#i might do a bonus chapter about them too!

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful

Summary: You have a long weekend that ends rather unexpectedly. Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing. 

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, suggestive content, language, some brief violence at the end.

A/N: I'm in a bit of a crisis so you're getting a bonus chapter this week. It's a beefy one and I wrote like 90% of it yesterday, just had the brain sludge by the time I was close to finishing and decided to rest before I finished and edited. Things are starting to get a big suggestive here, so as a reminder, this fic will have NSFW content in later chapters so please do not interact with it if you are under 18. I'd hate to have to block you.

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“How are you settling in?” 

“Fine.” You shrug. 

“Any instinct to nest at all?” 

You shake your head. “No.” 

“That’s fine.” Dr. Keller says, writing something down. “It’s only been just over a week. Have you started kneeling for Captain Price yet?” 

You shake your head again. “No.” 

Dr. Keller tilts her head. “Why not?” 

You shrug again. “He hasn’t brought it up.” 

“Is that something you’d like to start doing?” 

Her question catches you off guard again. You’re not used to being asked what you want, afterall you’re an omega. That’s not important. You’re here to serve. To do as you’re told. You remember watching your mother kneel for your father while he watched TV, her dazed, glazed over eyes staring at nothing as he almost seemed to hypnotize her into the shell of a perfect omega. It was your first taste of truly how much power alphas could hold over omegas. One hand on the back of your neck and it’s over. 

“I...I don’t know.” You say, picking at your sleeve. 

“You’re allowed to want things too.” Dr. Keller leans forward just slightly, giving you a smile. “I highly doubt Captain Price will make much of a fuss if you ask for something you need. He cares about you. If he didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here alone.” She tilts her head at you, watching you pick at your sleeve. “Is there anything you want or maybe need that you haven’t asked for?” 

Softer blankets. A fluffier pillow. Different body wash and shampoo. New clothes. A picture or a poster or something to make your room seem less clinical. Your instincts to finally start kicking in. Price to want you as much as he’s supposed to. Ghost to like you. To go back in time and let Soap kiss you. 

To go back in time and never present as an omega. 

“No.” You finally answer, shaking your head. “I’m fine.” 

Dr. Keller stares at you for a long moment. You avoid her gaze, picking at the seam of your sleeve. “I know you’re going to get tired of me saying this, but it’s important that you understand that this is a safe space for you. Everything that we discuss, everything that you say in here stays between you and me. Doctor-patient confidentiality is something I firmly believe in, even when it comes to alpha/omega relationships. Okay?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You say quietly, still avoiding her gaze. 

She continues to stare at you for a moment before she leans back on the couch again, shuffling some papers around. “The two betas, Sergeant Garrick and Sergeant MacTavish. How are you getting along with them?” She continues with her questions.

“Fine.” You lean back in your chair, hoping it might swallow you whole. “They’re easiest to get along with.” 

Dr. Keller nods. “Good. I’m a strong advocate for organic pack bonding. Helps avoid any dynamic struggles or false instincts down the line. How are you sleeping?” 

“Fine I guess.” You shrug. “I nap a lot.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Omegas need a lot of sleep and I can imagine adjusting to a new schedule has been rough.” Dr. Keller moves the papers to the couch next to her, looking up at you. “Is there anything you want to talk about?” 

You hesitate, pulling at the seam of your sleeve. It’s beginning to unravel a bit from your nervous picking. You’ll have to fix it. Dr. Keller is right, though. You could just ask for a new one. Price had told you they had a budget for your needs, plus they do get paid well. Anything you needed, they would gladly get for you. 

You just have to ask. 

It’s the asking that you’re not sure you can do. It feels strange to ask anything of your new pack. They’re supposed to be the ones needing things from you. If Soap had wanted to kiss you, he could have. Instead he left it up to you. He let you decide. You wonder if Price’s hesitation to move forward has been because he’s waiting on you. 

They’re all waiting on you, except maybe Ghost. They’re waiting on you to make the first moves, on you to set the pieces on the board. What is the first move? How do you set the pieces? Did you even need to? Would they fall into place organically if you just left them alone? Or would the tension continue to build up, would you continue to affect them until it became too much and the pressure causes everything to blow? 

“I’m affecting them.” You say, the words slipping out before you can stop them. 

Dr. Keller tilts her head as she stares at you. “What do you mean?” 

“They’re soldiers. They’re good soldiers with years and years of training, that’s why they're here. But...but I’m changing that. I asked Price if I could go with them and watch them run a training course cause I read in a book that I should get to know them and the things they like and so I was just curious what they do during the day when I’m not with them. He let me watch and he told me their top speeds running the training course but...none of them met those times with me there.”

You take a deep breath, the words pouring out of you easily now. You feel as if you’re not even thinking of them, not even measuring them or using caution as you normally would in any conversation. They’re slipping out from somewhere deep inside and now that you’ve opened that dam, you can’t stop it. 

“Price made them run through it five times and they still couldn’t match their top speeds. He said it was a good thing that they figured that out, that they need to know how I’m affecting them and how to adjust to me. And every time they ran through it, I couldn’t stop thinking about...” 

You take another breath, the air catching in your lungs. Your fingers are shaking, your body sinking deeper and deeper into the chair, almost as if you’re trying to get it to swallow you whole. As if the chair might wrap its arms around you and pull you into its softness and keep you there until you can’t breathe and it suffocates you. 

“What if it was me? What if they were having to rescue me? I know that’s a risk, a low one, but it’s still a risk. The CIA and Kate warned me that I could become a target if the wrong person found out about me. That’s why I can’t know anything about what they do because that puts me at more of a risk, and I could be a threat to them and the entire world if something got out that wasn’t supposed to.” 

You’re breathing heavily as the words finally come to a stop. Dr. Keller’s eyes are shining with sympathy as she stares at you. This is the most you’ve ever opened up to her, the most words you feel you’ve ever spoken to her in the two times now that you’ve met.

It feels good. It feels really good to voice your thoughts and your fears to someone on the outside, someone you can trust won’t tell anyone. You couldn’t voice these fears to your pack. They’re used to this kind of thing. They live with the knowledge they could die at any point, that any mission might be their last. How many lives have they seen lost, how many close calls have they had? You’ve seen scars already on arms, hands, faces. How many others are hidden where you can’t see? 

How many scars do they have inside, too? 

“I want you to know that your fears are very valid.” Dr. Keller says, her voice soft. “Being involved in the military comes with a lot of risks, and then you get to places like this and those risks only get greater and greater. I can’t promise you that something like that won’t ever happen, because we have no way of knowing. The risk is not zero for a reason.” 

Dr. Keller stands from the couch, moving to the chair next to you. The calming beta scent washes over you, and you know you have to be stinking up the room. She turns the chair slightly to face you, leaning forward onto her knees. You can see the imprints on the sides of her nose from where she’d been wearing glasses earlier. 

“That risk is also only low for a reason. Your identity has been well hidden, just like those of your pack’s. You’re on a well protected and secure military base. This place is a black square on Google Maps. I know, I tried looking it up when I found out where I was being assigned.” She reaches out, squeezing your arm gently. “And I highly doubt your pack would ever let anything happen to you. Packs are highly protective over their omegas. Even bad alphas can’t fight that instinct when their pack is threatened. Your pack would quite literally go to war for you.” 

She is right, you know she is. Yet that fear continues to wiggle at the back of your mind. You know they’d never let anything happen to you, but they’re going to start leaving soon. What if something happens while they’re not here? Who will help you then? The other soldiers? The betas that stare and the alphas that catcall you? 

“I guess you’re right.” You say, continuing to pick at your sleeve. At this rate, by the time your heat starts, you’ll have unraveled the whole sweatshirt.  

The buzz of your phone on your nightstand pulls you from your half asleep state. Your book is on the floor, having dropped from your hands and slid off your bed as you drifted off. Your lamp is still on, casting a warm glow around your room. You prefer the softer light compared to the fluorescent overhead, as most omegas do. There’s something too clinical and sterile about fluorescents. 

You grab your phone, pushing yourself up onto your elbow as you try to blink the sleepiness away. It’s not terribly late, but you’ve been feeling the exhaustion all day since your conversation with Dr. Keller. 

“Be ready by 0500 tomorrow. Wear something meant for the outdoors.” 

It’s a text from Price, your brow furrowing as you read it over. Five in the morning on a Saturday? That’s the earliest you’ve had to get up since your arrival on base. And wear something meant for the outdoors? You can only imagine what he has planned for the day you had been planning on spending sleeping. 

You make a quiet noise of indignation as you text back in confirmation, setting an alarm so you can be ready by 5 am. Not up by 5 am, ready by 5 am. You have half a mind to call him, or to text back asking why he feels you need to be up before the sun. You know that’s the normal time they begin their mornings during the week, usually when you hear them up and moving around, getting ready to go work out. That’s usually when you roll over and go back to sleep for another hour and a half before your own alarm gets you up for breakfast. 

You pout a little as you set your phone back on your nightstand, reaching down to grab your book and set it next to your phone. You lay back down on your bed, turning off your lamp and bathing the room in darkness. Well, it’s not totally dark. The light from the lamp outside shines in your window, casting cold shadows across the walls and floor. You’ve never been a fan of total darkness. You’d grown used to having some light in the room at The Institute. One of your roommates had insisted on having a nightlight, and there were many nights you were grateful for it as you laid awake at the mercy of your racing mind. 

A nightlight. 

You add it to the mental list of things you want, but you’ll never feel brave enough to ask for. 

Your alarm rings too early in the morning, your hand lifting to silence it quickly. 4:30 am doesn’t feel like a real time as you rise in darkness, hand fumbling for the switch to your lamp. You glare into the dimly lit room, trying to blink the sleepiness from your eyes. How desperately you want to curl back up under the blankets and sleep until someone knocks on the door to check on you because you’ve slept so long into the day. 

You don’t doubt Price will knock in about 30 minutes to get you up. He’ll be disappointed if you ignore him, you think. He wouldn’t punish you if you went against his wishes, would he? 

You don’t know that. 

You haven’t even thought to push that boundary, nor have you discussed it. You don’t want to. You’re a good omega. 

You’re a good omega. 

You repeat it over and over as you get yourself ready, splashing cold water on your face to wake yourself up. You silently thank Kate as you pull on a pair of cargo pants and hiking boots, assuming that’s what Price means by “something meant for the outdoors.” Had she bought the items in anticipation of something like this happening? You are on a military base. You should have expected you’d be pulled into something like this eventually. 

You’re debating on a jacket by the time the knock comes, right at 5 am. You wonder how long Price has been standing in the hallway, or if he’s perfected arriving right on the dot after years of expected punctuality. You decide on the jacket after checking the weather, slipping it on as you open the door. He hadn’t mentioned needing anything, not that you own any sort of supplies for the outdoors anyway. 

He doesn’t say anything as you open the door, instead motioning with his head to follow. You quietly close your door, expecting the others to be waiting for you, but their doors are all closed and they’re nowhere to be seen. You feel slightly nervous as you follow Price out into the cold morning air, glad you decided on the jacket as your breath steams from your lips. 

Price is dressed in his usual boots and cargo pants with a cargo jacket and a beanie instead of a bucket hat. There’s two packs leaning against the side of the building, Price grabbing one and approaching you. 

“What are we doing?” You ask quietly as he helps you put on the backpack, buckling it across your chest. 

“Going for a hike.” He says, putting on the other backpack. 

“Why?” You ask as he turns on a flashlight, handing it to you before turning on another one for himself. 

“I’ll explain when we get there.” He says simply, motioning for you to follow him. 

You hesitate for half a moment. A hike in the dark? The base is surrounded by forest, but you sometimes forget due to the sprawling nature of the buildings, and your usual ventures outside the barracks being to either the mess or the medical center, all of which were central on the base. 

Why does he feel the need to hike in the dark? Surely it’s more dangerous, especially for someone not quite so physically inclined like you. If he wanted to go on a hike, why hadn’t he just said that to begin with? Maybe he would have, had you asked why last night instead of just immediately agreeing. 

Going into the woods alone in the dark with an alpha you barely know. 

Anxiety twists in your stomach for a moment before you force your feet forward, walking fast to catch up to him. He leads you down one of the roads on base, your boots crunching as the ground changes from asphalt to gravel. Your anxiety doesn’t lessen any as the trees loom high above you in the darkness, the forest like a black void before you. 

Your brain thinks up all the land predators that might exist in England. Do they have bears? You’ve seen Brave, but that’s in Scotland. What about big cats like cougars or mountain lions? Are there racoons in England? 

You’re on a military base, you think. Surely they have means to keep out large predators that might be dangerous. 

Your pack won’t let anything happen to you. 

Dr. Keller’s words float through your mind as you follow Price through the underbrush and into the trees. You’re not following any path, at least that you can see, though your experiences in the outdoors have been very limited since you left home. Your dad liked to camp and hike, and often you and your siblings were subjected to his weekend and holiday trips into the wilderness. 

You missed them in the early days at the Institute. You missed a lot of things back then. 

“What’s eating you back there?” Price asks as you weave through trees and underbrush. 

“There’s nothing...dangerous out here...is there, sir?” You ask, narrowly avoiding taking a branch to the face. “Bears or mountain lions?” 

Price chuckles. “The worst thing you might find is a stray badger or a snake that got through the fence somehow.” 

“Oh.” You say, shining the flashlight around you. “That’s good.” 

Price stops, turning to face you. “You’re fretting.” 

“Well, we’re in the woods in the dark at an ungodly hour and you won’t tell me why, sir.” You pout. 

“Do you trust me?” He asks, staring down at you with a hard look in his eyes. 

You stare up at him, your grip tightening on the flashlight in your hand. “Should I trust you?” 

He straightens up a bit, the corner of his lips twitching. “That’s something you have to decide.” He turns back around, starting to walk again. “All I can do is my best to try and prove myself to you. In the end, you’re the one that decides if I’m trustworthy or not.” 

You’ve never thought of it that way. He could do everything in his power to get you to trust him, but in the end it is your decision. He hasn’t proven you wrong yet, but then again...it’s only been a week. You’ve known him for a week and you’re following him through the woods alone in the dark. 

Your brothers would have a fit if they saw you right now. 

“Do you trust me?” You find yourself asking as you continue to trek through the woods, narrowly avoiding hurting yourself on various occasions. 

“You haven’t given me reason not to.” He answers, turning his head slightly to look at you over his shoulder. “I’d prefer it stayed that way.” 

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, sir. I hardly think I’m much of a threat on any term. Well, at least I don’t think I am. Ghost seems to disagree.” 

Price lets out a quiet huff, shaking his head. “Simon...Simon is a unique case. He’s good at his job, but that makes it hard for him to succeed in other areas. I’m sure Johnny has told you how much Simon couldn’t stand him at first. Now look at them.” He chuckles warmly, almost fondly. “He only sees you as a threat in your nature.” 

You frown, glancing up at the sky. It’s beginning to turn grey with dusk, the trees seeming to come alive around you in the dim light. “What do you mean by that, sir?” 

“You’re an omega. To bond with an omega, there is a degree of vulnerability required by the alpha. Being around omegas requires an openness that can be frightening if you’re not used to it.” He explains. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but Simon isn’t the most open man.” 

You snort quietly. “Hadn’t noticed, sir.” 

Price chuckles at your answer. “You’re threatening to him, because you’re a challenge. Give him time. This entire situation is an adjustment for all of us, just as I’m sure it is for you too.” 

You don’t know how to respond to that statement. It is an adjustment. Joining any pack was, but a pack like this...a pack that has you tramping through the woods at 6 am for a reason you don’t even know yet is a major adjustment. 

Price stops after the sun has come up, taking a moment next to an outcropping of rocks. He clips your flashlight to your bag before unzipping it, passing you a bottle of water. You take it gladly, your mouth feeling dry after walking for so long. 

“How much further?” You ask as he drinks his own water. 

“Quite a ways.” He answers. 

“Can I know why we’re doing this yet?” You ask as he zips your water back into your backpack. 

“Not yet.” He says, continuing onward.

You let out an exasperated sigh, but follow him anyway. You don’t have much of a choice. 

Your legs are beginning to get tired, and you’re starting to feel a bit hungry. You’re not sure if you should say anything, or if he’d even stop. You assume he’s packed food, or at least you hope so. You’re going to get grumpy if you’re traversing all over the forest for hours with nothing to eat. 

Price slows his pace a bit as you approach what you think is a clearing. You can see a break in the trees ahead, the sun coming through brighter here. You’re sore and tired, your phone telling you you’ve been walking for just over two hours. 

How big is this base?

You break through the treeline, finding a small clearing with what looks like a fire watch tower in the middle of it. It’s not what you were expecting, the many scenarios of why you had been dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour and forced to hike through the woods you’ve been thinking up the last two hours, did not end quite like this. You stare up at the tower, your head tilting back to take it in. 

“Not scared of heights, are you?” Price asks, standing beside you. 

“Maybe.” You answer, eyeing the staircase winding around it to get to the top. 

“Come on.” He says, nudging you forward gently. “Up the stairs.” 

The last thing you want to do after walking for two hours is climb a never ending staircase, but you don’t think you have much of a choice. Perhaps you can finally sit once you get to the top, and maybe you’ll even get to eat. 

Price follows behind you as you take the steps, climbing slowly. Your legs are screaming, your feet aching in your boots. You wouldn’t be surprised if they’re bleeding a little, or if you wind up with blisters. You’re breathing heavily by the time you get to the top, sweat beading on your brow. Price doesn’t even seem winded behind you, and you’re sure he could have jogged up the steps if he wanted to. 

The top of the tower is mostly empty except for a small table and two chairs. There’s no windows, the tower open between the railing and the roof. Price sets his bag on the table, unzipping it. You sink into one of the chairs, letting your bag drop to the floor. 

“Can I know why we’re here now?” You ask him. 

“Drink some water and take a breath first.” He says, pulling a couple packets out of his bag. MRE’s. 

You dig your bottle out of your bag, taking note of the other contents inside. A few snack bars, a couple MRE’s of your own, another unopened bottle of water, and a book. There’s things in the other pockets but you don’t bother looking, guzzling down more water. 

You stand from your chair, your legs almost buckling in protest as Price gets the MRE’s cooking. You lean against the railing, looking down over the forest that stretches out as far as you can see below. 

“Can I know now?” You ask, knowing there has to be a good reason for him to bring you out here. 

“A training exercise.” He says finally. 

“A training exercise?” You frown, turning to look at him over your shoulder. It wasn’t a training exercise for you, was it? 

“Sometimes when we get a specific target on a mission, the only thing we have to go off of is a general location and a scent.” He explains. “We have to be able to track that scent effectively, sometimes for miles. We run training exercises out here to test their ability to track scents to hunt down a target.” 

You stare at the sprawling woods, beginning to understand. “So, they’re hunting a scent that will lead them here?” 

Price chuckles lowly, his hands coming to rest on the railing on either side of you. Your stomach flutters as he leans in close, his scent strong in your nose as his breath fans your ear. “Technically, they’re hunting you.” 

Your knuckles go white as they grip the railing, your blood pulsing in your veins. You’re well aware that some alphas like to hunt their omegas. There’s some primal urge deep within your brains to chase and be chased. You’re well aware of how it usually ends, the thought making your stomach clench. 

“You gave me the idea.” Price says, the warmth of his body radiating through your jacket. “When you asked to watch them train, I saw how you affected them, I thought...maybe you can be useful for their training afterall.” 

“Do they...do they know it’s me?” You ask as he steps back from you. You fight the urge to whine at the loss of proximity. 

“They do now.” He says with a smirk. “They’ve already started, so if they can follow your scent successfully, then they’ll be here in about an hour.” He says, looking at his watch. 

You frown a little. “But...we walked for two hours.” 

He smiles a little, pointing to a break in the trees below you hadn’t noticed until now. “That trailhead is a 20 minute hike back to base.” 

Your frown deepens. “But-” 

“We weren’t walking in a straight line.” He explains. “We doubled back and recrossed the trail several times to try and confuse them, just as someone running from them would do.” He passes you one of the MRE’s. “That’s what I want you to do, if it ever comes to it. You don’t fight unless you have no other choice. You always try to run first.” 

“Yes, sir.” You say, sitting down again. You don’t think you’d do much damage fighting anyway, but you don’t tell him that. 

You open the package, peeking at the contents. Some sort of potato hash, you think, but you don’t really care. You’re so hungry you’ll gladly eat the mystery re-hydrated food. Price sinks into the other chair with a quiet sigh, digging into the food. It’s quiet out in the woods, the only other sound besides the two of you the sounds of birds. 

You’ve always loved the woods, the quiet serenity of such isolation. You could imagine Price living in a log cabin miles from civilization, with animals and his own garden, happily living in quiet peace away from the stresses of life and war. You blame the fluttering in your stomach on the lingering thoughts of a chase, of a hunt. The thought of running, trying to evade soldiers who train to hunt others by their scents has goosebumps forming on your skin. 

They’re not from the cold either. 

The sun has disappeared behind clouds, the grey weather of England quickly becoming normal to you. You haven’t seen the sun much since you landed in London two weeks ago, and you’re sure you’re not going to see much of it for quite a long while. 

“What’s got you all twitchy over there?” Price asks, breaking the silence. 

You turn to look at him, your mouth open a bit in surprise. “How can you tell?” 

“I’ve been trained to notice small details, sweetheart.” He says, grinning at you. “Your fingers always get fidgety first. Like you’re looking for something to do with them. Usually they disappear beneath your sleeves, or you start picking at your clothes. Your scent changes too. Subtly, but still noticeable.” 

Oh god. You wince a little bit. He can still smell you, even outdoors in an open area. 

“Your eyes start to move, looking all over the place, like you’re searching for something, or trying not to stare at one place too long.” He continues, making you want to sink deeper and deeper into the chair until you disappear. Of course he can read you like a book. They all probably can. “Your breathing always picks up, fast enough it’s noticeable if you’re paying attention. It’s easy to set you off too, sweet little thing.” 

Warmth floods your face at his words and his stare, the back of your neck prickling. You meet his gaze across the table, the look in his eyes making you feel like you want to crawl under the table and hide. You hate that he can read you so easily. You won’t be able to hide anything from him. 

He probably knows you already have. 

You continue to hold his gaze, not backing down despite the intense tickling at the back of your neck. Touch alphas like a challenge, you repeat it over and over in your head. 

Don’t back down. 

Don’t back down. 

Don’t back down. 

A quiet growl rumbles through his chest, a shiver shooting down your spine so violently it nearly steals your breath. You fight the urge to bear your throat to him in submission, your head tilting back just slightly as your eyes squeeze closed. You’re panting, warmth pooling in your stomach as he chuckles lowly. He’s won, he knows it. You were never going to win. Nature was set against you. Your nature is to submit to him. 

“Innocent little thing, aren’t ya?” He says, pulling a cigar from one of his pockets. 

You know he smokes, you know they all do. You’ve smelled it on them many times, and it was to be expected. Your father hadn’t started until after he joined the Marines. Your mother hated it. “Dirty habit.” She always whispered as she smelled his uniform and the laundry he brought home from deployment. 

He could have had worse ones, you always thought. 

You can’t help but watch his lips curl around the cigar, the scent of tobacco permeating the air. His eyes are still on you, your own lips tingling a bit. You think back to how close you had been with Soap, inches from having your first real kiss. You regret it a bit now, not letting him kiss you. He wouldn’t have known he was your first, except perhaps by your awkwardness. 

You wonder how many times they’ve all been kissed. You wonder how many times they've kissed each other. You wonder how many barrack bunnies Price has been with, how many other omegas he’s been with. You can’t imagine Ghost being one for barrack bunnies, but then your mind sinks somewhere deeper. Ghost in his mask with an omega bent over the side of his bed, his hand wrapped around the back of their neck... 

Another shiver runs down your spine, your lower body beginning to pulse in time with your heart. 

“What’s going through that head of yours?” Price asks, still staring at you. 

“Soap almost kissed me a couple days ago.” You admit, not trusting yourself not to admit to the other things you’re thinking about. 

Price’s brows lift in surprise. “Did you not want him to?” 

Want. There’s that word again. You keep hearing it, but you’re not entirely sure what it means anymore. He’s asking to be sure that Soap didn’t force you into anything, even though you can’t imagine the beta doing such a thing. Betas usually weren’t aggressive without good reason, not like alphas. 

“Well...no, that’s not it...” You say, your face burning as you begin to regret your choice of topic. “I...I haven’t kissed anyone before...well, not like a real kiss. At The Institute, there was this omega, she was...progressive. Nothing they tried could break her of that and she got into the heads of a few other omegas. One of my bunkmates decided she didn’t want an alpha to be her first kiss, so...I volunteered.” 

Price continues to stare at you, a dark look in his eyes. You know some alphas like to watch omegas together. You’ve seen it in movies, things your brothers would put on when they were babysitting, things that would have gotten them hit over the head if your father found out. 

“Is that so?” He finally says, flicking some of the ash from the end of his cigar. “Not even a real kiss before you presented?” 

You shake your head. “No. I was...the weird kid in school. Most people considered it social suicide to be around me.” You let out a sarcastic laugh. “I bet quite a few of them are kicking themselves now.” 

“Why didn’t you want Soap to kiss you?” He asks, concern lacing his voice. He’s still wondering if he needs to have a long chat with the young Sergeant, or perhaps take other action. 

“Well...it wasn’t so much that I didn’t want it.” You say. “I just...thought you might be upset...if you weren’t my first...” You swallow nervously at his stare. “Since you’re pack alpha...you have the right to claim-” 

“I wouldn’t care.” He cuts you off, almost as if he’s uncomfortable with the idea of him having all the rights to claim you. As if he was uncomfortable with the idea of holding a claim over someone else. “If you want your first kiss to be with one of the others, then you shouldn’t keep yourself from what you want.” 

His words echo Dr. Keller’s. It confuses you, their willingness to allow you to want. You’re an omega, you don’t get to want. You get told what to do, what to wear. You get told what to want. You don’t make decisions, you sit and be a good omega for your alpha. 

“I don’t know what I want.” You say quietly. 

“Think about it.” He says, stubbing out his cigar. “I won’t be upset. Makes me feel a little better, in truth. Makes me feel less like an old creep trying to steal your innocence.” 

You try not to smile at his words. “I mean...you are, in a way.” 

He tsks at you but his eyes are playful as he checks his watch. “You’re trouble. We’ve got a few minutes before the hour is up. Let’s see if they can beat it.” 

You stare out at the treeline, taking deep gulps of the cool air to try and calm yourself as you wait for the others to arrive. You’re still tingling a bit from your conversation with Price, that slight tickle still crawling across the back of your neck. You want him to hold you there, feel his calloused skin against yours, feel the strength of his fingers as they press into your skin. You want him to take all the turmoil away, the fear and the insecurity and the confusion. 

You want to kneel for him. 

You’re saved from your thoughts as a familiar figure breaks through the treeline, big and hulking and wearing a skull on his face. You’ve never seen him in this mask before, only ever seeing him in his balaclava. It’s a haunting image, only his eyes visible as he looks up at the top of the tower. Soap and Gaz appear behind him, the three of them making for the staircase. 

Their boots echo on the steps as they race to the top, Soap the first one to appear with a wide grin. 

“Aye, we found the target!” He exclaims, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you into the air and spinning.

You yelp, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hang on for dear life. He smells like musk and sweat, and you can’t help but wonder if they ran here. He sets you back on your feet, your legs aching in protest after sitting for too long. The soreness of your morning hike has caught up to you, and you’ll be feeling it for a few days. 

“Not bad.” Price says, looking at his watch. “For the first time with a new scent.” He grabs his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get back and you can have the rest of the day off.” 

You let out a whine in protest as Price grabs your backpack, gaining the attention of the four men. “You mean we have to walk back too?” 

“It’s not even a kilometer.” Gaz says with a grin. 

You pout. “I don’t know how far that is! I already had to walk for two hours this morning. My legs hurt.” 

“You didn’t stretch before you started?” Soap asks. 

“No! I didn’t know we’d be hiking halfway across the country when I was told to get up at 5 am!” You continue to pout. 

“Come on, you’ll survive.” Price says, clipping your backpack across your chest again. “You can sleep for the rest of the day.” 

You definitely have blisters, the sides of your feet burning as you walk down the stairs. You’re going to take a very long shower when you get back to base, and then crawl into bed and sleep until someone inevitably knocks because they’re worried about you. You’re still pouting, not having even thought about how you were going to get back to base. 

Soap stops at the bottom of the steps, turning to glance at you behind him as he bends down slightly. “Hop on, hen.” 

It takes you a moment to conceptualize what he’s doing before you break out in a grin, putting your hands on his shoulders to hoist yourself onto his back. His hands grip the backs of your thighs as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on as he carries you piggy-back style. 

“I’ve lifted weights heavier than you, bonny.” He says, not seeming to struggle at all with carrying you. 

“Well, omegas are supposed to be small.” You say, leaning your head on his shoulder. 

“Aye, like a wee bairn.” Soap laughs. 

He carries you all the way back to base, barely even breathing heavily by the time you break the treeline. The rocking motion of being carried, along with your exhaustion, has lulled you into a daze, your head leaning against his as you desperately fight sleep. 

You’re jostled awake as Soap gently bounces you on his back. “We’re back, hen.” 

You grumble sleepily, holding onto him tighter. “Comfy.” 

“You’ll be comfier in bed, love.” Gaz says, stroking your hair. 

“Carry me.” You murmur, both of them freezing. 

“You sure about that, hen?” Soap asks. “You wan’t tae let us in your space?” 

“Mmm...yeah.” You murmur, nuzzling Soap’s shoulder. 

You miss the silent conversation between them in your half asleep state, the way Gaz’s hand hesitates on the knob, their slow, cautious steps into your space. It was a big deal, infringing upon an omega’s space. It’s sacred. One could only enter with permission, or if it was an emergency. Infringing on that space without permission could be detrimental. 

Soap gently lowers you onto your bed, helping you curl up on your side. Gaz unties your boots, setting them on the floor next to the bed before pulling off your socks. He lets out a quiet hiss as he spots your raw and blistered feet. 

“That’s going to hurt later.” He whispers. “No wonder she didn’t want to walk back.” 

“Didnae say nothing either.” Soap says, his fingers trailing your cheek. 

“Stubborn little omega.” 

Gaz’s words are the last you hear before you’re lost to sleep, your brain forcing you to give in to your exhaustion finally. 

It’s knocking at the door that wakes you. You’re not sure what time it is, or what planet you’re on. Your eyes are crusty with sleep, your pillow damp from drooling. You’re in your bed in the barracks, tucked under a blanket. You vaguely remember giving Gaz and Soap permission to enter before you were out again. 

It’s still daylight, judging by the light around the edges of your curtains. Or maybe you had slept through the day and it was morning. You can’t tell, feeling a bit like you were hit by a bus and jumped dimensions. 

“C’mon lass, ye got tae eat at least one meal today.” Soap’s voice calls through the door. 

You let out a groan, pushing yourself up to sit. You haven’t even changed or showered, but your shoes have been removed. You flex your toes, wincing at the sharp pain from them. You pull the blanket off, staring down at your bandaged feet. They must be as blistered and raw as they had felt in your shoes. You don’t want to get up. You’re going to be sore and probably walking with a limp. 

You know what they’re going to think. 

The stares you’ll get. 

Soon it will be for that reason, though, you think. Why not let them think it now? Then maybe by then they’ll be used to it and it’ll be much less mortifying for you. 

You get up, padding barefoot to the door. You open it, rubbing at your eyes. “What time is it?” Your voice sounds rough with sleep, your tongue feeling heavy. 

“Almost 1800 hours.” He answers. “Price let ye sleep. He and Gaz already ate. Had something tae take care of.” 

You let out a quiet groan as you rub your eyes. You slept all day, past lunch and nearly past dinner. You likely would have kept sleeping, had they let you, but then you’d be up at an ungodly hour having to scrounge for food in the rec room. 

“Get some shoes on.” Soap says. “We’ll get food in ye, then ye can sleep more.” 

You let out a quiet grumble but do as he says, grabbing your most comfortable pair of shoes before following him out of the barracks. You let your hand slip into his, the base less populated on the weekend. The mess is still busy, though, most of those that stay keeping their schedules even over the weekend. 

Soap helps you make your tray before finding Ghost sitting at a table. You deposit your tray across from them before going to grab something to drink. You look over the options, your sleep-drunk brain trying to decide on what you need. 

“I recommend coffee.” A voice says behind you. 

You spin around, looking up at a familiar face. Your stomach twists nervously, the back of your neck prickling. It’s the soldier that had been staring at you your second day on base, the one Ghost had scared off with his glare. 

“You look like you need it.” He says, giving what you assume is supposed to be a friendly smile, except to you it looks like the grin of a hungry wolf in a storybook, and you’re the injured rabbit about to be devoured. You flinch just slightly as he holds out a hand. “I’m Corporal McKinney.” 

You don’t want to take his hand, you don’t want to touch him at all. Catcalling you could handle, the stares and the whistles were nothing. None of them have been so brave as to approach you before now, and you’re starting to realize you prefer it that way. 

An overwhelming scent suddenly washes over you, the prickling at the back of your neck intensifying. It’s rich and deep, the scent of leather and gunpowder lacing the ozone-like tang of anger, of danger. 

“Can I help you, Corporal?” The deep voice rumbles behind you, the warmth close enough all you’d have to do was lean back slightly and you’d be touching him. 

The soldier’s eyes lift from you to Ghost behind you, the wicked gleam to them fading as he stares down the giant alpha. “No, sir.” The soldier swallows thickly. “Just thought I’d introduce myself to the new omega on base. Figured we’d be seeing a lot of her around.” 

“She’s no concern of yours.” Ghost says, a dangerous rumble vibrating at the edge of his voice. “You were given the briefing.” 

He hesitates and you know he’s measuring the risk of staying, of saying something else. It’s not just the threat of a dangerous alpha, but also of his superior. “Of course, sir.” He finally says, eyeing you once more before he turns on his heel, leaving the mess. 

“What do you want?” 

You turn on your heel, staring up at Ghost. You’re shaking a little, staring up at him wide-eyed. You no longer feel the haze of sleep, wide awake and alert. Ghost is staring down at you, his scent far less prominent than it had been before.

“To drink.” He motions to the selection, waiting on you to answer. 

You stare at the options, your brain trying hard to snap back into the present, to comprehend what you’re looking at. You’re on edge, on high alert after that confrontation. 

“W-Water please.” You manage to stutter out, 

“Go sit back down. I’ll get it.” He says, turning his back to you. 

You scurry back to the table, still trembling as you take your seat again. You’re getting stares, likely from the change in your scent. It’s alerting every alpha and beta in close proximity, their instincts reacting to the scent of fear, of an threatened omega. 

“Ye alright, hen?” Soap asks, giving you a worried look. The scent of beta washes over you, Soap projecting his scent to try and cover yours and calm you all at once. 

You nod, trying to swallow the panic before you alert the entire mess to your current emotional state. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.” 

Ghost returns with a glass of water, setting it in front of you before taking his seat again. 

“Thank you.” You murmur, taking a long drink of it. It’s ice cold, the sensation shocking you back into reality a bit. 

You’re still trembling slightly as you eat, the back of your neck still prickling. You glance around the quickly emptying mess, eyes following every person that walks too close to the table. You know you’re safe. Soap and Ghost would make quick work of anyone who tried anything. 

Ghost did make quick work of the alpha that had approached you. 

You’re still in a bit of disbelief that Ghost had come to your aid. You remember the anger burning in his scent, the rumble at the edge of his voice. An alpha poised for a fight. Of course, you were being cornered by another alpha. You don’t doubt Soap could have easily won that fight if he had to, but an alpha had the natural advantage in a fight against other alphas. If it had been a beta cornering you, would he have still come to your aid? Or would he have watched and let Soap handle it? 

You're drawn from your thoughts as Soap’s phone rings, and he dismisses himself from the table to answer it. You wonder who it might be. Family maybe? Price? You wish you had someone that would call you regularly. You will, once they start leaving you. 

You’re left alone with Ghost, your eyes trying to look anywhere but at him. He takes your tray once you’re done, going to dump it before motioning for you to follow. You’re still a bit shaken, though you’ve managed to get your trembling under control, as well as your scent. 

He leads you back towards the barracks, your pace faster to keep up with him. Your feet hurt, but you’re eager to get back to the familiar safety of the barracks. 

You stop as a whistle sounds through the air, Ghost’s steps faltering as well. 

“Gonna go spread your legs for that freak, bunny?” A voice calls out across the courtyard. “I’m sure I could offer you a better time. At least you’ll be able to see my face.” 

The smell of ozone washes over you again, burning straight to some primal part of your brain. You’re not sure if it’s the exhaustion, or the emotions still reeling from your confrontation in the mess, but you turn on your heel, stalking over to the group of soldiers. You’re trembling again, but not out of fear. The anger has gone straight to your instincts, burning hot through your veins. 

The soldiers laugh as you approach, the one that had spoken grinning vilely at you. “Gonna take me up on my offer, omega?” The sound of your title from his lips nearly makes you shudder in disgust. It’s wrong, it sounds wrong being said in such a way. “I’d love to bend you over and stare at that sweet ass all night-” 

It’s not until your hand is throbbing that you register what happened. The soldier stumbles back a step, hand moving to his face. Your hand is balled in a fist, knuckles throbbing from the punch you delivered to his face. The next few moments seem to move in slow motion, your body pushed backwards as a hulking form comes to stand in front of you. The scent of ozone is still burning hot in your nose, anger pulsing through your body. Your ears are ringing, your hands refusing to unball from the fists they’ve closed into. You’re breathing heavily, eyes training on a small speck of mud on the back of Ghost’s jacket. 

“-You even so much as look in her direction again, I’ll rip your intestines out, tie them to the back of a humvee and drag you all the way to London, understood?” The dangerous rumble is back at the edge of his voice, his own hands balled into fists. 

“Loud and clear, sir.” The soldier spits out, massaging his face from your punch. 

A rough hand closes around your arm, making you stumble as you’re half dragged towards the barracks. You’re breathing heavily, breaths coming in gasps as the flood of emotions through you grows to almost be too much. You’re led down the hall towards the rec room, Ghost pushing you inside. 

“Sit.” He snaps, pointing at the couch.

You scramble to sit where he pointed, your brain beginning to move in autopilot as you cradle your throbbing hand to your chest. It’s still curled in a fist, the adrenaline pumping through you preventing you from uncurling your fingers. You try to steady your breathing as Ghost digs around in the fridge for a moment. You flinch as the door slams closed, Ghost dropping an ice pack on the coffee table before he takes a seat next to you on the couch. 

He grabs your hand, pulling it towards him rather roughly. He forces your fingers to uncurl, his own rough fingers digging into your hand, poking and prodding. He moves your fingers, bending your wrist and moving your arm. “It’s not broken.” He says, grabbing the ice pack and slapping it across your knuckles. “Luckily.” 

You’re still trembling, your hand lifting subconsciously to hold the ice pack in place. You feel dazed, not unlike you had earlier when you’d been pulled from sleep, only this time you can feel the emotions still pulsing through you. The remnants of anger, the disgust, the fear both from attacking an alpha, and the reprimanding you’re sure you’re due for doing such a thing.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” You murmur, feeling far away, outside of your  body looking in. 

“Probably not.” Ghost says. 

You turn slightly to look at him, pupils dilated as you simultaneously appear to see him and look straight through him. “Price is gonna find out.”

Ghost nods again, the burn of ozone gone from his scent. “He’ll believe you, though. Anything you tell him, he’s going to believe you over what anyone else says.” 

You stare at him, the skull mask from earlier gone, leaving him just in his balaclava. His eyelashes are blonde, you think as you take him in, trying to ground yourself. His skin looks soft, but that could just be the omega screaming at you. You expect him to get up, to leave you alone until you find the will to move, or one of the others finds you. Yet, he stays where he is, eyes focused across the room as you sit there. 

“You’re a purebred alpha.” You say, breaking the silence with the thought that had come to mind earlier. You need to keep talking, to keep your mind steady while you relax. 

“How did you figure it out?” He asks, not denying it. 

“Your scent.” You say, recalling earlier in the mess, the way his scent had permeated your entire body. You hadn’t just sensed it, you had felt it. His emotions, his anger, the hint of desperation for the Corporal to make the smart decision and walk away. “It’s different from other alphas. Price smells good and I’d like to roll around in his scent, but yours hits some deep primal part of my brain.” You say, turning slowly to face him. “Makes sense you’d end up in a position like this. You’re supposed to be like, an apex human.” You laugh quietly. “Just a couple of purebreds. What are the odds?” 

“Very high.” He answers. 

You laugh again. “Yeah, I know. Both of my parents were purebreds, and my grandparents. Both of them came from a long line of purebreds.” Your brows pinch into a frown. “I didn’t see it in your file, though.” 

“I don’t want it to be.” He explains. 

“Makes sense.” You say. “If I’d had that choice I’d have it left out too. As soon as someone sees it, that’s how they measure your worth. It’s not about you anymore, it’s your status they want.” You lift the ice, moving your fingers. Your hand is sore, your knuckles starting to swell a bit. 

“It’ll bruise.” He says, staring down at your hand. 

“‘Spose it could have been worse.” You say, grimacing at the ache pulsing all the way to your shoulder.

“Yeah,” He scoffs. “You could have broken your arm with a punch like that.” 

“‘S not my fault the CIA didn’t teach me much.” You murmur. “They mostly made me run.” You remember the hours and hours you spend running circles around the gym. So many circles, over and over again. 

Get involved in their hobbies. Your brain flicks through that section of the book, an idea beginning to form in your head. You’d considered it a few days ago, when you first read that chapter. Ghost speaks in violence and warfare, fighting and defending. How do you bond with the apex of humankind? 

“Teach me to fight.” 

His eyes shift slowly until he’s looking at you. You wish you could see the rest of his face, read his expression. His eyes don't give you much to go off of, something he'd likely perfected over the years. 

“Or, at least defend myself.” You continue, fighting the urge to shrink back under his gaze. “I know, Price already told me to run first, but what if that's not an option? Am I gonna throw a shitty punch and hope it works? Aim between the legs and hope I'm faster than they can block? I promise I won't go around trying to fight asshole alphas.”

He continues to stare at you, his eyes locked on yours. Your heart thuds in your chest, your stomach twisting nervously but there's no challenge in his gaze, not even a playful one like you'd initiated with Price. He's simply staring. 

You wonder what he's looking for, what he's thinking. Will he laugh at you for asking? Tell you to ask someone else? Get Price to do it since he’s actually your alpha? 

“Fine.” He grunts, breaking eye contact first as he pushes himself to stand. “We start Monday. Early.” 

A small smile tugs at your lips as you watch him leave the rec room. You may have just found your way into Ghost’s heart, or at least a way to get him to tolerate your presence. 

Monday. Early. 

You’ll be ready. 

NEXT ->

Taglist Part 1:

@bobaprint, @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @hanellokey @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @ghostlythots @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @thychuvaluswife @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @bisky-business @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @cadotoast @linaangel @rancid-wasp @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @puppyel @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10

[godmadeaterribleerror]

No Love Lost Series Masterlist

Series Summary

Three years ago you were normal, the only demons you had to fight were your own, and you the most you knew of Vought and the Boys were what you saw on TV. But then you met Homelander at a stupid party, and woke up the next morning in a cell.

After almost two and a half years of you being Homelander's little project, Soldier Boy was woken up only go rouge and be put back under. Somewhere in there, you escaped. And before Queen Maeve went underground, she told William Butcher about the Anomaly, a powerful supe who recently escaped Vought captivity and may have an agenda against Homelander.

One month later, the Boys found you.

You spend the next five months helping them best you can, though your control over your powers is weak and your fear of Homelander makes you useless in combat. But you get an idea. A stupid, dangerous idea that turns you into Soldier Boy's keeper, giving him a second chance to take down Homelander, you hanging over his shoulder, a threat should he want to go nuclear again. It's exhausting and frustrating, and you might kill him and yourself as soon as this is over, but you said whatever it takes.

And this is what it takes.

Author's Note

This story is non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being;

1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so.

2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad.

Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask!

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for canon-typical violence, swearing, mental health issues, mentions of rape/non-con, and sexual content.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, eventual smut, angst, fluff.

Read on A03!

Chapter List

Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing

Chapter 2 - A New Kind of Tension

Chapter 3 - You've Torn Your Dress

Chapter 4 - You Might Be The Same As Me

Chapter 5 - Popped, Cool, and Ready to Go

Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense

Chapter 7 - The Blinding Ultra-Violence

Chapter 8 - I Just Find My Way Back

Chapter 9 - Can't Cover It Up

Chapter 10 - Lead Me To The Ark

Chapter 11 - The Wolves or The Ocean Rocks

Chapter 12 - While My Blood's Still Flowing

Chapter 13 - The Terror of Knowing

Chapter 14 - Choke on Sun

Chapter 15 - I Found A Martyr

Chapter 16 - Let It Flood

Chapter 17 - Make My Chest Stir

Chapter 18 - Something In The Static

Bonus Footage (One-Shots)

As Much As I Do - Request! Ben finds Sunshine dancing, is immediately very normal about it. Takes place after Chapter 14 and around Chapter 15.

[sizzleissues]

Its May.

Okay so this is in the same AU I had last year its just changed and evolved while also being the exact same. Except now I have 15,000 words of it written, like 7,000 words of planning and lore and hours upon hours of research that I will be pointedly ignoring. Will be posting more stuff this month about the AU and my hopes and dreams for it

Also slight art improvement check? I’ll put their original mermaid designs below the cut.

It’s Marinette as a mermaid and … its not Adrien or Chat Noir but a third worse thing (Catwalker but in the purest manifestation of it being a curse and not who he wants to be) I will be making designs for mer!Ladybug, and mer!Adrien as its own thing later on.

Okay if you want to indulge me look below the cut

Old mermaid designs first. I am going to be talking about my design thoughts, thoughts and ramblings about this AU and what I’ve been up to. You have been warned

As you can see, some things have changed but neither design I hated, I just wanted to go further with it.

My brain is quite specific about mermaids and how I want them to generally look. I wanted to distinguish biological merfolk from transformed humans by having them being anatomically different. So Adrien has a vertical tail instead which is also way faster underwater. His transformation is quite distressing for him and very chaotic. Of course when he accepts it he’s not so raggedy.

Marinette similarly avoids her life as a mermaid by becoming human and I wanted her mermaid design to hint toward her fascination with humans. She wears a top she fashioned from human fabric she found in a sunken merchant vessel. In general all other merfolk either forgo clothes or wear things fashioned from materials available to them. There’s deep fear of humans and human things so even though human clothes are available to them (off dead bodies but…. Whatever) they choose to difference themselves as much as possible. The same taboos don’t exist for them and their bodies are already adapted from the temperature of their environment. Adrien has stray bits of netting and seaweed on him because he’s not exactly the best at controlling his speed and often crash’s through fishing nets and patches of seaweed resulting in stuff being caught on him.

A lot of their designs are still being worked but I’ve definitely pushed them the right direction!

On to the AU. You might have seem me cryptically talk about something I’m writing the past few weeks. This is because it’s been in my brain since last May and been on and off writing it since then. I decided I’d talk about it once May came back around but and then when I finished writing it, start posting sneak peaks and more spoilery art until it was fully edited and I felt confident in it to post with an aim for it to finish posting once May rolled around again. Oh god.

It’s set in the late 1700s in a fictional version of France that’s actually fragmented over a bunch of islands. I have done more fashion research than I ever thought I’d do and in the end we will still be taking creative license but know I do know what they actually wore! I ALSO did a butt tonne of research about sailing ships and turns out they are super complicated and now I know too much and yet too little still about them. It should be super fun and action packed if I can manage. Have some really good scenes already in my head I know you’ll love. We’re already three ships battle deep and I’ve only written four chapters. (It chills out for a bit after that)

This is entirely self-indulgent by the way. I’m writing this for me, you guys are just a bonus. I literally don’t care as long as it satiates my rabid need for the fic that only lives in my brain at the moment. Saying that, I do want to put my best foot forward.

The next thing I will be posting for this is their human forms and more blabblerings about that. For I am insane and all.

[notmyneighbor]

r&d | yog sothoth x female reader

part 1/?

words | 2.8k

tnmn nightmare mode, human experimentation, science fiction, human/vampire relationship, evil dr. w. afton, eventual explicit content, none in this chapter

ao3 link

When you first hear about the new program being offered by your employer, you’re more than a little hesitant.

It’s marketed as a way to help door guardians like yourself decompress after the rigors of screening so many doppelgangers, but you’re wary of the attached disclaimer that your sessions will be monitored and recorded ‘to further aid future candidates.’ It all feels a little too intrusive and boundary crossing for your liking, so it’s a fast decline from you—until you’re offered the extra incentive of a bonus check to sweeten the deal. Money talks, and the promised amount is practically screaming your name. In the end, you volunteer to be one of the pioneers in the study.

That’s how you find yourself in a room that looks more like a doctor’s office than the therapist’s cozy space you’d been expecting, the comfortable couch you’d imagined replaced with a chair that bears a resemblance to a dentist’s contraption more than anything else. Those misgivings and doubts are kicking in again, but then your mind argues back that there’s a good chunk of funds waiting for you at the end of this, so surely it’s not too much of a hardship to bear.

You’re more than a little surprised to see a familiar face after the receptionist guides you to the chair and leaves you to your fate. It’s one of the residents of the building you guard. That engaged physicist that lives on the third floor, W. Afton. You’ve always thought it odd that his first name isn’t revealed on any of his identification paperwork—everything on file only had his first initial listed.

He enters the room briskly, carrying a clipboard and a black case. He closes the door and sets the latter item down on the counter, then settles onto the wheeled stool nearby. You suddenly have the distinct, uncomfortable feeling that this is more of a medical program than a psychiatric one.

You lean forward, your bare arms sticking unpleasantly to the vinyl cushioning beneath you. “Dr. Afton? I think there’s been some misunderstanding. I’m going to just—”

He waves a hand in the air to interrupt you, scrawling something on the clipboard resting on his thighs before his head lifts. The way the fluorescent lighting touches his glasses temporarily obscures his eyes from sight. “Nonsense. You’ve agreed to participate. This is where you’re meant to be.”

“Um, with all due respect, I was led to believe this was a psychiatric program? Aren’t you a physicist?”

“My expertise lies in research, and that’s precisely what you’ve agreed to help the DDD with. You might as well sit back and get comfortable. I’m going to ask you a series of questions, and I want you to answer them to the best of your ability. The truth, mind you; not what you think you should say or what you think I want to hear.”

You shift in your seat, glancing at the closed door and licking your lips nervously. “Are we being monitored? The literature said we would be.”

He lifts a finger and points to the corner of two intersecting walls and you realize there is a camera there. “Visual only, no audio. As promised, this is being kept confidential to assure accuracy and no bias. You can confide in me with confidence.” His lips twitch in an almost smile. His eyeglasses slide down the bridge of his nose slightly and you see slate gray eyes regarding you, until he shoves them back into place and rakes back a tendril of dark hair that’s fallen across his forehead.

“Um…” Something about this is definitely off. A lot of somethings. “Would you mind showing me your documents first, so I can verify it’s really you?”

“Of course it’s really me. How else do you think I got inside this facility? This isn’t one of those wretched downtown apartments,” he says. You’re living in one of those so called wretched downtown apartments, you want to retort, but you bite your tongue. “Still, I suppose that’s what you’re accustomed to. A lingering sort of paranoia about verifying human identity,” he mumbles to himself, writing on the paper in his lap again. “Fine. I’ll humor you, just this once. Just to make you feel a little more comfortable.” He sets the pen and clipboard down and walks to your seat, digging in his pants pocket for a leather billfold. The doctor extracts his identification card and hands it to you. “I trust I don’t need to submit an entry request as well?”

You’d never spoken much to the man, in your tenure as doorman, and you’re beginning to see why. He’s unfriendly and borderline rude. You can feel the impatience and irritation wafting from him. What did Mia, the schoolteacher he is engaged to, see in him? She’s so cheerful and kind. Opposites attract, maybe.

“It looks okay,” you mumble, handing the card back to Afton. He tucks it inside his wallet and the accessory vanishes back into his pocket. “I trust you’re satisfied? Or is there some other protocol you feel you need to follow?”

“No, you’re fine.” You feel your cheeks flushing at his condescending demeanor.

“As I’ve said already.” The soles of his polished dress shoes click loudly on the linoleum as he returns to his seat, retrieving the clipboard and writing utensil again. “Now then, shall we begin? We’re wasting valuable company time.”

“Yes.”

“Good. First question. Have you ever mistakenly misidentified a doppelganger? Or a human?”

“No to both.” It was true. Your track record, thus far, has been impeccable.

A grunt and another mark on the paper. “Have any of the doppelgangers ever threatened violence?”

“A few. Mainly once they’ve been called out.”

“Did any of them ever try to bribe you to gain entry?”

“No. I did have one promise to fully reveal himself if I let him in, and he also stated I must not like my neighbors that much, so it wouldn’t matter if I let him in anyway.”

Afton pauses, his pen freezing mid stroke. “How do you think he arrived at that conclusion? That you did not care for your neighbors? Did you have much discourse with him prior to this?”

“No. No more than the usual standard greeting. He remembered to show his card and his entry request, and they were a perfect forgery, but he wasn’t on the day’s list of expected entrants.”

“Is that when the doppel revealed himself?”

“Yes.”

“Were you frightened?”

“Of course. But the barrier is there as soon as I sound the alarm. And the DDD cleaners always come right away.”

Some more writing follows this. Afton presses on the metal at the top of the board to release the pages and turns the top one over, releasing the spring and snapping the holder back into place. “Do you ever have trouble sleeping at night?”

You shrug. “Sometimes.”

“Do you find yourself thinking about your job, even when you are off duty?”

“I guess so.”

The physicist’s lips press in a thin line. “Keep your responses to definitive yes or no answers, please.” He jerks on the tail end of his necktie to straighten it. It is a deep shade of eggplant today.

“Yes,” you say, knowing your tone is definitely a little sharp, but you’re unable to help it. You’ve been on edge ever since the man walked into the room.

“What sorts of things do you think about?”

“Wondering if I made all the right decisions. What the next day will bring. What would happen if the doppels got better at disguising themselves and blending in. Where they come from in the first place.”

Afton taps the end of the pen against the paper thoughtfully. “Do you think that will happen? That they’ll eventually be successful? That you’ll make the wrong decision?”

“I hope not. But yes, it’s a concern of mine.”

“A fear, too, wouldn’t you say?”

“I suppose so.” He glares at you. “Yes,” you clarify, gritting your teeth.

“I see.” He writes briefly and then sets the items back on the counter, this time reaching for the black case as he rises. His back blocks the contents from view.

“So now what happens?”

“You’ve fulfilled your end of the bargain, so now it’s time we fulfilled ours. Providing an outlet for these pent up fears of yours.”

“Which means?”

Lightning fast, Afton slips something into his lab coat pocket. He turns to face you, and the smile he has is nothing short of sinister, a kind of rictus, as if he is one of the doppels, trying the motion out without understanding its purpose.

“You’re finally going to get caught up on some of that sleep you’ve been missing. You know, because you’ve been so worried about the doppelgangers.”

“I didn’t say—”

“Now, now. None of that. It’s too late to change your answers. It’s all been documented.” Almost casually he reaches out to rest a hand on the arm of your chair and you hear a clicking sound. In the blink of an eye twin metal bands snap over your wrists.

“What the fuck?!” You struggle against the restraints, your heels flailing and digging in uselessly as your squirm, trying to escape. “Let me go!”

“You agreed to this, remember?”

“To be restrained? No way. Get me out of this thing right now.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that just yet. One more step to go.” His voice is so calm, so placid. He’s making it sound as if this is the most normal thing in the world. His hand disappears into his coat pocket and you finally see what he’d hidden there earlier: a syringe with some eerie glowing fluid. “You’re going to want to hold still for this. It would be so unfortunate if I missed and had to puncture your skin more than once.” He does not look the least bit remorseful. Instead, there is a look of almost glee on his normally solemn features. Excitement. He’s enjoying this.

“You can’t inject me with that! I don’t consent! Help!”

“You’re wasting your breath. Sound proof room. Confidential, remember? As I told you earlier. And you did consent. We have your signature on file. A legally binding contract.” His fingers curl around your elbow, turning the joint slightly so he has access to the larger vein in the hollow of your upper extremity,

“This can’t possibly be legal. You’re not a medical doctor! You don’t even know how to give an injection!

”Do you think the doppels are the only ones who know how to forge an ID?” His voice is a low, sultry rasp. Gloating, now.

You gape at him. “What the…who are you?”

“The name is real enough. I suppose we’re better acquainted now, so you can learn my first name. Not that you’ll remember any of this later. It’s William.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s what I do. My job. Seeing this through. Experimenting. Research. Enough chatter.” You feel the tip of the needle laid against your skin and you instantly freeze, holding your breath.

“Please, stop, William,” you implore gently, hoping this approach might prove more effective than yelling and struggling, knowing all the same it’s a futile attempt.

Afton’s gray eyes meet yours. “Sweet dreams. See you when you get back.” Pain. Heat inside your arm, then liquid ice.

Darkness.

***

The first thing you smell is brimstone.

You’re not even sure how you recognize that scent. Your eyes open and you find yourself in the security booth you work in every day.

But it’s different.

Four eyes, one at each corner of the window, stare back at you, following your hand movements. The walls are spattered with blood. The papers and files are crumpled and stained. There’s an ominous looking fluid dripping from the air vent. The handle of the phone looks like it’s coated in some unpleasant substance. There are holes in the plaster and some of the wiring for the door panel control is exposed, the ends fraying. You shudder and the eyes follow this motion too, ever attentive.

A tapping sound draws your attention back to the window.

You have a prospective entrant outside the glass, their hand resting on that clear panel, which has several spidery cracks, you notice with a growing sense of alarm. There are claws clicking on that smudged surface that needed to be wiped down with ammonia desperately, the owner bearing a strong resemblance to the man you know as Francis Mosses.

Alike in some ways, such as the general build and facial structure, but different, too. These eyes are golden and red rimmed. He has pierced ears, silver spikes driven into each. A gold nose ring. A choker with spikes to match the earrings, with a padlock dangling from his throat. Whereas the milkman always wears a white uniform, this figure is clad in a black dress shirt with some suspicious stains on his left chest. There are also a pair of fangs poking from the barrier of his lips, and your first immediate thought is that this pale figure is a vampire.

Ludicrous, right? But then again, is it any more wild than the eyes that are watching you from the window frame, the obviously trippy effects of whatever junk Afton has injected you with taking hold, making you have this strange nightmare?

The figure slides an ID card and entry request into the slot and you want to laugh at that mundane formality. As if you’re going to let a bloodsucker in. Yes, see, it says it right there on his paperwork. He went out to suck blood. Vampire.

“You’re new, human.”

Your eyes flick up to the creature’s face. “Have there been many others here?”

“A few.” He nods towards the room you’re standing inside. “You gonna hit the buzzer and let me in?”

“I…” You glance down at his name. Yog Sothoth. He lives in a different apartment than Francis. A different floor entirely, if these documents are accurate. “This is just a bad dream. It has to be. None of this is real.”

“It’s real. That DDD from your world found a way to create a portal here. Drugged you and sent you through it, just like the others.”

You frown. “It says here astral plane? What does that mean?”

“Exactly what it says on the label. You’re in an alternate realm that can only be reached through spiritual transcendence. In short, your mind is here, your body elsewhere. At least, I think that’s how it works.”

“This is crazy.” You pause. “What happened to the others? The humans who got here before me?”

“I couldn’t tell you. They disappear fairly quickly. Not sure who’s responsible. It wasn’t me,” he adds quickly. “If that’s what you’re thinking. I just take a little at a time. And I don’t discriminate. Blood is blood, though I must say your species is a lot cleaner than some of the other riffraff around here.”

“If it’s only your mind that’s here, why do you need to feed at all?”

“Mmm, doesn’t work that way. Me and the other residents, we are actually, physically here. It’s just you humans that are straddling both worlds.”

“I do have a physical form here, though. I can interact with things.” You lift up Yog’s entry request to demonstrate. “This makes no sense.”

The vampire shrugs. “I don’t make the rules, I just exist by them. So, am I good to come in?”

“There are really doppels here, too?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“How do I get back home?”

“I don’t know, exactly. Maybe the DDD will bring you back when the experiment or whatever the hell they’re doing is over? The other humans I spoke with seemed as in the dark about it as you are.”

“The DDD,” you murmur darkly. You’ve been proud to work for them. Glad to be able to help your fellow neighbors. Now, though? You hardly know what to think.

“Not sure which is worse, to be honest.”

You grunt in agreement. Afton had said something about seeing you when you got back, so you have to believe that there will actually be a return trip. There didn’t seem to be much purpose behind just sending you along one way and then not gaining any knowledge from that venture. He’d also mentioned you wouldn't remember what had happened in the office with him, which also makes you wonder: are you doomed to just keep repeating this experiment? Unwittingly participating because you’ll have no recollection of the DDD’s seeming betrayal? What was the point of any of this? You slide Yog’s things back to him, forcing yourself to focus on the creature standing across from you. “You’re chattier than Francis.”

“Francis?”

“The human that looks like you in my world. You seem like you’re a good person like he is. Maybe that’s the same in every universe.” You push the button to release the lock on the door. “I guess I might as well let you in.”

The bloodsucker hesitates. “I hope you make it back home safely. If I don’t see you tomorrow, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

You lock the door behind him.

[just-a-creep-babe]

A Demon’s Ache — Epilogue

Eyeless Jack x Reader

A Demon's Ache Masterlist

With this final part, EJ's POV is finally complete! There are a few one-off bonus chapters I'm thinking about writing, but they'll either come after y/n's POV or randomly scattered about

I'd also like to start up another longer form series soon, so send in some ideas/suggestions if you have any ^^ A select few will be posted up in a poll to decide the final work uwu

Finally, the entirety of this series is dedicated to @cookiereblogss 🖤🖤

I was previously way too intimidated to write a longer series, despite always wanting to, but with cookiereblogss' incredible support, I was able to overcome that fear. In a way, I'd like to dedicate all of my future fic series to them as well, because I wouldn't have taken that first step without them. Thank you truly from the very bottom of my heart 🖤🖤🖤

And without further ado, I hope you enjoy this short lil smutty epilogue to the series!

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

It’s quiet, peaceful

Jack doesn’t fall asleep—he can’t, not after everything that’s happened—but he’s perfectly content holding you in his arms for now

Every now and again, he has to squeeze you just slightly harder to make sure this is real

It’s real—you’re safe, and happy, and he gets to hold you, and he’s still unsure about a lot of things, but you let him hold you, so that must mean things are going to be ok

He nuzzles into your hair, breathes in your scent, tries to savor the moment to its fullest

And it almost works, too

Keeping his mind occupied almost lets him forget about his worries

But every time he’s on the verge of letting go, he catches a glimpse of the mark on your neck, and all of the shame, guilt and worry lumps in his throat all over again

You let him hold you, you let him rest by your side—it’s going to be ok

Carefully, as though the wrong motion might break you, he lifts his hand and traces the mark with the back of his knuckle

The contact has you stirring, and before he can pull away, your eyes flutter open and you meet his gaze

A slow, soft smile grows on your lips

You lean into his touch, pressing closer into him

And then he just can’t resist tilting your chin up and stealing a kiss

Compared to the rushed, heated kisses that’d become the norm between you, this is the opposite

Slow and sensual, the warmth of your lips spreads to his chest and fills his body with a pleasant buzz

Your lips are so soft, your body so perfect against his, so warm and wonderfully inviting

You hum against him

Basking in it, basking in the peace of the moment, he cups your face and deepens the contact

He doesn’t expect anything more out of this

He simply wants to enjoy it

But when you make a muffled sound against him, almost like a whimper, something dangerous stirs within him

He tries to take a deep breath, tries to calm his less-than-pure urges, but when he breathes in, the scent of your growing arousal fills his lungs and his head starts spinning

Control it, control it, control yourself

Pushing down the temptation, he brushes his fingers along the slope of your face in an attempt to distract himself by memorizing the curves of your features

He follows an invisible line down your neck with the intention to eventually reach your hips and tug you in closer

But he doesn’t even make it halfway down your throat before you whine and push him off

Shit—he fucked up

Before he can blurt out a rushed apology, you push him onto his back, straddle his hips, and as if that wasn’t enough of a surprise, your lips clash with his, tongue reaching out to taste him like you're insatiable

The combination of it all short-circuits his brain

He doesn't even know what to do with himself; he simply lets you do as you please

It's only when you break the kiss to pull your shirt up over your head that he snaps himself out of his daze

“W-wait, (y/n)—“

He’s already panting, his stomach tensing with a knot of desire, but he manages to gasp the words out before you unclasp your bra

Pausing halfway through the motion, you look down at him questioningly

And at the sight of you, so visibly turned on with your lips freshly swollen from the make-out session—he immediately feels like an absolute idiot for telling you to stop

“Listen, I—“ he stumbles through his words like a horny moron, “I-you don’t need to do this. You know, y-you don’t have to—“

He cuts himself off as you finish undoing your bra, and the material falls away to reveal the perfect swell of your tits

Fuck, how’re you always so gorgeous?

It takes his breath away, and before he can recover, you take his hand and press it to the mark on your neck

The back of his knuckles trace over the bruised skin, slowly, softly, and as it does, you shudder

Your hips buckle, pressing down flush against his own, and a rush of heat has his cock throbbing against your sex

"I-I didn't realize it at first,” you murmur, “but..."

You trail off, and it almost looks like you're holding back a moan as you press his hand harder against your neck

"It's... it's sensitive"

You wriggle your hips for more friction, and he can't help but meet you halfway so that you’re fully grinding against him as you speak

“Whenever there’s any kind of pressure on it, it—it feels warm. Everything feels warm. And it—it aches,” you choke the word out, and fuck, if he didn’t know any better, he’d almost think you’re on the verge of begging for his cock right now

“I need you”

He holds back a groan as the words leave your mouth

And then it finally clicks

You’re in heat

Or, at least, as close as a human can get to a heat, anyways

He remembers reading about fresh marks triggering heats in his research—but he hadn’t realized they could affect humans too

The mere thought sends a surge of arousal—hot, sickly sweet, potent arousal rushing through him, and he has to take another breath to steady himself

But all he can smell is your arousal again, and it takes just about every ounce of his willpower to resist pinning you down and fucking you senseless

A low growl reverberates through his chest before he can hold it back

If touching the mark turns you on, he wonders what would happen if he licked it, if he bit it

With tense fingers, he grabs two fistfuls of your ass and distracts himself by kneading at the supple flesh

He shouldn't use the mark to his advantage—it'd be wrong of him to do so

But fuck if it isn't the most tempting thing ever

You make another sound again, like a sigh and a whine, and he uses his leverage on you to guide your hips over his bulge in impatient circles

You're soaked

He can feel it, even through his pants

He rolls his hips up in tandem with yours again, and he's obsessed with the way your face contorts with need and pleasure as his cock twitches between your thighs

You breathe out a curse, head falling back as you bring your hands up to your tits to toy with your own nipples

“Jack~“ you moan his name like a plea, sounding so needy that all he can do is groan at the sound, at the sight, at the scent of you

His mate

You're his mate—all for him

He wants to brand another mark into you

It's just about the only thing on his mind right now

As if one didn't cause enough trouble as is

But he can't help it; you'd just look so fucking gorgeous covered in his brand

The thought has shivers racing through his body

You yelp, and he realizes it’s because he’s digging his bulge right against your clit while simultaneously thrusting up

Fuck, he wants to ruin you

He wants your clothes off, wants you folded beneath him, wants you gushing around his cock while he abuses your tight little cunt

Long gone are his fears and worries over what happened

He just wants you—he needs you

You squirm on top of him, whining and whimpering as you're guided into riding him

With one particularly sharp thrust, you yelp, jerking forward, and you end up bracing your hands against his chest for balance

Which, in turn, grants him the perfect opportunity to lean up and press his mouth to yours in a heated, messy kiss

God, you taste so fucking sweet

He needs more

It’s all he can think about as his hands busy themselves with the rest of your clothes

And then before he knows it, you’re both naked and he’s on top of you and he’s aching to be inside of you

He barely takes the time to admire your flushed, naked body before throwing your legs over his shoulders, manhandling you without even meaning to, and bringing his length to the sensitive spot between your legs

His cock haphazardly smacks against your wet folds as he pushes his hips forward, and the filthy plea that falls from your lips has him groaning

He can’t wait any longer

Inch by inch, he pushes into you—until he’s almost completely stuffed inside your slick, velvety walls

His breathing’s ragged, his muscles flexed, his cock throbbing incessantly as he waits for you to adjust to his size

The wait, of which, is nothing short of agony

He's almost shaking by the time you relax around him

And as soon as you do, he pushes the few final inches in, and he groans as his tip brushes right up against your cervix

Control himself, control himself, he needs to learn to control himself

He swallows thickly, and then slowly, painfully slowly, he rocks back and forth into you

In and out, the wet sounds you make around him are nothing short of obscene

Your hands reach up to rake your nails down his back, and his grunts of pleasure mix in with your cute little moans and whimpers in a filthy symphony

In and out, in and out

He settles into a rhythm that could almost be described as lovingly fucking into you

But no matter how hard he tries to take things slow and soft, he knows his patience can't last forever

"Jack—n-need more~ Fuck, please!~"

He groans out a curse at the desperation in your voice

How could he possibly resist such a request?

The bed creaks loudly at his change of pace, accompanying the sound of his skin smacking against yours and your sweet, precious little sounds of bliss

He buries his face into your neck, and with the temptation of your flesh right next to his teeth, it suddenly becomes very hard to focus on going easy on you

He can't help it

Pinned beneath his larger, stronger form, you've no choice but to take everything he fucks into you

Your back arches, walls clenching frantically around him like you're trying to suck him in deeper with every thrust

And you're so fucking wet—he can't even tell if you squirted or if you're just that turned on

His thighs are coated in your slick

The pressure keeps building within him until his whole body's tense and all he can think about is filling you with his cum

He realizes he’s murmuring something under his breath, but he doesn’t even know what he’s saying—he doesn’t care

All he cares about is the sheer bliss of fucking you like an animal depraved

“Jack—!“

When you cry his name out again, he takes the opportunity to cram his tongue down your throat

Your eyes widen in surprise, but there's no mistaking the way you clamp so deliciously tightly around his cock when his tongue starts stroking yours haphazardly

If he wasn't in the midst of screwing your brains out, if the whole thing wasn't so fucking depraved, it'd almost be sweet

Your walls flutter, hips buckling weakly beneath his strong thighs like you’re getting overwhelmed, like kissing him while he’s so deep inside of you is too much for you to handle

With every ravenous stroke, every inch of his throbbing cock lovingly fucking into you, he feels you tightening, feels the muffled vibrations of your whimpers growing closer

He's just on the precipice of letting go when you suddenly grip onto him—hard

And he almost thinks fuck, he did something wrong

But then he realizes how loud you’re being, how your eyes are squeezed shut and your face is contorted in ecstasy

And he realizes you’re already cuming around him

He buries his face into your neck, grunting out filthy praises into your skin while you ride out your high

And he’s almost proud of how he’s able to control himself—how he can still manage to offer long, hard steady strokes despite your shaking and squirming and shamelessly loud moaning

But then you moan that you're his—you're all his—and just like that, his precious control finally snaps

He doesn’t realize just how hard and fast he’s fucking into you

He hears the bed creaking, hears the frame slamming against the wall, but it all feels distant—like it’s all just secondary to the way your body feels

You feel so, so incredibly fucking good

He snarls your name, lost in the pleasure, and only then does he realize that you’re shaking beneath him and cuming all over again already

Those sounds—those fucking sounds you make as you're pushed into overstimulation—they're fucking bliss

He knows you’re on the verge of reaching your limit, but he doesn’t want to stop—he can’t

He needs this

Even through the haze of his pleasure, he realizes he’s being selfish, but he’s too far gone to care

His tongue traces over your mark, and he’s seconds away from biting down into it—when your cunt clamps around him so fucking tightly that it immediately overwhelms him

You make the sweetest, filthiest sound he’s ever heard, and all of it combined is too much for him to handle

His hips jerk all the way into you, cock twitching uncontrollably, and harder than he ever has before, he cums

He spills himself as deep inside of you as he possibly can, until it feels like he’s fucking into your cervix and filling you to the absolute brim with his seed

He doesn’t realize he’s holding you there—pinning you down and forcing you to accept every ounce of his cum until you’re squirming and shuddering beneath him

Fuck

He pulls out, flinching at how tight you still feel around him, like your body doesn’t want to release him

And yet, as soon as he’s completely out, you immediately snap your legs shut like you're beyond overstimulated

He ignores the aftershocks of adrenaline and endorphins pumping through his system to make sure that you’re ok, he didn’t hurt you, you're ok

You’re panting, dazed and shaking after getting thoroughly fucked out of your mind, but you still find the strength to laugh as you reassure him that you're fine

Even then, it isn’t until you press a chaste, breathless kiss to his neck that he’s finally comfortable enough to lie down next to you and pull you into his arms to cuddle

The two of you bask in the afterglow of your love-making as you catch your breaths

He can hear your heartbeat, feel the rise and fall of your body against his chest as he hugs you into him

You, in return, nuzzle into Jack, your hair tickling his neck, and his stomach does a few backflips into his chest at the simple gesture

He tries to relax, tries to clear his mind and stop overthinking—if only to enjoy the moment while it lasts, but he just can't

As soon as the high of his climax fades away, he’s right back to worrying

Except this time, he finally bites the bullet and asks the question out loud

“Are you sure you want this?”

You stir in his arms, surprised by his sudden question

“What do you mean?”

His nerves kick up to a ten, and he almost considers backing out of the conversation

But he knows he shouldn’t—he can’t—not again

“Like… you know…" he hesitates, "this. Us. Are you sure you want this?”

It dawns on him that you might not fully understand the implications of the mark yet

Surely, at the very least, Slender explained the basis of it, and everything it entails, right?

“…I do,” you answer with a hum

Still somehow not convinced, as though this is too good to be true, he pushes it further

"And, I… the mark… you know it… it’s permanent, right?”

Another hum of confirmation, this time accompanied by feather-light traces over his ashen skin, the contact absent-minded

“Like… Slender told you the conditions, right? We can try to figure a way out of it, but we might be bound together for—“

He doesn’t finish his sentence before you tug his face into yours in another sudden kiss

Your lips are as addictive as ever, and he finds himself already wanting more—always wanting more—even as you pull away

“I thought about it—for a while,” you admit, “and..."

It's your turn to hesitate this time, and the brief pause in your words has Jack’s stress levels skyrocketing

"And I wasn't sure about it at first"

You stop tracing invisible patterns on his skin, and he immediately misses the contact

He’s hanging off your every word by this point

The anticipation’s just about killing him

"It’s kind of a scary thought,” you eventually continue, “and... I've never been good at this sort of thing, but... I-I want this, Jack. I want you"

Even hearing you say it, hearing the words come out of your mouth, it still doesn't feel real

"And I... I know the mark might be affecting me somehow," you reach up, acting on instinct, to brush near the skin of your neck as you speak, "but I don't think it is. I think I’ve known for some time now, but… but I was too scared to admit it”

You swallow thickly

“I... I want to be with you, Jack”

You take a deep breath

“I… I think I’m in love with you”

Jack's heart seizes

It feels like it stops beating right then and there

A moment passes, and then another

It’s like his brain’s trying to decipher what you just said, like surely that doesn't actually mean what he wishes it means... right?

He realizes that he’s not saying anything, and you're growing nervous at the lack of response

But there’s a lump lodged in his throat and he doesn’t think he’d be able to form a cohesive sentence even if he tried

After what happened that night of his transformation, he never thought anyone would be able to love him again

He never thought he’d be worthy of someone’s love

But here you are

You're in his arms, in his bed, and you trust him enough to be this vulnerable around him

He doesn’t know what to say

He doesn’t know what to say, so he just cups your face and kisses you—hard

He forgets everything else around him

The world melts away until it’s just the two of you

Your scent, your taste, your everything—it's electrifying

When he pulls away, you’re dazed and panting once more, and the euphoria of it all is dizzying

He presses his forehead to yours, and you close your eyes, enjoying the closeness

“I love you,” he finally answers

It feels like a dream

He can’t believe he’s able to say the words out loud

You press your lips to his once more, and he realizes things are going to be ok—and he’s not just thinking that to reassure himself

He has you in his arms, and you’re safe, and you're all his, and everything is going to be ok

[andvys]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 25

Warnings: angst, mentions of heartbreak, mentions of unrequited love. love triangle. not proofread

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: As the summer is starting to come to an end, you begin to understand your feelings a little more. While Steve and Eddie struggle with their own.

Word count: 4.8k

A/N: So, I know I said that this would be the birthday chapter but I decided to split it! Do the angst first and give you the fluff later. I'd need much more time to finish it and I really wanted to give you guys something, so here ya go, enjoy it. Next chapter is gonna be silly, it’s gonna be fun (after a little angst in the beginning hehe)

Also for those who forgot who Dmitri is, it’s ‘Enzo’ from season 4.

oh and also, listen to this one while you read this chapter :')

series masterlist

-

The strong smell of oil lingers in the air, loud noises fill the large hall, laughter and chatter from the break room, the music from the radio at the front desk, yet none of the sounds manage to distract Eddie from the storm that is taking place in his mind. 

Your words keep repeating themselves over and over again. 

I wish I met you first, Eddie. 

That night, he laid next to you and watched you sleep, thinking about your words, over and over again. He could not make sense of them. 

What does it mean? 

He could not even ask you what it meant, after you had said it, he was too shocked to even say anything, at that moment. He could only stare at you, his heart racing, his eyes wide as he watched you stare at his lips. His first instinct was to swoon over these few simple words, over the way you had looked at him, over the way you had showed up at his place because you missed him, over the way you rather wanted to be with him than at a party or somewhere else. 

I wish I met you first, Eddie. 

Does that mean that you would’ve been with him if you met him first? 

Does that mean that he would’ve been the one for you? 

Does that mean that you could’ve fallen for him instead? 

That he could’ve had a chance?

In some way, you must feel something for him. It’s something that he never fully allowed himself to question, if you have feelings for him or not, he can’t get his hopes up, not when it comes to you. You are too perfect, too out of reach. You love Steve, you still love Steve, he knows it. Yet, your words made him question everything. Your friendship, the intimacy, the lingering touches, the stolen glances, your affection. But, that is all something that has been there from the start. It has always been so natural for you to be so close with him. It’s not something new, it might not even be anything special to you. Eddie might not be anything special to you, not the way Steve is, at least. 

He could’ve been the one for you if it wasn’t for Steve. 

He could’ve been. 

You could’ve loved him. You could’ve. 

“What’s with that long face?” Dmitri asks, his voice thick with the russian accent that everyone keeps teasing him for. With a slap on Eddie’s shoulder, he snaps him out of his thoughts, “pass me the screwdriver, boy.”

Eddie nods, not answering the question. He reaches for the tool, he hands it to the older man. Dmitri looks curious as he eyes the expression on his face but Eddie knows that he won’t ask. He’ll wait for him to speak up himself. But, that is something that Eddie usually never does. He’s never one to talk about his feelings, to ask for help or even advice, until now. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure,” Dmitri mumbles, pulling away from the chevy, he flips the tool in his hand, leaning against the truck.

As Eddie thinks about the question that has been lingering in his mind, all weekend, he suddenly feels stupid. No answer will be one that he wants to hear. 

“Forget it,” Eddie mumbles.

Dmitri raises his brows. 

“Spit it out, come on.”

Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hates this. He hates talking about his feelings, but he needs to. 

“There’s uh, there’s this girl.” 

“Ah, I knew it,” he chuckles. “It’s always about some girl when someone mops around all day and looks like this.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. 

“She’s not some girl, she’s my best friend.”

“And you have feelings for her,” he says, stating the obvious. 

Eddie licks his lips, he had never admitted it to anyone before, he had only admitted it to himself. He looks at him and nods weakly, afraid to say these words out loud. 

“Yeah, but uh, she’s still in love with her ex boyfriend, who she’s friends with again,” he rolls his eyes. “Last Friday, she came to me, drunk and high and telling me how much she missed me and then she said something that’s been messing with my mind all fucking weekend!” 

Eddie isn’t sure why he is telling him all that. Dmitri is friends with Wayne, a colleague and not even someone he’d consider a friend. But, maybe that’s what he needs, to talk to someone who is not a friend. 

He considered talking to Robin but, knowing her, she’d only pick Steve’s side again and tell Eddie to take a step back. 

Then, there is Gareth, who would only tease him about his crush on you and not be of any help. 

Jeff would only give him false hope and encourage him to make a move on you, that is something that could potentially ruin your friendship, and that is something that is way too important to him. Chrissy would do just the same. The girl who had been snappy with him at first, won’t stop teasing him about his crush on you now. 

Then there is Heather. He is scared of Heather. 

“She told me that she wished that she met me first. What does it even mean? That we could’ve been something if we met first?” He asks, throwing his hands up as he voices his questions out loud for the first time. “We can’t be anything now because she’s already in love with him? Because she could never love me after loving him?” Eddie buries his hands in his curls, huffing. “Jesus Christ, I made peace with the fact I can never have her but fuck, she goes and says this.”

“You are way too negative, boy. Has anyone ever told you that? Who says that you can’t have her?” 

“I’m not negative, I’m just seeing things the way they are.” 

Dmitri shakes his head, scrunching his face up in disapproval. 

“No, you are seeing things the way you want to see them because you refuse to believe that she could ever love you,” he says, pointing at him with the screwdriver. “You see her words negatively without even knowing what she actually meant.”

Eddie shakes his head, stubbornly. 

“Tell me,” Dmitri sighs. “That guy, her ex boyfriend, did he break her heart?” 

“Fucking crushed it,” Eddie frowns. “He left her for another girl. She was – she was so heartbroken, I think she still is.”

He nods, “alright, well, she went through heartbreak and a lot of hurt. But, now she has you. Maybe, she loves you, maybe she is even in love with you but she’s scared just like you are. She’s scared of losing you as a friend, of getting her heart broken again, the trust isn’t there anymore after she’s been left for someone else. Maybe she wants to be with you but she is struggling. If she met you first, she would’ve never been with him, in the first place, she wouldn’t have gotten her heart broken, she would’ve loved you fearlessly and you would’ve loved her too, you wouldn’t have left her for someone else, would you?” 

No, Eddie would never do this to you. Eddie would rather get his heart broken than be the one to break yours. 

“Never.”

“See, things could’ve been so simple if she met you first, that’s what she was trying to say. But now, she has all these fears and all these trust issues and probably thinks she isn’t good enough – just what you are dealing with too, Eddie. I don’t know your girl but I’m sure she’s worth fighting for. And, from what Wayne told me about you two, you seem to make each other happy.” 

Eddie’s eyes widen, he is stunned. 

Wayne talks about the two of you? 

He doesn’t know how to feel about Dmitri’s words, knowing that they might hold more false hope than the actual truth for him. 

But, Eddie knows, he feels that there is something. And yet, even if, your feelings for Steve will always be stronger. 

“But she still loves him.”

“Was he her first love?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Ah,” he nods. “Well, you know what? First love is always gonna be something special. I would know.”

Eddie raises his brows at him. 

“I used to be married.” 

Eddie’s head snaps up, he looks at him in surprise, “wait, really? I never knew.”

Dmitri chuckles, shrugging, “well, it’s not important anymore.”

“Why aren’t you together anymore?” 

Dmitri sighs, he places the tool back on the table, reaching for the hanky in his pocket, he looks down at his oil stained hands and begins to clean them.

“Things just didn’t work out. She met someone else, fell in love and uh our marriage was just history.” 

“Oh,” Eddie frowns. 

“Yeah, and you know what? I hated her for a while, she hurt me. But I let go, I moved on and I accepted that I will always love her, despite how much I hated her for the first few months after she left. You can’t erase the past, we used to have something good before it all went wrong. She was special to me and even now, it’s something special when I look back on the good moments. But, never in a million years would I go back to it again or leave my girlfriend for her if she ever wanted me back. The past is the past. And first love is rarely ever true love.” 

Eddie understands what he is trying to say, yet somehow, he struggles to believe that you could ever move on from Steve. 

“Don’t give up, Eddie. She won’t always be hung up on him.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie mumbles. Though, he can’t help but struggle to believe it. Maybe it’s his stubborn mind that can’t let go of the idea of you being unable to let go of Steve for someone like him or maybe, he is just too afraid to get his hopes up only to lose not only his heart but also his mind at the end of it all. 

“Have you ever been in love? I mean, besides with her?” Dmitri asks Eddie, who furrows his brows and shakes his head. 

“Nah, not really,” Eddie mumbles, snorting as he thinks back to his younger self. The one who closed himself off completely, never letting anyone in to even see a glimpse of the real Eddie. “It was never for me, love. I mean, I had a few crushes here and there but it was never anything serious, you know? But shit, I always watched her when we were still in high school,” Eddie says, not even feeling the smile that is creeping up on his face as he thinks back to those days. “I’m pretty sure I failed math class because of her, she was always next to me – she always chose the seats next to me, I’m certain that she wasn’t even aware that she was doing it but she was there and I was there, and she was so focused on class while I spent the whole hour just staring at her. We weren’t friends back then but she always smiled at me even though we never really talked until last summer. We spent a night together after she had gotten into a fight with her boyfriend and then, she started paying more attention to me in school and then we became friends and then we got closer and closer and my plan to never catch feelings flew out the window,” he says, dramatically. 

Dmitri chuckles at Eddie, shaking his head. 

“What’s life without love, Eddie?” 

“Less suffering?” He mumbles. 

“Well, yeah. Some people get lucky though.”

Eddie fears that he won’t be one of those who will ever get lucky, especially when it comes to love. 

But maybe, maybe there is just the smallest sliver of hope inside of him. 

-

August is coming to an end, the summer days are slowly passing, fall is coming closer and so is Steve’s birthday. It’s tomorrow. It’s been a while since you had last seen him. It’s been a while since you had hung out with him in a group, let alone. The past few weeks, you have spent a lot of time by yourself, you needed it, you needed it to collect your feelings. Robin was right. 

Though, you could not stay away from Eddie for too long. He is your best friend, you can’t be without him and you won’t let your feelings ruin yet another friendship. 

Despite the distance between you and Steve, you made it a mission to go on a hunt for the perfect birthday present for him. It’s something that Heather rolled her eyes at when you told her about it, this morning. ‘Who in their right mind would buy their ex boyfriend a birthday present?’ She had asked, scoffing. Really, no one would do that, no one except for you. But you and Steve, you have a history that you can’t and don’t want to erase. Not only was he your best friend, once. He was also there when you needed him, when he didn’t even have to be there. 

He gave you a birthday present and he kept up the tradition the two of you had. 

You know that he isn’t alone anymore, that he has Dustin and Robin now, people who care for him, people who love him and won’t leave him hanging on a day like this, but you still want to do something that you used to do when you were still.. friends. 

“I’m telling you, y/n, the Star Wars movie collection would be the best decision ever!” 

Dustin exclaims as he walks through the downtown streets next to you. 

“Dustin, I know you’re a little Star Wars geek but there’s just no way that he will be happy to unwrap a collection of movies that he’s not even a fan of!” 

Dustin rolls his eyes at you, “listen, if there’s someone that can turn him into a ‘Star Wars geek’ then that’s you!” 

“But I’m not a Star Wars geek,” you mumble, furrowing your brows at the boy. 

“Then you and Steve can become geeks together,” he smiles enthusiastically. “You could have movie nights, just watch Star Wars together,” he winks. 

You shake your head at him. 

“I see what you’re trying to do and you’re really no help, Dustin.” 

“I’m not doing anything,” he feigns innocence. “You need a birthday present for Steve and asked for help, so that’s what I’m doing, I’m trying to help.” 

“Well, I was thinking I’d get him a cool bracelet–” “Boring!” He yawns. 

“Hey!” You frown, raising your hand, you ruffle his curls, making him groan in annoyance. 

“Stop!” 

You chuckle at him when he slaps your hand away. Pointing at you with a stern look on his face, “you really need to stop ruining my hair!” 

“Don’t worry, the Farrah Fawcett spray holds your perfect hairstyle together, Dusty bun.” You giggle. “How’s Suzie doing, by the way?” 

He rolls his eyes again, sighing, dramatically. 

“You’re like the older sister I never wanted.” 

You gasp, putting your hand over your heart, “ouch, I thought you liked me.” 

“I do, and I don’t even know why,” he jokes, giggling when you pretend to cry. 

“You only like me cause I drive you around when your mama Steve is working.” 

He laughs, throwing his head back. 

“If he is the mom, then what does that make you and Eddie?” 

You furrow your brows, looking up as you pretend to think, “hmm, Eddie is the chaotic dad and I’m uh, I dunno, the cool babysitter.”

“The babysitter who is secretly dating both the mom and the dad,” he says with a smirk. 

“Dustin!” You exclaim as you halt in your tracks, while he keeps walking, laughing when he turns around to look at you, he keeps working backwards. 

“You should’ve seen your face!” 

“Very funny!”

He stops walking when he notices something in the window at the video store, “ooh, look, Star Wars! I’m gonna check it out, you should too!” He says before he turns around and rushes into the store. 

You roll your eyes, groaning. You’re about to follow him inside the store, when your eyes fall on the couple leaving the restaurant across the street. Enzo’s. You have only been there once. Steve took you there on a date, it was an amazing night, you remember every detail of it. How he gave you the prettiest bouquet of flowers that you had ever seen when he picked you up, how he kissed you and told you how beautiful you looked when you wore a midnight blue dress, how sweet and nice he was, so different from the night before when you fought at his party. He was a gentleman that night, he held you softly, he kissed you gently, he held your hand at the restaurant and he only looked at you, not at the young waitress that kept trying to throw him glances. He only looked at you because you were the one he wanted. That night, he had put a ring on your middle finger, promising that the next one would be on your ring finger, only to crush your heart weeks later when he told you that he wasn’t in love with you anymore, that he fell in love with her. 

That night has haunted you for weeks and months after he had dumped you. Every night, you glared at the ceiling, thinking about the things he had said to you that night, the promises he made, the hope he gave, the love he gave. How you had sat there so pathetically in love not knowing that only days later he would meet her. 

You feel even more pathetic now because it still hurts, because it still shakes the ground beneath you, because it still feels like it just happened yesterday when you think back to that day. It shouldn’t hurt anymore, at least not like this but you get sucked back into the past so easily. 

All it ever took was to hear his name to feel the pain all over again. But months have passed, things have changed, you have changed and it all got a little easier. You’re even friends again. 

But now, it’s the memories, the one that you have locked away, the ones that are still holding you back. 

As you stare at the restaurant, realization floods through you like a cold wave that would make you gasp and shudder. 

You haven’t let go of them, of the memories, of the past, of the old him. Even after so many months, even after making yourself and everyone else believe that you had let go, you never really did. And that is the cause of all of the messes in your head and in your heart. The past keeps calling for you, the past keeps pulling you back. 

You feel stuck. You are stuck. You are still stuck in the past. 

It’s why you can’t move on, it’s why you can’t find happiness, it’s why you can’t find yourself in this timeline because you are stuck in a time that no longer exists. 

You never let go, you never let go of him, you never let go of the anger and the pain that is rooted so deeply inside of you. It’s not even his fault, it’s your own, because you couldn’t let go of all the memories you have made with him, good and bad. 

You have a second chance with him now, you gave him one, despite how wrong it was to do so, you gave him and your friendship a second chance because you did not want to lose him again. He is right in front of you and he is trying, he is trying to be good, he is trying to be your friend. Yet, you kept holding onto something that died a long time ago.

Dustin calls your name, but you are still staring at the restaurant. 

“Hey,” Dustin waves his hand in front of you, watching you in concern, “you… okay?”

You snap out of your thoughts, blinking. You clear your throat, looking into Dustin’s worried eyes, “y-yeah!” 

He looks back, checking out what you’ve been staring at for so long. 

“You uh, don’t plan on buying him a restaurant do you?” 

You crack a smile, shaking your head at the young teen. 

“Come on, I gotta show you something, you’re gonna love it!” He grins as he grabs your hand and drags you into the store, pulling you away from something that had thrown your world upside down, yet again. 

-

The window is open in his room, the cold breeze kisses his skin, distant thunder crashes through the sky but lighting is yet to be seen. The room is silent, as is the rest of the house, as always. Steve is sitting on his bed, his eyes keep flickering back and forth between the watch on his nightstand and the telephone. 

He is waiting, waiting for something that might not happen this year. 

It’s almost midnight. It’s almost his birthday. 

He is willing you to call. He needs you to. He needs to hear your voice, it’s been too long since he had last heard you, since he had last seen you. You had distanced yourself from everyone for a moment, but especially from him. Robin had told him that you needed it, that you needed some time to yourself. And while he understood why, he still felt sad when you stopped showing up at Scoops Ahoy every lunch break. 

He glances at the watch. The clock strikes 12, but the phone isn’t ringing and he fears that it won’t at all. He knew it wouldn’t. He knew you wouldn’t call. Yet, he can’t help but feel disappointment sinking through him. This will be the first year without a call from you at midnight on his birthday. 

He closes his eyes. 

His parents aren’t here, and they won’t be when he wakes up in the morning. They won’t be here, he already knows it. Despite the promise that they had made, he knows they won’t show up. And this time, you won’t be here either. 

For the first time in a while, he feels like crying again. 

It’s 12:01 when the shrill sound of the ringing telephone almost makes him jump up from his bed. He opens his eyes, staring at it for a second before he picks up the phone with a pounding heart and hope in his eyes. 

“Hello?”

For a moment, he can only hear his racing heart and silence on the other line. 

“Hey.”

It’s you. 

You called him, after all. 

“Happy birthday, Steve,” you whisper in a way that mends his hurting heart in an instant. 

He blinks the tears away that have threatened to fall just seconds ago. 

“T-Thank you, Dolly,” he whispers. “I didn’t think you’d call.”

“I always call.” 

“Yeah, but.. things are different now. I’d understand if you didn’t call,” he says, though he wanted nothing more than to hear your voice. For weeks, he had craved to see you, to hear your voice, to feel your presence. But especially tonight, because this used to be something special to you and him. 

You are quiet. For a long minute, you don’t say anything. Steve can tell that you are struggling. 

“But we’re friends, right?” 

“Yes, we’re friends,” he whispers, sadly. 

He pictures the look on your face, right now. He thinks that it matches the sad one on his.

“I missed you,” Steve whispers. 

He can hear your breath hitching in your throat. 

“I missed you too.”

That alone, is enough to make his heart flutter in his chest. You missed him.

You clear your throat. 

“S-So are you throwing a big party tomorrow?” 

Steve lays back, letting himself fall into the soft pillows. 

“No, I think I’m done with those.” 

There haven’t been many parties that ever brought him anything good. Most of them ended badly for him. 

“Oh, but you always used to throw birthday parties.”

He can hear the frown in your voice and he can’t help but smile at that. 

“I’m getting old,” he jokes. 

You laugh at his words, not knowing that the sound of it causes his heart to beat wildly. 

“Oh yeah, you’re such an old man, Harrington,” you tease. “How’d you manage to keep the good looks?” You ask with a giggle. 

His eyes widen and his cheeks heat up. He can feel the blush on his cheeks now. 

“I uh– well, I eat healthy and I work out,” he mumbles, scrunching his face up. 

“You work out, huh? Just when you leave the basketball team, you start working out even more.”

He chuckles. He raises his hand towards his hair, running his fingers through it. 

“Well, I get bored after work and when Robin and Dustin aren’t around to be little shitheads, I use the gym that my dad built for no reason. That old man never uses it.” 

You snort. 

“You should start playing DnD with the guys.” 

“You mean with Eddie?” Steve asks, rolling his eyes. 

“Uh, well, Eddie rarely plays nowadays, he’s busy with work and the band but yeah, sure. You two should spend some time together.” 

Steve raises his brows.

Him and Eddie, spending time together?

Eddie hates his guts. And, Steve doesn’t even blame him for it. But, he’s not a big fan of him either. Eddie has something that he wants back. 

The thought of spending time with him seems like something out of a fever dream. 

“I think you’d actually get along if you both tried.” 

He frowns at your words, shaking his head as though you can see him. 

“Uh, yeah, I’m sorry but no.” 

“You’re both so stubborn, I swear. Trust me, you’re not that much different from each other – Eddie also loves KFC.” 

Steve snorts at your words, rolling his eyes. 

“Did it traumatize you when he took you to KFC for the first time? You know, cause you always hated it so much when I took you there?” 

You giggle. 

“Oh, it was so traumatizing, Steve. I almost had a panic attack.” 

“Always so dramatic, honey,” he says so naturally. 

“You know me.”

You are both smiling, both laying in your beds as you talk on the phone for the first time in forever. This used to be a regular thing a long time ago.

“How are you?” He asks the question that has been lingering on his mind forever. “I haven’t seen you since we met up for lunch.” When Robin had crushed the ‘date’ that he was looking forward to. 

“I’m... good.” 

“Are you?” 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I’m good.” 

Steve had wondered what went wrong. That day you had met up with him, you seemed so nervous, so anxious and worried. He could not ask you back then, he didn’t want to pressure you. And then, you and Robin had disappeared. When she came back without you and she told him that you needed some time to yourself, that he should stay away from you for a little while, he couldn’t help but feel sick with worry. 

“Robin said you needed some time to yourself, are you okay?” 

“Yeah. I-I uh, I just needed to be alone for a little.”

“Oh.” 

Alone. Alone but with Eddie. 

“So, what are you doing for your birthday if you’re not throwing a party?”

“I’m gonna have dinner with my parents.” 

“Oh! They’re gonna be there?” You ask, surprised. 

“Yeah,” Steve says, knowing that they won’t be there. He wishes you would be there. He wishes that he could spend the day with you. But he can’t ask, knowing that you will say yes only because you won’t be able to say no. 

“That’s nice, Steve.” You say. In a way, it sounds like there is something else you want to tell him. 

“Yeah..”

“D-Do you remember when we went to Enzo’s, last year?” You ask after a beat of silence.

“Yes, of course, I remember,” he says so simply, like he didn’t crush your heart weeks after giving false hope and promises he never kept. 

You’re quiet, again. And despite not seeing you, he knows that you’re sad when he feels his heart clenching. 

“It was.. one of the best dates I’ve ever been on, Steve.” 

Your voice has changed so suddenly, it sounds sick with sadness. 

He remembers it, he remembers it just the way you do. 

Right now, he wants nothing more than to go back to that night, just to see you smile again, just to feel your touch again, just to be with you again. He wants to go back to a night where you had still loved him, where he hadn’t ruined anything yet. 

“Maybe we can go back there sometime,” he whispers with hope in his heart. 

“Yeah, maybe…”

Though, while he sounds hopeful, you sound uncertain.

And he knows, the reason isn't your past. But something, someone else.

-

next chapter

-

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Picture 1

The desire to travel, to learn and to focus on a spiritual practice. You may have had been self sacrificial for quite some time but now you want to leave that behind for an adventure of your own. It'll happen. Your dreams will guide you, quite literally. Pay attention to them and the places or cities or towns you feel drawn to.

Some of you might find solace in long walks be it outside or simply pacing around in your room with music on. You need some quiet time away from projections of others mindsets. There's an opportunity that will come through which will allow you to bring in new experiences and people into your life. You'll feel grateful that you've crossed your ways with them. However, I do see some of you being reluctant in opening up fully or letting good things happening for you due to fear of being hurt or simply cuz you're not used to things like that given your experiences. But there's hope, there's a reason to heal and there's certainly every reason to release what you no longer want to hold on to anymore.

A good month to simply find some balance within instead of feeling pulled towards extremes.

Additionally, if you've been grieving over something that didn't work out at some point. Know that something much better is on it's way for you. It'll take you somewhere you'd much rather be.

You can also look forward to finding the silver lining you had been hoping for. It's doesn't always have to be like this.

Picture 2

You can certainly look forward to a complete 180 when it comes to your financial situation. Likely the past couple of months may have felt like you've been lacking proper resources or some of you may have even felt like you've been downright struggling even in matters in regards to health. You have had help or your needs met but you've still felt isolated and maybe even cast out. Perhaps you've felt as though you do not belong where you're currently at and you're constantly trying to be something you're not.

Regardless of your circumstances, you've endured and remained determined.

Prepare yourself for a drastic change. A release and renewal. Regardless of you preparing for it, it will come through inevitably. It'll feel like an answered prayer so I remind you to extend gratitude for whatever you have so far and whatever that will be coming into your life.

A lot of you will be happily working towards something that makes you emotionally content. You will gradually perfect or get better at this over time. I also see acclaim in regards to someone's craft or services. For some I see a very tedious decade long chapter finally closing out. You've gotten your wisdom, it's time to apply that for what's to come.

With the money or resources flowing in, be mindful to invest, spend and save accordingly. You'll make new connections this month as well but choose your circle wisely. The more you indulge in art or things that you're passionate about the more harmony and luck you draw into your life. The smoother things fall in place. Focus solely on that instead of rumminating on how to make things happen. You'll be guided on your own.

Picture 3

Immense talent and capability. But when will you claim it? If not now then when? Lucky for you, you're finding your voice and assertiveness this month. For some of you I see rewards or gains from something that you have been focusing on the side. Some of you might also get a sudden bonus at work.

There might be some competition this month however or people trying to pick fights with you over petty matters. Try not to rush things this month either you'll be compelled to slow down either way. You'll also be compelled to drop a particular mindset this month too. Any change you wish to see around you needs to come from within first, it might be a hard fact to swallow but you must accept it. It's like sometimes you're too much in your head but you don't make it a comfortable place for yourself when you should at least try to.

This month will also remind you that regardless of what you've been told and what you've endured, you're not a victim to your circumstances. There's always a way out.

A lot of you might consider doing a sport or building up physical strength as well. Keep your head cool. Take care of your heart and back. Do consider meditation or deep breathing excersises. Genuinely avoid situations that get you agitated for no reason. Channel your aggression towards your goals and know that no one can take your persistence and your rewards away from you.

[haechoxo]

[11:11 pm]

the party had died down soon after you had left with jisung carrying you to chenle’s car. most of the people who stuck around were just adjacent to the group, though none of them had the misfortune of having to hear what just went down between you and haechan.

mark and renjun, however, weren't so lucky.

“you’re fucking stupid.” mark was seething.

“what?”

“all that you went through with y/n and yet you threw it all away for what? minjeong?” he was glaring daggers at him now, the roles eerily reversed, but haechan only scoffed,

“what’s minjeong got to do with this? she didn’t do anything.” he rolled his eyes, only pissing off mark even more.

“you’ve been chasing after her, pining, since high school, bro. you might think she’s interested, but i can guarantee you, she is not.” nothing was getting through to him, no matter how angry mark could possibly get at a person, “she’s always backed off because of y/n, much like how you always scared off any guys that even went as close as looked at y/n.” this caught haechan’s attention.

“i never scared off any guys that approached y/n! bullshit, mark.” haechan was getting defensive, denial. it was mark’s turn to scoff this time.

“really? so when yeonjun started showing interest in her, you just conveniently decided that then of all times was the perfect opportunity to start carpooling everywhere? or what about when jisung had his little schoolboy crush on her? or maybe, i don’t know, the very mention of me five minutes ago when you argued with her outside? don’t think i don’t notice you staring every time i’m around her.” mark isn’t one to be trifled with when he’s pissed off, hardly ever letting his emotions get the better of him, but seeing those closest to him get hurt flips a switch in his system.

his voice was low as he stalked closer to haechan, “i’m not afraid of you, donghyuck, and neither is renjun. your only competition is your fucking ego, and you’re blowing it. not only are you hurting y/n, you’re hurting yourself, dumb ass. move on your part, get your shit together, hyuck, before renjun and i actually get involved.” he wouldn’t stand a chance against an angry mark, let alone mark and renjun, who’s been lingering nearby having heard his previous conversation with you before your departure. but haechan would never admit his wrongs, especially not to mark, of all people right now.

“get involved with what? you’re threatening me now?” haechan scoffs, getting closer to mark’s face, shoving a finger to his chest, “you’re both full of shit.” his eyes dart between mark and renjun, before renjun steps between them, any closer and mark would’ve swung.

“donghyuck. figure your shit out, or you won’t see y/n at all anymore, we can and will make sure of it.”

haechan can’t believe the shit he’s hearing right now, first mark, now renjun?

“you don’t mean that, what authority do you have over me? her best friend.”

mark’s had it, “best friends don’t fuck for three years straight and get in the way of personal affairs, just for you to ghost her anyway! and for what? are you jealous? insecure? or just plain fucking stupid. you used her, donghyuck. you made it very clear where you stand now.”

“if she wanted me so bad, why didn’t she do anything about it, huh? she could have reached out.” he was too stubborn for his own good, but it was too late to take it back now.

“get the fuck out,” he didn’t even have a second to process being shoved out of the house by mark, renjun in tow, “we’re done with your shit, haechan.”

“don’t bother showing up here again.”

previous - bonus

a/n ; i have no words this time lolz, lmk what u think, i hope this chapter is living up to ur expectations LMFAOO i couldn’t stop giggling writing it, advice is appreciated! xoxo jelly

[anistarrose]

Hey. Psst. Person who comments things like "please update" on unfinished fics. As an AO3 author with a couple of works on indefinite hiatus, I'm gonna teach you the secret to maximize your odds of that author writing more of your beloved story. And it only takes two simple steps! Are you ready?

Stop commenting "please update" and similar things on incomplete fics.

Leave a comment about something you enjoyed in the fic. Anything. If you liked it enough to reread previous chapters, let the author know that too.

Why does this work? Well, if you tell us you liked the fic, we can infer that you would be excited to read more. We can draw that conclusion pretty effortlessly — we're usually fic readers too, so like, we get it.

On the other hand, if you comment just to ask/beg for an update? You are much more likely to leave a bad taste in our mouths. Your comment may be intended to be polite, but it does not exist in a vacuum.

If you're commenting "when will you update I'm desperate" on a fic with a lot of traction, the author has no doubt gotten dozens of similar comments, and is absolutely exhausted by them. But if you're commenting "please please please don't abandon this" on a fic with a tiny audience, that might be one of the only comments the author receives. Do either of those sound pleasant? Being flooded with demands for more content, or to have the only response to your creation be about the fact that it's incomplete, instead of about all the love you clearly put into it?

I can't speak for all authors. But I've had works fall into both these categories, and to me, both suck. I've gotten "update plz" comments while fighting for my life to get through college while chronically ill. I've gotten "I hope you keep writing this" comments from people who didn't even leave kudos, on fics that were explicitly labeled as "bonus scenes" for a separate and stand-alone, fully complete work.

Do I want to shoot a rude reply to any of these comments directly? I'd rather not, because I'm sure at least some of them are trying to express that they liked my writing, no matter how bad of a job they're doing. But the fact stands:

It's not fun, or motivating, or going to draw me back into an old hyperfixation, when the majority of comments I get are appreciating me only for content. That's just isolating. The comments that make me want to come back to old projects are ones that provide a chance for dialogue — even as simple as "I'm so glad you enjoyed!" — and make me feel appreciated as a part of a community.

That's it. Content versus community. Just comment in a way that shapes your interactions with creatives and fan spaces to be more about the latter.

[dfortrafalgar]

Bring Your Daughter(s) To Work Day

Law x Fem Reader (kinda)

When the babysitter cancels last minute, Law is forced to bring his daughters to work with him, and deal with the emotions they unknowingly make him feel.

A/N: SURPRISE- BONUS CHAPTER FOR IMLY!!! this came to me suddenly and i hammered it out. this can be read as a standalone, but i wrote it with the intention of it being directly connected to the universe of my long form fic "I'm Losing You"

Warnings: nothing but pure fluff here, folks. established relationship, third person POV, reader is only present in the beginning and end of the story, some suggestive language sprinkled throughout but nothing explicit

[IMLY Masterlist]

Law watched with dejected eyes as his wife dropped her head into her hands, a harsh groan leaving her lips.  Under her breath, quiet enough so her kids couldn’t hear her profanity, she uttered, “Fuck.”

“Let me guess,” Law mumbled.  “She canceled?”

“This is the last time we use this babysitter,” she growled, turning off her phone and flipping it upside down so the screen faced the table, ignoring whatever incoming messages might appear.  “It’s going to be too late to find any sitters now, and their school doesn’t start for another week.  It’s not like we can just drop them off somewhere or leave them here alone.”  She picked up her gaze, her eyebrows furrowed in deep concern.  “Law… I can’t miss this interview.”

“I know, baby,” he whispered back, reaching his hand across the kitchen table to stroke her clenched fist.  “You’re not going to.”

“Do you have a plan, then?”

Law bit the inside of his cheek as he searched his mind for any feasible solution.  One of the biggest interviews of his wife’s career was on the following day, ever since she cordially parted with her last job after having their twins.  She spent the first year of their life physically recovering from the birth, as well as having her tubes tied to prevent any more reproductive issues, the couple happily deciding that they were fine with two children.  The following toddler years were spent at home with Cora and Rose, his wife being assisted by Uncle Shachi, Uncle Penguin, and Auntie Ikkaku whenever they were free.  On days where Law was out of work, he made sure his wife was completely hands-off, taking his daughters out so his wife could spend some much needed time alone or out with her own friends.  The two had a comfortable balance, allowing for ample time spent with each other, their daughters, as well as valuing their personal lives.  Law’s cardiothoracic surgeon salary was more than enough to afford comfortable living in their small house filled with two six-year-old girls and a dog, but he could tell his wife was desperate to get back to a working schedule again.  There was never an issue with having more income, after all, and the doctor knew his wife was never one for the stay-at-home lifestyle for the long-term.

“I’ll bring them with me,” he stated suddenly.  His face remained completely neutral.

“What?” she yelped, standing from her chair.  “Law, you can’t.  You’re a doctor.”

“I don’t have any operations tomorrow, and I’m only working 12 hours.  I’ll bring them with me when I leave at 9, and you can pick them up after your interview,” he explained.  “I have plenty of staff, and there’s a children’s room in the cardiac ward.  They’ll have things to do and people to talk to.”

His wife frantically searched her husband’s face for any sign of indifference or reluctance to his own claim.  Finding none, she slowly sank back into her chair.  “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You’re absolutely positive?”

“I am.”

“And you promise to not traumatize them?”

Law pursed his lips.  The week prior, he found his girls in the backyard poking a dead, gutted rabbit with a stick.  He didn’t think he had much to worry about.  “I promise.”

Finally letting her shoulders relax, his wife slumped over and rested her forearms on the kitchen table, plopping her head against them and shielding her face from the world.  A small chuckle exited Law’s lips as he stood and rounded the furniture, coming to rest behind his wife and placing his deft hands on her shoulders, massaging the knots out of her tired muscles.  She visibly relaxed even more from his touch, almost as if she was melting from the motions of his hands.

“You always know exactly what to do to make me feel better,” she sighed, tossing a glance at her smirking husband from over her shoulder.

“Everything’s going to work out.  You’ll do amazing at your interview, the girls will behave themselves at work, and we’ll all live happily ever after,” he hummed, leaning down to plant a tender kiss on the back of her head.

“Can you bring home ice cream tomorrow?” she asked, her voice finally regaining its light and airy demeanor as her sullen mood finally lifted.

“Of course.”

—

“Girls.”

Law’s stern golden eyes looked in the rear-view mirror, watching as Cora and Rose immediately snapped their attention to their father from the backseat.  Rose clenched a book in her small hands, well above her age’s reading level, while Cora fiddled around with the broken arm of a Stealth Black action figure.

“Remember to be on your absolute best behavior today, alright?” he stated firmly.  “I’ll be around to check on you both for most of the day, but when I’m not there, you need to be good for the nurses.”

“We know, daddy,” Cora chirped.  “Mama told us you’d be coming home with ice cream if we were good.”

“I’ll be coming home with ice cream regardless,” he replied, a small smile growing on his lips.  “But if you’re not good, you won’t be getting any.  It’ll just be for Mommy and I.”

He laughed as his daughters screeched from the backseat, flabbergasted at the mere insinuation that they might not get a share of any delectable treats.  Fondness welled in his heart as he listened to the twins bicker over their shared behavior.  Through their short six years on Earth, they had already grown into strong, individualistic young ladies who were practically inseparable.  Law cried on every single birthday.  They had turned him into quite a softie.

His foot gently depressed the break of his car as he turned into the sprawling hospital’s parking garage, driving up the ramps to the third floor and slipping into a parking space reserved for staff.  He diligently grabbed the large childcare bag from the passenger seat, slinging it over his shoulder before proceeding to free Rose from her restrictive (but very safe) car seat, followed by Cora, who clambered to get out of the car and holler into the echoing abyss of the parking garage, giggling at the way her voice bounced off the concrete pillars and walls surrounding her.  Rose held her hands over her ears, cringing at the sound.

“Get it out of your system now, baby, you can’t be yelling like that in the hospital,” Law uttered, grabbing each girl by the hand and slowly walking with them toward the hospital’s entrance connected to the parking garage by a small hallway and two elevator shafts.

Rose firmly gripped her father’s hand in her right, clutching her book in her left.  Cora skipped along, tripping over her feet, and sang into the air.  “Gather up all of the crew!  It’s time to ship out Binks’ brew!  Sea wind blows, to where?  Who knows!  The waves will be our guide!”

Rose mumbled, her small voice whiny and irritated.  “Cora, you’ve been singing that all day.”

“I love that song!” the younger girl retorted, almost stepping on Law’s foot.  “Uncle Luffy taught it to me.”

Law bit back a smirk, yet rolled his eyes in mock annoyance.  Leave it to that boisterous man to introduce his daughters to the life of high-stakes maritime activity.  He’d be lying if he said playing pirates with his girls wasn’t some of the most fun he’d had recently, however.  It only took a bit of a negative turn when Cora, pretending to be the infamous Blackbeard, landed a punch against Law’s groin so harsh it made him double over.  It wasn’t like she knew any better, but amidst his wife’s worried yet hysterical laughter, he wondered if that blow was enough to make him infertile.

He shrugged the thought into the back of his head, releasing Rose’s gentle hand to press the elevator button, leading his girls into the small space and watching in silence as the doors closed in front of them, carrying them down two levels to the cardiac ward.

“Daddy?” Rose asked, looking up at him.  “What do you do all day?”

Law pondered briefly.  “On days where I don’t have operations, I usually do rounds for patients.”

“What are rounds?” asked the curly-haired girl.  

“I go from room-to-room and assess each person’s health and how they’re doing,” he explained.

“Can we join you?” Cora suddenly asked, staring up at her father with her own large, golden eyes.

“I’m afraid not, sweetpea.”

The younger twin pouted before suddenly growing frazzled out of nowhere.  “I LEFT MY ACTION FIGURE IN THE CAR!!!”

Rose quickly covered her ears again at her sister’s shrill scream.

“We’ll get it later, baby,” Law tried to console.  He nervously glanced at the LCD screen above the button panel, about to reach the first floor.  “I can get it for you on my lunch break.  Can you wait until then?”

Cora’s face was growing flushed as she puffed out her cheeks, her eyes welling with heavy crocodile tears.  “But I want him now!  He’s going to die in the car!”

Law rubbed a hand over her hair.  “He won’t die.”

“He will!”

“I’ll save him before he does,” he said back.  “Shhh, keep your voice down, baby.”

Rose removed her hands from her ears with an audible, relieved sigh.  Cora was appeased… for now.  She’d have to deal with profound, inescapable boredom until noon, or at least until her mom came to pick the two up and save them from the children’s room at the hospital.

All things considered, the girls were fantastically behaved.  They watched on quietly as Law scanned his badge to enter the high-security corridors leading to the cardiothoracic ward, nodding a wordless hello to the various nurses and doctors who passed by, each offering fond, excited smiles to the young girls.  The long, winding hallways of the hospital were ginormous in comparison to the twins, who were used to the much smaller hallways of their kindergarten building, but they kept their hands in their father’s as he led them to his ward.

“Can you remember what I said in the car?” the surgeon asked, scanning his badge over one last electronic box on the wall, the click of the door’s lock signaling its opening.

“We’ll be on our best behavior,” Rose obediently replied, more excited to be able to get back to her reading in peace.

“We promise,” Cora added.  She opened her small mouth one more time, as if to add a second thought, but quickly shut her jaw and stared straight ahead.  Law cocked an eyebrow at the display, but didn’t question it further.  If the little girl had an issue, she would immediately let him know.

There was a children’s room, which was really just a small space situated behind one of the nurses stations, used primarily for families with very small children.  When a person would be admitted to the cardiac ward, any potential juvenile visitors were welcome to use the children’s area to remove them from the otherwise clinical, scary environment of the hospital.  The entire space was stocked with coloring books, light reading for ages 4-10, building blocks, and other miscellaneous playthings, all thoroughly sanitized before and after each visit.

When Law rounded the corner into the doorway of the children’s area, Rebecca was crouched down on the floor, diligently wiping down a set of large plastic building blocks with a sanitizing wipe.  Her large, brown eyes glimmered as she saw Cora and Rose, having not seen them in quite some time.  It wasn’t like Law brought them to work often.

“There are the guests of honor!” sang the pink-haired woman, discarding the wipe into a nearby trash receptacle and hurrying toward her superior and his two excited daughters.  The girls pulled away from their dad and hugged Rebecca’s legs, instantly remembering the warm smile and bright laughter of the nurse who happily knelt to their level and pulled them to her chest.  “It’s so wonderful to see you two again!”

“Let me know if they give you any trouble, Rebecca,” Law sighed, smiling at the sight albeit scrunching his eyebrows at the potential his children had for causing petty issues.  They were their mother’s daughters, after all.  Their well-behaved exterior made room for some very sinister six-year-old schemes.

“How could these sweet angels cause any trouble at all?” Rebecca giggled, ruffling Rose’s head of thick, curly black hair.  “I will, though, sir.  No problem at all.”

“I’ll be back in about two hours for my short break.  Cora, Rose…” the surgeon called their names, alerting their attention once more.

The silence in the room was palpable as Law brought two of his fingers to his eyes, gesturing his hand toward their faces as if giving a silent threat that he had his eye on them, even if not in the same room.  He had a playful smirk on his face as he did so, leading Cora to stick her tongue out at her dad.  Rose gave her sister a light shove, harshly whispering about the ice cream reward still looming over their heads.

—

Two hours and far too many patient rounds finally came and went before Law was able to take a short break, proceeding to the children’s room with his ample amount of paperwork in an accordion binder held in his arms.  He’d be able to get some time to work on it while sitting on the floor at the squatted table while he gave his nurse a much needed reprieve from his daughters.  While marching through the long hallways of the cardiac ward, the surgeon pulled out his phone and smiled at the text that had come in from his wife, about 30 minutes prior.

Mama What do you think of this fit???  I mean, im going with it, but do i look hot and professional?

Mama [1 Image Attachment]

Mama Right answers only.  Also, are the girls behaving alright???

His wife did indeed look stunning.  Her curves fit elegantly into a sharp, black pencil skirt that flared slightly below her knees.  Sheer tights complimented her supple skin, and sophisticated yet casual wedge heels boosted her height by a good inch or so.  She was posing in the mirror of their bedroom, one hip jutted out propping up her free hand that she graced over her waist.  A trendy blouse was tucked into the skirt, the top few buttons still undone.  Grinning down at his phone and holding his folder tighter against his abdomen, he fumbled to type out a response while walking.

You know you look stunning, baby.  Absolutely gorgeous.  You’re going to do up those top buttons, though, right?

He watched the incoming message bubble appear and disappear a few times before her response came in.

Mama Duh, i was just hoping that showing off some cleavage would give me extra points with you <3

Law fought to bite down the chuckle that rose in his throat, not wanting to attract attention. As long as I get to undo those buttons later.  He was feeling bold today.

Mama Ice cream first, sex later.  Love you baby <333

Law quickly shoved his phone into his pocket after thumbing out a quick good luck message for her upcoming interview, which she was surely traveling to at that very moment.  He pushed open the door to the children’s room, quickly pushing back any inappropriate thoughts of his beautiful wife and smiling at the sight of his daughters.

Cora was in the middle of utilizing every single building block the room had to build a convoluted structure that took a plethora of odd shapes.  She was being assisted by another young girl who’s curious violet eyes watched inquisitively at each new block added to the structure.  Rose was in the adult-sized chair across the room, her nose buried in a new book.  Judging by her original book on the floor by the legs of the chair, she had finished that one after only two days.  A new literary record.  Rebecca was absent from the room, most likely having left to continue her own duties, but judging by the faint smell of light cleaning alcohol in the room, she hadn’t been gone long.

With a smile, Law sat on the floor across from his daughter’s, and the new girl’s, strange structure.  “What are you building?”

“A submarine.  Can’t you tell?” Cora replied, placing a pink-colored block on top of an ominously leaning stack.

The new girl, who’s hair was a deep shade of purple, stared at Law with huge, curious eyes before a cheeky grin broke out on her face.  “Are you the doctor taking care of my papa?” she asked.

Law grinned.  “Could be.  Who’s your papa?”

“Tenguyama Hitetsu,” she confirmed cheerily.  “Well, he’s not actually my papa, but he also is.”

A lightbulb clicked on in his head.  He had just been in Mr. Tanguyama’s room, and had no idea that the elderly man had any child under his care.  It was then he remembered that the man had described a young girl as his ‘student’ rather than ‘daughter,’ but he still spoke about her with such fond language.  Kurozumi Tama.

“Tama’s been helping me build,” blurted Cora, bringing herself to her feet to place another block on the tower attached to what was supposed to be a submarine.

“You two make a good team,” Law replied fondly as he turned his attention to his oldest daughter.  “Rose, what are you reading?”

Her new book was substantially thicker than the one she brought with her.  There were no pictures on the cover.  She tilted the object down only slightly to speak with her father.  “Rebecca brought it for me when I asked.  It’s a book about common heart conditions in adults.”

Somehow, Law was not surprised.  He didn’t even question it, watching as the black-haired girl turned her attention back to her book, disregarding any potential response from her father.  Without another word, and without wanting to distract the kids from their intense focus, he scooted across the floor to the squatted table and opened his accordion folder, flipping through his paperwork to pass his two hour break, counting his blessings that he had such easy, albeit… strange, children.

He couldn’t stay focused long enough to begin filling out his patient charts, however.  Especially not when he was swarmed with thoughts about his family.  As he picked his gaze up and glanced across the room at his daughters immersed in their own little worlds, happy as clams in their special ways, he couldn’t fight the swelling in his heart.  His wife, after worlds of difficulty, had given him two of the greatest gifts of his life.  Those gifts were now six years old, about to start first grade, reading above their level, building and drawing, holding conversations, and were filled with boundless love.  They hadn’t yet reached the age where they were embarrassed to hold hands with their dad in public, and they were still too young to fully understand the world around them, but it was clear as day to the surgeon that his little girls were bound to learn the tough realities of their lives sooner rather than later.  It made his chest pang thinking of how quickly they had grown up.  It felt like just yesterday that Law was by his wife’s side in the delivery room, finally holding his babies after they were allowed to leave the NICU, happy, healthy, and already beginning to babble and whine for their next feeding.  He remembered looking at his wife, the woman of his dreams, who had gone through far more than any human should in bringing these girls into the world, kissing her lips and thanking her, thanking whatever deity was in the heavens that she was still alive and well.

“Daddy?”

Rose’s voice broke Law from his trance, his sharp golden eyes darting up to meet hers.  The book was folded in her lap, her hands tracing the embossed letters on the hard cover.  

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice small and concerned.

A lump developed at the base of Law’s throat.  His girls looked so much like his wife.  He forced the rock down his esophagus and smiled at his little girl.

“I’m just fine, sweetpea.”

—

Law had needed to stay for an extra hour and a half after his shift was supposed to end, much to his distaste.  After his close-call to an emotional outburst that afternoon, he wanted nothing more than to run home, embrace his wife in a hug, and cuddle with her on the couch with the ice cream that he had promised her.  When he was finally able to slip into his car, the backseats empty (save for the Stealth Black action figure that was completely forgotten about by noon) with Cora and Rose having been picked up by their mom, he pulled out his phone to send his wife a text only to find that she had sent him one first.

Mama Look how tuckered out they are!!!

Mama [1 Image Attachment]

Mama What did you do to them???  LOL

The image was immediately saved to Law’s camera app.  Cora and Rose were curled up on the plush carpet in their living room on both sides of Bepo who was sprawled out on his back.  Their little arms wrapped around the dog’s torso, their faces squished into his warm, white fur as they snoozed in one conjoined unit.  He quickly tapped out a text that he was coming home, placing his phone in his bag and proceeding out of the parking garage as quickly as he could.  With the only places still open at that hour being the gas station, he stopped at the nicest one in town and picked up three pints of ice cream, as well as a few extra treats to surprise the girls with when their new friend, Tama, came over for a playdate in a few days.

When Law finally entered his house, the only light still on was the lamp beside the couch.  All the curtains were drawn, shrouding the living room in a pleasant, dim warmth.  His wife was on the couch, laying back with her phone in her hand.  She quickly stood up when Law entered, excitedly yet quietly closing the gap between them and capturing her husband’s lips in a tender kiss.  He cheekily took the freezing bag containing the ice cream and pressed it against the thin cotton t-shirt she wore to bed, cooling her skin and making her suppress a surprised yelp.  She giggled as she playfully batted Law’s chest.

“You tease!” she whispered.  “I don’t wanna wake the girls.”

“With the way they were sleeping in that picture, I doubt we’ll wake them up,” he replied, his voice low as his lips stole another kiss, lingering a few moments longer.  His heart fluttered at the feeling of his wife smiling into his gesture, her hands trailing over his chest, shoulders, and up into his fluffy black hair.

When she pulled away, he finally noticed the blouse she still wore, all the buttons done up.  “Good, because you still have to take this off of me.  I’m uncomfortable.”  She snatched the bag out of his hands, procuring her own pint of ice cream.  “After this, obviously.”

“Of course, of course.”  Law followed her lead, grabbing his own treat after placing his other goods into the freezer and following his wife to the couch with two spoons in hand.  Bepo was on his dog bed snoring up a storm, which he had been doing much more often in his older age.

“How did your interview go?” he finally asked, smiling as his wife snuggled into his size, using a blanket to grip her ice cream without freezing her hand.

“I think it went well, I was so nervous, though.  I had to apply an extra layer of deodorant in the car because I was sweating so much,” she explained.  “But the manager seemed pleased with my resume.  And she knew Ms. Boa, so hopefully that means my recommendations will be worth it.”

Law held her close while opening his own ice cream.  “I’m sure it will be.  You’re a shoe in for that position.”

“You’re just saying that,” she mumbled, taking a spoonful of the frozen treat.

“You like when I say things,” Law replied with a smirk on his lips.

She sunk further into his chest, letting his warmth embrace her.  Her mind swirled with images of the man, when they started dating, when he proposed, on their wedding night, in the hospital multiple times, holding his daughters… the woman blinked away fond tears and swallowed her emotions with another hefty spoonful of ice cream.

“What are you thinking about, gorgeous?” asked the man behind her, his voice gruff and tired from a long day in the hospital.

“Nothing…” she mumbled back, hiding her face in his neck.  “Just how lucky I am to have you.”

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

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status update: life’s super hectic, not sure when I’ll start updating fics again (but I hope I can finish 🐬 anon’s request first)

Hello, I’m HalloHello. Thanks for reading!

This is a side blog so I can’t leave likes or follow others with this blog I’m so stupid I’m sorry :(

Simon "Ghost" Riley

New Year Fireworks + We Both Broke Our Promise (F)

Invincible (F)

My Heart Can Sleep When I'm with You (F)

Daisy Dukes - 1 2 (F)

His Only Asylum + Bring Me to Heaven (F, 18+, gore and knife)

Bed All Day (GN) (18+)

Inhale Our Sorrow, Exhale Our Future (GN)

Bedtime Story (F)

Unexpected Encounter (F)

Ghost*Reader with Scars and Hide Their Face (GN)

Smut Challenge - Neighbor!Reader (F) (18+)

Husband!Simon with Car Crash Wife!Reader (F)

Simon Got a Flu (GN)

Nine things Simon Riley Might Annoy (intentionally or not) His Shorter Partner (GN)

Sleeping (truly) with Simon (GN)

Domestic Life with Retired Husband!Simon (GN)

Simon with A Gammy Reader (GN)

Perv!Simon Riley with Yandere!Reader (GN)

It Isn’t Fate Bringing Us Together (It’s Me) - 1 2 (Dark Fiction, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat)(GN)

Palette (F)

Ex-bf!Simon Riley*F!Reader (F)

End This Repeating Dance (GN)

Silly Moments between Simon and Reader (F)

Simon Taking Care of You When You Accidentally Injured Yourself (F)

Simon Riley, Will You Marry Me? (F)

Soulmate AU - Separate Endings (GN)

How To Remember? (F)

Voicemails (F)

Your Inviting Lips (GN)(anon ask)

Remember-me-not (GN)

The Last Dance (GN)

Two-way Trap (F)

Simon Exploring Your Cute Reactions (GN)(evil 🐼 anon)

Simon Loves Your Chubby and Adorable Face (GN)(🦈 anon)

A Day of A Cute (and Silly) Couple (GN)(req)

Hey, how are you? (F)

Grim Reaper!Ghost*Reader That’s Always Alone (GN)

Shower with Simon Riley (GN)(anon req)

Watch You From Afar (GN)

Till It Blooms Again (F)(🐬anon)

John “Soap” MacTavish

Smut Challenge - Neighbor!Reader (F) (18+)

Regret Devouring Me (GN)

John Price

How To Remember? (F)

The True Me (GN)

Watch You From Afar (GN)

König

Spider Webs - 1 2 3 bonus chapter 1 (F) (18+)

His Only Asylum (F, 18+, gore and knife)

NSFW Alphabet (F, 18+)

Vampire AU Headcanons (GN)

Cat Café AU Headcanons 1 2 (GN)

Cat Reader Headcanons (GN)

TF141

In Pairs - Price Soap Gaz Ghost (GN)

What Makes You Unique (GN)

Cream Puffs (GN)

Sweet Flavor of Your Lips (F)

Vampire AU Headcanons (GN)

Cat Café AU Headcanons 1 2 (GN)

Cat Reader Headcanons (GN)

Wild Pets - 1 1.5 (F)

Tf141 with a Fragile Reader (GN)

Tf141 with a Reader Who Sucks at Baking but Wants to Bake Them a Valentine’s Day Dessert (F)

Tf141 with gap moe (contradictory-characteristic cuteness) reader (GN)

Melt Down The Snow (GN) (🦈 anon)

Some Thoughts about Demon!TF141 (GN)

More About Demon!TF141 (F) (18+) (anon req)

Demon!TF141 but Reader Becomes Demon Too (F) (anon req)

No Tolerance!! + It's Nice To Come Back Home (F) (🦈 Anon)

TF141 men seeing you wearing face chain for party (F) (🦈 Anon)

TF141*Reader Angst in Few Sentences (GN)

Always By Your Side (GN)

TF141*Reader Fluff in Few Sentences (GN)

Not Dying Alone (GN)

Counting Down To Heaven (GN)

Each Other’s Shelter (F)

TF141 with A Reader That Can Fall Asleep Anywhere and Anytime (GN)

Spine Chill (GN)

Mafia!Tf141*F!Reader ch1 ch2 ch3

[yazthebookish]

I agree with @bookofmirth

I think ACOTAR5 will fill in the gaps we're left with in HOFAS (on the ACOTAR side). I think that will be covered in the first 30% of the book.

I'm very excited for it because SJM dropped some delicious crumbs for Azriel and tied his Illyrian heritage to the crossover and questions about his origins, backstory and magic:

• Truth-teller being the knife of Enalius, the first of the Illyrians. How did he find the knife? It's interesting that the knife went from the Fae back to an Illyrians.

• Illyrians being made by the Daglan and what are the implications of that on them.

• The Daglan fed on the Illyrians power through the Tithe, and just as I suspected they channel firstlight/raw power and its destructive without the wearing siphons (which I assume are quartz crystal too).

• Ramiel potentially being a thin place and also has a core of firstlight, does the Blood Rite contribute to giving it more firstlight/secondlight? What makes the Illyrians all have magic on the night before the Blood Rite?

• Azriel's origins. I still think he is fully Illyrian since he can wear Siphons (unlike Rhys) but I find it interesting Bryce questions if he has Starborn bloodline. Avallen Fae and Theia's daughters had shadow powers so it might be something that will be explored.

• In the bonus chapter he seems fiercely protective of his mother and mentions that she is anything but awful. However he refuses to discuss it more which seems a sore spot for him.

It's obvious SJM is laying down the groundwork for Azriel's arc and it's not going to be confined to a sad lonely depressed love interest, he has a bigger role.

Rhys will 100% be very concerned about people from other worlds showing up in Prythian, he saw two female aliens (Aelin and Bryce) in a span of months.

I need to do a proper post later on but I am so fucking excited I've been waiting for his story and it's going to be nothing short of epic!!

[eggyrocks]

bloody nose: kuroo x calloused hands reader

calloused hands masterlist // main masterlist

warnings: violence, blood, swearing; grammatical errors, not proofread, i wrote this just for me so it's probably not great

an: here it is. my self indulgent bonus chapter that’s got my fingers itching. i wanted to write this so fucking bad i genuinely do not even care if it’s good tbh; im sure if you wanted to read this without reading all of calloused hands u could but it’s probably better in context

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧

their set's not going well.

it might have something to do with the venue; it's a small, cramped basement bar with only one way out and one way in-the old and creaking staircase that looks like it's one bad day away from collapsing. it might be the fact that the bouncer's stopped counting heads and the bar's way over capacity. could be the hot humid air that's suffocating them and only getting worse with each person that claws their way towards the band.

but it's probably the heckler.

yn's generally not really bothered by that sort of thing. it's not like this is the first one she's ever dealt with; normally she'll just play over them until they learn their lesson and keep their mouths shut during their sets.

but the bar's fucking tiny and so ungodly packed and hot it's making her just a bit more irritable than usual. every couple of minutes there's some sweaty dude from the pit getting knocked into her and knocking her hand off her guitar, throwing her off and making her fuck up. it's irritating. it's frustrating. she knows her bandmates are getting fucking sick of it too. tanaka's broken more drum sticks than usual.

so when the heckler starts up again, she doesn't really have any self-restraint.

"you guys fucking suck!" comes his voice, ripping through the crowd in between songs.

yn leans up close to the mic until her lips are ghosting over the cool metal. "uhh, suck my dick," she murmurs into the mic, hearing it echo throughout the small space.

she ignores the crowd's reactions and leans back on her heels to make eye contact with yachi. yachi, who, like yn, got so sick of the heat and had to abandon her outer layer of clothes in favor of her sports bra. just one look at her sweat-soaked friend and yn can tell she is just as miserable as she is.

"heckling us won't make us play better," nishinoya says into his own mic, "we're going to suck no matter what you say."

"why doesn't your guitar player suck my dick!"

the reaction is half boos and half laughter, and yn does her best not to react the way she wants to. she just fiddles with her guitar while nishinoya lets out a string of curses and threats into the mic. he kepts it short, though, they've got a show to get on with.

yn wishes she could spot kuroo. she knows he's out there somewhere in the crowd; she keeps hoping to catch a glimpse of his distinctive silhouette-just seeing him there would help her calm down. just a bit.

kuroo's good at making things better for her. he always does it, even when he's not trying.

but all she can see over the lights that shine in her eyes is a shapeless mass of huddled bodies, indistinguishable and formless. she can't pick out kuroo. she can't see his face and she can't calm down.

"this next song's called rot," nishinoya anounces, and ignores the glare yn shoots him. he's fucking around with their setlist again. "it's about dying and getting eating by worms."

tanaka counts them in, and yn tries to focus all of her energy on playing. she's hoping to take her frustrations out on her guitar; and either way, she always plays great when she's in a bad mood.

but they're not even half-way through the first verse when yn notices something whipping over the heads of the audience. in a fraction of a second, she realizes it's a beer can. sixteen ounces.

and then, the next second, it's hitting her in the temple.

her hand leaves her instrument and flies to cup the spot she got hit. the beer can hits the floor and it's spraying sudsy, warm alcohol all over her. she crouches down in pain, trying to blink away the hot, thick liquid that now drips down into her eye.

there's a hand on her shoulder, and the sweet words of concern in her ear confirm that it's yachi. yn tries to stand up straight, despite the dizzying pain radiating in her skull, and tries to get a look at what's happening in front of her.

strangers are trying to crowd her, to get close to offer help or see if she's okay or just get a better look at exactly what happened. nishinoya is pushing people away, telling them to back the fuck up, now. tanaka's grabbing yn by the shoulder and trying to keep her steady. yachi's pressing one of their discarded tshirts against yn's forehead, trying to slow the bleeding.

and there's a familiar outline of bedhead, stomping up the stairs of the bar, dragging a protesting body behind him.

haphazardly, yn rips wires out of her guitar and shoves herself forward, elbowing her away through the swarms of people, leaving behind her bandmates, bloodied tshirt, and still fizzing can of beer.

once she climbs up the stairs and out of that basement, the cool air is on her skin, on sweat, on the beer-soaked clothes she's left in, and she's suddenly freezing.

but she doesn't really focus on that. yn just stands there and stares as kuroo, her beautiful kuroo, holds the heckler up by his collar, sneering at him. "what the fuck is wrong with you?" he screams into the trembling face of the other man. "you could've killed her!"

"it wasn't supposed to hit her!" he insists, and suddenly does not have the smug edge to his voice he did when he was telling yn to suck his dick. "it was an accident, dude!"

yachi appears at yn's side then, mouth open like she's about to ask if yn's okay, but she stops at the scene before her, just taking yn's hand in hers.

kuroo's grip on his collar is tight, and if the bruising on his knuckles or the bleeding of the heckler's mouth are any indication, he may have already gotten a hit in. he doesn't look away from the man in his grip. "yn, are you bleeding?"

she squeezes yachi's hand. "yeah," is her casual answer. she winces, blood sill trickling down her face, and the pain in her head still throbs.

"kiyoko's looking for something to stop the bleeding," yachi tells him, a nervous tremor. "tanaka's getting the van so he can drive her to the hospital-she's gonna need stiches."

kuroo lets him go, then. dropping him so quickly that the heckler only just gets his bearings before kuroo is pulling his fist back and then slamming it into the nose of the heckler. there's a pleasant crunch. yn tries to appreciate the sight of it, but she's just getting so damn lightheaded.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧

by the time they get out of the hospital, the sun has started rising. kuroo's driving the band's van with one hand on the wheel and the other gripping onto his girlfriend's thigh.

her bandmates, who insisted on staying with them the whole night, are now sleeping in the back, and their not soft and not gentle snores are fill the van.

yn looks over at kuroo and grins. she reaches towards him and gently carsses the cut that stretches across his nose. "you got battle scars now. can't believe you headbutted that guy."

he scoffs. keeping his palm flat on the wheel, he stretches out his fingers and examines the the scabbing over his knuckles. "my hands were starting to hurt and i need them for volleyball. i was running out of options."

"it was really hot, by the way," she tells him, teeth poking through broad smile. kuroo flicks his eyes away from the road for just a second to see it. "you were all bloody and sweaty like, 'oh, i'm gonna fucking kill you that's my girlfriend,'" she says, in a poorly done imitation of kuroo.

he laughs. "im just glad you're okay. if you had gotten a concussion i would've had to track him and down and give him one of his own."

"you need more than a beer can to take me down," she boasts. and then, without much warning, leans over towards the driver's seat to place a kiss on kuroo's cheek. "thanks for beating the shit out of that guy for me."

"i'll always beat the shit out of someone for you, babe," he tells her, only half-joking. "you're my girl. of course i will."

she smiles, and places her hand on top of his, resting her head on top of his arm. "i'm totally gonna fuck the shit out of you after i sleep for like, twelve hours, by the way."

kuroo smirks, and from the back, through a haze of sleepiness and snores, nishinoya says, "you guys are fucking gross."

taglist: @wyrcan @rieieieieieiei @thechaosoflonging @publicbathroompanic @bedeater @rottingt1tz @rintarawr @deluluforcarlos55 @ahseyy @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @baskin-robinhoods @nnnyxie @cr4yolaas @httpakkeiji @macchiatomegumi @hikikaimar @noodleswastaken @garden-of-bri @rinaheartss @infinitelytimebound @scxrcherr @eyes-ofhell @sleepy-time @polish-cereal @literally-a-ferret @crownj1min @sereniteav @kozuskitten @02shuuu @rasisarchive @marzzn @barricadesenthusiast @yvjitadori @yeehawslap @phoenix-eclipses @lcvestays @thirtykiwis @kitty-m30w @causenessus @notsaelty (i wasn't sure if i should include the taglist since this is just a bonus chapter but u know what. fuck it. here u guys go).

[lady-embers]

"A thing of secret, lovely beauty"

Artist: Kloartz over on IG!

~Gwyn nimbly rolled to her feet, grinning so broadly that Nesta was momentarily taken aback by it. The priestess had been pretty in the library, but with that joy, that confidence as she aimed for the three priestesses, she had emerged into a beauty to rival Merrill or Mor.

~Gwyn’s fingers slid into hers, squeezing tight. Nesta looked up to find her holding Emerie’s free hand as well. Gwyn smiled again, her eyes bright. “Our stories are worth telling.”

~Gwyn let out a high-pitched noise that was nothing but pure excitement. Azriel, on the other side of the ring with the rest of the priestesses, half-turned at the sound, brows high.

~Azriel had winnowed her and Cassian here after training, but hadn’t lingered. Apparently, Gwyn wanted him to go over dagger handling, so he’d left them with a promise to return in an hour.

From the bonus chapter: Which happens inbetween Ch. 58/59 of ACOSF

~His shadows peered over his wings at her.  The young priestess smiled--and Azriel thought it might have been directed at his curious shadows.

~“Aren't you cold?" His breath clouded in front of him.  Gwyn shrugged. "Once you get moving, you stop noticing it."  He nodded, silence falling. For a heartbeat, their gazes met. He blocked out the bloody memory that fashed, so at odds with the Gwyn he saw before him now. Her head ducked, as if remembering it too. That he'd been the one who'd found her that day at Sangravah. "Happy Solstice," she said, as  much a dismissal as it was a holiday blessing.  He snorted. "Are you kicking me out?"  (He's showing concern about her being cold and we have proof from Azriel he was there at Sangravah and Gwyn isn't making things up like the other side tries to say)

~Pure amusement glittered in her stare. Better than the pain and grief he'd spied a moment before. So he offered her a crooked smile. "I can't  sleep without my favorite dagger."

"A comfort to every growing child."  Azriel's lips twitched. He refrained from mentioning that he did indeed sleep with a dagger. Many daggers. Including one under his pillow. (Azriel shows more positive emotions with his interaction with Gwyn than seemingly around anyone else)

~How was the party?" Her breath curled in front of her mouth, and one of his shadows darted out to dance with it before twirling back to him. Like it heard some silent music.

~She shrugged again, irreverently. Az narrowed his eyes, studying her. "Do you, though?" she pressed. "Sing?" Azriel couldn't help his soft chuckle. "Yes."

~Gwyn tried the movement as slowly as he had, and he watched her  self-correct, fighting against the urge to open up her wrist and rotate the blade. She did it three times before she stopped falling into the bad habit. "I blame Cassian for this. He's too busy making eyes at Nesta to notice such mistakes these days." Azriel laughed. "I’ll give you that."  Gwyn smiled broadly. "Thank you." Azriel dipped his head in a sketch of a bow, something restless settling in him. Even his shadows had calmed. As if content to lounge on his shoulders and watch.  

~"Happy Solstice," Azriel said before aiming for the archway into the House. "Don't stay out too much longer. You'll freeze."  Gwyn nodded her farewell, again facing the ribbon. A warrior sizing up an opponent, all traces of that charming irreverence gone. Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer. (Again, Azriel is showing care/concern over Gwyn possibly being cold/out too long and just look at the wording used here)

How the bonus chapter ends:

Clotho's pen moved once more. She deserves something as beautiful as this. I thank you for the joy it shall bring to her.

Something sparked in Azriel's chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to  the House proper. How Gwyn's teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it.  

But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly. 

A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

These scenes take place after the bonus chapter:

~Cassian glanced over at Az, but his attention was fixed on the young priestess, admiration and quiet encouragement shining from his face."

~The world seemed to pause at the words. As if it had been following one path and now branched off in another direction. In a hundred years, a thousand, this moment would still be etched in his mind. That he would tell his children, his grandchildren, Right then and there. That was when it all changed.

~Azriel went wholly still, as if he, too, had felt the shift. As if he, too, were aware that far larger forces peered into that training ring as Gwyn moved.

~Azriel clapped his hands, and all the females straightened. “You’ll work in groups of three.” Gwyn asked Az, her teal eyes bright, “What do we get if we finish the course?” Az’s shadows danced around him. “Since there’s no chance in hell any of you will finish the course, we didn’t bother to get a prize.” Boos sounded. Gwyn lifted her chin in challenge. “We look forward to proving you wrong.”

~Gwyn threw Azriel a withering stare as she strode past him. “See you tomorrow, Shadowsinger,” she tossed over a shoulder. Az stared after her, brows high with amusement. When he turned back, Nesta grinned. “You have no idea what you just started,” she said. Az angled his head, hazel eyes narrowing as Gwyn reached the archway. “Remember how Gwyn was with the ribbon?” Nesta winked and clapped the shadowsinger on the shoulder. “You’re the new ribbon, Az.”

~“The first had just unbuckled his belt when Azriel arrived.” Silent, unending tears streamed down Gwyn’s face. “Azriel slaughtered all of them within moments. He didn’t hesitate. But I could barely move, and when I tried to get up … He gave me his cloak and wrapped me in it." (Without hesitation, Azriel slaughtered all the soldiers and gave Gwyn his cloak.... similar to Lucien breaking free of his restraints without hesitation to get to Elain and give her his cloak)

After reading all this.... how can you NOT think Gwyn and Azriel are endgame? And this is what you missed on Glee......

[lotus222]

I have a theory…

Everyone is up and arms about the elriel v. gwynriel debate so if you get easily triggered about those ships pls avert your eyes cause I’m gonna be unapologetically brutal.

I just finished reading CC2 (ik I’m behind) and it opened my eyes to something SJM has been saying since the beginning.

Now, while reading this massive book, I had a continuing foreboding feeling that Hunt was going to be replaced by Ithan as Bryce’s love interest. Bc as we know SJM always switches up the MMC after one book or so, so I was scurred. BUT

I was pleasantly surprised to see that SJM did all in her power to reinforce the idea that these two are endgame, by having Bryce CHOOSE Hunt and vice versa — going against her arranged marriage, the royal lineage requirements, and the added complexity of mates for fae, angels, and wolves

It was refreshing to see Bryce and Hunt come together out of true love as opposed to SJM’s usual trope of “oh they were destined so they have to be together”. Don’t get me wrong, I love her other couples too - but Bryce and Hunt have always been my favs bc of this fact.

Then, imagine my surprise when I see that Bryce and Hunt CHOOSE to be mates. Simply bc the title bf & gf didn’t work for them. THEN, they’re revealed to be true mates, and their love for one another simply forged this unbreakable bond where now they have the same strength (if not stronger) then preordained mates.

Here’s where the ACOTAR ships come in…

Now…i don’t care who mrs Maas decides to put together. I have loved every single couple she has produced so ik I’ll love the next inner circle couple. BUT ik in my heart of hearts and based off of common sense that it’s going to be Elain + Azriel

(Also pls keep in mind that the ACOTAR fae are the ancestors of the CC fae, which means whatever Bryce and Hunt can feel/do/etc, first originated or was discovered in the ACOTAR world) which means this true mates thing that Bryce and Hunt have can have originated with Az & Elain

CC3 takes place after ACOSF, where we all know there are things needing to be addressed. Bryce wakes up on the lawn of the townhouse where Az is and there’s fresh bread & roses in the air…then everyone else arrives later. Meaning Az was at the townhouse by himself…with the bread & roses (Elain).

Some of y’all might think that’s a stretch or irrelevant, but I think it’s fully intentional that SJM put CC3 before the next ACOTAR book. It’s bc everyone in the ACOTAR world up until this point has followed the rules of “be with your mate and love them”, but now Bryce is there as a clear example of having a mate not chosen by some stupid bowl, but by herself and her heart. Which is something I think will strike a chord with Elain and Azriel.

Az has NEVER been chosen, and I don’t think (even if gwyn is his mate or his backup singer or whatever y’all are calling her now) he will be satisfied by someone being thrown to him, forced to love him bc of a bond. He wants them to choose to love him like his dad and Mor didn’t (sry Mor stans but she didn’t, she admitted so herself in ACOWAR)

Rhys (sry cause I also dislike him after ACOSF) is just like Bryce’s bio dad and is trying to place a barrier between the couple in the name of politics and what is usually done, but just like Bryce (I.E. WHY THERE IS A BONUS CHAPTER W HER, AZ, AND NES (THE ONLY 2 (-Rhys) WHO WILL KNOW ABOUT AZ’s FEELINGS)) Az/Elain will choose to divert that standard, motivated by the love Bryce expresses for her chosen mate, Hunt.

Plus, can I mention y’all also acted this way with Cass met Emery at the end of ACOFAS…and thought they were gonna be together before ACOSF came out and now y’all are doing the same to Gwyn. I personally think Gwyn has been traumatized beyond belief by men, and I don’t think what she needs in her life to heal from that is the man that saved her from that trauma. She doesn’t need to be saved or reminded of that time in her life anymore. Like, girl could still not bring herself to leave the house of wind at the end of ACOSF. Idk about y’all but I wouldn’t fall in love with the cop who saved me from that kind of crime, I’d move on and find love for myself.

No matter if you’re a gwynriel stan or not, we can all agree that the kiss at the end of ACOSF cannot be ignored, and this relationship between Az and Elain has been building up for THREE BOOKS. Gwyn has only been here for one. Take it from me my lovely gwynriels, and be prepared for disappointment.

NOW, where does Lucien fit in all of this? I think Lucien takes the same stance as Ithan from CC. Elain doesn’t know the sassy, caring Lucien we know bc the only interactions she’s had with him were when he sold her out to Hybern (mind you: when she was ENGAGED) and when he’s been around her bc he felt this need due to a mating bond. It’s fair that she doesn’t love him, just like it’s fair that Bryce doesn’t love Ithan. Just because there’s a bond, in whatever form, doesn’t mean that entitles another to that female’s love.

Lucien deserves someone who wants to be with him and as a fan of his character, too, I don’t want him stuck with Elain. Especially when she’s made it so clear she doesn’t want him. I think Lucien accepting Elain going with Azriel will lead him back to the Spring Court (cause it’ll still hurt, and he’ll need space) and give y’all that Tamlin redemption arc you’ve been dying for for some reason.

Either way, the answer of who is Az’s mate is a big topic, so I think SJM doing the same thing with him that she did with Bryce and Hunt in CC2 would be so bomb. Plus, she’s always said that the books she writes will be with the female at the forefront, so sry babes, there’s no Azriel book.

So book 5/6 (incl ACOFAS) in the ACOTAR world will be Elriel, then it’ll be Morr/all of the couples, and the novella will probably be Spring Court (i.e., Vaasa/Tamlin/Lucien). Don’t quote me on anything past the next ACOTAR book, I’m just guessing on those

Anyway, that’s how I think it’s going to go but I’m not the author or anything, so take this as you will

[jasmineandcedar]

"His head went quiet."

[Second Solstice] “It's beautiful," she [Elain] whispered, lifting it from the box. The golden faelight shone through the little glass facets, setting the charm glowing with hues of red and pink and white. Azriel let his shadows whisk away the box as she said softly, "Put it on me?" His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck [Azriel's BC).

When I read that Azriel’s head went quiet in the bonus chapter, I often think of it in a wider and perhaps more symbolic sense. As in, Elain gives him peace and quiet. He relaxes with her in the garden, sunning his wings. His shadows vanish in her presence (here’s a post I wrote dissecting my perception of the meaning of this). His soft and gentle side comes out around her (meaning he has no need to be stone-faced and guarded, as he usually is). However, I also believe the peace and quiet she gave him in that precise moment is also very specific and contextual.

What had been plaguing his mind leading up to their moment during Solstice night?

[Second Solstice] Sleep, they [his shadows] seemed to whisper in his ear. Sleep. I wish I could, he answered silently. But sleep so rarely found him these days. Too many razor-sharp thoughts sliced him any time he grew still long enough for them to strike. Too many wants and needs left his skin overheated and pulling taut across his bones. So he slept only when his body gave out, and even then only for a few hours (Azriel’s BC).

“Razor-sharp thoughts” and “wants and needs”. These words give meaning to Azriel's actions in ACOSF. All throughout ACOSF, we see Azriel distressed and clearly not OK, because of his feelings for Elain. Even to the point that Cassian (who, let’s be honest, is not the most observant) notices.

[Azriel telling Cassian Nesta and Cassian are wanted at the river house] “You and Nesta are wanted down there.” “Because of the shit with Elain?” Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?” Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened. Cassian blew out a breath. “I take that as a no regarding the meeting topic, then.” “It’s about what I discovered. Rhys said he requires you both there.” “It’s bad, then.” Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. “You all right?” His brother nodded. “Fine.” But shadows still swarmed him. Cassian knew it was a lie, but didn’t push it. Az would speak when he was ready, and Cassian would have better success convincing a mountain to move than getting Az to open up. (ACOSF)

[Cassian asking Azriel if he wants kids] Cassian looked over at Az. “You think you’ll ever be ready for one?” Ever be ready to confess to Mor what’s in your heart? “I don’t know,” Azriel said. “Do you want a child?” “It doesn’t matter what I want.” Distant words—ones that prevented Cassian from prying further. He was still happy to be Mor’s buffer with Azriel, but there’d been a change lately. In both of them. Mor no longer sat beside Cassian, draped herself over him, and Azriel … those longing glances toward her had become few and far between. As if he’d given up. After five hundred years, he’d somehow given up. Cassian couldn’t think why. (ACOSF)

[Azriel, Cassian, and Nesta training] Nesta’s stare seared him from across the ring. Cassian might have flexed his stomach muscles as he approached the chalk-lined circle. Az shook his head and muttered, “Pathetic, Cass.” Cassian winked, nodding to his brother’s equally muscled stomach. “Where have you been exercising these days?” “Here,” Azriel said. “At night.” After he returned from spying on their enemies. “Can’t sleep?” Cassian took up a fighting stance. A shadow curled around Azriel’s neck, the only one brave enough to face the sunlight. “Something like that,” he said, and settled into his own stance across from Cassian. Cassian let it drop, knowing Az would have told him already if he’d wanted to share what had been hounding him enough to exercise at night, rather than in the morning with them (ACOSF).

Clearly, Azriel’s head has been nothing but quiet all throughout ACOSF. But during Solstice night, with Elain, it went quiet. What happened before his head went quiet? It's reasonable to assume that what preceded his head going quiet is what caused it. So, what was that?

[Second Solstice] “It's beautiful," she whispered, lifting it from the box. The golden faelight shone through the little glass facets, setting the charm glowing with hues of red and pink and white. Azriel let his shadows whisk away the box as she said softly, "Put it on me?" His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck (Azriel's BC).

“Put it on me?” Elain asked, and Azriel’s head went quiet. Why? What is it to put a necklace on someone? It is to act.

Up until the necklace, Azriel knew Elain was aware of his feelings for her, and why he hesitates to act on them.

[Second Solstice] He [Azriel] left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much. Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days. (Azriel’s BC)

So, Azriel knows they have feelings for each other that they both are aware of. They have shared glances and brushing of fingers.

[Second Solstice] It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching (Azriel’s BC).

What is missing, for those feelings to be more than mutual feelings, is action. What Azriel doesn't know (I think) is if Elain would be ready to act on those feelings, beyond the occasional brush of their fingers and a lingering glance here and there. I am doubtful he had expected Elain to be willing to act on it that Solstice night, and I am convinced he had never felt entitled to it. Why do I think this? Because he never planned for a future with her in it beside him.

[When Rhys confronts Azriel during Solstice night] "So you'll what?" Rhys's voice was pure ice. "Seduce her away from him?” Azriel said nothing. He hadn't gotten that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to (Azriel's BC).

Why had he not allowed himself to plan beyond his fantasies? Because he didn’t feel entitled to a future with her. Why do I say that? Think about what planning is. It is imagining a future you want and how to get there. If he didn’t expect Elain to be ready to act on their mutual feelings, it makes sense he had no hope of a future with her, because he is not entitled to a future with her that she doesn’t consent to.

Think of what kind of person Azriel is. And then think of the circumstances required for him to imagine a future he wants with Elain, and to imagine how to get there (= planning). Azriel is a guy who is seemingly intent on consent and not pushing himself on, especially, women. Look at how he acts with the priestesses in ACOSF. And with Elain, he extends a hand, an arm and so on (an offer). But not only that. He extends a hand, an arm, after having asked her (offer and permission).

[Azriel has just flown Elain to the town house] Azriel smiled faintly. “Would you like me to show you the garden?” She seemed so small before him, so fragile compared to the scales of his fighting leathers, the breadth of his shoulders. The wings peeking over them. But Elain did not balk from him, did not shy away as she nodded—just once. Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, “Beautiful.” (ACOWAR)

[Feyre offering to take Elain to the garden] I dragged a hand over my face before going to Elain and touching her too-bony shoulder. “Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.” “I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. Nesta monitored him like a hawk, but kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went. (ACOWAR)

So, when Elain said, “put it on me?” I think it meant to Azriel that Elain showed him she was willing to act on their mutual feeling. It is an explicit expression of consent for him to act (offer and permission). Then, he “nearly groans with relief and need” when she allows him to put the necklace on her, urges him to touch her, and gives him her consent to kiss her (offer and permission). What is he relieved about? That she is willing to act. She confirms not only that she feels the same, but that she is even braver than him and ready to act. Even with her mate upstairs.

If Elain is willing to act, there is a possibility of a future. It opens the door towards a future with her that he could imagine, and if he can imagine a future with her, he can imagine how they’d get there. That is what it means to plan. Something he couldn't have allowed himself to do before "put it on me?" and all that followed in that interaction (with Elain leading it).

Look at what happens after he learns Elain is willing to act. He is questioning the Cauldron itself openly for the first time, with Rhys. I see it as the first seeds towards a bigger plan.

[Rhys confronts Azriel during Solstice night] Azriel stiffened. Let his cold rage rise to the surface, the rage he only ever let Rhysand see, because he knew his brother could match it. "What if the Cauldron was wrong?" Rhysand blinked. "What of Mor, Az?" Azriel ignored the question. "The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another." He had never before dared speak the words aloud (Azriel’s BC).

Consider Azriel’s nature. He is not impulsive. He works in the background. Waiting for the right moment to act is not only a cornerstone of his job, but of his personality, as evident in his assertion that spying suits him precisely because of that. He is not careful and prudent because he is Spymaster, he is Spymaster because he is careful and prudent.

[Training with Nesta and Cassian] “Right,” Cassian panted through gritted teeth as he blocked Az’s kick and bounced a step back, circling again. “Whoever lands the next blow wins.” “That’s ridiculous,” Az panted back. “We go until one of us eats dirt.” Az had a vicious competitive streak. It wasn’t boastful and arrogant, the way Cassian knew he himself was prone to be, or possessive and terrifying like Amren’s. No, it was quiet and cruel and utterly lethal. Cassian had lost track of how many games they’d played over the centuries, with one of them certain of a win, only for Az to reveal some master strategy. Or how many games had been reduced to only Rhys and Az left standing, battling it out over cards or chess until the middle of the night, when Cassian and Mor had given up and started drinking (ACOSF).

[Cassian and Azriel on the lookout] “Four fucking days,” Cassian hissed from where he and Azriel monitored the castle. “We’ve been sitting on our asses for four fucking days.” Azriel sharpened Truth-Teller. The black blade absorbed the dim sunlight trickling through the forest canopy above. “It seems you’ve forgotten how much of spying is waiting for the right moment. People don’t engage in their evil deeds when it’s convenient to you.” Cassian rolled his eyes. “I stopped spying because it bored me to death. I don’t know how you put up with this all the time." “It suits me.” Azriel didn’t halt his sharpening, though shadows gathered around his feet (ACOSF).

When Azriel says “this was a mistake” about the almost-kiss, and “tonight had proved he 'd been right to do so” (Azriel's BC) about staying away from Elain, it is obviously not an expression of rejection. He didn't suddenly change his mind about Elain. He is questioning his impulsivity and recklessness. Because, as much as I, for entirely self-interested reasons, wish Rhys didn’t interrupt them, making out downstairs during Solstice (and whatever that might have led to) was quite reckless and impulsive. Clearly, none of them had planned to do that.

Azriel achieves his goals not through impulsivity and brute force, but through careful consideration and strategizing. I think that, since Elain said “put it on me?”, he has perhaps been cooking up some "master strategy" to make them happen (I, too, don't think it was a coincidence he was present to find out the Cauldron had, in fact, been tampered with, in HOFAS). He got her explicit consent, and a minute later he is questioning his religion in front of his High Lord. I think there might be some miscommunication initially in Elain’s book, given how Elain probably doesn’t know Rhys is the reason Azriel decided not to follow through with the kiss. And I think Azriel definitely will struggle with his feelings of not being worthy.

But then, I think we’ll be privy to some master strategizing on their part, challenging not only Rhys but fate itself.