrows a little higher. "If I'd—gotten stuck, or something. Part of the Untouchables for real."

Sam squints at him, for a few seconds. "I would've come and got you," he says. He opens his mouth and closes it. Shakes his head. "No idea how. Kidnap an angel and make them take me back? Or make them get you. Either way."

Kidnap an angel. His brother. Dean squirms on the half-assed pallet. "We both could've got sent back," he says.

He was trying to make like it just occurred to him. Must not quite manage, because there's a pause, after which Sam drags his arm out from under Dean's neck and lifts up on his elbow, looking down at Dean's face. Dean bites his lips between his teeth and Sam says, "What."

"Nothing," Dean says. Sam looks at him for a silent handful of seconds and Dean scratches the stubble under his jaw. "Just—we'd've been—back there, back then. 1944. Before… everything. Not just Dick and the Levis but before, you know—"

"Apocalypse," Sam says. His cheek sucks in on one side, picking up the thread. "Before… angels, hell. Man, Dad wasn't even born. And Mom and Dad met in… what, '74?"

"'72," says Dean, who's already done this math.

Sam takes a deep breath. A little under thirty years, in a world that—yeah, it had its troubles, but not the kind that'd come. Long before a hole would open in Stull. Long before Dean would have to kneel in the mud with blood on his hands and have the future core out into a narrow dark tunnel with nothing at the far end. Long before even that first worst day, one of Dean's earliest memories, when he'd been curled terrified on floorboards not all that different to these and Sam had woken up screaming in the pulled-out drawer that had served them then as a crib and Dean hadn't known how to get him to go back to sleep, and Dad had been gone, and it was worse somehow than the night their mother had burned, with his baby brother making that horrible desperate coughing wail and Dean just—not knowing how to fix it. That night he thought nothing would ever be okay again.

A hand spreads on his chest, over the bruise. He breathes past constriction and finds that Sam's got his head propped on his hand, watching Dean's face. "But you came back," he says. His thumb runs along Dean's collarbone.

Dean covers Sam's hand. "You woulda looked dumb in the hats, anyway," he says. Has to clear his throat. "And you would've had to cut your hair. No way the Untouchables would let you get away with the delinquent look."

"Delinquent, huh," Sam says, raising his eyebrows, and Dean nods, reaches up and pushes it back from Sam's face, says, "You'd be a real mug, you know? A real bunny."

Bunny, Sam mouths, and then slides his hand down to Dean's side, pulls him closer. "Guess it's just as well we can't change history," he says. He curls his arm under his head and lays down, his face turned in close to Dean's, his eyes closing. For a second Dean's in two times at once, watching his brother curl down to sleep. "Wouldn't want to be a delinquent."

"You're already a bunny," Dean says, and ignores Sam mumbling that makes no sense when he reaches to turn off the lantern.

[mygyn]

The Scare

Summary: Bradley knew when he got the call to return to Top Gun that things wouldn't be simple.

Warnings: N/A at this time.

Bradley knew when he got recalled from Japan that whatever this mission was, it would be difficult. Bradley knew he should reach out to you and Phoneix that he would never hear the end of it if he didn't, but he also wasn’t up for much company. About a week ago, he had gotten the dreaded call that his “Uncle Pete” had once again crashed a plane, and they weren’t sure if he would make it. Lo and behold, Pete Maverick Mitchell, had been found not even six hours later totally fine in a diner in Canada. Bradley was tired. He was annoyed and honestly a bit bitter that he still cared for the man that had completely ruined his life. 

Flashback

This whole situation made him not want to reach out to the love of his life. His Partner of six years, Hailey Lynn Bradshaw. They had met during his first year of flight school around the same time he had met your sister Natasha Phoneix Trace. Phoenix had just earned her callsign by landing a flaming plane after one of the worst bird strikes Bradley had ever seen. At this time, Natasha had been working towards her certification in a single-seater, and Bradley was her wingman for this flight. About 10 mins in, a murder of crows came and surrounded both of their planes. I was alright as the stupid Crow just hit my Window, but Phoneix was not so lucky; one of those birds ended up going and clogging up her engine. The right side had completely caught fire, and the left was barely holding on. Somehow Natasha maintained control and landed her plane in an emergency landing. 

Even though Phoneix landed without a scratch on her because her plane was a smoldering pile of Ashes, she was mandated to go to the base hospital, and they called you. Bradley had never seen someone look as beautiful as you. You were wearing a sundress, and you had come running up to the front desk saying, “Natasha Trace. Please tell me where Natasha is. I just got a call from here. They said she crashed and they couldn’t release anything else until I go there. Please tell me she is alright”. Bradley knew at that moment that she was the one for Him. Bradley walked over to you as the nurse looked flustered, and she was trying to find Natasha’s room number. ‘Ma’am, my name is Bradley Bradshaw. I was flying with your sister today.” You immediately interrupted, “You were flying with Natty. Is she alright? Tell me she is alive. I told her not to join the Navy?” Bradley took a deep breath and said, “Ma’am your sister, from what I saw and heard walked away without a scratch. She was just brought here out of precaution. She walked away from her plane like a Phoneix rising from the ashes.” 

Bradley barely had a second to react. Phoenix’s sister had attempted to drop to her knees, and she was sobbing. Bradley moved and caught her in his arms before she could hit the floor. He could barely make out you were sobbing and saying, “Please, not her. It’s just us left. Everyone else is gone.” Bradley’s blood ran cold. He knew that you were 2 years younger than Natasha and had just turned 18 this past year. He remembered Natasha mentioned growing up in the system. Bradley knew that he couldn’t leave you alone. He put his arms around your shoulders and said, “Ma’am can I help you get to a chair?.” You responded. “ Please don’t call me Ma’am; my name is Hailey”. You had tears streaming down your face and struggled to catch your breath. “Hailey, Nat is alright. She will be fine; the Doctors just have to clear her then you can take her home, alright? Come on, let’s get up and move over to the chair. Once you have a seat, I will go talk to the nurse and see if I can get you a timeline on when Nat is free to see you, alright? 

Fast forward a couple of months 

Over the next couple of months, as Phoneix and Bradley got closer and closer to Wingman, you got closer to Hailey as well. About two months into being friends with Hailey and Nat, you realized you were hopelessly in love with Hailey. Hailey was attending community college and taking her nursing degree prerequisites. Hailey was sitting at the table when Bradley walked in carrying Chinese takeout. Since the accident, it had become somewhat of a tradition for Brad to bring food over every Friday and for you to do a movie night. You were about ½ way through LOTR Extended editions. This week was different Nat had been asked out on a date by a pilot named Jake Serisen; she had left about an hour ago. Bradley knew he was taking a risk coming with takeout when Nat was gone, but he knew this might be his only chance to shoot his shot with you. 

Hailey looked up from her homework, somewhat startled, she says. “Bradley, what are you doing here? Nat is on a date. Bradley smiles. This was it, “Hey, beautiful. I actually came to see you. I brought take-out orange chicken, your favorite. I thought we could continue the movie without Nat or watch something else?” Bradley swallowed and said, “Hailey, I really would like to get to know you better.” Bradley’s face blushed bright red. “Bradley? We know each other plenty already, don’t we?” Hailey seemed confused by Brad’s statement. Bradley groaned. He was going to have to be direct. “Hailey, I. Mean I. I really like you. I would like the chance to take you out on a date. I remember when I first met you in the hospital after Nat got her call sign. I remember seeing you standing there and seeing how devastated you were. I just wanted to protect you, to take and put you in my arms and keep you safe. I know this is early, but these last three months have been the best of my life. Would you, Miss Trace, let me take you out on a date?” Hailey’s face turned bright red, and you said, “Brad. I. Does Nat know you feel this way?” Bradley took a deep breath and says, “Hailey, I asked Nat if I could come over tonight. Of course, she knows. She threatened to cut my balls off if I hurt you. Please, Hailey, give me a chance?” 

Hailey pauses for a min. She takes a deep breath and seems like she’s deep in thought. She looks over at Brad and finally says, “Alright, Bradshaw, you get one shot, so don’t screw it up.” The rest is history. Bradley and Hailey dated for three months before Bradley popped the question. Hailey said yes. Brad got his callsign from this instance as, according to Nat, just like  a Roosters crow in the morning, it was way too early for him to pop that question. Yet, you and Hailey had your rough patches with long deployments, Her schedule at the hospital, and internships and residency. Yet never for one moment did Bradley regret marrying the love of his life. 

Fades back to the present

God’s how Bradley missed you, but he knew you didn’t understand the drama between you and Maverick. Bradley knew that it had hurt when you didn’t invite any of your Uncles or the Flyboys to your elopement in Vegas that it was just Nat, Hailey, and yourself. Hailey desperately wanted a family and wanted the chance to get to know you. She had spent the last six years with you trying to get you to open up and trying to convince you to just reach out to Maverick, and now was the perfect opportunity to reach out to one of the Flyboys to see how Mav was. Bradley knew that once he reached that, there was no going back. That the Flyboys would not let him retreat from them again. Was Bradley ready for that? He was called back to Top Gun? He was sitting in the house that you and Hailey called a home. He knew you would be home soon and madder than a hornet that you showed up without letting her and Nat know. Did Bradley dare take his phone out and call Papa Admiral Kazansky? Did he take a risk and reach out to him? Bradley took a deep breath in, and he knew the answer. He couldn’t keep running. 

Bradley took his phone out and sent a text to you. “Hey Beautiful, I just wanted to let you know I got called back to Top Gun. It’s classified, so I’m not sure what’s going on yet. I just wanted to tell you I was home, gorgeous. I’m also going to call my Uncle Ice. I received a call that Captain Pete Mitchell had to eject a week ago; he was MIA. You’ve wanted me to try and work through things with them, and I think now is the time. I love you beautiful I’ll see you when you get home. Bradley knew that he had to call now, or Hailey would call him on his bullshit. 

Bradley took his phone out and clicked on the contact that he hadn’t spoken to in twelve years… He heard ringing, then a quiet, “Hello, this is Admiral Kazansky”.

[massivedrickhead]

Bechloe Week 2021 - Day 2

July 27th: Bed sharing/one bed

Read on AO3

Fun fact - everything I’ve written/will write for Bechloe week this year are all part of the same universe, but they won’t be posted in chronological order. So at the end of the week I’ll probably put something up with a list of the prompts in chronological order :)

-

Beca was pretty sure that sharing a bed with Chloe Beale was simultaneously the worst and best thing that had ever happened to her.

It was almost unbearable to be that close to her without being able to touch her in the way she really wanted to.

Strike that.

It was unbearable.

But Beca couldn’t sleep any other way.

On those occasions when Chloe would sleep elsewhere, Beca would find herself unable to drop off.

She’d be up most of the night tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable, unable to shut her mind off.

It was as if Chloe’s mere presence could calm Beca in a way that nothing else could.

And then they would have these moments of complete vulnerability late at night.

Chloe would reach out with a featherlight touch and run a hand through Beca’s hair. So gentle that sometimes Beca thought she was imagining it.

“Bec?”

“Hmm?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“M’kay.”

Beca would roll over, still practically asleep, and lift her arm, allowing Chloe to either scoot back into her - making Beca the big spoon - or for her to rest her head on her chest.

Beca was usually already asleep by the time Chloe had gotten into a comfortable position, but she always seemed to register the soft “thanks,” that Chloe would whisper.

On those nights when it was Beca’s turn to be comforted, Chloe seemed to always know without Beca having to ask.

Logically, Beca knew it was probably down to the fact that Beca tossed and turned more, or played on her phone for longer, that tipped Chloe off, but she liked to think that Chloe just… knew.

“What do you need?” Chloe would ask, her voice quiet and thick with sleep.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Can you do the hair thing?”

“Mhm.”

Chloe would then lie on her side and gently run her hands through Beca’s hair, her nails lightly scratching her scalp.

Her other hand would rest on Beca’s side or stomach - depending on if she was on her back or side - and her thumb would sweep gently back and forth.

In the daylight, neither would mention these moments. They’d usually wake up back on their respective sides, and if they didn’t whoever woke up first would pull away and climb out of bed - usually waking the other in the process.

And while these moments were nothing short of tortuous for Beca, they were still the favourite part of her day.

Because at two or three in the morning, nothing else matters. There are no distractions. No texts or emails to answer. No potential to be interrupted. Nowhere they needed to be.

They could just exist in the quiet together. Their bed was an island in the room. They could ask questions that, in the cold light of day, could be forgotten or ignored. They could share secrets or confess insecurities that neither would at any other time of day.

“Bec, do you believe in soulmates?”

“I don’t know. I think so. Do you?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

-

“If I hadn’t kissed Jesse, do you think things would be different?”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know. Just different. I dated him throughout all of college, maybe I missed experiencing some things?”

“Do you regret dating him so long?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

-

“Chlo’?”

“‘Yeah?”

“What if I don’t make it as a producer? What if I’m not good enough?”

“You’re the most talented person I know. You’ll make it.”

-

Over the years of being best friends with Chloe, she’d always had a crush on her. It had been a harmless thing really, she assumed everyone had a crush on Chloe.

Especially after a drunken confession to Aubrey had caused the blonde to let out a snort of laughter and say “girl, same.”

But this last year or so that they’d spent sharing a bed - sharing more of themselves with each other than they’d ever done before - Beca had fallen hard and fast and completely in love with Chloe.

Which, let’s be honest, wasn’t an ideal situation. Especially considering that, about three weeks ago, Chloe had started dating Chicago.

“He rescued us from the Med, Beca. I think I owe him a date.”

“Technically Amy and I rescued you. He turned up after the hard bit was done.”

Wearing a new dress and her highest heels, Chloe had thrown Beca a wink and said “don’t wait up!” as she left their apartment to meet him for the third time this week.

Once the door closed, Beca flopped back dramatically on the bed and let out a groan.

“You know you could tell her!” Amy called from her bedroom. “Actually, ignore that, that’s a bad idea. If she turned you down it would make our living situation way more awkward.”

“When not if,” Beca said, miserably. “Have you seen the abs on Shit-ago?”

(Yes, her nickname for Chicago was unnecessarily mean and childish, but give her a break.)

“If Chloe hadn’t accepted the date I would have climbed him like a tree,” Amy said.

“You could save me a lot of pain if you’d use those millions of dollars you have to move out so I could at least have my own room,” Beca said.

Amy left her room and was also looking dressed up for a night out.

“I’m doing you a favour captain,” Amy said. “If I move out you’ll have no excuse to share a bed anymore, and I know you can’t sleep without her. Besides, when she eventually moves in with Chicago, you won’t be able to afford the rent on your own.”

“Please don’t use his real name, it humanises him,” Beca said. “And what makes you think she’d move in with him? Has she said anything?”

“Not specifically, no. But things are obviously going well between them. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that Chloe has found ‘the one’,” Amy said. “So, you know, if you’re going to make a confession of love, time’s ticking.” She checked her phone. “I gotta go. If you are going to comfort eat please leave my Ben & Jerry’s out of it.”

“I make no promises,” Beca said.

“Hmm, due to your pathetic state, I’ll let you off. See you tomorrow!”

Beca spent the remainder of her night feeling sorry for herself, and making some truly self-indulgent mixes.

There were so many songs about unrequited love that Beca was never short of material, and when she finished she saved them in a hidden password-protected so no-one else could even accidentally listen to them.

No, these mixes weren’t going to help her career but they did make her feel at least a little bit better.

The crying and eating Amy’s ice-cream had helped too of course.

Beca was in bed by the time Chloe got back that night, and even thought she wasn’t asleep she pretended she was.

Chloe could always tell when Beca had been crying, and she definitely did not want to talk about the reason why.

So she closed her eyes when she heard the keys in the door, and kept them closed as the lights came on which was followed by the sound of high-heeled shoes walking across the apartment.

She felt the bed dip behind her, and heard the click of Chloe’s lamp turn on.

The bed jostled again, and the main light went off.

She heard running water from the bathroom as Chloe washed off her makeup and brushed her teeth, and then the sound of drawers opening as she searched for pyjamas.

She heard Chloe undressing, and tried not to picture it. She hoped Chloe didn’t need help with unzipping her dress, because she didn’t know if she could handle that right now.

Eventually the bed dipped again and the light went out.

She felt Chloe gently tug at the blankets so she could cover herself.

Then there was nothing but a calm silence.

Beca could tell by the way that Chloe was breathing that she wasn’t asleep yet and before she could stop herself, she was rolling over to face her.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hi,” Chloe replied. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Beca just smiled as she looked at Chloe’s face in the moonlight. She was so beautiful.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Beca said. “How was your night?”

They were both whispering, even though they were the only two people in the apartment, and it was only a little after midnight.

“Fine,” Chloe said. “What did you get up to?”

“Made some mixes,” Beca said. “Before you ask, no. They’re not ready yet.”

Chloe grinned. “Not even for me?”

“Especially not for you.”

“Spoil sport,” Chloe said.

They fell into an easy silence while they just continued to look at each other, and Beca felt that tug in her heart again.

She wanted more than anything to just reach out and touch her. To tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. To sweep her thumb across her jaw.

To kiss her.

God, she wanted to kiss her.

She swallowed, and turned so she was lying on her back.

Amy was right. Time was running out if she was going to say something. And Beca knew she had to say something.

She just didn’t think she could look at Chloe while she said it.

“Is everything okay?” Chloe asked, in her gentlest voice that was always Beca’s undoing.

She just had to do it. She had to rip the bandaid off and deal with whatever came after.

If Chloe turned her down… well… their friendship could survive that.

Right?

“Are you gonna move in with Chicago?”

If she’d been looking at Chloe she’d have seen her frown.

“What? No, what made you ask that? We’ve only been dating for a couple of weeks,” Chloe sounded genuinely confused, and it spurred Beca on. “We’ve been on, like, six dates.”

“But is that something you could see yourself doing? With him, I mean.”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t really know him, I hadn’t thought about it. Why?”

Beca swallowed again.

It was now or never.

“Chloe, I… fuck, this is… look, this is hard, okay. I’m not good at this.”

“Bec, you’re kinda freaking me out,” Chloe said. She sat up and switched on the lamp on her nightstand.

Beca felt instantly exposed and vulnerable - way too vulnerable - and she was up and off the bed in seconds.

“Beca-”

“Just… just give me a second,” Beca said, her heart beating uncomfortably.

She could feel tears building in her eyes and, at that exact moment, they heard the sound of keys in the door before Amy walked in.

“Funny story,” she said, shutting the door and walking further into the room. “Turns out it’s next week that I’m staying-”

She stopped abruptly, realising she had stepped into some kind of emotional minefield.

“Uh oh,” she said. “Beca when I said you should tell her I didn’t mean toni-”

“Nope!” Beca said, loudly cutting her off before walking into the bathroom and locking the door behind her.

Okay, so this wasn’t exactly going to plan.

She had locked herself in the bathroom and was maybe on the verge of a panic attack.

Not an ideal situation.

“Beca,” Chloe said, knocking on the door. “Come on, you can’t stay in there forever.”

I can try, Beca thought.

When Beca didn't respond, or give any indication that she would come out of the bathroom anytime soon, Chloe turned to Amy with a huff of frustration.

“What just happened?”

“So… she didn’t tell you anything?”

“No! I think she was about to tell me something and then…” Chloe trailed off with a shrug. “I don’t know. Something freaked her out and then you showed up.”

“Look this is really not something I should - or want to - be involved in,” Amy said. “So I’m just gonna…” She jerked a thumb towards her bedroom. Amy made a hasty retreat and Chloe returned to the bathroom door.

“Beca, please,” Chloe said. “Look, even if you don’t wanna talk to me, can you just unlock the door so I can go pee. I’ve had like a full bottle of wine tonight and you know how small my bladder is.”

She heard the lock slide and Beca opened the door.

Chloe could see tears in her eyes despite the fact that Beca was doing everything in her power to avoid looking at her.

“Thank you,” Chloe said, as Beca moved aside to let her in.

It hadn’t been a lie, Chloe really did need to pee, so after she closed the door behind her, Beca sat down on the bed and let her head drop into her hands.

It’s probably for the best, she thought. It would ruin everything.

The light from the lamp had had the same sobering effect of daylight.

It reminded her of all the reasons she hadn’t told Chloe how she felt, and why she shouldn’t tell her now.

Any fantasies she could conjure up during the night were always chased away by the day.

While Chloe was stroking her hair in the moonlight, it was easy to imagine that they could be together, but those hopes were always replaced with facts the next day. And the same thing was happening now.

Beca felt something hard lodge itself in her chest as she came to a realisation.

She couldn’t keep doing this.

She’d have to start looking for a new place.

When she heard the toilet flush and the sound of running water she quickly wiped her eyes.

She didn’t look at Chloe when she came out, and kept her eyes fixed on her clasped hands in front of her.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“No,” Beca said. “It’s… it’s nothing. It was dumb. Can we just go to sleep?”

“Sure,” Chloe said with a sigh.

Beca didn’t get into bed until the light was off and then she lay with her back to Chloe.

“Night Bec.”

Beca swallowed again, hoping her voice was steady. “Night.”

Beca’s phone then lit up on her bedside table.

Amy: omg tell her or I will!!!

Beca read it, smiled briefly, and then locked her phone.

She didn’t say anything else, but after a few minutes of silence, Chloe rolled over and wrapped her arm around Beca’s middle. Her other hand started stroking through her hair.

“You get a headache when you cry,” she said softly, answering the question Beca hadn’t asked.

Something broke inside Beca, and she knew she couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“I’m in love with you Chloe.”

Chloe’s hand stilled and Beca’s heart seemed to stop beating.

The silence stretched on, and Beca had to fight every urge to run.

And then Chloe’s arm tightened around Beca’s waist, and she pulled her closer.

“What took you so long?”

Beca laughed and turned around to face her. Their faces were inches apart now, and Beca could see the tears building in Chloe’s eyes.

“I was scared,” she said, her voice breaking. “I was so fucking scared. I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You could never lose me,” Chloe replied. “You will never lose me. I promise.”

Her eyes traveled over Beca’s face, flicking between her eyes, looking for doubt or regret. She didn’t see either. She saw love and adoration. She saw vulnerability, hope, and a tiny fraction of fear.

“I’m in love with you too, Bec.”

And then the fear was gone from her eyes and her face broke into a grin.

“Yeah?” Beca asked, letting out a tearful laugh.

“Yeah,” Chloe replied.

“Can I kiss you?”

Chloe nodded, and their lips met a second later.

Tomorrow, in the cold light of day, Chloe would tell Chicago she didn’t think they should see each other anymore. Tomorrow, she would ask Beca on a date and if it went well - which she knew it would - she would ask her to be her girlfriend.

Tomorrow, when the sun was up, she would repeat these things they’d said to each other in the moonlight.

She’d tell Beca she loved her.

She’d tell Beca she’d always loved her.

And Beca would say it back. A thousand times. In a thousand different ways.

[mydogisveryadorbs]

sick | jj maybank x reader

summary: you get sick and all jj wants is to take care of you

warnings: cursing, tooth rotting fluff, mentions of getting sick and throwing up, jj being so fucking soft

masterlist :)

(gif credit to the owner)

1.8k+ words

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰

You hate getting sick.

The first time you were truly sick was in fourth grade when you had gotten a bad case of the flu. The whole ordeal had scarred you so badly that even six years later you will do everything in your power to avoid getting sick.

The pogues quickly discovered your fear when a few years ago, Pope had told you he wasn't feeling good and you completely avoided him until he was absolutely healthy again. It had become a running joke amongst the five of you, but they all made sure to let you know if they were sick so you wouldn't catch anything.

When you woke up Friday morning with an achy feeling in your body and a runny nose, you immediately wanted to burst into tears. 

Your parents had taken your little brother up to Pennsylvania for the annual family visit two days ago. It was the first year they had allowed you to stay behind on your own and you were so excited to spend the next two weeks doing whatever you wanted with your best friends and boyfriend.

Now, staring up at the ceiling of the Chateau, you come to the realization that all of your plans could be thrown out the window. 

You are sick.

Looking to your left, you see your blonde-haired boyfriend drooling onto the pillow next to yours, soft snores coming from his parted lips.

You and JJ have been dating for over a year now. You had been best friends since he started mowing your lawn in middle school. Sometime around your freshman year of high school, you had realized your feelings for the blonde boy were more than platonic. It had taken over a year of flirting and your friends setting the two of you up before you finally admitted your feelings. From there, your relationship with JJ took off. JJ had a lot of emotional trauma and had a difficult time letting people in, but when it came to you, everything was just easy.

Even in your groggy, sick state, you couldn't help but admire the beautiful boy in front of you. As softly as you can, you use your pointer finger to delicately trace his features. It baffles you still how you were able to get a boy like JJ to love you.

You smile softly as his features relax under your touch. Suddenly, your nose starts to tingle and you quickly turn away before letting out a loud sneeze. One sneeze turns into three and you reach to grab a tissue off the nightstand and rub your running nose.

You feel a familiar hand rub your back as you attempt to blow your nose.

“What's wrong, beautiful,” JJ says quietly from behind you, his voice laced with worry and sleepiness. “Are you sick.”

Hastily, you shake your head. “No, I feel fine, J,” you attempt to convince him, but even you can hear the congestion in your voice.

JJ moves so that he is sitting in front of you. He presses the back of his hand against your forehead. “Holy shit, you're burning up,” he says, clearly concerned about you.

The only thing worse than actually being sick was having people fuss over you while you are.

“I'm seriously fine, JJ,” you tell him, “It's probably just allergies.”

You can tell that he is about to argue back with you, but before he can get in a word, a sharp knock at the door cuts him off. The door opens and John B’s head pokes through.

“Hey lovebirds,” he says cheekily, “You guys almost ready to go down to the docks?”

JJ shakes his head looking at you softly. “Sorry man, I think we're going to stay in today,” he tells the brunette. “(Y/N)’s not feeling good.”

You roll your eyes. “I feel perfectly fine,” you argue despite the growing ache you feel in your temples. “It's just a little stuffy nose.” Your boyfriend tries to argue, but you cut him off with the raise of your hand. “JJ please,” you say, giving him your best puppy dog eyes, “I really want to go on the boat.”

JJ sighs, unable to say no to you when you give him that look. “Fine, whatever,” he grumbles rolling out of the bed to get your stuff ready. 

Ten minutes later the five of you and Sarah are loading onto The Pogue. The bright sun above you increases the pounding in your head and as soon as you step onto the boat, your stomach starts to churn.

As Pope maneuvers The Pogue away from the Chateau and out to the marsh, JJ makes his way to sit next to you, wrapping one of his toned arms around your shoulders. He hands you a beer from one of his hands, but you place it in your lap.

The pogues chat around you and the nauseous feeling in your stomach grows.

“(Y/N),” Kie calls from the other side of the boat where here and Sarah are seated. “Come over here. I feel like I haven't seen you in forever.”

You giggle through your pain. “I saw you two days ago,” you tell her.

Kie smiles. “Two days too long, girlie.”

JJ moves his arm and watches as you stand up. You wobble slightly and he notices as your face pales. 

“You aren't looking too hot, (Y/N),” John B cautions and JJ quickly stands up to help you balance.

“Maybe you should sit down, lovie,” he pleads softly into your ear. He guides you to sit back into your seat, crouching down in front of you. JJ cups your cheek with his big hand, grimacing when he feels how warm you are. 

“I'll be fine, JJ,” you tell him with a sniffle, eyes closed as your brain pounds in your skull. 

“No – no. We are going back right now,” JJ all but scolds you before turning to look at the dark-haired boy in front of the wheel. “Pope, turn around now.”

JJ sits back next to you and pulls your body into his chest as you feel the boat come to life. He strokes your hair in an attempt to soothe you. You vaguely hear him grumble about how you should have listened to him earlier.

When the boat pulls into the dock a few minutes later, your blonde boyfriend guides you off and towards the Chateau.

Before you can make it to the porch, you get a churning feeling in your stomach and you run to the nearest bush. Everything you have eaten in the past twenty-four hours is emptied into the shrubbery outside John B’s. 

You feel JJ’s gentle hand running small circles on your back as he holds your hair away from your face. You get sick two more times before you sit back onto your heels. 

“You alright, baby,” JJ asks so soothingly, his fingers reaching to push back the hair that had fallen onto your forehead.

“I'm fine,” you say with a sniffle, trying to hold back the tears. “I think I'm done now.”

JJ sighs. “You just threw up three times, lovie. It's okay to not be fine,” he tells you. “Will you just let me take care of you. Why are you so stubborn?”

“I just didn't want to be a burden,” you explain to him, not looking up to meet his eyes.

He cups your cheek, lifting your head so that your eyes meet his. “You could never be a burden, (Y/N), not when all I've ever wanted is to care for you.”

His honest words mixed with the gross feeling you have after spilling your guts cause tears to cascade down your cheeks. You choke out a sob and JJ quickly gathers you into his arms. “I've got you, baby,” he coos. “You're gonna be alright, m’kay?”

A few minutes later, your sobs die down and JJ moves so his right arm is hooked under your legs. He carries you inside and places you down gently on the bed in the guest room.

You let him tuck you into the covers and your eyes flutter shut when he presses a soft kiss to your head. “JJ,” you sigh, opening your eyes and looking in his cerulean ones. “You should probably go.” A look of hurt flashed across his face so you quickly grab his hand. “I just don't want to get you sick, J.”

JJ pretends to roll his eyes in annoyance, but the corner of his lips can't help but pull up into a smile. “I don't care if you get me sick, lovely,” he tells you softly. “All I care about right now is getting you better.” 

You nod, not having the energy to fight back. “Well if you are going to stay anyways, can you give me cuddles?” you ask, your eyes half-lidded as you stare up at JJ. “I'm cold.”

He smiles, pulling back the covers next to you and slipping in next to you. You are pulled to his chest and you try to get comfortable, but worn material of JJ’s muscle tank scratches your cheek.

Pulling away slightly, you tug at the hem. “What's wrong, beautiful?” JJ asks in concern.

You groan. “Your shirt is scratchy,” you complain to him.

JJ laughs softly, but obliges nonetheless, quickly pulling his shirt over his head. You immediately snuggle back into his toned chest, eyes drooping in exhaustion.

The blonde pulls away enough for his eyes to scan your face. “You know, even though your hair is plastered to your forehead and you're a snotty mess, you've never looked lovelier.”

Your eyes open wide at his words, not able to comprehend how you managed to get a guy like him.

“I love you,” he says, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb moving back and forth lovingly. “Even at your worst, I can't help but still love you.”

Tears well in your eyes and you bring your lips up to meet his in a passionate kiss. JJ returns the kiss with an equal amount of love. It was nowhere near the first time the two of you had shared those three words, but it still shook you to your core each time.

Feeling the need to sneeze, you pull away a few seconds later. 

You sneeze twice, going in for a third but it never comes. You hear JJ chuckle from behind you and you groan at the feeling.

You fall back into JJ’s arms, leaning your back against his chest, and the blonde boy wraps his arm around your middle and holds you securely. He presses a soft kiss to your head and you let your eyes flutter shut.

“Please get better soon,” JJ whispers a few minutes later, thinking that you are fast asleep. “I can't stand to see you this way.” 

Your heart grows two sizes in your chest and with JJ’s arms holding you tight, you drift off to a dreamless sleep.

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰

masterlist :)

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Hi besties!! here is the long awaited part 9!! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did whilst writing it!! a big thank you goes to @emwritesfootball for proofing this part & making sure its up to scratch for all of you lovely readers! Let me know what you think babes hehehe!! Love Always, Steph xx

Part 9. | nona parte

word count; 2006. writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. next update; Friday 13/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)! tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven link to fic masterlist here

The season kicked off in the middle of August and Amelia had been more than prepared for her first match in the premier league. She spent day after day analysing the players in the first team, introducing them to the magical world of rehearsed tactics. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows for the brilliant girl; she had to learn how to implement the plays coupled with the speed of the game. But so far, so good. Chelsea have been winning and her plays have been working, the boys were getting the hang of it - no matter how apprehensive they were at the start.

Jorgi played a big part in demonstrating the success of the play, performing best in his midfield role to guide the game and direct the change in play to his teammates. By the time they had played a few fixtures, they had really gotten the hang of her approach to set pieces and began to put their trust in the young girl. They were starting to see results and wanted to keep the winning streak going while they could. The fourth fixture in the new season was one that Amelia was looking forward to, personally: Chelsea v Aston Villa, Stamford Bridge, 3pm kick off.

Jack and Amelia had grown closer and closer, FaceTime‘dates’ as Jack would call them, a weekly occurrence. She had spoken to him just as much as she had spoken to Jorgi - and they were still carpooling to and from Cobham together. Her friendship with Jack was full of easy conversation and flirtatious banter, teetering over the line of friendship but being that they were kept physically apart, the friendship line remained largely intact. One person that had drifted even further away from her, despite her believing that it couldn't be possible, was Ben Chilwell.

Every time she walked into a room that he was in, if he didn't have to be there he would immediately leave. Amelia didn’t understand what the problem was. Yeah sure, they were flirty together in Mykonos but they never crossed a line together, no matter how many times the wine went straight to their heads. If anything, she should be the one running away from him. She was the one who sent him a couple of messages here and there that he just opened. She spoke to Mason, Jorgi, Billy Gilmour - who was another one of the boys she had developed a strong friendship with - and all of them insisted they didn’t understand their friend's strange behaviour.

On the evening before the Villa match, Amelia was laying on the couch in her townhouse binge watching yet another docu-series on Netflix when her doorbell rang. This was strange, most people that came past the house these days had their own set of keys (her parents, her brother, Jorgi) or they texted to let her know they were outside. Her townhouse was three stories high, so if she was upstairs on the top level vacuuming the chances of her hearing the door were slim to none. Either way, she got up off of her loveseat  and walked to the front door, peeking through the peephole - she lived in London, alone, she wasn’t opening that door until she knew exactly who was on the other side.

______________________________________________________________

“To what do I owe this visit, Benjamin?”

“Hi, Mils.”

“Wow, nickname basis already - I thought only friends called each other by their nicknames.”

“Did you think we weren’t friends?”

“Well, friends don’t treat friends the way you’ve treated me since the evening I left Mykonos.”

With a sigh, Ben looked down at his feet. I did feel a small bit of guilt for that one, but he deserved it. Continuing to find the cracks in the marble step of my door’s threshold more interesting than facing my expression, I took a step back and forced Ben to look up at me.

“Well, are you going to come inside? I’ve got the kettle on and a really good series going that I would like to get back to.”

With a charming smile, Ben took a step forward, took the door handle out of my hand and shut it behind him. Slipping out of his shoes, he followed me down the short hallway to my kitchen and pulled a seat out at the island bench.

“So, really now - why are you here? Nervous about tomorrow?” I questioned as I took two cups out of the cupboard and brewed one tea for him, one coffee for me. 3 years in Italy and coffee in the evening became the norm for me. It was my comfort drink.

“I’m here to apologise for the way I've been acting towards you for the past six weeks. I’ll be honest, I don’t know why I’ve been like this”

“Cut the crap Ben, you know exactly why you’ve been doing it. Now tell me the truth or, as far as I'm concerned, you never came here tonight and tomorrow we will be back to how we were yesterday - you running away from me and me pretending that it doesn't bother me. Even though all it does is bother me.” Not expecting that outburst to come out of me, and to be fair neither did I, Ben looked me in the eye and stayed silent, choosing his next words carefully.

“The first time I saw you, the night you told your brother off in the rec room at St. George’s Park, I thought you were the most determined woman I had ever seen in my life. Not scared of the 30 grown men who were very obviously all on the same side, literally. Then the next time I saw you, after the final match, how you comforted your brother when you were at the highest of highs and he was lower than low, I thought you had more compassion than every person in that stadium put together.”

“When you came to SGP again the next day and delivered the tactical analysis of the game you won, I thought ‘wow she is so intellectually brilliant’. And then when you turned up in Mykonos, all sunkissed and relaxed, sitting next to me and involving me in conversation with my pals but making me feel like you wanted my contribution...I remember it like it was yesterday. Amelia, you smiled at me and my heart did a somersault in my chest.”

“You shut me down outside the club that evening, and when we came back inside I caught the end of your conversation with Jorgi about Fede. Putting two and two together, I understood all that I needed to. The few days after that we carried on like normal. Then, you left and I didn't know if I would ever see you again to be fair. When you messaged me, I got too nervous to reply because I didn't know how to just be your friend. And then when I thought I had finally gotten through a day without thinking about my friend's little sister, you showed up at Cobham as my tactical analyst. I didn’t know what to do Mils, I don't know how to be just your friend when I've had nothing but unfriendly thoughts about you since the first time I saw you command that room of men you had never met in your life.”

The whistle of the kettle ringing out behind me is the only noise filling the kitchen. I’m staring at Ben; he’s staring back at me with nothing but truth behind his eyes and his heart on his sleeve.

“Benj, what you were feeling, what you are feeling is totally valid and I never want you to feel like you can’t share those feelings with me. You’re right, Mykonos changed things for me. What you were feeling was reciprocated, but Ben, I was going back to Italy. At that exact moment, I had no idea I would end up here. I thought I was enjoying a break before another high-intensity season in Italy. I wanted to kiss you so badly at the club that night, but I knew it would only hurt you. I’m used to being hurt, it's a feeling I've grown to expect. But you, you’re too pure to experience the kind of hurt that comes along with knowing you’re making a bad decision, but doing it anyway, because I wanted to be selfish with your heart.”

“Amelia, can I ask you something?” I nodded, holding my breath as I braced myself for the question poised behind his eyes. “If you were in the mood to be selfish, what would have come from that evening?”

“I can probably show you better than I can tell you,”

Walking around the island bench, I pulled the back of Ben’s chair slightly so he pivoted towards me. Standing in between his tracksuit-covered legs, I ran both hands up his arms until I got to his neck and finally beside his face. Threading my fingers through his hair, I pulled his face towards mine and our lips met. It was as soft as a butterfly kiss but as powerful as anything I had ever felt before. His hands wound around my waist and settled themselves on the small of my back before travelling down and giving my backside a gentle caress, forcing a laugh out of my lips and straight into his mouth. Pulling away slightly, so we both had a bit of breathing space to sort out our lightheadedness, Ben spoke his next words very softly.

“I need you to promise me something, Amelia.You need to promise me that you will stop thinking about my heart before your own. I am old enough to make my own decisions, and the decision to ignore you for these past few weeks has been one of the worst ones I've made in a really long time. But I did make it, and it was because I got scared, and I hurt you, and I am so sorry. The decision to come here tonight however, I feel like it more than makes up for that one very very stupid one”

“You’re such a smooth talker, Benj.”

“Say my name again, Mils, you don’t know what it does to me.”

“Down boy, your tea is going cold and I need to find out who killed Sophie in West Cork.Meet me in the lounge.”

A few hours had passed and it was nearing 10pm, well past Amelia’s bed time, but Ben was still sitting on her couch, feet on the table (despite her telling him to remove them) and arm around the back of her shoulders.

“Chilly, I don’t want you to think I'm not interested in you because I so am, I just don’t want to rush into anything. What I left behind in Italy was complicated and heavy; I'm still trying to learn how to exist without him if I'm honest. I want you to just give me the space I need to grow into my own here in the city, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course it's okay, Mils. From what Jorgi has told me about Fede, I can understand why you want to take it slow now. But please, don’t call me Chilly. My friends call me Chilly, and Mills. I thought I made it clear before that I don’t want to be your friend.”

“To me, you’re Benj. Thank you. Wait - what do you mean what Jorgi has told you about Fede?”

“I may have asked a couple times about you, and for the record, he is team Bamelia.”

“Bamelia? That is the ugliest word I have ever heard. Never use it again.”

“How can it be ugly? It's mostly your name, and nothing associated with you could ever be considered anything less than beautiful.”

“Stop being so smooth Benj, you’re going to make me blush in a minute.”

“Good, can’t wait to see how you could possibly look even cuter than you do right now.”

“That’s enough Benjamin.”

“Okay I’m done now.”

Part 10. | parte dieci

[please-buckme]

The View From The Fire Escape. (2/3)

Bucky Barnes x gn!reader

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: fluff, sexual situation 18+, and ANGST BABY, and sorry.

Part 1 // Part 3

The sun beamed through your bedroom window shortly after you fell asleep, peeking it’s rays passed your makeshift curtains. You tossed and turned all morning as thoughts of Bucky ran through your head.

You’d seen him from afar almost every night since he moved in. At first he was shy, only ducking his head out for air every now and then. Eventually, though, you asked him to stick around, have a beer with you. He declined the offer the first couple of times, but one night he was out there before you as if he were waiting for you.

Since then, you were his late night remedy after another terrible nightmare. Some nights you would be too tired to set out and talk. Those nights were the worst for Bucky.

You helped him think of other things, helped him take his mind off of his past if only for a short time. So when you weren’t out there he had nothing but time to sit alone and think. Think of all the things he’s done, all the horrors of his past. His victims' faces flashing to life as he relives every moment. When you didn’t save him from himself, he could never go back to sleep. He was always too scared and frightened at what his mind would make him relive if he closed his eyes, again.

But sometimes, after you talk for a while, he would dream of you. Even though he’d only seen you from across the way as well, in his dreams he was touching your soft skin. He could still hear you giggling but this time in his ear as he kissed down your neck. Those dreams he cherished. You were the only positive thing his unconscious mind would grant him and he was okay with that.

//

Your alarm went off at 10am, giving you just enough time to shower, do your hair and get dressed. The weather outside was beautiful; clear skies and sunny. You dressed for summer for the first time in over a year. It didn’t take long for 11am to hit as you found yourself rushing around your apartment, scrambling to find your keys and wallet. Instead of putting your shoes on, you grabbed them and rushed out the door;

Locking the door from the inside.

You were late. Only by five minutes, but Bucky began to panic. You were the first person he was seeing that wasn’t part of him trying to ‘make amends’. He liked you and that was a lot for him to process already. You were the first person who was genuinely nice to him since the blip. He didn’t want to screw this up.

When you were six minutes late, the heavy breathing kicked in. As if he wasn’t nervous enough, now he’s sure you weren’t coming. He scratches his head in defeat and begins to walk away.

Before he could get too far, though, you come barreling out the door,

“Bucky? Bucky, oh my god. I’m so sorry.” You say out of breath. “One minute I was getting ready and the next my favorite song came on so I got a little lost and then- BAM” you shout, making Bucky jump in surprise. He could tell you were nervous too, just from the rambling. You rambled a lot when you were nervous. He found it cute.

“It was 10:55. I’m so sorry. I hope you weren’t down here long.”

“No just-“ He looks at the watch on his right wrist, “about ten minutes. I was early.” He states, clearing his throat.

Once you caught your breath reality set in. Here he was. He was even more beautiful up close. But it was really just his face you could admire, the rest of him was covered from his neck to his toes in dark clothing.

“You know it’s, like, eighty degrees out, right?” You giggle, looking his attire over.

He sighed, “Ah.. yeah, I’ll be fine. This actually keeps me cool.” He lied.

“Really? Your black leather jacket with matching gloves keeps you cool?”

He shakes his head, smirking down at you, “Ya know, you’re way more annoying in this proximity. I think I’m just gonna-“ He laughs, pointing to his apartment.

“Shut up.” You say shoving his left shoulder. Your palm landed on his covered metal arm and Bucky grabbed your wrist gently before lowering it back to your side.

“So what’s the plan today?” He asks, trying to cut through the awkwardness he’d brought between the two of you.

“Well, first I’ll put my shoes on, and then I thought we’d go to the square. There’s some sort of event going on. I thought it’d be more fun to walk around rather than sit and talk.” You shrug.

You were awkward but confident in your own way. It’s like you embraced the awkwardness and Bucky loved that about you. To his surprise, but not really that surprising, you were more awkward in person. But also so beautiful. More beautiful than he’d dreamed. The skin that peaked through your clothing appeared soft. He wanted to reach out and touch you, but at the same time didn’t want to rush anything. Bucky was old fashioned in many ways and dating was one.

You beamed this sort of natural glow under your shy demeanor. Bucky smiled, “We can do whatever you want, after I help you with your shoes.”

“Oh.. you don’t have ta- waaa” Bucky helped you balance as he held your foot over his knee, placing the shoe on each foot, then double knotting your laces. “He can tie shoes too. God, is there anything you can’t do?” You giggle.

Bucky groans like an old man as stood back on his feet, “whistle.” He grins.

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah, I am.” He laughs, nudging your shoulder. “Come on.”

You smile up at him when he holds his right arm out to you. Your arm links with his as he walks you around the busy Brooklyn sidewalk.

//

The square was packed. Kids running around you and Bucky with every other step, it feels like. You watch as he held back a smile when a sweet little girl ran up and gave him a flower.

“Oh, is this for me?” He asked, kneeling down to her eye level. She nods, “Thank you, Doll. I’ll keep it til the petals fall off, how’s that sound?” He smiled as she giggled and ran away.

“And he’s good with kids.” You note aloud again.

“Kids are much easier to talk to than adults.” He smirked.

Bucky held onto the flower the entire time. It made your heart melt a little more each time you caught him twirling it between his fingers. He was simple. Even the smallest act of kindness went a long way with him.

You moved from booth to booth, shop to shop, trying on hats that made Bucky grin and ate the greased food Bucky's ever consumed. He watched as you talked to the small business owners littering the square just hoping for people to buy from their booth. He notices the crinkles by your eye when you laugh. He’d never seen such beauty in one smile. You were kind, understanding and patient with him and that’s exactly what he needed.

You never asked about his arm and he was so grateful for that. When he came out shirtless the first time he didn’t know you were there. His breath hitched in his throat when he saw you waving over to him. He expected all the usual questions, but you never asked one.

Even today you grabbed it to drag him to another booth and you didn’t even flinch. This put Bucky at ease. You're the first person to hold his hand in years. It’s silly but it means more to him than you’ll ever know.

“What do you think of these?” You ask, trying on a pair of sunglasses.

“I like the other ones.” He points to the other pair in your hand.

“Hmm, okay. Just these then.” You pay for the sunglasses and walk back the way you came as the event was ending.

“Did you have fun?” Bucky asked, hesitantly moving his hand closer to yours.

“I had a great time, Buck. You’re good company.” His heart lurched at the complement. He stretched his pinky out towards the back of your palm, running it open and down your soft skin before you got the hint and took his hand into yours. You both wore smiles the whole way back.

The walk home was pretty quiet. You’d gotten a little more comfortable and rested your head against his leather covered metal arm, sighing as your feet began to ache.

“Thanks for hanging out with me.” You say once you arrived at your building.

“Thanks for inviting me.” He gave you a shy smile.

It was still midday and you were positive you’d be too tired to sit out tonight. In all honesty you weren’t quite ready to say goodbye just yet. You cleared your throat, trying to think of a way to get him upstairs without sounding too desperate.

“I’d love to put that pretty flower in a vase for you,” it wasn’t a great excuse but you gotta work with what you got.

“Are you trying to steal my flower?” He scoffed jokingly.

“Of course not I-“

“The audacity..”

“Shut up,” you giggle. “I’m just trying to get you upstairs, okay?” The air around you thickens. Did you really just say that? I thought we were going for not too desperate.

“I don’t think that’s-“

“It's okay, Bucky. I just wasn’t ready to say goodbye, is all.” The frown you wore made his heart sink. Has he upset you now?

“You know, I’m not really ready to say goodbye either.” He grins down at you. A soft sigh of relief comes from you and you smile, taking his hand into yours again and dragging him upstairs.

Once you opened the door, you kicked yourself for not cleaning up. It wasn’t too bad just empty beer bottles on your coffee table and an open pizza box.

“Sorry it’s so messy.” You apologize, picking things up on your way to the kitchen. “Would you like a plum?”

“No thanks. I have a bad history with plums.” Bucky says. You hum in understanding even though you were totally confused. But that is also going into the ill-talk-about-it-when-I-want-to-talk-about-it file.

Are the nightmares plum related? Anyways.

Bucky followed you to the kitchen and watched as you ate the plum. The juices of the plum stained your lips and even ran down your chin. Bucky was drooling over you. So beautiful and sexy and you’re just eating a plum. He hadn’t realized his mouth was hanging open as he watched you, but you did.

You smiled shyly, “Would you like a bite?” You asked, pulling Bucky from his trance.

He smirked, “Out of you or the plum?”

Your cheeks flushed as you swollen the remnants of the plum and the lump that now sat in your throat. “That’s entirely up to you, Buck.”

He smiled. He was a little nervous to go too far with you but he couldn’t stand it any longer. It’d been so long since someone noticed him the way you do and watching those juices drip down your chin did him in. He needed you just as bad as you wanted him.

He walked up to you slowly, taking the plum from you and biting into it. The juices now glossed his lips as well as he whispered, “how about both?”

A whimper fell from your lips, making Bucky lose all sense of control. Letting the plum slip from his fingertips, he cupped your face with his hands before smashing his lips to yours. He absentmindedly raised you to your tiptoes, so entranced with your taste. He could taste the plum on your breath and somehow that tasted even sweeter than taking a bite straight from the plum itself.

Bucky was drunk for the first time in decades and he didn’t need alcohol to do it; he just needed you. You were the elixir he’d been searching for all this time. He needed you as much as he needed oxygen to breathe.

You moaned into his mouth as he lifted you into his arms and carried you to your room as if he’d done it a million times before.

Your head hit the mattress as he laid you down. He groaned into your mouth, rubbing himself against you. “Bucky..” you whimpered once his lips trailed to your neck.

This was something you never thought would happen but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. You wanted all of him; his touch, his affection, his past, his secrets he’d never even tell his closest friend, his bad days, his good days, everything. You were overwhelmed with him, his cologne taking over your sense and his tender touches sending you into a frenzy.

Once he got to your chest, you sat up and flipped him over, pinning his hands above his head as you did so. You began to trail kisses down his neck now and undid his jacket.

Bucky winced when you pinned him down. He felt a panic attack approaching and he did everything he could to stop it. He tried to steady his breathing but with the way you were kissing him, that was never going to happen. He started counting to ten slowly in his head, but nothing he did could stop this attack from coming on. Flashbacks of being chained to gurneys and beds hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Oh god-“ he cried, making you stop and look up at him.

“Bucky-? Are you okay?”

He couldn’t hear you through the pounding in his ears and the noises of them working on his arm that were etched into his memories.

“Stop-“ he cried out, more to himself than you.

“Bucky what’s wrong? Did I do something?” You asked worried but also a little frightened.

“Get off of me..” He whimpered.

“Bucky?”

“I said get off of me.” Bucky through you to the floor as he sat up. Tears streamed down his face now. The panic attack was in full swing and he didn’t know what to do. All he knew was that he had to get out of here.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I really am.” He apologized just before running down the hall and out of your apartment.

Bucky left you confused, hurt and now frightened. Your body ached from being thrown to the floor.

All you knew was, the man you came into the apartment with wasn’t the same one who left.

Masterlist

Taglist: @haydens-moles @valkyrieofthehighfae @aurora-sweet @hoeforcuteguyswithcharmingsmiles @sebbystanlover-vk @youre-a-wallflower-charlie @nebulastarr @meegggoooo @skylerrae-solo @wintersoldiersthings @blondekel77 @gogolucky13 @buckysm3talarm @heavenlyseb @writersbuck @badassbuchanan @buckyownsmylife @buckysdolls @notwithoutbarnes @cherryblossomskye @ladyfallonavenger @drinkfantasy @tonystankschild @tfandtws

[thesmokingguns]

Phone Tag

Word count: 3512

Requested: “My idea was that the reader thought Kelly was cheating on her on tour, and when he comes home, he finds her really upset and comforts her and assures her that he only loves her”

Requested by @littlemisscare-all

A/N: I just want to thank @littlemisscare-all for the request and letting me message her about questions I had. Kelly Nickels is a new character I’m writing and she was patient with my questions and so helpful. This is a little longer than my usual one shots so I hope you like it. I have three requests I need to write on top of my regular stuff I want to put out so feel free to make a request but I’m going to say the time might be up to a week now. I also have a tag list you can be added to by just messaging me or filling out the form. Please let me know what you think ❤️

Tag List: @thenobodies-inc , @littlemisscare-all , @agroupiewhore, @ayablackwood

Ring, Ring, Ring

The constant sound of the phone trying to connect with room 828 was filling my head. The high pitched sound bouncing around your mind as you wished he’d  pick up. After another minute of the phone going unanswered you hung up, wiping my sweat filled palms on the denim dress hastily.

You could see your fingers trembling, the anxiety of the situation coming out in physical ailment as your trembling hands started to get numb. You shook out your hands, flexing them, cracking them, pushing them together, anything to just calm yourself down enough to feel them again. Your heart was beating so fast that it felt like it had turned on its engine and got lodged in your throat when it pressed the gas. You couldn’t swallow down the pounding so you tried instead to take a gulp of air. Breathing in through your nose and out of your mouth. In through your nose and out through your mouth. Even though you felt like you were not getting enough air when you breathed through your nose you continued anyway trying to calm your body that seemed to be fighting you.  You were trying anything to try and stop the full fledged anxiety attack from coming on.

You stepped back into the store, trying not to make eye contact with your friend and coworker as you started to fold the sweaters  on the front side table. Your hands needed to stay busy as you tried to avert your eyes from anyone, tears pooling in them. You couldn’t think about the situation or you’d start crying. But fuck, it had been almost a week since You had heard from your boyfriend. Your hand went to my pocket, pulling out the ripped out notebook paper Kelly had given you with the name, date, room number and phone number for each hotel. He was supposed to be in Phoenix in room 828 at the Hilton Hotel. Which you had already called seven times throughout the day without any response.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Your coworker touched your shoulder and you let out a sob, hands flying to your face. The feeling of someone touching you after the last month of being alone was too much. You broke feeling the loneliness blanketing over you, covering you. Your coworker was leading you to the breakroom, thankful no one was in the shop to see you have a complete mental breakdown.

He had promised you that you would talk every day; he had seen the nervous look in your eyes when the guys talked about the tour. All the girls that would be throwing themselves at the band. They were all about the three fundamentals: sex, drugs and rock n roll. How were you going to compete with something you weren't there to see?

“Jesus Fucking Christ, where the fuck is that paper?” Kelly was tearing apart the tour bus looking for a yellow piece of legal paper that you had written down all the numbers to call you on. He had lost it a week ago after he had drunkenly started a shot game with Phil that night and that had proved to be a horrible mistake.

When he had woken up, on the kitchen floor of the tour bus, a hangover so bad he wanted to fling himself into the highway all he could think about was calling the person that he loved and telling her about his night. The sound of her voice coaxing the hangover out of him and filling him up with the love she had for him. He had pushed himself off the floor, grabbing his cigarettes from his jacket and digging in the inside pocket for the list of numbers, but the paper was gone.

It had been six days since he had lost the numbers and as much as he tried to remember a phone number he couldn’t even think of one. He had expected a phone call to explain everything but the problem was that phone call had never come. This was just another layer of frustration that Kelly couldn't figure out. For the first few weeks of the tour he had gotten the calls at the hotel but a night before he lost the number the call hadn’t come in.

So now, being the very logical, even headed, and not complete maniac that he was, Kelly was tearing apart every single part of the tour bus. Ripping open trash bags, pulling apart beds, and crawling under the table that had a weird sticky substance underneath. As he pushed half drank beer cans aside he saw the flap of yellow sticking out. His heart leapt to his throat as he snatched up the paper, flipping it over and groaning audibly. The paper had gotten saturated. One number was partially visible with only a couple numbers melting together.

Walking off the tour bus he headed over to the payphone, setting a handful of change on the metal bottom as he started to dial different combinations of the number hoping that he could finally reach his girlfriend. Hoping that her lack of calls to him didn’t mean they had broken up or what if she had met someone else? She did have that fucking girlfriend who didn’t like him. What if she had gone out to The Roxy and met someone else?

He gripped the paper so hard in his hand as the phone rang and he thought of you with someone else. He needed to talk to you,

You were walking home, unable to work as your mind went a million miles a minute. Your heart thumping so loudly that your own thoughts were muted and just scenarios were popping in your head. Images of Kelly with his arm around another girl, disheveled hotel rooms with discarded clothes, his lips worshiping someone else's body. You stopped on the sidewalk closing your eyes, fists tightening as you told yourself not to scratch your arms. It was all in your head. This was all in your head and not real.

Another shaky step towards your apartment. Your eyes were on the payphone at the end of the block and you figured you could try one more time to call the hotel. Maybe when you heard his voice it would put out the fire of your mind. He could calm your anxiety, easing you from the panic attacks it caused and draw you in with the safety of his voice. He must have known how crazy you were going and when he finally talked to you he would have a logical explanation for why he had disappeared.

As you convinced yourself that he was going to answer this time, you could feel the burning bile in your gut start to be put out as the rational part of your mind tried to make a little room for you to have hope. The way your hands trembled as you took out a dime, sliding it into the slot and dialing the number, let you know that the temporary band aid your rational side had put on your anxiety wasn’t going to stick for very long. If Kelly didn’t answer it was going to be ripped off and you’d be left with the exposed wound that you would need to deal with..

Ring...Ring...Ri-

“Hello?” your heart caught in your throat, and you could feel your eyes widening as you heard a voice answer the phone on the other end, “Hello, is anyone there?” The very female voice that was answering the phone was not your boyfriend.

“Kelly?” his name left your lips, almost a whimper. All of the worst situations that you imagined could be happening in your head seemed to come to life now. It wasn’t just in your head, a woman was answering his hotel phone.

“Ohhhh, they’re in the shower. If you call back in an hour-” you hung up the phone. It took you four tries before you could get the receiver on the cradle because the shaking in your hand was running through your entire body now. You tried to crack your fingers, a weak attempt to get some control of the motions of your body.

In the shower. If he was taking a shower at 4pm what was he washing off of himself? Who was the girl who had answered the phone? Had he not answered because he had been so busy with her all day? You dry heaved in front of the payphone, sucking in air when nothing came out. You wanted to go home and hide, burying yourself under blankets until the weight of the sadness lifted. Not that you were sure it was ever going to lift because you had just caught him cheating on you.

It was a miracle that you made it to the apartment. You dropped your keys twice, your hands not working how they were supposed to. Your grip on them slipping and letting them fall through your fingers. Had you let Kelly fall through your fingers?

You hissed out a curse, shouldering into your apartment and locking the door behind you. You were off of work tomorrow so you could stay holed up inside the apartment for at least twenty four hours before anyone would think to call. That gave you time to wallow in your emotions and feel everything you needed to feel.

Looking around at the space it dawned on you that you would need to leave. Separate your things and get out of the city before he comes back to it. Which didn’t give you enough time at all because he would be back in two days for the LA show at the Whisky a Go Go, Where were you going to live? Maybe you could find a roommate or you could always stay with your best friend. She would let you in. There was so much to do and so much to figure out but you needed to lay down and figure it out from the comfort of the bed.

On the way to the bed you tripped over the phone you had kept beside it for the past few days hoping for Kelly to finally call you. You looked at the phone hanging off the hook, knowing if anyone called you they would just get the busy signal but you didn’t hang it back up. Kelly was too busy in some hotel room with a strange girl and he hadn’t bothered to call you in a week anyway. You needed to just get in bed and mourn your relationship. You’d move out tomorrow and start a new life without him.

Kelly hung up the phone, looking at his apartment phone number that the girl at the shop had just given to him. He had missed you by twenty minutes and from what he had just heard you were in bad shape.He sucked in his bottom lip as he dialed the home number. He would explain everything to you as soon as he had you on the phone. He could already picture you asking him if he had at least won the drinking game.

“What the fuck?” He looked at the phone when he got the busy signal. It had to be the right number. He had repeated the number twice to make sure that he got the correct number and now he was getting a busy signal. He dialed again, getting the same alert sound. Then again. And again. He stopped after constantly calling for ten minutes to take a breath. He was going to need to have a beer and try again.

He tried calling twenty minutes later, an hour, three hours, and before he went on stage for the show. His mind was thinking of how you could be on the phone for that long. He frowned as he grabbed his bass going over to the band's manager. He needed to get home sooner than the tour bus would take him.

You got out of the shower, wrapping your sweater around you over your nightgown. Your eyes skimmed the apartment where you had spent the last four hours cleaning like a maniac and separating everything. Your records were in a milkcrate by the door, along with a trash bag of all your clothes. Things like pots and pans didn’t seem worth fighting over. You would leave those for him. Even though you weren’t even sure if Kelly knew how to fry an egg.

Twirling a piece of hair around your finger you tried to calm the uneasy feeling filling you. He had been the one who hadn't answered your calls or called you. He was the one who had a girl answer the phone in his room. He wanted you to leave but he didn’t want to see the hurt he caused by telling you it was over. Your friends had all warned you about dating a rockstar so it wasn’t like you could expect much sympathy from them. But you had been with Kelly for over a year and hadn’t seen it coming. It felt like you were blindsided. To love someone so much had really just opened you up to the pain you were feeling now.

Moving to the bedroom you looked around the room, the pit of your stomach turning in sadness as you thought about this being the final time you sleep in this bed. The tears boiling up and tumbling down your face as you sat on his side, touching the pillow that he slept on. You could smell his aftershave and scent on his pillow just making you cry even harder. The feeling in the pit of your stomach growing as you missed someone who was gone.

Over your tears you didn’t hear the sound of the front door opening. You were wrapped around a pillow mind racing in a thick fog of all the reasons you weren’t good enough. Why couldn't he love you? Could anyone love you?

“Y/N, baby, what’s wrong?” Arms were wrapped around you. You were being pulled onto a lap, hair pushed away from your tear stained face.

“K-Kelly?” It comes out weekly, almost afraid you’re hallucinating arms wrapped around you, fingers touching your tears, pushing the puddles that gathered on your skin with an expert flick of a thumb.

“Yeah, baby, I’m here. What happened? Why are you so upset? Who do I need to fight?” He was trying to defuse the situation with humor to drag you out of your hysterics. But he was the one that had gotten you to this place.

Sitting up you pushed yourself off his lap, a frown forming on his face from this action. You could feel the way your hands were starting to go numb as you wiped your tears, knowing there was going to be a confrontation with him.

“I called you for a week, Kelly. I called all the numbers multiple times a day and you didn’t answer. You didn’t call me back.” The way he frowned at this didn’t go unnoticed by you. You took it as a sign of his guilt. He had been ignoring you on purpose. “And I called this afternoon and a girl answered from your hotel room.” He stood up suddenly shaking his head.

“No, no, no.” You rolled your eyes at his weak attempt to lie about the fact you had spoken to a girl that was in his room, “Oh fuck, we didn’t even check into the hotel today. I was on the tour bus looking for the list of numbers you had written down for me.” He was digging into his leather jacket pocket looking for the yellow paper. You were trying to process what he was saying.

“But they said you were in the shower when I asked for you.” You said with a frown, trying to process what he was saying. It would be easy to believe him, tryst him blindly and forget all the drama but there were so many things that just weren’t adding up. He produced the yellow list holding it up with the missing pieces and wet pen running into a blurred mix of ink.

“Call the hotel now. I’m obviously here with you. Maybe they heard you wrong?” He knew you needed real proof. He looked at the phone on the floor that was off the receiver, “I tried to call you today. I guess this explains the busy signal.” He moved to hang it back up.

“I called you and you didn’t answer all week and you didn’t even call me once.” You pointed out. “You’re on tour with all your horny band members and I’ve been out with you all before.” You didn’t want to ask him because you knew that he would answer you honestly. He couldn’t lie to you, even on little things he was always 100% honest. Which you had found out one night when you tried on a new dress and asked how you looked and he had told you the dress looked like a rejected extra from a Cyndi Lauper music video.

“I lost the phone numbers when I was drinking with Phil one night. It took me a week to find them on the bus.” He confessed. That story seemed pretty on par for who they were, “And are you asking if I was stupid enough to cheat on you?” At the words you went white, gripping the sheets. Kelly took in your reaction and knew that’s exactly what you were thinking had happened. “Listen, Y/N.” He moved over to the bed gripping your face in his hands, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs and giving him a soft smile, “I love you. Just you. And I wouldn’t do anything to ever lose your love. I spent a week trying to find a paper just so I could hear your voice. I was waiting for you to call all week, baby. Why didn’t you call me?” The soft way he spoke was melting the ice in your veins, calming you with the right touches and bringing you to the current situation happening in real life and not just in your head.

“I called you so much. I called all the hotels that you told me to call. But you never answered me.” You pointed to a crumpled up ball on the nightstand. Watching him grab it and smooth out the page of numbers.

“Oh shit.” He rubbed his chin and looked up at you with an almost embarrassed look. You knew exactly what that look was. He had made a mistake, “So, um, these hotels are out of order. I must have copied them backwards because this one.” He pointed at the last hotel you had called today. “Should have been here.” He pointed a few up and you sighed in relief. The tears still came flowing out but this time in relief, “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry, baby.” He reached out, folding you to him. Your body was relaxed, allowing him to calm you with his back rubs and head kisses. Comforting you by holding you in his arms and reminding you that he loved you with his touch.

“I’m sewing my name and our telephone number into all your clothes tomorrow.” You muttered after a little while. He chuckled, kissing the top of your head.

“Next time, just come on tour with us. That way we never have to worry about playing phone tag.” You nodded your head listening to his heart beat. “We’re going to have to spend tomorrow morning unpacking your stuff. But I do respect your commitment to cut ties so thoroughly that you organized the records.” He got the laugh out of you that he was looking for. You sat up, shrugging your shoulders.

“I was just looking for an excuse to steal your Bowie records.” You teased him. He scoffed, pulling you to lay down beside him.

“I flew back here to be with you, Y/N. The least you could do is not threaten to steal my records.” Kelly pulled you close to him. “Do you feel better now that I’m back?” The concern in his voice warmed you to the core. You nodded your head at him. “Now you know you’re stuck with me and how wrapped around your finger I am.” You sighed out softly, eyes heavy as you felt like you could finally get some sleep after having a week of anxiety dreams and panic attacks preventing you from getting more than a tossing turning sleep for the week.

“Maybe next time send me a postcard to let me know you love me.” You said through a sleepy haze.

“Maybe I’ll train carrier ducks to send messages. Or learn how to do smoke signals.” A smile slipped out as you cuddled closer letting him lull you to sleep with his soft touches and soft mutters. He loved you, you could feel it. And that was all you needed

[darklove9314-blog]

Underneath My Skin:A Nessian fanfiction

Author’s note: Hey guys!!! Welcome to day 7 of Nessian month, ( This one is late) today’s prompt is Tattoo Artist AU. If you want to participate in Nessian Month, all prompts are on @illyrianet page

“Are you nervous?” Gwyn asked as Nesta looked over to her, Emerie sitting in the next chair, scrolling through her feed on her phone.

“Why would I be nervous?” Nesta asked leading through the book she had brought with her.

Today had been the day that Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie had made the spontaneous decision to each get a tattoo. It was all their first and each of them had an appointment with a different tattoo artist who they had talked with over the phone and sent the rough idea of what they wanted done.

“Well it is your first tattoo and I know most people are nervous for theirs.” Nesta shrugged.

“Nesta?” A voice asked as her eyes flickered up to see one of the hottest males she had ever seen. She put her book away looking up at him with a smile. His hazel eyes looking down at her.

“That’s me.” She answered with a grin as Emerie gave her a knowing smirk. “I’m all set up whenever you’re ready.” He told her as Nesta stood up, Cassian was going back towards the booth in the corner Gwyn whispered

“Of course Nesta would get the hot one.“ She sighed as her name was called from the other side her eyes widened.

“I stand corrected.” Gwyn grinned standing up and calmly making her way to the other side of the parlor shaking another attractive mans hand. Introducing himself as Azriel. Nesta gave her a subtle wink. Emerie sighed,

“Of course you and Gwyn got the hot ones knowing my luck I’ll probably get-“

A blonde woman emerged calling Emerie’s name as Emerie’s eyes swept up and down, a shy smile crossing her face as she commented,

“I love this place.” She sprang up almost tripping over her chair as she quickly recovered following the blonde woman into her section as Nesta headed towards where Cassian was stationed.

Nesta looked at the stencil in his hand with the design she had emailed him about, a small book that had one of her favorite quotes written on the front of it. A quote that meant a lot to her and her friends. Nesta smiled at the design as she looked into Cassian‘s hazel brown eyes. Gosh, he really was handsome. If she had been at a bar instead of a tattoo parlor, she would have offered to buy him a drink, but she guessed talking to him while getting her tattoo done would do.

“Did you decide where you wanted your tattoo?” He asked as Nesta pointed to a specific placement on her forearm.

“Right here will do.” she told him as he placed the stencil on her to test out whether or not she liked it. the gentle brushing of his fingers sending shivers up her spine. She shouldn’t be thinking all the thoughts she was thinking with a total stranger. It wasn’t like her.

“Does that look good?” He asked his voice seeming an octave lower, she ignored it dutifully and stared at the tattoo that would be inked permanently to her skin in an hour or so.

She nodded eager to get started.

“Alright, go ahead and sit on the chair facing me.” He instructed as she sat in the chair.

Cassian grabbed his stool pulling it closer to her as he looked at his inks. she had chosen to do a tattoo with colors, so she knew he was setting up his black, gray, blue, and silver ink. She had seen his work online, knew that he was good at it. she was fully prepared.

“Just remember we can stop whenever you want to. We don’t have to get this all done today just in case you’re not feeling up to it.” He smiled.

She smiled at him at the challenge. “Oh I’m more than prepared for this.” Nesta answered him. His smile grew.

“In that case, let’s get started.” He replied as she felt the first prickle to her skin. It felt similar to a cat scratch. with barely any pain there, but she knew that there could potentially be a difference between how she felt while he was outlining vs how she’d feel when he was shading, some claimed the outline hurt some the opposite, but she knew that it would be worth it in the end,

“So how long have you been a tattoo artist?” She asked

“Going on six years.” He answered.

“Impressive.”

He gave her a slight smile illuminating his face. She notice the tattoos that inked his light brown skin and the scars that marred them.

“Do you have a favorite piece?” She asked after a few silent moments had passed.

“Of my work or the tattoos I’ve received?”

“Both.” She asked intrigued to hear his answers.

“I’ve done a lot of tattoos, as for a favorite-“ He shrugged, “I like hearing the meaning behind the tattoo, I like people sharing their stories, Don’t get me wrong, I love my craft, but the people are what makes this job worth it.“

She tilted her head at that wincing slightly as the needle went over where the bone was, she was told that would hurt the worst, so she distracted herself.

“So what’s the story on your favorite tattoo?” She asked watching his hands as he worked.

“Me and foster brothers have wings on our backs to symbolize our relationship that way no matter how far we go or what city we may end up in, we’ll always have something to remember each other by.“ He answered as Nesta felt a pang in her chest. She had heard stories about the foster care system. knew how tough it could be for the children who were in them, but she knew it wasn’t her place to ask and that it was his story to tell so she simply asked.

“Do you all still talk to each other?”

He had finished the outline and now had started on the shading. It stung slightly but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle.

“We’re roommates actually. One of them is actually working on your friend now.” He told her.

“The one by the name of Azriel?” She asked him. He nodded.

“That’s the one. He and I have always worked together. Rhys however, he works for the courthouse.”

“Didn’t want to be a tattoo artist like the rest of you?” She teased as a small smirk crossed his lips.

“He lacks the skills to do so.” He answered as Nesta felt another pang in her chest, One of a different sort.

“I can relate. I was more of the studious one in my family. My sister Feyre was the artist.” She answered.

“Does your sister live in the city?” He asked.

“Yes, but ugh, we’re not that close, it’s complicated.“ she answered not willing to elaborat. it wasn’t that her and Feyre didn’t love each other, it was just that having two neglectful parents made them seek comfort elsewhere. Anywhere else besides each other. Had made their fight horrid, both slewing out venomous words that they weren’t sure if they meant or not. It had been the worst when they both were teens, Feyre had been three years younger, but still accomplishing her goals had always been easier for Feyre, for Nesta, not so much.

Her and Elain were closer, but not by much. To Elain, Nesta had been overbearing. and she didn’t blame her for the thought. It was either she suffocated the people that she loved, becoming a burden or she hadn’t loved them enough. Both of which she had worked on in therapy or rather what she was still working on.

“I get complicated families.“ He said, a sad look in his eyes.

“I was always the complicated one.“ She told him. Not sure why she had done it. He was a complete stranger. but for whatever reason she felt as if she could talk to him about anything.

“So was I.” He confided in her. Making her eyes meet his. “Out of me, Rhys, and Azriel, I took things the hardest and I didn’t always handle them in the best ways. I always got into trouble. Said some awful things to them and the others, it took me time. And it wasn’t until I had a foster mom who gave a shit about why I was hurting that I truly started to heal. So I get being the complicated one, The way you feel like a burden even when you’re not.“

His thumb smoothed over the skin, checking on the ink there as she felt a calming reassurance in her chest. knowing that this would end soon. that this was probably the last time they would see each other.

“It looks like we’re almost done.” He told her changing to a lighter topic. Not knowing how they had gotten onto a heavier one,

“Looks like it.” She had told him. Looking at the book on her forearm.

“So I take it you’re a reader?” He asked, working on the last of her touchups.

“Have been since I was old enough to read.” She confirmed.

“Is this a quote from a book?” He asked gesturing to the quote there.

“Ugh no. It’s just the motto for us that my friend Gwyn came up with.” she told him as he read it.

“We are the rock against which the surf crashes and nothing can break us.” He smiled admiring the tattoo. “I like it.”

She wasn’t sure why the blush had crept on her cheeks at his words but it had.

“Thank you.” She told him hiding her blush from him. Normally she didn’t blush when a man gave her a compliment, but Cassian somehow was different.

“Well it looks like you’re done.” He answered. as she got up and went over to the full length mirror observing her tattoo, a book with her and her friends motto on it. They had all chosen the design together because as Gwyn had said herself, all their stories deserved to be told and all of them had a love for books.

“I love it. Thank you.“ She smiled as she glanced up at him.

“It was my pleasure.” He stated wrapping up her tattoo.

“Now you’re going to want to keep this wrapped for a couple of hours and then follow the instructions I give you on the paper you’ll leave with for tattoo after care, but besides that, you are free to go.”

After Nesta had paid and Gwyn and Emerie had finished with theirs. Gwyn and Emerie chatted happily about their tattoos looking at the colors they had chosen them in. the same colors as their friendship bracelets, Nesta smiled turning towards Cassian as she extended her hand to him.

“It was a pleasure meeting you.” Nesta told him as his hand slipped into hers, giving it a slight shake,

“The pleasure was all mine- Nesta-“

“Archeron.” She finished. A little more quickly then she would have liked.

“Nesta Archeron, the name does have a ring to it,” He answered giving her a wicked grin, Was he-Was he flirting with her? “Well Nesta Archeron, I hope we see each other again.” He stated and before she could answer his other client arrived as he went to tend to them and Gwyn and Emerie flocked her while they were outside,

“Do you ever think you’ll see him again?” Gwyn asked as Nesta looked back at the tattoo parlor with a smile on her face,

“I’m not sure, but I hope so,“

[quizzyisdone]

Guilty (Part IX) | Female Bell! Reader x Russell Adler

A/N: I told you there’d be cute fluff. This is the last chapter to the series, but I still have an epilogue in the works and I’m currently planning a series that’d be a direct sequel to this one about hunting down Stitch. (I’m sorry, Stitch simps) Most of the chapters I’ve written for this series are full of angst, so I thought I’d throw in some fluff, y’know, as a treat. (2000+ Word Count)

Warnings: Strong language, mentions of blood and torture

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six) (Part Seven) (Part Eight)

“I Know”

0900

London, United Kingdom

September 19th, 1984

You awoke to the sound of rhythmic beeping of various monitors and machines. You attempted to open your eyes, but the bright, fluorescent white lights of the sterile room irritated them as you squeezed them shut once more. It was then you noticed a gentle, much larger hand entwined in your own, a thumb grazing gently over your skin.

“You’re awake.” A familiar, normally gruff and husky voice said softly. You slowly opened your eyes, groggily turning your head to the direction of the voice, and in your blurred vision you could make out the vague form of Russell Adler.

“R-Russell?”

“The one and only.” Alder chuckled lightly, he was noticeably disheveled. His normally perfectly groomed hair was out of place as stubble littered his jaw. He looked ruggedly handsome like that, a refreshing change from his normal appearance.

“Where am I?” You whispered.

“You’re safe.” Adler stressed that last word. “No one’s going to hurt you anymore. How are you feeling?”

“Like fucking shit. Everything hurts.” You whined. “But, I, that night in Prague.” Your memories of what had happened were foggy at best as you struggled to recall how you even got here in the first place. Only vague, violent images plagued your mind of ruthless violence and psychological torture. “Wha-what day is it?”

“It’s been a few weeks since Prague.” He said, his hand moving to gently touch the bruises and scratches that littered your arms. Adler sighed, his brows furrowed and he frowned, but his eyes were sympathetic. “Do you remember what he did to you?”  

“Kind of. They were horrible, horrible things.” You whispered, vivid memories of the torture you were subjected to rearing their ugly head as the images began to turn into events you could actually recall. “He beat me a lot, he’d come in everyday a-and.” Tears began to well at your eyes, and Adler moved his hand to cup the side of your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb as he hushed you. But sobs still continued to rack your body, bringing sudden, sharp pain with every inhale.

“You don’t need to continue about what he did.” He reassured, wiping fallen tears with a kind smile on his face. In some sad way, he already had a good idea of what happened to you. Perseus wasn’t known to be a kind man. Adler’s hand moved to push a lock of stray hair behind your ear. “You got fucked up.” He quipped, attempting to lighten the moment with a bit of humor.

“You’re telling me.” You attempted to smile through the tears, but winced in the sudden jolt of pain. You pulled down the blanket that concealed you to reveal your abdomen. Nearly your entire torso, save for your arms and your right shoulder, were completely covered in thick layers of clean bandages. Your finger lightly grazed over one of the covered up entrance wounds on your stomach as you shut your eyes. You could vividly recollect exactly how it felt as it entered you all those weeks ago.

“Your gunshot wounds, they were infected. The doctors said it was the worst they’d ever seen.” Adler sighed. “You’re lucky to even be alive right now. When we got you here, you spent eight hours in the operating room. I-I was there for all of it.” He rubbed his eyes, he had not gotten any sleep since you arrived at the hospital. Something within him urged that he needed to be there when you woke up.

 “You were there for me?” You were admittedly shocked at that revelation.

“If you were to die, I wanted to at least be there. To say goodbye, to say I’m sorry.” Adler said, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. He looked down, turning his head from your gaze. “I almost had to a few times. They had to resuscitate you. I-I hadn’t been that scared in a long time.”

“Why were you scared?” You cupped his chin, bringing him to face you again. 

“I was scared you would - gah." Adler breathed out, trying to find the right words. "That I would lose you.” He admitted

“You can’t afford that, our job is too risky for such sentiments.” You were baffled as to why he suddenly cared so much, and he was too. All Adler knew was that you were important to him.

“I know.” He agreed. “But, what’s life without a little risk?” Adler chuckled, his finger stroking your forearm, being careful to avoid the bruises. “I know nothing can change what I did, and I know you might not ever forgive me. But now that you’re awake, you deserve this.”

You raised your eyebrows as he rose from his chair next to you, striding towards the opposite of the room, where a backpack was slumped in a chair. He zipped it open, grabbing a file which had a giant red stamp on the front that read ‘Classified’. He looked conflicted as he paused, but then grabbed a small photograph, which you couldn’t quite make out what exactly was on it. “Here.” He said, handing you the file. “Park found this at the MI6 headquarters. Said she’d been trying to get top brass to part with it for years. She only got it just a week ago.”

When you opened the dossier, Ronald Clarkson’s name was printed at the top. “Isn’t he the guy I-”

“Yeah. Turn to the third page, it has stuff about you.” Adler cut you off, and you obliged him. Your eyes went wide and your lips quivered, there was a black and white photo of you and your real name on the top, as well as some basic information. What stood out the most was what was under the ‘DOB’ section.

“What’s today?” You asked Adler.

“September 19th.” He replied.

“That means…”

“Happy birthday.” Adler smiled, his baby blues shone brilliantly in the white, sterile lights of the hospital, but there was a pained look to them. “Woods, Park and Sims went to grab you something to celebrate in case you woke up today.”

“Damn, I’m old.” You chuckled, a small grin creeping your face. 

“You don’t know old, sweetheart.” He laughed, and your smile only grew wider and a blush rose to your cheeks as your heart skipped a beat at that nickname. “Read the rest.” Adler encouraged, inwardly preparing for whatever you’d do with this information. Would you hate him? Tell him he ruined your life? Those were all fair assessments, to be honest.

 You read further, the little biography on your life and how you came to join MI6 sent your heart to your feet. 

“I wish I could remember this.” The smile left your face, and your happy tone was replaced with a painstaking dejectedness, it certainly wasn’t the reaction Adler was expecting. “I wish I could remember my parents.”

“I took that away from you.” Adler braced himself, waiting for your hatred for him to come welling up in your heart once more, he deserved your vitriol, your anger. “There’s another thing. I, uh, this is long overdue but I,” Adler hesitated. “I found this on your body when I rescued you back in Turkey.” He handed you the photograph he pulled from the backpack earlier.

It was a polaroid, a picture of yourself smiling gleefully with two much older people who bore an uncanny resemblance to you, they were wrapping their arms around you as you held a paper. It was an acceptance letter to some university. On the bottom was scrawled ‘Happy 18th’ dated 1972 in sloppy penmanship. You must've carried it with you everywhere before Arash tried to kill you.

“Are they my parents?” You glanced back up at Adler, gripping his hand, desperation in your voice, tears still streaming down your face.

“I don’t know for sure, but I’d assume so.” He affirmed. “I didn’t give it to you back in Berlin because it was a liability, but kept it in case it proved necessary.” Adler answered the question that was already forming on your lips. “I held onto it after Solovetsky.”

“Why?” 

“I meant it when I said you were a goddamn hero. I-I don’t know.” He paused. “It was the least I could do.” That had raised even more questions than it answered, on top of the existing ones that still needed answering. But not now. You didn’t want to ruin this moment with painful questions with painful answers. Later, you promised yourself. You wanted to simply enjoy this moment.

“You’re getting soft in your old age, Russell.” No matter how many times you said his first name, it sounded just as sweet as the first time you ever did. He smiled, lightly smacking your uninjured shoulder. 

“I’m not old, nor am I soft.” Adler retorted, attempting to sound offended, but his laugh betrayed him.

As the laughter died down, you sat up in the bed, sliding over so that you were closer to Adler, not caring for the pain in the moment. His face was only a foot away from yours, and he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

“Why are you being so kind to me? Why don’t you hate me?” A sad smile tugged at his lips. There was something about the way he looked at you, he looked so vulnerable, so emotional. It was so unlike him.

“I don’t know.” That was all you could manage to get out. It was truthful, you didn’t understand why you didn’t want to beat him bloody anymore, you didn’t even want to hate him. You just wanted him. 

Your eyes glanced to his mouth then locked with his eyes. You barely noticed that your mouth was opened ever so slightly, as if in anticipation for his touch. He took the opportunity to close the gap, one hand moved to hold your own while the other went to cup your face as Adler joined his lips with yours.

It was unlike any of the others he had shared with you. It wasn’t a heated make out session designed to distract others or a sad, mournful goodbye like the one in Prague. The kiss was a gentle gesture of affection, sweet, unfettered by a looming, larger than life threat to the free world. Neither of you had realized just how much you were starved for such a thing until it actually happened.

You broke the kiss, resting your forehead on his own. Your eyes were still closed as his lips still ghosted your own. You could feel him smiling, content to stay there for the moment. It was a moment before you pulled back, cradling your cheek in his hand, your thumb stroking the hand that held yours.

“If you would’ve told me a year ago I’d be making out with you, I would’ve maimed you.” You giggled breathlessly. “What do we do now?” Reality had struck you again. Perseus was gone, the thing that you had made your life’s mission had now been accomplished. 

“Hudson approved my request for PTO, and MI6 has you on medical leave until November.” Adler furrowed his eyebrows as you watched conflicting thoughts dance through his mind. “Stitch is still out there, but we don’t have anything on him yet.” Adler paused, wondering if it was right to even ask this of you. “But I was hoping you’d stay in the states. With me.” He added. “You could stay here in England with Park, but you’d be safer there with me, I could protect you and-” 

You cut him off with a simple, tender look. “I would love that.” You said without thinking. Adler looked taken back by this but smiled. You rested your face in the crook of your neck as he held you with such caution and tenderness, as if you’d shatter into a million pieces if he was any rougher. “I don’t need your protection, though.” You whispered.

“I know.” Adler kissed the side of your head, enjoying simply being here with you. It was something he couldn’t ever imagine after Solovetsky, no matter how badly he wanted it. But here you were, in his arms, no longer recoiling from his touch. It was as if everything that had ever happened between you two had faded away, leaving only this sweet moment in its wake.

_______

Some of the lovely people who wanted to be tagged

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Riptide

A love story told from two perspectives. One after it is has ended, and the other just as it begins.

Chapter 2: The Middle 

Words: 5k

Rating: Mature. Major Character Death.

You can either read over on a03 or below the cut.

I would love to know what you think.

November 2025

Six weeks after Aaron dies it’s the anniversary of Haley’s death. The date had been burned in her brain long before they were together, the memory of hearing Haley begging Aaron to teach Jack about love was something she was sure she would never forget.

Emily’s still laying in bed when she realises what Aaron no longer being around meant. That he wouldn’t be there to leave flowers at her grave like he did every year with his son. Emily wasn’t even sure if Jack was in town or if he was back at college, his responses to her attempts to reach out short and sharp.

It’s the easiest she’s gotten out of bed in weeks. Determined to do this one thing for the man she loves and the woman he had loved before her. She dresses quickly and throws her hair up in a bun. She goes to a nearby florist and buys the most expensive flowers she can, feeling as if flowers from the grocery store just wouldn’t have been enough.

When she gets to Haley’s grave she falters, wondering for a moment if she has somehow overstepped. She swallows against the feeling and places the flowers down on Haley’s bare grave and she sits down, the damp grass pressing into her knees through her thin yoga pants.

“Hi Haley.” She says, looking at the flowers she had just put down. “I used to do this for him when he was in witsec. I didn’t even know back then that it was what he did when he was around, it just felt right.” She shakes her head at herself. “I think he’d want me to carry on now.”

She remembers what he’d told her once, that in another life, one where they had sorted themselves out sooner and Haley had lived, he thought the two of them would have been friends. Bonding over his annoying habits, how frustrating he was to live with at times. Emily liked to think that was true.

“I don’t really know what I’m hoping for.” Emily admits as she looks at Haley’s headstone. “That he’s with you wherever you are, or that he’s somewhere waiting for me.” She wipes at her cheek with the heel of her hand, getting rid of tears she didn’t think would ever stop. ______________________

He joins her on the balcony, wrapping his arms around her from behind, pulling her back into his embrace. Emily leans against his back and smiles as he presses a kiss to the side of her head.

“Aren’t you glad I convinced you to do this?” He murmurs against her skin. He tangles their left hands together, their wedding rings hitting each other with the motion.

She tilts her head to look at him, and is unable to stop herself from kissing him, placing a hand on his cheek to keep him in place. She pulls back so their noses touch. “I’ll admit a honeymoon wasn’t the worst idea in the world.”

He kisses her again, smiling too widely against her lips for it to be more than a brush against her. “Where are you taking me first, tour guide?” ______________________

When she first wakes up she can still feel his touch on her skin, and the ghost of his lips against hers. It feels so real she half expects to turn over and find him laying next to her.

Then reality starts to kick in, the harsh truth seeping in through the lightness that her dream had created. The heaviness of her loss taking its place back in her chest. Tears blur her vision as she checks the time on the alarm clock on her nightstand.

2.30am

Emily sighs as she gets out of bed, knowing she wouldn’t sleep again that night. She grabs a box out of the nightstand as she leaves their bedroom and walks downstairs.

She sits in the living room, curled up in a blanket Aaron had bought her because she always complained how cold she was, and she opens the box. She takes their wedding rings back out and holds them in her hand, hoping she can find some of him in a ring he never wore.

______________________

She buys a long chain and loops it through his wedding ring. When she places it around her neck she feels the tiniest bit of relief when the cold metal settles between her breasts.

She slips her own wedding ring onto her finger, settling it against her engagement ring. She stares at them together for a moment and decides to leave it on.

She had already felt married to him anyway.

______________________

Emily goes back to work after Christmas. She doesn’t tell the team about her return, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. The way the bullpen practically grinds to a halt when she steps out of the elevator tells her that she had failed.

She makes it to her office without being stopped, and as she steps into the room she realises her hopes of getting away from him for a few hours, from feeling anything other than sadness wasn’t going to work. It had once been his office too. As she sits down at her desk she remembers the first time they met, how rude he was to her. She used to tease him for it, poke fun at him for how much he hadn’t wanted her around those first few months.

Emily remembers when he first left, entrusting the BAU to her. It was the first time she had walked into his office, her office, when she felt the true pressure of what he had left her. The BAU was precious to him. She had walked over to his desk and picked up his nameplate, tracing her fingers over his name and job title.

She had put it in the top drawer of her desk. At first it felt wrong to get rid of it. Some part of her sure he’d be back eventually. But then they stopped Scratch. His death the end of the danger that Jack was in, and he still didn’t come back.

After that she kept it as a memory, a talisman of sorts of the man she had more complicated feelings for than she would ever have admitted. A piece of him that she had left.

It took on new meaning when they got together. When she knew how it felt to be loved by him, to be taken apart by him. How his skin felt pressed against hers. She’d look at the nameplate when she was at work and missed him, feeling ridiculous for feeling that way when it had only been a few hours since she had last seen him.

When they got engaged, she got an idea. An ongoing joke between them, that his love of the BAU was so great he was marrying into it, that she could turn into a keepsake for him. A small wedding present she knew would have made him laugh.

Emily pulls the drawer open and looks at it, picking it up and looks at its new engraving. She runs her thumb over the words and feels the now familiar tug of pain in her chest.

Aaron Hotchner Husband of the BAU Unit Chief

There’s a knock at her door and she puts it back, wanting to keep this one thing just for her.

“Come in.”

JJ opens the door, a smile on her face that seemed forced. “Em, we didn’t know you were coming back today.”

Emily clears her throat and tries to smile at her friend, “I couldn’t stay home forever.” She sees the case file in JJ’s hand.

“Em.”

“Do we have a case?” She asks, desperation in her tone. She just wanted to be somewhere, anywhere, else.

JJ steps into the office and eyes her cautiously. “Yeah, a serial killer in Kansas.” She hands over the file and Emily reaches for it with her left hand. She doesn’t miss how JJ’s eyes land on her hand, the slight crease in her brow when she realises Emily is wearing two rings. She quickly retracts her hand, reaches for the file with her right instead.

She clears her throat and hopes JJ doesn't hear how her voice wavers. “You can brief me on the jet. Wheels up in 30.” ______________________

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Emily puts the spatula down, sighing as she turns to see him, eyes narrowing at the smug look on his face as he leans against their kitchen counter. “You could help you know.”

He closes the gap between them, places his hands on her hips and he kisses her. “Well then how will you ever learn to cook?”

“That’s what I have you for.”

He raises his eyebrows at her, places his hand under her shirt, his skin burning into hers. “Is that all I’m good for?”

She leans forward and kisses him, biting his lower lip slightly. “One of many things.” ______________________

She wakes up on the couch, unsure when she’d even fallen asleep. Emily closes her eyes in frustration, tears leaking out as soon as she opens them again. She can still feel his hand on her skin, the width of it scorched onto her back. “Damn it.” __________________

She dreams of the car crash they’d got into on their first anniversary. A car running straight into the back of them as he told her a terrible joke whilst they waited for traffic lights to change. He’d hit his head on the steering wheel and become unconscious as the car spun.

The fear she felt when he wouldn’t wake up still sat in her belly sometimes. The thought she’d lost him just as she’d got him overriding her every thought until he had woken up in the hospital several hours later, immediately concerned for her.

Emily still dreamt about it up until the day he died. Her nightmares telling her he had gone, that she was stuck in a car with his body and unable to move herself. Aaron would always soothe her awake, able to tell what had scared her just by the look on her face.

She has the dream again, but this time when she wakes she is alone.

______________________

“Don’t smile at me like that.” She whispers, running her thumb over his lower lip, marvelling in how warm it was.

His smile widens, his dimples coming out for her to trace her fingers over. “Why not?”

Her hand falls away from his face and she sighs, the sound catching in her throat. “Because this isn’t real.

______________________

When she wakes up she is angry. Tears already on her cheeks. And she misses the days when she could forget he was gone when she was dreaming. Moments when her subconscious would let her think he was still here, still beside her like he should be. ______________________

One night, around seven months in, Emily is desperate. Too many dreams about him lingering in her head, traces of him at every turn that she loves and hates in equal measure. Nothing smells like him anymore, and she realises in a harrowing moment she doesn’t even remember what he smelt like. She sprays their bed in his cologne and it’s not quite right. Whatever scent he had, something uniquely Aaron, missing.

A letter inviting her to the court date, to hear details about how he died yet again, tips her over the edge. She goes out, wanting to feel anything other than the all consuming grief that had become her normal.

A man across the bar she finds herself in keeps looking at her, throwing her looks in the dim lights. She drinks just enough to convince herself it's a good idea, that it would help.

If the fact she is wearing a wedding and engagement ring bothers him he doesn’t show it, doesn’t comment on it as she pulls him into the alley behind the bar.

The man kisses her. She moves her head, not wanting his lips pressed against hers. He presses his lips against her neck and she feels a stone drop in her stomach. His fingers trace her arm and they are too soft and she wrenches herself away from him.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” She walks away, ignores how he shouts that she should just go home to her husband after her, and she hails a cab. She cries the entire way home.

For the first time, for only a moment, she hates Aaron. Hates him for loving her so much, so well, that she can’t forget how it felt even for a second. ______________________

“You’re sad.”

She closes her eyes as he settles behind her in bed, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “Of course I’m sad.”

Aaron kisses the top of her head and she sighs, settling into his embrace. “You can’t be sad forever, love.”

She brings his hand up to her lips, presses them against him. Feeling his skin and the metal of his ring against her. “I don’t know how to be happy without you.” ______________________

August 2021

Emily is nervous the first time they have dinner with Jack after they get together, and Aaron finds it very endearing. She comes to his apartment and he can immediately tell she is on edge. Signs he hadn’t seen when Doyle came on the scene all those years ago. Little changes in her demeanour he had gone over in his head again and again when she was in Paris, a fake grave for her too close to where he lived that made his lungs fill with regret.

When she came back, nervous and on edge, he had purposely looked out for them. He’d seen her need to leave them before she even had, and he’d let her go, despite everything in him wanting to beg her to stay.

Aaron lets her into his apartment, explaining Jack was just on his way home from after school soccer practise, and she walks into his kitchen, helping herself to a glass of wine like she lived there. It takes all of his self control to not ask her to move in, knowing they’d only been together two months, as he watches her sit at the dining table. He sighs and sits next to her, taking a sip of the wine she passes to him, and he smiles as he realises she had poured it intending for them to share.

“Sweetheart.” He places a hand on her bouncing knee, soothing the joint with his thumb running back and forth over it. “Jack’s known you almost his entire life.” He says, not missing the way she rolls her eyes when he knows that is wrong with her without anything being said.

“I know.” She says, teeth immediately going for the cuticle on her thumb before he grabs her hand, subtly surveying the damage she had already done. “I know I’m being ridiculous. But…this is different.” She grabs his hand off her knee and links their fingers. “We’re together now. I love you. I’m not just a friend or someone you work with.”

He can sense the spiral, the self doubt seeping into her pores. “Emily.” He gently cups her face and makes her look at him. “Jack loves you. When I told him we were together, do you know what he said?” He smiles as she shakes her head at him. “He said ‘about time.’”

She laughs at that, a beautiful sound that makes his heart sing. “He didn’t.”

“He did.” He promises, kissing her firmly. “Well, he actually said ‘about fucking time’ but I told him off for cursing.”

Emily laughs again, her nerves finally seeming to uncurl and she kisses him this time, her love for him clear as she wraps her hand around the back of his neck.

Dinner goes well, and Emily becomes a pretty permanent feature in the Hotchner’s apartment after that. ______________________

The way they easily fall into their relationship surprises him. Aaron had always pictured their relationship, when he’d allowed a little bit of dangerous hope to seep in, to be fiery. Both of them too used to being alone, to being self reliant to give enough of themselves to make something work between them. But it’s not like that.

They communicate. They love each other openly. And every time she touches him, which she does almost constantly, he feels like something in him clicks into place for the first time in his life. A piece of the puzzle he didn’t realise had been missing. ______________________

Aaron wakes with his head on her chest, curled around her in a way that made it hard to determine where she ended and he began. Emily was running her hand through his hair, her short nails scratching against his scalp.

“Morning.” She says gently, her thumb skating over his temple.

Aaron doesn’t move from her chest, but tilts his head so he can look up at her. She smiles at him, adoration all over her face despite how tired she looked. “It’s unlike you to be up first.”

She hums. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He does lift his head at that, and he moves his hand from where it had been resting at her waist to cup her cheek. “Did you sleep at all?” He sighs when her answer is a shake of her head, sitting up and changing their positions so she’s resting against his chest. “You should have woken me up, baby.”

“You need your sleep too.” She grumbles, but he can feel the smile she presses into his bare chest as she protests.

“What kept you up?” He asks, his finger tracing the scar at the top of her left breast, as if he already knew the answer.

Emily rests her chin on his chest so she can look up at him, hand skirting over one of his scars. “It feels stupid, because its been so long now.” She smiles sadly. “But sometimes I feel like I’m still in that warehouse in Boston. Like part of me never left.”

“That isn’t stupid, Emily.” Aaron says firmly, catching her hand in his own. He wonders how many people had told her since Ian Doyle had torn through their lives that she needed to move on, to leave it behind her. “If anyone understands how it feels to be haunted by their past like that it’s me.”

Emily smiles at him and pushes down at his chest so she can reach up and kiss him before she lays back down. They don’t say anything else, and she certainly doesn’t get any sleep, but they spend hours just laying together that morning.

Aaron thinks, not for the first time, that they understand each other better than anyone else ever could.

______________________

He knew he’d been moody for a few days, the anniversary of Haley’s death looming over him. Aaron is shorter with her than usual, and he even ignores a couple of calls from her when she tries to check in when she’s away on a case.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to her, it was quite the opposite. She knew him well enough to pull his emotions out of him until he felt raw, and this was something he didn’t want to put on her. To make her comfort him as he grieved another woman. Emily takes to texting him instead, simply asking for a response to let her know he’s ok. He replies, just a one word text, and she leaves him alone after that.

It's very late in the evening the day before the anniversary when she lets herself into his apartment. The key he had given her only a few weeks into their relationship scraping in the door was his first sign that she was coming over. She has her go-bag slung over her shoulder, an indicator that she had only just landed and hadn’t even been home.

“Hi.” She says, a soft smile on her face that he isn’t sure he deserves.

He clears his throat, just seeing her making all the emotions he’d been suppressing climb up his chest, threatening to spill out. “Hey, Em. Look I’m-”

“I know what tomorrow is.” She interrupts, placing her bag down by the door. “You don’t have to hide it from me.”

Aaron sighs, and he rubs his hands over his eyes. Of course she remembered. She’d been on the line when Haley died, heard her final words at the same time he had. “Emily.”

She moves so she’s stood in front of him, somehow having taken her shoes off without him noticing so their true height difference is noticeable. He looks down at her and she's looking at him so kindly, her eyes full of so much love and understanding for him that he almost loses it there and then.

“Is Jack in bed?” She asks as she grabs Aaron’s hand, smiling as he nods in answer. “Let’s go to bed, love.”

She leads him to his bedroom and gets ready in silence. Getting pyjamas, that used to be his, out of the drawers that now have more of her clothes in than his, and changing quickly in front of him, encouraging him to do the same.

Emily gets into bed and sits with her back against the headboard, patiently waiting for him to join her. He does, he sits next to her and pulls the covers over them both, the chilly November air feeling sharper now he is in bed. She drags him down to her, makes him rest against her as she puts her arms around him, and that’s what makes the dam break.

Aaron rests his head on her shoulder and presses his face into her neck, trying to hide his tears from her even though he knows she’ll be able to feel them against her skin.

Emily holds him tighter to her, she cups the back of his head, her fingers tangling in his hair, and she kisses his forehead. “You’re ok, honey.” She whispers against his skin, her nose pressed against his temple. “You’re ok.”

“I’m sorry.” He apologises, looking up at her. The look of annoyance at his apology on her face almost makes him laugh despite the circumstances.

“You don’t have to apologise, Aaron. You loved her, you still do.” She says, pushing some hair off of his forehead. “Grief doesn’t just go away after a certain amount of time.”

She shifts them so they are laying down, and she curls around his back. Presses her body into him so he can feel all of her. She rubs her hand in gentle circles on his chest until he falls asleep.

When he wakes in the morning he’s curled around her, taking comfort from her kindness and her warmth. Her fingers gently skipping over his temple tells him she is already awake.

“Good morning.” She says quietly, as if she is worried she’ll disturb him.

“Morning.”

“What are you going to do today?” She asks gently, running her hand through his hair.

“What I usually do.” He says, grabbing one of her hands and linking their fingers together. “Take Jack to her grave and put flowers there. I try to think of a memory I have of her that I haven’t told him yet, give him something new about her.”

“That’s sweet.” She smiles at him, nothing but adoration for him on her face. “What did you do when you were gone?”

“There was a nice park near where we lived that she would have liked. We took flowers there. It was nice.” He reaches out and tucks some of her hair behind her ear. “Jessica told me that someone always put flowers on Haley’s grave whilst we were gone, but she never figured out who.”

“Oh.” She replies, suddenly looking unsure about something. She bites her lip before she looks at him. “That...that was me.”

He sits up suddenly, dislodging her from him. She sits up too, looking more unsure than ever, as if she was worried she had overstepped.

“Really?” He asks and she nods. “Why?”

Emily shrugs. “It just felt like the right thing to do.”

He closes the gap between them and kisses her gently, before resting his head against hers. “I love you.”

She smiles at him. “I love you too.” ______________________

They are laughing together when it happens. Sat at a junction in his car on the way to their first anniversary dinner when the car behind them doesn’t stop. The car spins, and the sound of Emily’s scream echoes around his head.

All he remembers is a sharp pain in his head, Emily trying to talk to him, and then nothing. ______________________

He wakes up to the sound of her shouting at someone. His head hurt, more than he ever remembered it hurting.

“I’m not going anywhere until he wakes up.” She says her tone a challenge to whoever she is speaking to.

Aaron opens his eyes and the room comes into focus slowly. He’s in a hospital bed, and he suddenly remembers the car accident.

“Em?”

She turns to look at him, her face softening as she looks at him. She has a bandage on her forehead, and one on her wrist. There's a small cut on her cheek that has been cleaned.

“Oh thank God.” She says, walking over from where she was standing at the end of his bed to sit on the edge of it and she grasps his hand in hers. “How are you feeling?”

His eyes flick to the nurse who was still at the end of his bed, and eyebrow raised at the pair of them before she shakes her head and walks out the room. He refocuses on his girlfriend. “My head hurts.” He lifts a hand to run a thumb over the cut on her cheek. “Are you ok?”

She scoffs. “I’m fine, they’ve already discharged me.” Emily takes a deep breath and her chin trembles. “You took the worst of it.”

“I’m ok, sweetheart.”

“Aaron. You wouldn’t wake up.” She says, her fingernails digging into his hand as she holds it tighter. “I…I was so worried.”

“Em-”

“You can’t do that to me again.” She smiles at him but it’s shaky, a tremor to her bottom lip that she doesn’t try to hide from him. “I’m too old to start over.” She jokes, lifting their joint hands to her lips to press a kiss into his skin. “And I quite like having you around. So please, no more dramatics ok? I think we’ve both been through enough.”

Aaron considers trying to reason with her. To remind her it had been a car accident, one that was completely the fault of the other driver. He couldn’t have stopped it. But she looks so upset, so wrecked by whatever had transpired between their car being hit and him waking up in hospital, that he simply nods.

“Okay, love.” He can’t help but smile back when she smiles brilliantly at him. “I’ll do my best.” He kisses her, but the movement strains his chest making him groan. “We may have to take a raincheck on our anniversary plans.” ______________________

It’s another month before they can actually celebrate their anniversary. Jack is with Jessica for the night, having made a crass comment about giving Aaron and Emily space that made both of them blush and the teenager laugh.

He makes her dinner, her favourite pasta accompanied by a wine she likes. They share a glass despite not needing to, sitting pressed together on his couch. That's when he asks her to move in with him.

He’s ready for a fight over it. Arguments in his head are already planned where he tells her she spends most of the time at his place anyway, that he can’t remember the last time they spent apart when she wasn’t away on a case. That when she says the word ‘home’ it never means her own apartment anymore.

Emily agrees immediately, smiling widely at him as she climbs into his lap. Kissing him as she asks him what took so long to ask her.

They barely make it to the bedroom, him pressing her against the wall, not wanting to wait another second until he’s inside of her. Her laugh turns into a moan, and any quip she had about him being too old to fuck her that way dies on her lips as he does exactly that.

He carries her to the bed afterwards, holding her close to his chest, his hands running up and down her spine. He hopes she sleeps. The car crash they had been in had featured in most of her dreams recently, her waking up and thinking he was dead. It always took him time to calm her down, to remind him that he was right there.

“Aaron?” She murmurs, half asleep against him.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Let’s find somewhere new.” She turns her head to press a kiss into his chest. “I’ve always wanted a house. A small garden where I can fail at growing vegetables.”

He laughs against the top of her head before pressing a kiss there. “Whatever you want, Em. Let’s find somewhere to call home.”

She’s mostly asleep. The way her words fall unbidden from her but slurred together give her away. “You are my home.”

[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.

[oven-thermometer]

Don't leave us alone

I was given this prompt by my friend <3

Prompt: Person A is at work. Person A is very late. Person B doesn't know where they work so they can't call them or find them. Person B gets worried.

Six o'clock. It had been ten hours since you had left for work. By now you would've been home. This concerned the horsemen to no end.

The afternoon sun had tainted your home and the people in it in a honey-coloured hue, the blades of grass shimmered in an orange light as the sun made it's descent. Although, the aforementioned people weren't particularly concerned with what the sunset looked like, but more so with what it signalled. Every day, without fail, you would come home long before the sun started dipping below the horizon. But today you had been gone for far too long

This made the horsemen incredibly worried and anxious - but of course no one ever said it directly out loud, ever the unemotional bunch. Strife was the first to say something, since he was the worst affected by you not turning up. He walked into the kitchen where Death and Fury were - Death was making the two some tea in a quiet effort to calm their nerves. Strife sat down at the kitchen and slumped in his chair before asking, "...Where do you think they are?"

Death didn't even look up from his ministrations, "Probably stuck in traffic," he paused to scratch his gaze against the wall, "hopefully."

Fury, never missing a beat, piped in: "Hopeful? You? Brother, the last time I saw you 'hopeful' you were begging Strife to stop hanging from the drapes in the archives."

Death stopped his tea-making and turned to his sister, standing on the other side of the counter, leaning her hands on her hips. "And no one shall ever know if that was in his childhood or yesterday...Not that there's a difference."

Strife scoffed as he tilted his head to lie his cheek against his other hand propped up on the table.

Strife got immensely quiet when you weren't around, and everyone noticed his lack of witty remarks and comebacks to Death's prodding. You brought the atmosphere a sense of calm, and the horsemen appreciated that. You would stop Strife and Death fighting, make War less brooding and you could even manage to make Fury soften slightly. Each day this gave them the hope not to die of boredom before you came home. You would grace them all with your smile and warm greetings, it made them wish you would never leave - but they knew you too had a duty, as much as they hated that fact. Hearing your worn-out car come up the driveway, you fiddling and occasionally dropping your keys and talking to them each individually after every tiring day. It kept them going in general.

Just as Strife was going to say something else, War entered the kitchen as well. He sat down across from Strife and, being as brash as he ever was, got straight to the point. "Do we know the whereabouts of (y/n)?"

Strife shifted slightly, "The tea-whisperer over here 'hopes' they're stuck in traffic."

War grunted in response. Fury picked up the steaming cup of tea, taking a seat next to Strife at the table.

"Can we not contact them somehow? Strife, you have a phone."

"Yeah, I tried phoning them but a LOT of signal towers are still under construction in this area after they destroyed everything. So I couldn't get the call to go through."

Death also took his cup of tea but opted for standing by the window instead, he felt uncomfortable sitting down while in a state of stress. "And what of their place of employment? Do we not know where they work?" Death sighed when no one answered. Taking a slow sip of tea. He tasted the strong essence of pine forests and cold lakes before dawn, the flavours swirled in his head before settling in his chest.

Suddenly, Strife stood up from his seat, the tension becoming too much. "How do we not know where they work?! We live with them and we never even bothered to ask!" Fury and War stayed silent, rather opting for the neutral option in Strife's breakdown.

Death gave another scratching glare, but instead towards Strife, "Be calm brother. Your panic has never helped us before, so why would it aid us now? Your incessant babbling and worrying only makes things worse. So stop." Death said this with such a poisonous tone it made both Fury and War purse their lips. It was a stabbing question that pierced the already catastrophic hole in Strife's heart - making it just a small bit wider.

Fury had taken a breath to say the words prepared in her mind, just before they all heard a something - a vehicle. They all stalled any movement. Listening intently. It didn't sound like yours but it wasn't just passing either. It had stopped in front of the property and this confused the four. Had this person stopped accidentally? Did they need help? Or was it you in a different car?

Eventually, they all moved to the window looking over your front garden, the dusky light changed from one of orange and red into one of grey-ish blue night. How long were they standing in the kitchen for? It didn't matter. What did was the fact that they all let go of a breath they didn't know was there the moment they saw your head pop out of the car. You had gotten out and were waving back to the person in the car still. You said something along the lines of "Goodbye! Thanks again for the lift." They also couldn't see the person in the car, the windows being too heavily tinted.

The moment you opened the door, they were all standing in a line in front of you - all with crossed arms. All ready to interrogate you...and give you a hug out of relief.

[itcameuponamidnightqueer]

fake dating 10, any pairing you want

damie + “please just hold my hand, that person’s basically undressing me with their eyes.”

trope prompts

//

It’s not that Jamie doesn’t want to be at this school function, it’s just that—

No, that’s a lie. She definitely doesn’t want to be here, and wouldn’t if she weren’t part of the staff. Wouldn’t be here if Dani hadn’t tricked her, really, because Jamie’s usually pretty good about saying no even at work. 

“Rebecca’s back from traveling,” Dani had tried, and Jamie said no because who knows how long that’ll last. 

“Owen said he’s gonna ask Hannah out,” she’d tried next, and Jamie had actually laughed in her face. 

“Someone is actually going to have to physically force those two together,” she’d replied, and Dani’s eyes lit up, prompting her with a quirk of an eyebrow.

In no world does Jamie want to be that person.

Dani had sighed. “Free booze,” she’d grumbled, desperate. Jamie had rolled her eyes and opened the door to her well-stocked liquor cabinet.

Dani had pursed her lips together and turned her face away, almost quick enough for Jamie to miss the grin she was failing to suppress. 

If Jamie weren’t constantly on the lookout for that smile, she might have succeeded.

Dani had sighed again, raked a hand through her fluffy, perfect hair, and flopped back on the couch.

“Okay, fine,” she huffed. “You win, don’t come, we’ll hang out over the weekend and I’ll just tell you all about how lonely I was at the party—my first party without Eddie, which everyone will probably be asking me about and I’ll have to field awkward questions all night—”

Jamie scoffed. “And you think I’m going to magically make them not be awkward?”

“No,” Dani answered, a little too quickly. “I think you’d glare at them so hard they wouldn’t even ask me in the first place.”

“I think I’ve just been insulted!”

“No,” Dani laughed, “you just have that whole—” She scrunched her eyebrows together and set her shoulders, curled her lip upwards into an unmistakable hint of a sneer. Her voice, when she spoke, was half an octave lower and at least six countries away from Jamie’s accent. “—’Don’t fuck wiv’ me’ vibe going on,” she finished.

Jamie had taken a few long moments to blink away the urge to kiss her. 

“You’ve gotten worse,” she’d finally said. “Almost a year and a half working together and you’ve gotten worse.”

“Come to the party and you can spend the whole time teaching me.”

“Dani.”

“Jamie.”

Her eyes weren’t wide anymore; they’d shrunk back to being shy and vulnerable, the stormy kind of blue that Jamie didn’t ever see unless they were alone. Jamie had spent the better part of a year not acknowledging her feelings for Dani, and she was good at it. Not always good enough to escape Hannah’s shrewd gaze, but enough to where it was a genuine friendship, and she only felt the roar of devotion flare up in the quietest, most private of moments.

Jamie was excellent at controlling her emotions. She’d spent an entire lifetime honing that skill, protecting herself from the surprisingly large amount of people who seemed destined to hurt her. 

Jamie had nothing on Dani Clayton.

Dani could suppress any negative feeling until it almost ceased to exist; she had an incredible way of just...willing things not to happen. It had taken months for her to reveal the cracks in her relationship with Eddie, and even then Jamie sat by and watched, completely blown away, by how quickly and how sincerely Dani put the mask back up around people who only wanted to see silk and porcelain. The crazy thing about it was that Dani meant it; Dani gave all of her attention to everyone who asked for it. She didn’t have an insincere bone in her body.

But, god—Jamie’s life had been shit before, and still nothing made her sadder than watching Dani perform.

If all it took for her not to do that was one party, well, she could table the rest of it for later.

She’d picked up her phone and opened up the group chat they had with Hannah, Owen, and Rebecca.

“Right,” she’d groaned, “guess we’ve gotta coordinate who’s driving because the only way I’m getting through this is if I’m very, very drunk.”

.

And so Jamie finds herself at the not-yet-Christmas, ambiguously-winter end-of-semester party, sticking to Rebecca like a leech while she regales groups of coworkers with the same six stories of her very impulsive, wildly successful trip around the world. Dani, meanwhile, hasn’t been answering any awkward questions, from what Jamie’s heard, and is instead relaxed and popular as she chats with all of their friends.

Jamie almost turned around ten minutes in, once it became clear what the tone of the night would be. But there was no sense in bailing when she was already there and hadn’t driven herself, and—

Who would be there for Dani to look at, every twenty minutes or so, just for reassurance or to check in or whatever kind of comfort she might be seeking. (Jamie doesn’t know for sure what it is. She knows what she hopes it is. But that’s something else for the ‘later’ bag.)

She stays. Jamie stays and drinks and laughs and eventually gets sucked into the party of it all, which is why she’s five minutes into her best story of youthful shenanigans that didn’t end in a visit from the cops, and absolutely doesn’t notice the anxious blonde rushing at her from across the room. 

 “Hold my hand, hold my hand, hold my hand,” Dani urges, arm outstretched as she speeds closer. She hits Jamie’s elbow when she gets close enough and finally manages to wrestle Jamie’s hand into an iron grip.

Jamie, sufficiently interrupted, stops talking and looks down. “What’s going on here, then?”

Dani takes a deep breath and plasters on the worst attempt at a smile Jamie’s ever seen, which is still pretty good by most peoples’ standards. “Remember all those awkward questions I thought I’d get about Eddie?” she says through clenched teeth.

“Yep.”

“Thought they’d be full of pity, not flirting.”

Jamie’s head shoots up, trying to pick out the offenders, but Dani slaps her elbow again.

“Don’t look!” she hisses. “We have to make this convincing.”

“Make what convincing?” Jamie narrows her eyes and takes a long sip of her drink. “You’re pulling me into some kind of scheme, Poppins, and I know I’ve told you what happened the last time somebody did that…”

Dani laughs, high and fluttery and nervous in the back of her throat. “Please just hold my hand,” she implores. “Nathan is basically undressing me with his eyes but I think you can scare him off if he sees us together.”

“Nathan?” Jamie starts to scan the room again, a little less obviously this time. “Nathan Ford, the school’s sluttiest social studies teacher?”

“Mhm.”

“The same Nathan Ford who’s walking over right now?”

“What!” Dani straightens up, rigid and spooked like a deer in the road. “I can’t believe—I was so careful; is he stalking me?”

The anxiety is short-lived and replaced very quickly with anger once Jamie can no longer hold in her laughter. 

“You,” Dani says, prying Jamie’s drink from her other hand, “tricked me.”

“You tricked me first,” Jamie winks.

“I don’t even think he’s in here anymore.”

Jamie shrugs. “Probably not.”

“You made me think I was in so much trouble…”

“You’re always safe with me, Poppins.”

Dani finishes the drink.

.

The funny thing is, neither of them lets go. 

Nathan Ford isn’t the only slutty teacher and it doesn’t take Jamie long to get a glimpse of what Dani’s been dealing with, the men—single and married—who look at her just a little too long, a little too presumptuously. Dani, of course, handles it with grace and charm, and Jamie thinks that maybe she didn’t need her grumpy buffer after all.

She holds tight anyway, just in case.

It’s a dangerous thing to do, parade a fake relationship in front of all of their coworkers, but it doesn’t feel wrong or forced. They’re going on a break soon, Jamie rationalizes. School is going on a two-week break and everyone is drunk and no one is going to remember the scandal of the fourth grade teacher clinging all night to the newest member of the art department. If they do...well, everything can be laughed off or pushed down or forgotten eventually.

So they cling and they talk and Jamie expertly lets every too-interested man know, with absolute certainty, that their efforts should be directed elsewhere. She tickles her fingers against Dani’s, throws in a few isn’t that right, love’s every once in a while, rubs a hand on her back when the moment feels right. And Dani—

Dani invades her space—presses their shoulders together, scratches at the inside of Jamie’s wrist, wipes a stray bit of liquor from the side of her mouth after an untidy sip. Jamie feels all of this and lets it wash over her, lets it sink under her skin and warm her body until she feels like she could start a fire with her hands.

The night winds down and people filter out and eventually there isn’t anyone left to fool. But Dani’s hand is still in hers and Jamie is more than happy to be slow and soft with her. She stays, for the tenth and fifteenth and hundredth time.

It’s just the five of them left, eventually, and they migrate to the bar when the party room in the back seems too large for such a small group. They situate themselves on stools in the corner, and the conversation flows without a hitch. It always has with this group—Owen, Hannah, and Rebecca first, then Dani, then Jamie. She’d tell them all how much it really means to know them if anyone got enough drink in her.

Until then, she’ll scoff at group texts and drag her feet to parties and settle into the fact that they all know it’s for show anyway.

She props her head on her hand and listens, quickly approaching the sleepy part of drinking. She tries not to watch Dani too much while they all talk but it’s difficult—Dani is noticeable at a distance and absolutely striking up close. The curl of her lips as she smiles, the way they overtake her entire face if she means it enough (and she usually does); the laughter that pours out of her and directly into the hearts of anyone lucky enough to be listening; the way her ears look bigger when she hooks her hair behind them, how she only does that when she’s in very comfortable company.

After about thirty minutes, Jamie gets up to retrieve their coats before she does something stupid, like playfully tug at Dani’s earlobe or reach in to straighten the collar on her shirt.

She returns shortly, holding her leather jacket and Dani’s very puffy winter coat, and sits down without a word, content to wait for a natural break in the conversation. She folds the coats over her lap and fiddles with a coaster on the counter.

Dani absently reaches back to still her fingers after about a minute. A simple gesture—resting her hand atop Jamie’s, perhaps swiping her thumb across the back of her hand. Nothing like the displays they’d been putting on earlier. So unlike them, in fact, that Jamie doesn’t notice it at all.

Owen, Hannah, and Rebecca can’t take their eyes off it.

“So, what, were you waiting to tell me until I got back?”

Jamie nurses the dregs of her beer. “Tell you what?”

“This, what is this!” Rebecca exclaims, fluttering her fingers in the direction of Jamie and Dani’s still-clasped hands. “I go gallivanting around the world for an entire year and neither of you mention that you’ve shacked up?”

Jamie and Dani look at their hands, look at each other, and start speaking at the same time.

“We’re not dating, it was just a stupid thing for tonight—”

“Jamie’s doing me a favor since Eddie’s gone and men are creepy—”

“Right, sure.” Rebecca squints and fixes both of them with a sly glance. “It’s just for tonight, to ward off creepy men, which is why you’re still doing it since there are so many of them around now.”

“Must have just gotten used to it,” Dani offers weakly.

“Of course, which is why you still haven’t let go.”

Jamie lets go and tries not to telegraph how much she misses the weight of Dani’s hand.

“You’re definitely not dating,” Rebecca continues, “which is why Jamie got up and got her coat and Dani’s, and left the rest of us hanging.”

Dani looks down and finally notices the coat in Jamie’s lap. “You got my coat?” she asks, furrowing her brow.

“Yeah,” Jamie shrugs. “Seemed like you were ready to go.”

“Yeah, but I was—I was still talking.”

Jamie waves a hand. “You were telling the piano lesson story; you always tell that when you want the night to wind down.”

“No, I—” Dani frowns and retrieves her purse from where it’s hooked around the stool; she rummages through it frantically, her movements loose and messy. “How did you get my coat check ticket?”

“Took that from ya ages ago, Poppins,” Jamie answers. “You were so nervous you were gonna rub the number right off it, and then we’d both be shit outta luck.”

Jamie watches as the expression on Dani’s face morphs, unfurls from stern, puzzled ridges and relaxes into fondness, into twinkling eyes and soft cheeks, a mischievous affection that floors Jamie every time she sees it. Every time, she wonders how many people have been lucky enough to have been on the receiving end of this look, and hopes that the answer is ‘very few’.

“We should, um, probably go,” Dani whispers.

Jamie smiles. “We all drove here together,” she reminds Dani, just as quietly.

Dani slumps back. She reaches for her coat but instead of grabbing it, simply rests her hand on top, like she’s waiting.

Jamie breathes deeply and avoids looking at Rebecca.

“Owen, mate,” she says, daring him to tease her, “maybe you could drop off Dani and me first.”

[poptod]

Hi! Can I have an enemies to lovers fic between Ahkmenrah and a Nubian Queen, where their territories are at war with each other (as in a war is literally taking place) 😇😇

notes: man, ive been integrating nubia/kush into my ancient egyptian stories for How long now and i havent thought of doing this? damn. anyway i sort of changed the prompt a little cause i didnt want to get too much into the politics between ancient egypt and nubia cause holy fuck was that a hyperobsession of mine for a bit WC: 1.8k

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This was... unconventional, to put it lightly. You and a Pharaoh inherited a war from your parents – a longlasting conflict between Nubia and Egypt, and having it end up this way was something no one could have prepared for.

You had directed armies yourself; put yourself in battle, ridden hordes of bulls through encampments and foreign soldiers. It was a purposeful tactic to incite fear in those who opposed you, a lesson in the dramatics handed down to you by your father. He always had an eye for showmanship.

Ahkmenrah conducted undercover operations and covert raids and, at times, led his armies into battle. He was renowned for his work with swords and daggers, often using fire to get his way. By lighting your cities aflame, he weakened the power of Nubia, and destroyed precious resources and lives.

Both of you had earned your share of scars, up and down your arms, puncturing your chest and slashing your skin. You personally fought one another on several occasions – the month-long conflict in Semna, the burning of Buhen, the advance on Aswan. Your officers attested to your hatred of the man, and the people of Egypt were well in the know of the Pharaonic family's distaste for Nubians.

"That bastard cut two of my fingers off," you often recounted, and often (and coincidentally) on the same days the Pharaoh would say, "that little shit ruined my perfect skin."

What he meant by this remained, for a good while, unknown to those who heard it. His officers and advisors had asked him several times, but he never gave a straight answer. He kept it a nice secret till it was inevitably discovered to be long, numerous scars ranging all up his back. From his shoulder blades to the small of his back, scars had ruined the once smooth skin, a gift from you to him.

How you gave him these scars was also unknown, and continued to be so forever. He never answered how it happened and you never spoke about it.

However, the answer became clear, though not officially confirmed.

You looked off the side of the bed, listless eyes drifting between the different paintings lining the bedroom's walls. Unlike the grandeur of the court room and dining room, the images were not of the Pharaoh, instead displaying the wealth of a happy garden. It was art you had somehow come to miss in your time away from Egypt.

Kisses landed on the back of your neck before hands travelled to your waist, squeezing the supple skin as the kisses grew lower. You attempted to shake the touch off but he was persistent.

"No," you said, squirming in place but not bothering to leave your spot on the bed. "I came here to settle my debt and I should return to that."

"Lie here with me and your debt is settled," he murmured, lips moving against your skin as he spoke.

"That is not even close to –"

"Shhh," he said softly, and his movements continued without pause, searching the body he had gotten to know uncomfortably well.

Unbeknownst to the populace and to many of your officials, the two of you exchanged letters. Nothing of fantastic importance nor hatred, but instead a communication between two people who had no one else to relate to besides each other. Where else would you find a King or Queen embroiled in conflict?

So you related to one another, and the information you relayed in your letters was always thrice-checked, a tactic to keep Ahkmenrah from using anything against you. He did the same with his own letters, which you expected him to.

Your worst enemy and closest friend continued to kiss you as you lay in his bed, his hand wandering lower till he tugged at the hem of your skirt.

"I'm going to kill you one of these days," you said as you rolled over, facing him head-on. As usual, your words were curt, to the point, and spoken in a nearly monotone voice with complete seriousness. As usual, his eyes were glittering with the excitement you often sparked in him, the most bittersweet of smiles always tainting his lips.

"You've tried six times and you've been unsuccessful thus far," he said in a teasing manner, his grin spreading.

"Well then," you said as he moved to hold himself above you, one hand planted on either side of your head as he sat between your legs, "one more try won't hurt."

"Please don't try to kill me while I'm having sex with you," he groaned.

"I don't want undead dick in me, so I thought I'd do it before or after," you said, something he apparently found amusement in.

"If you weren't the one that destroyed my alliance with Punt, I would marry you so hard," he admitted before diving in to kiss you, aligning perfectly with your lips. You tried two times to reply, but you were entirely muted, and eventually you gave in.

You hated him from the moment you met him. Was that still true, though? Did you still hate him, the man who had taken so much from you, gifting it back in the form of a physical love. His actions in the throes of passion did not suffice as an apology, so you assumed yes––you still hated him.

After all was said and done, you didn't dare to linger. Being absent more than a day from your country never boded well, though the journey back would take up the rest of the day, as the sun had risen a short time ago. You dressed yourself and bid a hasty good-bye to the Pharaoh, who asked you to stay longer.

"If I stay any longer I'm going to suffocate you," you said as you adjusted your belt.

"Have you ever stopped to think maybe I want that?" He asked, and in pure confusion you turned to him, your expression contorted. He explained further, "I've heard choking can be very good during sex."

"Shut the fuck up," you sighed, rolling your eyes as you turned back to your reflection. He just chuckled, flopping back down on the bed.

You paused for a moment––stopped dressing yourself, and instead unwillingly turned your attention to Ahkmenrah's reflection in the mirror, his curls a mess as he stared up at the ceiling. The slow rise and fall of his chest did not match the heavy blush on his cheeks. As he turned to lay on his side, you caught sight of his back, and the numerous scratch marks lining up and down it.

"Do they hurt?" You asked softly, and though you didn't realize it at the time, they were the first soft-spoken words you had shared with him.

"Do what hurt?" He asked in return, rolling back over to face you with a curious smile.

"Those marks on your back," you said, though you didn't turn to face him, instead locking eyes with him in the mirror. "I never mean to give you them."

"You don't?" He asked, quirking one of his brows. "I've always thought of them as a memento. I mean they hurt, but... most things you do hurt me."

For as right as he was, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment for your actions. You had done many things to him and around him, and by both of your accounts, none of the things you'd done had helped him in any way. Except the sex, but neither of you thought of that as your own actions. But he was handsome, and he was kind to his people. Despite the mutual hatred between you he always ensured you were alright with what he was doing in bed. It was two different versions of yourselves––the battlefield, and the home. He was a perfect lover and a ruthless King, and you never bothered to be anything but a spiteful ruler on and off the battlefield.

"Put some lavender oil on it," you said, fixing your collar. "It helps get rid of scars.

"We don't have any lavender oil ever since you cut off our trade network," he said flatly.

"Oh," you paused, "right."

You took one more moment to watch him through his reflection before you took a deep breath.

"I have to leave now. Try not to get into any trouble, or start any, before I get home," you said.

"When will I see you next?" He asked, his cheek squished into the mattress.

"Probably when you wake up at midnight with a knife above your head."

He laughed, but before he could properly respond, you left out the door with your veil concealing your identity. So instead he sighed, turning back to the ceiling as the image of you imprinted itself behind his eyelids. He would miss you no matter how hard he tried not to, and he knew this because every time you left him in his bedroom, emptiness replaced the warmth in his chest. Your warmth.

The moment he passed the threshold of his room, however, he fell back into his natural state––the one he held around his palace officials and citizens. The man who burnt down cities. Very rarely did he ever let this facade fall, and in the following weeks he kept up with it, only breaking it for a split second on a humid evening.

Mail had come into his study, full of letters, plans, and maps all addressed to him. Usually he went through them with his advisors and vizier, but tonight was a holy night, and many of them had asked for the day off, which he of course granted.

The last piece of mail wasn't a scroll or a letter, but instead a small package with a note inside. He frowned as he tore open the sealing, curious to see its' contents. Out fell a sturdy glass bottle, followed by a slip of paper, and the bud of a dried flower.

Get a pretty girl and have her use this on you.

Signed, your friend

He twisted the cork off the bottle. The scent inside was strong enough to reach him without him having to bring it to his nose, and instantly he recognized the source.

Lavender.

He grinned, a grin that only grew larger as he thought of what to say in return. In a flash he grabbed his own papyrus and pen, scribbling down a neat response.

Use it on me yourself, coward.

Signed, your love.

A week later the mail came into your home, and for a good while you sorted through it, though what first caught your attention was the insignia Ahkmenrah planted on each of his covert letters. A lotus. You set that aside––it was not as important as other matters, and it could wait until a little later.

When you did open it, however, you went into such a fluster that a blush coated your face for a good three days.

[xddaengx]

Little Baby Bear

⚬Pairings: Jungkook x Reader

⚬Genre:  Romance | Hybrid AU | Hurt/Comfort AU | Angst | 

⚬Warnings: Hybrid Abuse | PTSD? | 

⚬Word Count: 3.2k

⚬Summary: You never thought you would see your ex again... especially not at your front door with his hybrid.

⚬Author’s Note: This was requested...It took a bit longer to write than I thought but I hope you enjoy. (there is definitely to be a second part)

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The loud knocking on your front door - was what startled you out of your bed that morning. The pounding continuing until you swing open the bright blue door with a huff.

“What do you want?” You snap at the man in front of you - not particularly excited to see your ex-boyfriend at six-thirty in the morning on a Saturday.

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for weeks.” Your ex chides, looking you up and down with a smile before glancing behind you into your small house. “Ever since you moved out here - it’s become really hard to get in contact with you.” He adds, motioning to the wide country side that surrounds your small brick cottage.

“Seriously what do you want, Hoseok?” You cut him off from continuing on another tangent, the sight of the suitcases besides him finally catching your attention. You look down at the hard top plastic with a frown, before turning back to look at the lean man.

“I just need someone to look after him…Just for a little while.” Hoseok says quietly his body moving slightly to the side to show the overgrown man crouched on your front steps. The large boy sends you a quick grin, before turning back around to look at your front garden in awe.

“What do you mean?” You question quickly, hushing your voice a little more as you watch Jungkook chase the butterflies around the garden, obviously excited by the new environment. Hoseok just grimaces as the hybrid behind him squashes one of your flower patches.

“I just have some things I need to sort out - and he’s already comfortable around you.” Hoseok begins, the raising of your hand making his sentence fade off.

“We broke up two years ago, Hoseok…Frankly after you cheated on me, I was hoping to never see you again.” You hiss, the change in your tone catching Jungkook’s attention, he stands quickly moving to stand between you and his owner.

“Please, you’re the only person I know that already knows how to look after him - and I can’t apply for a foster because no one excepts his species.” Hoseok snaps back, his hands balling at his sides as he looks over at Jungkook, who seems to falter at his owners words, his smile fading - the hurt obvious in his eyes.  

Jungkook had always been self conscious about the hybrid he was mixed with…The bear part of him obvious by the size of his hands and feet - obviously too large to be a humans making the hybrid clumsy but lethal when he needed to be.

Jungkook is quick to hide his hands in his pockets once he notices you staring at them, his eyebrows furrowed as the soft round ear atop his head flatten.

You let out a long sigh before grabbing Jungkook’s forearm pulling him to move inside your house.

“Fine, he can stay…for now.” You mumble, Hoseok’s face lighting up as he moves the two suitcase inside your front door before rushing towards his car before you can change your mind. He waves quickly to Jungkook who stand behind you, his hands still shoved deep in his pockets, as he watches his owner drive away.

“Well, welcome…I guess.” You say turning to the hybrid, who’s eyes stay focused on his suitcases, the tears welling in his eyes, sending a strong pang in your heart.

“Kook, he’s going to be coming back - you’re just going to be visiting with me for a while…” You begin trying to console the sad hybrid before adding, “It’ll be like a sleepover.” You words seems to cheer the hybrid up the slightest bit as he finally lifts his gaze, finally pulling his hands out of his pockets to tip furiously at his eyes.

You decide quickly to show Jungkook around your humble abode, showing him where he can sleep while he’s staying with you - the boy getting excited at having his own room.

“At home, I always had to share with Taehyung.” Jungkook says as you smooth out the fresh blankets on his bed, the hybrid unpacking his clothes into the dresser.

“Who’s Taehyung?” You question, your attention only half on the hybrid as you fluff the pillows you had pulled out of the cupboard.

“He’s the mistresses hybrid…He’s a tiger.” Jungkook says quickly, not noticing the way you tense up at the words. “She never let me call her by her real name…She’s so much nicer to everyone else.” He adds quickly, the words boiling something inside of you.

You were well aware of the way Hoseok’s, new partner thought of hybrids. The way she would treat them, was never something you agreed with, even when she was your best-friend. You huff, throwing the pillow into the spot on the bed, sending the hybrid a quick smile when you spot the panic on his face.

“I’m just going to take a quick walk, did you want to come?” You question the boy who nods quickly, pulling a large jacket out of his suitcase, sliding it on before following you to the back door. “Just wait here, I just need to change.” You mumble, looking down at your baggy pyjama’s - a combination of five year old sweatpants and the same shirt you had been wearing for the past three days.

Jungkook, nods, standing directly in front of the back door, his hands clasped tightly together, as you rushed up the stairs pulling the first pair of leggings and the first clean-ish shirt you find out of the cupboard, slipping them both on with the decision to worry about showering later.

As much of a sweet person Jungkook was, you know he was the worst when it came to touching things he shouldn’t. His large hands, throwing any spacial awareness he had out the window. When you come back down the stairs, you’re surprised to find Jungkook standing in the exact position you had left him in - his hands clasped in front of him, looking out the window in excitement at the forest that sit behind your house.

“Ready to go?” He questions, the small flicking of the waistband on his pants, letting you know his small tail was wagging with fury. You nod, unlocking the back door, swinging it open, not being surprised when the hybrid bolts off in the direction of the forest - technically what he would consider his natural habitat.

You walk slowly around the pathways that had been carved in the dirt of the forest, watching as Jungkook rushes through the trees, occasionally trying to catch a bird.

Hoseok had gotten the bear hybrid from a local circus that was closing down. It had been one of his favourite places to go as a child, and seeing that they were “adopting” out their attractions had Hoseok feeling nostalgic and giddy. You remember the first time you met the bear hybrid - it was a few months before the end of your relationship with Hoseok, the hybrid trailing in happily behind his new owner as he looked around the large apartment.

“And this is my girlfriend…Isn’t she pretty?” Hoseok coos at Jungkook as he motions to where you stand by the lounge, still surprised at the new addition. The hybrid nods behind his owner, his ears flattening against his head as he gives you a shy wave - one you are quick to return. “You two are actually the same age.” Hoseok adds, as he pushes Jungkook to move closer to greet you.

Jungkook was quick to become a close companion to both you and Hoseok, most evenings you spent with the bear hybrid curled up between you on the couch. When things had gone to hell between you and his owner, Jungkook had been understandably devastated.

The day he had spotted you packing your bags, he had pleaded with you to stay, to not let the Mistress tear your family apart. You shook your head - eyes teary as you pulled the suitcase out of his hands.

“I can’t stay, Jungkook…I don’t belong here anymore.” You sighed, giving the boys ears one last scratch before you swung open the front door.

“Well, don’t come back then…I never want to see you again.” The hybrid had shouted - wiping away the tears that fell on his cheeks. His words hit you like a ton of bricks - Jungkook was never one to yell, especially at someone he loved so dearly, but he had been hurt…You had hurt him.

Though as you watch him race through the trees now - sending you a bright grin every time he trips over a tree root, you can help but think that maybe he had forgotten about the things he said to you that day.

It had been an hour of aimlessly wandering before you decided to wrangle Jungkook and try to guide him back to the cottage - bribing him with making his favourite vegetable soup for lunch. Jungkook had never been a timid hybrid when Hoseok had first gotten him - he was usually very open with affection and any thoughts or feelings he had, but as you take off your muddy shoes, leaving them at the back door making your way into the kitchen, something tells you to turn around.

So you do.

“What’re you doing?” You ask the hybrid as he waits outside your backdoor, his hands clenching and unclenching as he look towards you in the kitchen.

“I can’t come in, if I’m not invited in.” Jungkook says quietly, his hands remaining clenched as he continues to stand at the door, looking like there was a war going on inside his head.

“Oh…Well you don’t have to ask here. If you want to come inside, then come inside.” You say quickly, swinging open the door to the fridge, not watching as the hybrid slowly slips off his shoes, tip toeing his way into the kitchen, almost as if he was ready for you to retract your statement and tell him to go back outside.

You take all the vegetables you need out of your fridge as well as a carton of vegetable stock - beginning to slowly cut each vegetable into large chunks, making sure to cut extra potato - jungkook’s favourite - before throwing it all into a pot with the stock and two large cups of water.

“It’ll take an hour or two for the soup to settle.” You say quickly turning to where Jungkook hovers behind you - watching you throw the dishes in the sink, wiping your hands on your pants with a huff, deciding to come back to the dishes later.

“I need to have a shower - Feel free to make yourself at home…There’s plenty of movies in the cabinet under the T.V. if you want to watching something.” You say quietly, Jungkook nods moving towards the cabinet with a grin when he spot his favourite movie series along the collection.

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When you come down from your room - after a long shower and sitting on your bed for an hour going through your phone - your surprised to see Jungkook curled up tightly on the couch, your small knitted throw blanket sitting over his lap. You can’t help but let out a small chuckle at the sight of the large boy covered with such a small blanket.

As quietly as you can manage - you make your way over to the basket in the corner of your lounge room - pulling one of the larger fleece blankets out, slowly making your way over to the hybrid, draping the blanket over him gently. The hybrid shifts when the weight of the blanket surrounds him and you freeze not wanting him to wake up from his nap.

The hybrid lets out a content sigh - snuggling further under the blanket, a small grin spreading across his face. You let out a breath of relief as you try to slip away from the cuddled up hybrid.

“Thank you, Y/n.” You hear the deep voice rumble, the tone and volume much different from what you were used to with Jungkook. You make your way into the kitchen, trying not to think about the change in the hybrid voice.

Jungkook had always had a tendency to act almost childlike - something he had been taught to do in the circus…to appeal to the masses - his voice was usually much higher, as if he was constantly speaking in a soft whining tone. But the voice that had just left him was much different. It was deeper, stronger and much more like what you would expect from the large man.

Poking your head around the corner - you check Jungkook one more time before deciding that you would let the soup simmer for a little longer while he sleeps.

He must be exhausted.

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“Kook, don’t you think that’s enough carrots?” You question the bear hybrid who run in from the backyard his arms piled high with carrots. He shakes his head, a smile blooming on his face as he reaches the back door, proudly showing you his harvest of carrots from the garden.

“Don’t worry…I’ll eat all of them.” He chirps, moving over to the kitchen counter to place the carrots in the sink for a rinse in clean water.

“I don’t doubt that you will.” You huff, watching the hybrid move around the kitchen freely.

Jungkook had been settling in quickly. It had only been three weeks but he already knew the forest around your house like that back of his hand - a routine for the two of you being set quickly.

The morning was for walking and picking produce out of your garden.

The afternoon was for eating and preparing for dinner.

And night was time to relax - eat delicious food and watching gordon Ramsay swearing at people until the two of you made you way to your respective rooms. You hadn’t had much incident with jungkook about his past with your ex-boyfriend until the night after you had broken routine, opting to go grocery shopping instead of for a walk through the forest.

You had been cooking the stir fried vegetables when a loud crashing sound came from the lounge room - followed by a soft whimper. You drop the wooden spoon against the kitchen counter, rushing around the corner to see what had caused the ruckus, stopping in your tracks when you see Jungkook knelt on the floor holding the broken photo frame in his hands.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I really didn’t mean to, I just wanted to look at the photo.” He’s quick to explain dropping the photo frame on the floor, straightening his arms above his head, in a straight line, his eyes turning to look at the floor. You can see the small shivers that rake over the hybrids body as you take in the rest of the damage.

You walk slowly over to the hybrid looking at the shattered glass around him, his hand littered with small cuts. You shake your head with a small sigh, the shaking in the hybrid growing stronger.

“What have they done to you, little baby bear?” You coo to the hybrid, slowly leaning down, bringing his arms with you. You clasp Jungkook’s hands in your own as you wait for him to raise his head. “It’s okay, Kookie…You’re not in trouble.” Your words drag a sob out of the hybrid as he pulls his hands out from your own, shuffling forwards before throwing his arms around your shoulders tightly, his face burying in the crook of your neck. His sobs get louder, his body flinching as you wrap your own around around his waist, stroking his back soothingly.

“I don’t want to go back…I want to stay with you.” He whispers.

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“I see you haven’t change your number yet.” You hiss as a tired Hoseok answers the phone, his voice groggy on the other side.

“It’s midnight Y/N, why are you calling me?” He groans, a voice next to him asking him who it was.

“What have you done to him, Hoseok? Why isn’t he allowed inside uninvited? Why can’t he behave like a person?” You look at the half closed door of Jungkook bedroom as you speak into the phone. You huff when Hoseok doesn’t answer.

“I knew you were a horrible person, but I never thought you were that bad.” You sigh, rubbing your forehead softly, as you take one more look at Jungkook’s door before walking into the kitchen. “Let’s be honest with each other, Hoseok…Were you ever planning on coming back for him?” You question, your frown deepening as Hoseok sighs.

“No…My fiancee…she’s allergic to his fur, she wanted me to get rid of him - he was burdensome to everyone here.” He says in a hushed voice through the phone, and you can’t help but curse the world for being so cruel to such a beautiful human.

“Just send me the adoption papers, with your signature. Don’t ever contact us again.” You finish, hanging up the phone without waiting for a response, letting out another string of curse words, before making your way to your own bedroom.

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It takes two days for you to finally break the news to Jungkook, not being sure whether he would be upset or excited to be able to stay with you forever.

It seemed to be the latter.

“Oh, Thank god.” He coos - his voice dropping an octave as he visibly relaxes -  as you finally tell him that you had decided to adopt him, that he could stay with you forever.

“I hated it there, after you left things changed…he wasn’t as loving as he was with you.” Jungkook begins, his hands clasped tightly in his lap, as he lets out a long sigh. “When the mistress moved in, he started drinking, and would often take out his frustration on us.”

“Us?” You question.

“Me and the other hybrid Taehyung. He’s the mistress hybrid, he had lived with her his whole life and didn’t know much different, but it was horrible compared to when you were there. We weren’t real people to her, she treated us like animals.” Jungkook continues, his knuckles turning white from how hard his hands are clasped together.

“Oh, Kookie.” You sigh, watching as he begins to shake his head.

“Don’t feel bad…I knew as soon as Hoseok told me to pack my bags that we were coming to you, I knew that things were going to be okay with you - though I can’t help but feel bad for Tae, he’s stuck there on his own now, and I have everything I could dream of.” Jungkook finishes, his smile widening on his face, as he unclasps his hands, reaching to take your own.

“I couldn’t be happier now that I’m here.” He adds, and you return his smile, the two of you flinching as a loud knocking sounds of the front door. Jungkook’s ears move of his head, taking deep sniffs of the air as his eyebrows furrow.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” You say quickly, letting go of Jungkook’s hands, moving towards the door. You begin to pull open the door as Jungkook lets out a low growl.

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” You hiss, as you look at your ex-boyfriend standing at your front door a large envelope in hand, a black haired boy standing behind him, suitcase in hand.