#months ago but he nods anyway and price just walks away with an amused look

[laswells-ashtray]

If they're drinking then Alerudy take up a couch to themselves. Enough space for Alejandro to sit back with his drink of choice in one hand and the rest of the space is for Rudy to lie with his feet hanging over the edge of the couch and his head on Alejandro's lap so Ale can untangle his curls. Rudy will sit and rant passionately about something he's interested in and Alejandro will watch him like a lovesick fool.

It's more for Alejandro's benefit than Rudy's, contrary to popular belief Ale can become quite a miserable drunk at some point during the night. His fond reminiscing becomes sombre and eventually, he's drinking just to try and withstand the misery.

But put Rudy's head in his lap and he's listening to every word out of his mouth like it's gospel. He's watching him with the softest expression anyone around them has ever seen on his face. Someone else starts talking to them? Alejandro ain't even glancing up at that poor fucker, it takes Rudy looking up at him with those soft brown eyes and pointing him in the direction of the speaker for him to even care.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Fully Completely 1

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), attempted violence, mutual irritation.

This is dark!Loki x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s a new face in Birch and he’s come to haunt your door.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, and Little Bones

Note: I did not plan to get the first part done so soon. I will probably be setting time aside as I write this to also work on some original stuff. When it comes to that, I’d love if y’all might let me know what you think would be a better medium to release it? Kindle, Patreon, etc. I’m really not sure but if it was Patreon it would like be two series running at once with a chapter of each a month + Q&A and maybe some bonus materials? I am a noob at this shit and it wouldn’t be for a while yet.

Anyways, I’m rambling...

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: She simply slammed the door

💀💀💀

The garage smelled like oil and snow. The cold air seeped under the closed metal door as you sat on the low stool and affixed the new headlight to the propped up Harley. It was only the start of an impractical rebuild; your brother wanted everything metal replaced with chrome. You thought it was obnoxious but the parts were paid for and you could never complain for money.

You were funded exclusively by the town’s club, your garage not far from The Asp where the members hung out and revved the engines you found yourself looking at more often than you liked. You were good at what you did though and privileged for it. You had the protection of the club without having to devote yourself truly to its bounds.

You checked the wiring and rolled away from the bike to change the station as the radio crackled. The snow kept setting the speaker to static and the noise was driving you mad. You flipped the switch to play the cassette stuck in the drawer, the old stereo beaten up and filthy. Springsteen’s gristled tones filled the shop and you wheeled back to your brother’s ride.

With the storm would no doubt come more work. Your fingerless gloves itched more than they kept you warm. Your fingertips were numb as you touched the frigid metal and the sweat of your palms made the fabric uncomfortable. You were used to it, rather tolerant as your task kept you distracted.

You were interrupted as you bent to look under the tank and get a good look at the exhaust and the rest of the beast’s entrails. You had the new pieces still wrapped and didn’t intend to do it all at once. Jerome could wait for his tacky redesign.

A loud banging came at the metal door and you glanced over in irritation. Anyone in Birch knew to come in the painted door to the left and not hit the large one. You huffed and stood with a groan, your hips sore from the low stool. 

You fixed the front of your fleece-lined denim jacket and pulled the tail of your plaid shirt from inside your jean pocket. You’d been hunched over so long you were all wrinkled. You went past the large door and into the small entryway off the left of the garage and opened it with a tinkle of the rusty old bell above.

You stuck your head out into the gales as the snow continued to fall and squinted at the man in his thin jacket. He stood beside the long luxury car as another man with wild orange hair remained in the driver’s seat and blew into his hands. They were out of place in the small town and you could tell by the way the man scowled at the door that he knew it.

“Hey,” you called to them, “there’s a place down the street. I don’t do walk-ins.”

“Oh, hello, Miss…” he let his voice trail off as he neared and you stared at him rather than provide your name. His accent, his attire, the curl of his lip, it was clear what he thought of you and the bodunk town, “actually I was referred by an acquaintance. One, James Barnes.”

“Bucky?” you furrowed your brow.

“Mm, yes, that one,” he said, “my car will need detailing. We had some difficulties on the motorway.”

“Right,” you tried not to scowl, “well, if he sent you, I guess I can help.”

You left him and the door clattered behind you. He followed a few steps after as you went to the switch and pushed it to raise the wide door of the garage. You waved in the driver of the car and he carefully pulled in beside your brother’s bike. 

He got out and you were surprised by his size, he was taller even then his companion and wider; neither could be described as short. You lowered the door as the thinner man walked along the shelves and the long table along the other side of the garage. The bigger man stood by the car and tucked his hands in his pockets.

“Not much better in here than out there,” the dark-haired man turned back to you, “you have heat in here?”

“You need a better coat,” you said as you rounded the back of the car, “and some boots.”

You glanced pointedly at his leather shoes and bent to reach under the table. You pulled out the space heater and plugged it in as you set on the wood. You cranked it up and smiled at him tritely.

“So, what’s the damage?” you asked as you looked to the other man.

“Headlight, maybe,” he said in a peculiar accent, “some scratches. We had a bit off a run-in.”

You neared and bent to examine the front of the car. You sighed as you tilted your head and clicked your tongue. It was easy enough to beat out the dents and buff out the scratches with a quick refinish. The headlight would need to be replaced and you knew they didn’t carry anything for that model in town. No one there was pretentious enough to drive it.

“If you want the headlight done before you leave town, it’ll take some time to get the replacement,” you warned.

“Oh, and how do you know I’m leaving?” he taunted coyly.

“Well, I know you’re definitely not sticking around,” you scoffed.

“Why wouldn’t I? A quaint place like this, I’m sure there is so much to explore,” he said dryly.

You had no delusions of what Birch was but it wasn’t the part of outsiders to deride the dead end. You stood straight and put your hands on your hips.

“You can go back to your castle, my lord, but you will have to wait out the storm,” you sneered. “Two days for the scratches. If you want to take it back after that and wait for the headlight to arrive, that’s fine with me.”

“Two days for the scratches? Surely you could do it before the morning,” the black-haired man insisted.

“I could but I have other work to do,” you replied, “so you can be patient and take your turn in line after all the hicks who live here.”

You went back to the table and grabbed your phone from where you tossed it earlier. You unlocked it and searched the model of his car and scrolled through the parts list. 

“You’re Bucky’s guest so I’ll send the bill to him?” you asked, “though you do look to be able to afford it yourself.”

“You can invoice him directly,” he assured, “so you’re one of them?”

“One of them?” you repeated as you focused on checking out. The damn internet kept cutting in and out.

“My brother, those men in this town, I never knew a woman--”

“I’m not a biker. My brother is in the club,” you assured him, “so that big blond dope, he’s your brother?”

“Regrettably, yes,” he slithered, “Loki Odinson,” he introduced himself as he rubbed together his hands, the leather gloves doing little to protect his fingers, “my driver is Korg, and you’ve yet to tell me with whom I am trusting my property.”

“Again, there is a shop down the street. Prices aren’t bad,” you finished up your purchase and tucked your phone in your jacket pocket.

He met your eyes as you turned to him and he looked down his nose. You kept on and brushed past him as you went back around the car and sat by your brother’s bike.

“Sorry about the boss,” the other man, Korg, intoned, “he can be a bit--”

“Don’t apologise for me,” Loki snipped, “I needn’t atone to her.”

You rolled your eyes and wheeled around the side of the bike, “if that’s everything, you two can head back out. I’ll let you know when the car’s ready.”

“We might wait for the snow to calm,” Loki suggested.

“I close in an hour, you’re not staying here all night,” you sniffed.

“Trust me, I have no special desire to spend more time with you than necessary,” he retorted, “I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman so volatile as you, dear, and I’ve only just met you. I never expected you people to have very many manners but perhaps what I did presume was too much.”

You bared your teeth but kept at your work. You would worry about kicking him out when you finished the wiring.

“To be fair, had you not spoken first, I might’ve assumed you were a man,” he added.

You paused and glanced down at the open tool box. You weren’t unused to the comments, you weren’t girly in any way but it wasn’t like you were trying to be a man. You wore what was comfortable and in your work, practicality prevailed over aesthetic. Yet, your years of ridicule as a kid made you less tolerant of the comments and those had stopped long ago because you made sure they did.

“Oh, darling, have I upset you?”

“Don’t call me that,” you said as you reached into the toolbox.

“Well, you’ve not given your name and I’d hate call you what I truly think of you--”

The wrench flew from your hand as you stood and spun to him. It barely missed his head and bounced off the wall and plunked onto the table beside the heater. His eyes rounded and the other man looked at him. There was a thick silence as you glared at him.

“If you weren’t a friend of Bucky’s, I wouldn’t’ve missed,” you hissed, “now I will kindly, before I reach for a bigger wrench, ask you to leave.”

He pushed his shoulders back and tilted his head as his lips thinned dangerously. He swallowed and beckoned the other man with two fingers. His cheek twitched as if he would grin and he nodded subtly.

“Well, darling, how amusing you are. These brutes must adore you,” he snarled, “the exterior does indeed say it all.”

You bent and reached for another tool blindly. He blinked and quickly dodged as you flung the next wrench and he followed his henchman to the entryway. Your temper was a match for many men. It kept you safe.

“Barnes did not say his mechanic was a madwoman,” Loki called back as the bell rang.

“What, are you going to tattle on me?” You stormed towards the doorway, “you precious little princess?”

“Princess?” he met you in the doorway as Korg behind him held the door open and the snow blustered in, “I know Barnes will do me no other favours, but do you think he’ll do you any?”

“Get out,” you spat and shoved him, “I don’t need men to take care of me and I have no problem in proving that.”

He bit the inside of his lip in a crooked smirk and winked before he turned away and strutted out into the snow, shielding his face from the wild winds. Korg trailed behind him and the door sprang back into the frame. You crossed your arms and glared at the peeling paint. 

You were tempted to tow his car out and let it weather the storm but you were smarter than that. If he was doing business with Bucky, you would be a fool to get in the way of it. 

💀

The snow dwindled to a lazy dusting, the ground thick and treacherous. That day, you started early and around noon, you headed across the street to the diner for your usual lunch of a club sandwich and black coffee. You didn’t have to order as all the waitresses knew what to expect. You weren’t unfriendly but your association made many standoffish.

You tapped on the lip of your mug with your thumb, fingers hooked through the handle. The sleepy town felt dead in the winter. You were used to the dullness of Birch but tolerance was hardly happiness. It was home, where you’d grown up and you had no certain desire to get out, but you wouldn’t mind a little more than what was expected.

You yawned and gulped down the last of your coffee. It was bitter and left a few grounds on your tongue. You leaned back and grabbed the monthly newsletter from between the salt and pepper shakers. You read through the fun facts which weren’t very fun or even new. They were copy and pasted out Guinness and Reader’s Digest.

You looked up as you sensed someone approach your table but it wasn’t the waitress. The man from the day before slid coolly onto the seat across from you at the booth and smirked over the table. You raised the newsletter again and folded it backwards to read about the weekly knitting circle down at the rec center that was also the library.

“Good afternoon to you too,” Loki said, “it must be fortune I ran into you, I was hoping to inquire after my car--”

“I told you, two days,” you said tersely as you continued onto your horoscope …‘a new force will bring change’... You hated this tripe. You swore, every month they just switched the blurbs under each sign and hit print.

“So be it,” he cleared his throat and you lowered the paper as he shrugged out of his jacket.

“What are you doing? I eat my lunch alone,” you said.

“Well, to be frank, I was pointed here on the promise of some famous cabbage soup,” he explained as he folded his jacket over the seat next to him, “you looked like you needed company.”

“I don’t,” you assured him.

Kimmie came over and set down your sandwich. She greeted Loki and you saw the way she eyed his tailored suit. He stuck out in the town of flannels and denim.

“Hello, sir, can I get you something to drink?” she asked.

“Tea, English breakfast,” he ordered smoothly.

“Oh, sorry, we only have um, um, sorry, peppermint, earl grey, ginger lemon, and green,” she listed off as she tried to remember them all.

“Earl grey,” he sighed, “and a menu.”

“No, no menu,” you insisted, “and you can take his tea to another table.”

“And when we’re through, I’ll take the cheque,” he ignored you and snickered under his breath.

“Kimmie, can I get a to go box?” you asked as you shimmied off the seat and snatched up your coat, “I have to get back to work.” You took out your wallet and counted out the usual amount plus a tip, “thanks.”

“Of course,” she smiled awkwardly and glanced between you and Loki.

She scooped your sandwich back up and scurried away with it. You felt him watching you as you walked away and went to stand by the till as you watched Nora flit into the kitchen. She packed up your food and returned with the box. You took it and headed for the door, ignoring the arrogant out-of-towner on your way.

“Wait,” Kimmie called out your name and you turned back as she held up your keys, “you dropped these.”

You met her halfway and took them from her with a mutter. Again, he was watching you… or still watching you. She spun and promised she’d have his tea shortly.

“Hmm,” he hummed and you head to the door again, “interesting, I never would have put the name to the face.”

You pushed out into the snow and gritted your teeth. You thought of getting the work on his car out of the way quickly so he would leave you alone but your spite made you want to put it off entirely. Whatever. He’d be gone soon enough.

[cacoetheswriting]

lonely this christmas

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Warnings: mild mild cursing, mainly just fluff !!! Word Count: 2.9k Summary: Reader admits to Spencer she will be spending the holidays alone but he’s got other plans.

A/N: starting off the month of december with a christmas centred fic!! hope you like it <3

-

Being alone on Christmas wasn’t unfamiliar to Spencer. In fact it was pretty much the opposite. Being alone on Christmas was typical, ordinary. 

The nature of his job being what it was, he usually ended up working over the holidays anyway. Therefore he never made any plans with his mom because most times he just ended up disappointing her. Being alone at Christmas was fine. Being a disappointment however, completely different story.

As years went by Diana stopped noticing his absence. Of course if Spencer was to visit her at the sanitarium over Christmas she would welcome him with open arms, but he never does. He used to feel incredibly guilty about it, but that too passed with time. 

There was no indication that this year would be any different so he kept his schedule clear. However, the twenty-fifth of December approached fast. Very fast. The closer it got the more it was shaping to be the first holiday season, in a long time, the team would get to spend with their families. And even Spencer found himself considering going home to Nevada; seeing his mom. 

A tab of the airline website was constantly open on his desktop. He checked it regularly; hovering over the option to buy a ticket. 

That’s how you caught him one day. 

You observed from your own desk as Spencer leaned back in his chair, one hand still holding the mouse. The wheels inside his brain clearly turning; evaluating all of the options and possible outcomes.

“Hey, doctor.” You called out grabbing his attention. “If you spend any more time thinking about whether you should go home for Christmas, all the good seats will be gone.” 

He chuckled. “I guess you’re right.” “As always.” You shot him a playful wink as he turned to once again look at his screen. 

“There. Bought.” Spencer exclaimed after a brief moment of silence. “My mom will be happy.” “When was the last time you seen her?” You asked curiously. “It has been more than six months at this stage.” He answered while standing up. 

“Coffee?” He gestured to the empty mug on your desk. You nodded. “You read my mind.” 

The two of you walked towards the kitchenette in the office. It was quite late on a Friday night meaning everyone had cleared out for the weekend. Only the usual suspects remained; Spencer and you.

“When was the last time you were home for Christmas?” “Three years ago. How about you?” Spencer asked, tilting his head slightly to look at you. “Oh, I honestly don’t even remember.” You replied shrugging your shoulders.

“So your family must have been happy to hear you were getting the chance this year to spend the holidays with them.” The brunette doctor switched on the coffee machine and leaned against the wall while you elegantly hopped up onto the counter. 

“Actually, I didn't tell them.” 

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows. “How come?” 

He watched intently as you chewed on your bottom lip - a bad habit you failed miserably to break. In that second of silence you wondered whether you should tell him the truth. He was always so open with you, honest. It would only be fair to repay him with the same sincerity. So you took in a quick breath, and exhaled it quietly before looking up to meet his amiable gaze. 

“My mom and I got into this huge fight a couple of weeks ago. She tried to set me up with this guy because in her eyes it’s unacceptable that I’m single. She doesn't think it’s right that my younger sister is getting married next summer and I haven't had one relationship in my life that lasted longer than a month.” A soft sigh escaped you. “I told her to butt out, using much harsher language than that of course.” Your mouth twirled into a smile; trying to make light of this conversation. Being no stranger to your frequent use of profanity Spencer smirked. 

“We haven't spoken since. She hasn't formally invited me over for the holidays which she always does, even if she knows I won’t be able to make it, and whenever I bring it up with my dad or my siblings they change the topic so.” You shrugged once again while nervously dangling your legs. “It’s easier not to go.” 

Spencer nodded slowly, taking in all of the information you just unloaded. Shaking your head you reached over to grab the coffee pot and poured some into your mug. 

“I’m sorry doctor. I didn’t mean to just lay it all on you like that.” 

He stepped towards you. “Don’t be.” Holding his own cup in front of him, he smiled kindly. “Thank you for telling me.” You began to pour the black hot liquid into his mug; a slight shake to your hand. “Thank you for listening.” “Anytime.”

Spencer placed his full cup on the counter beside you and began to rummage through the cupboards in search for sugar. “Y/N I gotta ask, and obviously if you don't want to answer me you don't have to.” He cleared his throat as you took a sip of your bitter black coffee. “Why didn’t you want to go on a date with the man your mom suggested?” 

Once he successfully located the sugar, he straightened his shirt and plopped two cubes into the hot beverage. He offered you one but you shook your head, taking another sip. 

“I get that it’s not really my place but it just seems a small price to pay for being able to spend Christmas with your loved ones.” 

“If you must know doctor, I prefer to meet people through work. Prison systems and such.” You joked, a wide smile gracing your features. Spencer rolled his eyes. “And how is that going for you?” “Surprisingly well. I have a date shortly after we’re back from the Christmas break.” He arched his brow and smiled at you; playing along as you continued. “Solid guy. Only murdered five people.”

You beamed at the brunette doctor who was grinning back. “Maybe I should consider adding prisons to my dating pool.” You let out an over-exaggerated  gasp and placed your free hand over your chest. “Is doctor Spencer Reid really on the market?” 

Spencer shook his head. His light curls bouncing finely, matching his every move. He lowered his lips to the brim of his mug and took a sip of his coffee before focusing on you. “No, but for the right girl I’d consider it.” 

Without thinking you raised your free arm and adjusted his tie. Flattening down the edge of his collar, you could feel his eyes on you. Yet for some reason you were suddenly afraid to look up and meet his gaze. Strange. Or maybe not so strange.

“Lucky girl.” You said in a mere whisper. Letting your hand fall, you stepped off the counter with a light bounce. Spencer cleared his throat and the two of you walked back to your seats. 

The next few hours were spent working in silence. You tried to focus on the mountain of paperwork on your desk, yet instead found yourself glancing at the young doctor every other second - secretly hoping he would also be peeking up at you. And he was. Just not when you were looking at him.

“Y/N if you want you can come with me to Nevada, spend Christmas with me and my mom. ” Spencer proposed out of the blue. He got up out of his chair and grabbed his jacket, slowly putting it on. You smiled at him. “Thank you doctor but I will honestly be okay alone.” Pause. “Plus, I wouldn't want to interfere.” 

He was about to protest, say you wouldn't be interrupting, but he bit his tongue. He didn't want to seem pushy. “If you change your mind, let me know.” He reached for his bag and threw the strap over his head. “Just do it quickly or all the good seats will be gone.” He teased. You giggled. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. ” 

The brunette agent hesitated. He swayed on his heel for a moment before approaching your desk. “Can I give you a ride home?” He asked, eyes locking with yours. “There’s still a couple of things I want to get done but thank you for the kind offer.” Spencer nodded. A faint look of disappointment appeared on his face. “Goodnight Y/N.” “Goodnight doctor.” 

Christmas was upon you in the blink of an eye. On the last day before break the team exchanged Secret Santa presents before enjoying a pizza party. This year you had Penelope who squealed over her gift as everyone watched in amusement; you included. Resting against the wall, you observed as the blonde jumped around the room with joy. Her smile made you smile. 

“Good job on Penelope’s gift.” Spencer appeared beside you holding two plastic cups filled to the brim with eggnog. He handed you one before making himself comfortable next to you, his arm pressed gently to yours. “I don’t know what you're talking about doctor.” You responded, tilting your head slightly to look at him. 

“I like your Christmas sweater.” A small smile circled your lips as you reached out to flick the little bell sown onto the top of the Santas hat on his jumper. Spencer chuckled. “Thank you. You know, I really couldn't decide between this or the one with the Home Alone reference.” “Ah, the trusted Merry Christmas Ya Filthy Animal sweater.” “That would be the one, yes.” The two of you beamed at each other. 

“I’m surprised you know what Home Alone is doctor.” You teased, nudging him playfully in the arm. Spencer laughed. “If I’m being honest, I was more intrigued by the booby traps than the plot of the movie.” He retorted as you sipped on the eggnog; slightly rolling your eyes at his response. “Of course you were. Don’t tell me you tested them out too?” 

He averted his gaze without responding, clearly a little embarrassed. “Well...” 

You couldn't help but giggle. Slowly, you leaned in towards him so that your lips were now at his ear. The brunette agent shivered as your hot breath hit his skin, however he didn't move away. 

“Don’t worry doctor, I did too.” You whispered. 

Instantly, he turned to look at you once again. His face was now inches away from yours, and as he stared oddly into your eyes the air caught in your throat. The two of you hovered right there for a moment, not moving and quite soundless, simply feeling each other's presence - as if there was no-one else in the room, no party. 

Eventually you broke the eye contact and took a step to your right, moving away from him. Suddenly feeling timid, you took another sip of your beverage while your free hand ran through your hair. Spencer also looked away. His mind racing a million miles per hour; he should have kissed you, right? No. Not in front of all these people, your colleagues. That would be bad. Unprofessional. Would you have even wanted him to kiss you? Did you like him like that? He hoped you did.

The party soon drew to a close. You were lost in conversation with Emily while Spencer was trying to teach Morgan and Rossi some card tricks. Your gaze kept averting in the direction of the young doctor every once in a while; Emily of course noticed. “Tell me again why you’re not going to Nevada with our resident genius?” A puzzled look now present on your face. “How did you-” 

“Reid told Morgan who told Garcia who told me.” She interrupted. You laughed at the ridiculousness of what she just came out of her mouth. “It’s like I’m in high school all over again.” She laughed under her breath.

There was a brief moment of silence.

“So, why aren’t you going?” Emily pried. A quiet sigh escaped your lips. “Like I told him, I don’t want to interfere.” She rolled her eyes; not buying into your bullshit. “He wouldn't have invited you-” “Fuck, please I don’t want-” She raised her hands in front of her. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” 

Glancing at the time, you excused yourself wishing Emily a wonderful and happy Christmas. Quickly and quietly, you headed to your desk and put on your winter coat. As you grabbed your handbag you turned to face the remaining partygoers: “Happy holidays everyone!”. Your eyes briefly locked with Spencers who shot you a shy smile as you mouthed ‘Merry Christmas doctor.’ before hurrying out the door. 

Two days later it was the twenty-fifth of December. You woke up on your couch, having fallen asleep during Christmas movie marathon, to the sound of your phone ringing. 

Yawning, you reached for the device. Spencer. Answering, you pressed it to your ear and croaked; “Hello.”. 

“I hope I didn't wake you.” “You did actually.” You responded yawning once again and gradually scrambling to your feet. You ambled towards the kitchen, straight for the coffee maker. “But I could never be mad at you doctor.” “I’m glad to hear that.” 

There was a short pause.

“How are you?” He asked, his voice kind. “I’m okay, no need to worry about me. Shit-” “Y/N?”

“Sorry. I just realised I’m out of coffee grounds.”

Spencer chuckled on the other line. “It’s not funny doctor. I’ve no coffee and everything is closed because it’s Christmas.” “You could always switch to tea for the day.” Rolling your eyes, you smirked. “Right, because I’m such an avid tea drinker.” 

There was another short pause.

“How was your flight? How’s Nevada? How’s your mom?” You asked changing the topic, making conversation. The young doctor didn't respond. “Hey, are you there?” The line cut-off. Weird.

‘He’ll call back later.’, you thought and headed for your bathroom.

An hour later you were showered and dressed. You switched on the lights on your poorly decorated Christmas tree and were about to make yourself comfortable on the sofa when a knock on the door caught your attention. You scurried over, without looking through the peephole to see who it was, you opened it.

“Spencer.” 

“Merry Christmas Y/N.” 

The brunette doctor smiled as you furrowed your brows. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Nevada.”

“I was. I got back early this morning.” 

He waited for you to invite him in before shimmying passed. He set down two tote bags on the kitchen counter before turning to look at you once again. Lost for words, you locked the door and approached the young doctor. Slowly you peeked inside the bags. “Supplies.” He simply stated while taking off his coat. 

“You didn’t really think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?” 

Your heart skipped a beat. “You didn't have to do this doctor.” “I know.” He shrugged before reaching into one of the bags and unpacking the items. “I wanted to.” He held up a bag of coffee grounds and you couldn't help but giggle delicately. 

“Thank you.” Your fingers brushed his as you grabbed the bag sending a shiver down your spine. Spencer froze feeling the sensation too. Nervously, he let his hand fall but the half-smile on his face remained. 

“Where did you get this stuff anyway?” You asked as you walked around to the coffee machine. “I packed what I had at home.” Nodding, you began to prepare two cups. As the appliance whirred, you turned in your spot. “What about your mom? Wouldn't she have wanted to spend Christmas Day with you?” 

Spencer continued to unpack the bags, neatly placing each item on the counter in front of him. “We spent all of yesterday together.” Pause. “And besides, she’s the one that urged me to come here.” He peered up at you, resting his palms down on the kitchen counter. The second his hazel eyes locked with yours, the flush of your cheeks turned a slender pink. 

Not really thinking you ushered back towards him. The brunette doctor watched you attentively. Gently, you placed one hand on top of his and gave it a tender squeeze. “Lucky me.” You whispered staring deep into his eyes. 

Spencers smile spread wider in unison with yours. After a few seconds of pure comfortable silence, he cleared his throat. “Do you think your prisoner boyfriend would mind if I asked you out on a date?” A faint giggle escaped your lips as the shade of your jowl turned from pink to bright red. “Even if he does-” You took another step towards Spencer, closing the space between you. “-I think you could handle him.” 

Spencer chuckled. Using his free hand, he placed a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. His thumb stroked your cheek in the process and you angled into his pleasant touch. 

“Thank you for being here.” You muttered, unintentionally chewing on your bottom lip. 

He cupped your face as his gaze moved briefly down to your mouth before once again locking with yours. “Thank you for having me.” His voice soothing, not quite matching the fervour in his eyes. 

In the space of a single heartbeat, he leaned down and his lips crushed against yours passionately. You let go of his hand and placed both your palms on his chest; tugging lightly at his shirt to try and pull him in even closer. Spencer did not waste a second, his now free arm moved elegantly around your waist.

The two of you pulled away breathlessly. He gently pressed his forehead to yours as you smiled. “Merry Christmas doctor.” “Merry Christmas Y/N.”

-

masterlist

[joontier]

Subliminal in Scrubs | V2; report xiii

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, workplace relationships

warnings: swearing 

word count: 1.8k

g/n: decided on a bit of a filler for this one as a sort of prelude to future scenes 👀👀 ((likewise manifesting my plan to post another chapter this week))

[taglist]:  @nottodayjjk @ditttiii @zeharilisharaban @btsbunny07 @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @aamxxrii @codeinebelle @btsmakesmehappy @stargukkie @moonchild1​

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) |  navi. | m.list

Jungkook locks his apartment door behind him, jiggling the doorknob afterwards for ‘double security’ as one would usually call it. He grabs his backpack from the floor and places one of the straps on his shoulders and heads on his way. As he passes by two of his neighbors who live in the same floor, he nods at them, adding a brief hum in greeting. 

“Hey man!” One of the men, Jikwang (as what Jungkook believes this man’s name was), calls out just before Jungkook reaches the elevator. “There was this hot girl asking about you last night.” 

Jungkook raises a brow. He hadn’t really met anyone recently, besides that one cute law student who was looking for a new tenant - and eventually turned out to be your neighbor this whole time. She was cute and all, but she didn’t seem like the type that was ‘hot’ to these types of people. 

Jungkook racks his brain for anything, trying to remember the very few number of his one night stands.Surely,none of them would have gotten pregnant with protection on….surely? On top of that, he hadn’t really disclosed his address to a lot of people too, so there was no way someone would be looking for him, all the more a “hot” woman,as these two would claim. 

“Did she say what her name was?” 

The one beside Jikwang shakes his head, adjusting his beanie. He’d seen this dude a couple of times hanging around, but he never actually got his name.  “Nah bro, I don’t think you’re the commitment type of dude…” he comments, dark eyes looking at Jungkook from his head down to his toe. Who was this guy anyways and who was he to judge whether Jungkook was the type to enter a committed relationship or not? 

“She just...looked rich, rich. She had a driver... who helped her come down from a nice Benz.” 

Jungkook feels his heart drop to the ground. No way in hell. 

“I think her name was Hee something...Junghwa? I dunno man, I’m not good with names. But it sounds similar to that…” 

“Was it Junghee?” 

“Yeah I think that’s it…” bonnet-dude replies, tapping a finger against his chin as he approaches Jungkook. “You think maybe you can set me up? With you know…” 

Jikwang knocks the back of bonnet-man’s head. “I got dibs first, shithead. “If she’s not already yours though,” he adds, delivering a wink aimed at Jungkook. “Her friends will do.” 

Jungkook squints his eyes at the duo. “No. She’s my sister. And she doesn’t have any friends.” A chill courses through his spine as he replies, wondering how she managed to find out where he lived, and why would she even reach out? Why now, when she had so many years to do so? 

Beanie guy simply laughs at him - if it was even considered laughing, when he was practically splitting his sides with laughter - like the thought of having a sister was hilarious to him. “You’re real funny, man. There is no...way...in hell… that that lady was your sister.” 

Ah yes, this man is a health vice personified. Jungkook notes the discoloration of his teeth, the god-awful odor coming from his mouth, and they both reek of alcohol and drugs combined. From a safe distance, Jungkook watches their amusement over the subject that is his sister, thinking about why he even indulged these two in the first place. For all he knows, they might have been shitting on him the whole time. 

“Sorry man. I mean...she’s rich and hot… and you?” Jikwang shrugs his shoulders. 

‘And he?’ What about him? 

What the hell was that supposed to mean? 

Jungkook clicks his tongue silently, clearly taking full offense with Jikwang’s statement. Did they just imply he didn’t look rich and hot too? Well, compared to them though, they’ll obviously have way longer to go. 

Jungkook blinks before equally returning their level of disbelief. “For real, bro?” These men diss him, won’t believe he has a sister whose aura dwarfs his by a million percent, and now they want him to set up a date with her? He shakes his head. Only crooks like these would say insane shit like this. 

If only this wasn’t the cheapest and most convenient apartment he could find to accommodate his daily hustle, Jungkook would have moved out of this crap excuse of an apartment building a long time ago. 

“Keep dreaming man.” 

“Hey, this is what I get for selling you my bike for a good price?” Jikwang eyes Jungkook, taunting him. 

“I owe you nothing. I paid for it ages ago.” Jungkook turns on his heel, leaving the two in the crusty ass corridor of their apartment building. He needs to get a new place. Quickly. 

With a sigh, he pulls on his down jacket, keeping himself warm as he walks to the garage. 

‘King Auto’ 

There’s a certain warmth that envelops Jungkook whenever he sees the garage, a place he’d rather call home than his terrible apartment building. It sits right at the corner of two busy streets, just six blocks away from his apartment. 

Funnily enough, it wasn’t him who first found out about the garage but the other way around. Well, technically, the owner did. Lee Dongmin, owner and manager of ‘King Auto’ repairs and restores almost all types of cars and bikes alike, occasionally servicing high-end cars on lucky days. 

Dongmin would usually see Jungkook pass by the garage in the morning on his way to the university or his part-time job.Well, being located at a busy street in the city of Seoul, there would normally be a lot of passersby but Dongmin knew these people either worked or lived around the area; Jungkook, however, always lingered when he walks past the garage. 

It had come to Dongmin’s knowledge a few months later that Jungkook purposefully used a longer route on his way, walking two extra blocks just so that he could pass by the garage. Dongmin hadn’t initially done anything about it, as he thought Jungkook simply took interest in cars - especially when the shop had its fair share of servicing cars from the western market. 

There was this particular day though one summer, that their paths would finally cross. Jungkook’s bike, the same bike he bought from sketchy Jikwang, broke down. Coincidentally just in front of King Auto too. Funnily enough, no one in the garage was familiar with fixing up bikes, but Jungkook simply asked if he could borrow a few tools and he’d fix his bike himself. 

Ultimately, Jungkook became part of the King Auto family. He’d spend his spare time in the garage when he’s not busy with his part-time jobs and on occasion, Jungkook gets to keep a tiny commission whenever he helps out with the repairs. 

Jungkook goes through the front door greeting the new receptionist, Clark, a good morning before heading straight to the garage. Jungkook spots a familiar shade of blue peeking through the scissor lifts, just by the end row. He practically dashes to the car in excitement, too thrilled to greet his favorite car he had worked on previously. 

“My baby!” The boy exclaims as he rests his chin on the Porsche Panamera’s roof. “Kook! Get your hands off that! I just had it cleaned!” gruffs Mansik from the other side of the car, flinging his towel at Jungkook who mumbles a sorry but continues to cradle the car, a little more gently this time. 

“If you continue doing that, you know a towel isn’t the only thing Mansik is going to throw at you.” Lee Dongmin’s voice is low, careful that the man he’s referring to won’t hear his words. “I’m glad he hasn’t resorted to tools yet...just a couple of smelly socks and a t-shirt that smells like it hasn’t been washed for months... “ 

“Fuckers.” True to Jungkook’s foreboding, Mansik does throw a sock ball from out of nowhere, one which barely misses Jungkook’s face. Dongmin simply shakes his head at his workers, who he has considered family at this point, Jungkook included. “I’m just glad none of that fell into my first coffee of the day.” Dongmin observes, drawing himself father from the Porsche and any flying objects later on. 

“By the way, the owner is actually here to pick up the car. I may or may not have mentioned your infatuation with it.” 

Jungkook almost instantly jumps to his feet, searching for the owner inside the garage, but disappointingly ending up with all the familiar faces at the garage. “Chill, kid. He just grabbed some coffee down the street,” Dongmin mentions as he takes a sip of his own. “Ah, speaking of the devil,” the latter states, nodding his head towards someone behind Jungkook. 

“Seokjin-sunbaenim?” 

“Oh hey! Wasn’t expecting to see you here...Jungkook, right?” 

“Yes sir!” Jungkook’s pupils shake, animatedly looking back and forth between the garage owner and his upper-level resident. “So...you’re the one who owns this Porsche?” Seokjin raises his cup, adding a small nod in Jungkook’s direction. He internalizes his excitement, before confessing his love for Seokjin’s Panamera. 

“And so, Dongmin here mentioned. Also said you were the one who fixed her up. Thanks man!” 

Dongmin looks at the two of them, eyebrows creased in the middle. “You two know each other?” 

“Seokjin-sunbaenim is a senior of mine at Woocheon.” Seemingly shellshocked at the new piece of information, Dongmin turns to Seokjin, “You’re a doctor?” The owner of the Porsche rolls his eyes fondly, “Yes, Dongmin. We can have lives outside the hospital too, you know.” 

“Anyways, ‘Mera’s ready to go yeah?” 

“Of course. Kook fixed it up just fine.” 

“Alright. Got a shift today man? Need a ride to the hospital?” 

Jungkook is tempted to give in, but merely fixing Seokjin’s car is enough honor for him and he can’t take advantage of his generosity. “No thank you, sunbae. I’ve already got a ride to work today.” Jungkook points to his bike on the other side of the garage. 

Seokjin tuts his disbelief. “You’re kidding me right? In this weather?” The older doctor points outside, then rubs his palm against his down coat. “No way in hell, kid. Get in the car.” 

“Really?” Jungkook mumbles, dimple on display as his lips form a thin line. Seokjin makes a hum of approval as he takes off his jacket while Jungkook dashes back to where he’d left his backpack. “He’s a good kid, Jungkook. Can be a bit of a delinquent sometimes, but he’s good. Take care of him, yeah?” 

“Huh,” Seokjin smirks, “this handsome face got nothing he can’t handle.” Dongmin rolls his eyes this time, “Seriously doubt we’re the same age honestly.” 

Jungkook returns to where the Porsche is parked, and Seokjin gets a spur-of-the-moment idea. The surgical resident throws his keys to Jungkook before settling inside the passenger seat. Jungkook, surprised as ever, simply stands there in surprise. “Well?” Seokjin asks, ducking towards the dashboard so he could take a look at Jungkook, “We’re gonna be late!” 

© joontier 2021

[nikki-writes-stuff]

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

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

Pairing: Werewolf/Alpha!Steve x Omega!Reader

Read part two here! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?” you’d prompted.

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

“…Haunted?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You made a quiet hum of contemplation, nodding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello,” you replied with a smile.

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

“Word spreads quickly, I guess.”

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

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

“It’s nice to meet you guys.”

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

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

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

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

The man – Steve, evidently – nodded his head as he approached the counter.

“Wh-what can we do for you?” Lou asked, seeming to shrink back as he walked towards them.

“I need a new sketchbook,” Steve mumbled, almost too quietly for you to hear. His voice was deep, resonating, and something about its gravelly edge made goosebumps rise up over your arms.

“You know where to find ‘em,” Greg stated after clearing his throat. “Just get whatever you need and go.”

It looked as if Steve was about to say something, but after a pause, he just nodded, ducking his head and turning directly towards you. You stiffened as he grew nearer, feeling an unexplainable urge to turn and run away from him, but then his eyes met yours, and you were frozen in place.

Blue irises stared directly into you, and you watched as surprise washed over his features. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath in through his nose, and you swore that you saw his pupils dilate as he looked you up and down. When his gaze finally met yours again, and you stumbled back a step, stunned at the look on his face. It was as if he knew you.

But that couldn’t be; you’d never seen this man before. If you had, you definitely would’ve remembered him.

“I-I…” you stuttered. “I’m sorry.”

You weren’t sure what you were apologizing for, but all of a sudden you were broken out of your strange stupor. Fixing your eyes firmly on the floor, you turned and blindly grabbed the first stack of papers that your extended hand came in contact with. You did the same with the pens, grabbing a random pack before turning on your heel and heading towards the front.

Or, rather, heading directly into a broad, firm chest. You hadn’t heard any footsteps, but while your back was turned Steve had apparently stalked up behind you, and now you were so close that you could smell the distinct scent of pine wafting off of him. Pine and…something else, something musky. It made your mouth water and your eyes flutter shut, and you could have sworn that you heard a deep growl sound from his chest.

The noise startled you so badly that you dropped everything, even your paper bag from Earl’s, and you felt as if your entire body was trembling as you turned away. On unsteady feet, you walked back to the front, glancing at Greg and Lou out of the corner of your eye as you headed towards the door. Lou was watching you with a concerned expression painted across his face, but Greg was still staring Steve down, as if he were sizing him up.

The cold, early-spring wind hit you square in the face once you exited the store, and it sobered you up enough to cease your nervous trembling. There was still a sense of blind panic, though, a deep-seated fear that drove you to march over to your car without turning back.

As you peeled out of your parking space and sped towards your home, you slowly began to calm down, taking slow, even breaths to slow the frantic beating of your heart. As you put more and more distance between you and the mysterious man from the art store, you found that, even later on when you were safe in your home, you still couldn’t rationalize why you’d felt the way you had. And that evening, when you were getting ready to go to bed, you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched.

Typically, you kept the curtains in your bedroom open, enjoying the sight of the forest laying just beyond the panes of glass. But tonight, before going to bed, you drew them shut before burrowing under the covers, hiding away from the lingering, unexplainable dread that had followed you home that day.

____________

You weren’t sure what had woken you. When you jolted out of your slumber, you were laying sprawled out over your mattress, your sheets tangled around your ankles. Everything was quiet, unsettlingly so. It was as if your cottage was holding its breath, waiting for something horrible to happen. The world was black beyond your windows, and the clock on your bedside table read 3:42 in the morni-

Wait.

The lingering tendrils of sleep within your brain melted away as you bolted upright, your wide eyes focused on your windows and the curtains that were neatly pulled away from them. Your heart was pounding in your ears as you slowly, deliberately, stood up from your bed, reaching for your phone blindly as you kept your eyes on the windows.

You drew the curtains closed as your thumb hovered over the emergency call button, and you gulped before turning towards your open bedroom door.

“H-hello?” you called out, voice still thick with sleep.

There was no answer, and you took a deep breath before stepping out into the living room. You were relieved to find nothing out of place; the kitchen, as well, was in perfect order, as was your tiny bathroom. You grew bolder as you searched your house, checking underneath your bed and inside of your wardrobe, but still you found nothing.

Eventually, you sauntered over to your back door, and that’s when you smelled it. Smelled him. The same scent that had flooded your senses back at the bookstore was thick in the air right next to the backdoor. You blinked rapidly, feeling a stirring in your gut as you inhaled it, and you gulped as you faced the door.

“…Steve?” you murmured, suddenly unable to make a sound any louder than a whisper.

Without realizing what you were doing, your hand came up to the doorknob, tracing the curve of it with your thumb. A tiny, experimental twist revealed that it wasn’t locked, and a small voice in the back of your head supplied that it was sure you’d locked it before going to sleep.

One more twist, and the door popped open, goosebumps rising up over your skin as the night air rushed over you. You turned on the porch light with a flick of your fingers and stepped out, wincing when the floorboards creaked under your feet. You half expected to see a naked man standing there just as Earl had said, but there was nobody.

You let out a shaky laugh, leaning against the doorway as your eyes flitted over the forest. You felt silly, getting all paranoid for no reason. With a small, sheepish smile, you straightened up and turned to head back inside, eager to climb back under your warm sheets and forget about the whole thing.

But that was when you saw it.

You stopped in your tracks and sucked in a deep breath as the wolf sauntered out from the tree line, its eyes focused directly on you just as yours were focused on it. Its fur was sandy and mottled with streaks of light brown and creamy white, and in the dim light you thought that you caught a flash of blue in its eyes. You took a step backwards as that same smell washed over you, and for a short, fleeting moment, you thought that there was something familiar about the beast.

It took another step towards you, and that was when you realized how massive it was. You’d seen pictures of wolves on the internet; you knew how big they were supposed to be compared to people. But this was another thing completely; this wolf looked to be the size of a grizzly bear, and you knew that if it were to stand up on its two hind legs, it would tower over you.

Abruptly, you broke out of your paralysis, blinking rapidly as you turned back towards your door. You heard a growl from behind you, but you ignored it as you fled back into your house, slamming the door shut and turning the lock back into place. A thud sounded on its other side, followed by the scratching of claws against wood.

You waited several moments, silently begging the animal to stop, but the thumping only carried on, accompanied by muted, distressed whining. Taking a deep breath, you turned to your phone, punching in ‘911’ and holding the device up to your ear.

“911, where is your emergency?”

“U-um… I-I’m at 432 Nottington Lane. Please, there’s this, this wolf outside and it’s trying to get it, and…”

As you spoke, the noises suddenly stopped. You paused, frowning at the door and straining your ears. But everything had once more gone silent.

“Hello, ma’am? Ma’am, are you still there?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m still here. Um… I think it’s gone now. It’s… Yeah, it’s gone. I’m really sorry to bother you guys. Just, uh… Just ignore this call, please. I’m sorry.”

You hung up and set your phone down on the kitchen counter, staring hard at your back door.

“…Shit.”

_______________

You didn’t close your curtains again after that night. You told yourself it was because there was no reason to, that you had nothing to hide yourself from. But, in the back of your mind, you knew that it was because you were too afraid of waking up with them open of someone else’s accord.

Two days went by with no further incident. You kept up with your little routine, throwing yourself into your work and acting as if you weren’t still shaken up from the ordeal. You called Earl and let him know you’d seen a wolf, just like he’d said, and the two of you had laughed over the scare it had given you. But the laughter didn’t reach your eyes or your heart, and it was still hard for you to fall asleep whenever night came around.

On the third day, though, you decided that you needed to get out. Every time your eyes strayed to the forest, you felt a pinprick of anxiety, and you were desperate to forget about what had happened. And so, dressing in your most comfortable leggings and oversized sweater, you ventured out into town, stopping for breakfast at the soda shop.

Mary Jo’s Soda Shop had been open and owned by Mary Jo herself since before you were born. It was located right in the center of town, and it was the closest thing to ‘busy’ that the small township’s population could be capable of. The front porch was lined with old, worn rocking chairs, and empty planter boxes sat beneath every single window; you were sure that they’d be overflowing with petunias as the weather turned warmer.

The atmosphere was warm and cozy as you stepped inside. People of all different races and walks of life found solace under Mary’s roof, and it was clear by the easy smiles, easy laughter, and easy conversation that pervaded the dining room. A teenaged girl, who you’d later find out to be Mary Jo’s granddaughter, showed you to your table and took your order, and as you settled down into the cracked-leather seat of your booth, you found yourself finally relaxing.

It was easy to get lost in your own thoughts, especially with the dull roar of voices and the soft sounds of country music playing over the radio as background noise. You stared off into space as you sipped your orange juice, content to just zone out for a few moments and let your brain go on autopilot.

Maybe that was why it startled you so much when a man abruptly slid into the seat across from you. You were pulled out of your revelry by a dark shadow suddenly appearing in your peripheral vision, and your initial fright only deepened when you looked up to see who it was.

“Steve…”

The man from yesterday was staring you down, dressed this time in a red and black flannel. His hair, too, looked like it had been combed out, and his beard was shiny and soft-looking, as if he’d rubbed oil into it that morning.

You didn’t know what to say as he sat across from you, his fingers laced together on top of the table, and for an uncomfortably long moment, the two of you were completely silent.

“What’s your name?” he finally asked, and you arched your eyebrow at him.

“Why do you want to know?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, and he let out a long sigh through his nose. He didn’t answer your question, and you started to shift in your seat as he continued to stare.

Finally, you told him, murmuring your name under your breath. Upon hearing it, he nodded, finally glancing up when your waitress came back to take your order. When her eyes fell onto the man seated across from you, she visibly paled, her mascara-lined eyes widening as her smile turned to a grimace.

“Mr. Rogers,” she said timidly, “my grandmother told you not to come in anymore-“

“It’ll be fine, Rosie,” he grunted. “I won’t cause any trouble; I’m just talking with (Y/N), here.”

Rosie looked over to you, and you blinked up at her, hoping your incredulity was showing through in your eyes.

“I… I’m not sure…”

Steve huffed and looked over at you, a predatory edge appearing in his visage.

“Go on,” he encouraged you. “Tell her.”

“I really don’t-“

Suddenly, his scent was flooding your senses once more, and you almost gagged on your words as you breathed it in. You wondered why Rosie didn’t seem to notice it as it washed over you, nearly suffocating in its intensity.

“I, uh…” Your voice trailed off distractedly, and Steve’s knee nudged yours under the table.

“I-it’s fine,” you finally managed to stutter, and a pleased smirk appeared over his features.

“See? Everything is fine,” he insisted. “Now, weren’t you coming to take our orders?”

Rosie hesitated, but finally she slipped a notepad out of her pocket and nodded.

“Perfect. I’ll have the sampler with crispy bacon. Eggs over easy. And, uh… a biscuit on the side,” Steve listed off.

After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat, prompting you to jump a little before telling Rosie what you would like.

“Oh! Uh… I’ll have the same,” you muttered, though you hadn’t really been planning on eating anything of the sort.

But Rosie jotted it down in her notepad, all but fleeing to the kitchen after you were done speaking.

“And I’ll take some coffee!” Steve called after her.

When it was finally just the two of you, he once again gave you his full attention, and you fought to keep your mind straight.

“I don’t…know you,” you mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut. “I don’t know you, and you’re making me uncomfortable. Please, just-“

“I really liked the nightgown you had on last night.”

Your eyes bugged open, and your head shot up to look at him. You felt your blood run cold as he watched you with that same smirk he’d worn while ordering Rosie around, and you clutched your purse tighter to yourself.

“Wh…What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” he insisted. “How are you liking living in that cottage? The last few people there-“

“What the fuck,” you interrupted. “You…you were watching me?”

He sighed at your interruption but nodded, leaning forward on his elbows.

“And you were watching me.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I never saw you, or I would’ve called the cops-“

“But you did see me,” he insisted. “While I was in my other form.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, but then understanding came over you, and you shook your head.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “You mean…the wolf?”

Steve nodded, looking up when Rosie came back with his coffee. She all but slammed the cup on the table, spilling a few drops of the beverage as she poured it. After shooting him a sour glare, she turned on her heel to attend to the other tables around you, the occupants thereof starting to notice who you were sitting with. The din of voices had gone just a bit quieter as they watched him, and you were starting to realize that the entire town knew who Steve was, and judging on the locals’ reaction to him, his reputation wasn’t on the favorable side of things.

“So… Let me get this straight,” you deadpanned, watching as Steve took a sip from his steaming mug. “You’re saying that you were the wolf I saw?”

He nodded, swallowing his coffee.

“I’m among the last of my kind,” he sighed, tapping his fingers against his cup. “At least in this area of the country. But, yeah, that was me, scratching at your door. I was honestly a little hurt by your reaction-“

“You’re fucking insane.”

A scowl overtook his features, and his hands tensed as his fingers went still.

“I would really prefer it,” he growled, “if you didn’t use that sort of language with me, Omega.”

“Ome- What?” You shook your head, unable to process how insane this man really was. “Ok, I’m done here.”

You grabbed your purse and stood up from the booth, but a hand clamped down on your upper arm as you made for the front door.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Steve insisted, and you felt fear course through you at how possessive he’d just sounded. “We have a lot we need to talk about.”

“Let go of me!” You tried to pull away from him, but you might as well have been struggling against an iron chain. Steve didn’t budge as he held you in place, and a whimper escaped your throat as he began pulling you to sit next to him in the booth.

“Steve.”

Both of you froze when you heard the voice, and you looked up to see three men standing over your table, frowning at the man who still had a firm hold on you.

“Steve, let the girl go,” one of them said, and you saw Steve’s lip curl out of the corner of your eye.

“Rhodey,” he grunted. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Not long enough,” the man fired back.

For a second, you were afraid that Steve was going to ignore them, but then his grip on you disappeared. You hurriedly stood up again, backing away until you were out of arm’s reach from him. The entire restaurant was silent as everybody within held their breath, watching Rhodey and Steve stare one another down.

“This isn’t any of your business,” Steve said, and it was then that you realized you couldn’t wait there any longer. You didn’t care how it played out; you just wanted to get out of there.

And so, while everyone was distracted, you turned on your heel and slipped out, pushing past the front door, running past the rocking chairs and planter boxes, crossing the street without first looking both ways. Your heart was pounding a mile a minute, and you didn’t fully know where you were running to until you were standing in the entry way of Earl’s bookstore.

“Hey, there,” he called out to you, but his typical cheerful greeting died on his tongue when he saw your face. “What happened?”

Twenty minutes later, you and Earl were seated in his office. You’d told him everything, save for the way Steve’s scent affected you. You knew it was crazy, and you didn’t want one of your only friends in your new town to think you were as insane as your stalker.

“…Shit.”

It was the first word he’d uttered since you began telling him your tale, and he rubbed his forehead as he took in your story.

“Shit. I mean… I always knew there was something off about that Rogers boy,” he admitted. “But he’s never pulled anything like this.”

You quirked an eyebrow, glancing up at him.

“Why does everyone dislike him?” you asked. “It seems like the whole town has something against him.”

Your friend sighed and sat back in his chair, stroking his beard in thought.

“It didn’t used to be that way,” he started. “Steve, he grew up here. He was always the golden boy – never cursed, never acted disrespectful. Hell, he was a boy scout for years, and all throughout high school he was the team quarterback. He won so many games that he became a local celebrity.

“But, uh… Well. Shit hit the fan the day he turned 18.”

You frowned; you couldn’t picture the crazy, creepy man you’d just been borderline-assaulted by as a popular, polite teenager.

“What happened when he turned 18?” you asked.

Earl hesitated, wringing his hands. For a pregnant pause, he didn’t say anything, but finally he took a deep breath.

“Look, I don’t personally have anything against the guy,” he finally huffed. “But even I get the creeps when I’m around him. That boy, he was never the same after that fourth of July. Hell, the town hasn’t been the same since.”

You raised your eyebrows expectantly, and finally Earl began the story.

“Steve’s folks were a nice couple. He was their only kid, so each year, Sarah and Joseph would throw Steve this big birthday party. I’m talkin’ fireworks, barbeque, the whole nine yards. But his 18th birthday outdid them all; the whole town practically showed up for it.

“But Steve was off the entire day; I think he was sick or something. He was real sweaty, and his eyes were all…red. Like he’d been scratchin’ at ‘em. And when the fireworks started goin’ off… The boy lost it.

“It was like a flip switched in him; next thing we knew, he was takin’ off into the woods, holdin’ his head like his skull was gonna split in two. His mama went runnin’ after him, and then his pops went to get ‘em after about five minutes or so when there was no sign of them comin’ back.

“After half an hour, we went searchin’ for ‘em, and it wasn’t till dawn that we found the three of them.”

Earl took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes with a trembling hand as he recalled the memory.

“I was in the team that found his parents, and… Hon, they were butchered. The bodies, they were hardly recognizable. Big bites had been taken outta them; blood was everywhere. Another team found Steve about half a mile away, completely naked and shivering by the river.”

“Oh, my god,” you murmured. “That’s… That’s horrible.”

Your friend nodded gravely, but he wasn’t done yet.

“We all figured that it was a coyote that got ‘em,” he continued. “Or a wolf. But Steve… He was in shock, you see, so take what I’m about to say with a grain o’ salt. But all the way to the police station, he kept sayin’… He kept sayin’, ‘I didn’t mean to kill them… I didn’t mean to kill them.’

“O’ course, no one really believed him; it was clear that an animal had gotten to them, and this was Steve Rogers we were talking about. The kid had never said an unkind word to anyone. And his family got along great.

“A few years passed, and Steve was never the same, but we expected as much. Everyone was still nice to him, and he tried for a while, you know? But then Peggy moved into town.”

“Who’s Peggy?”

“She was this real nice girl – British. She moved with her family to the area. Shoot, she was a firecracker. Didn’t take any shit from nobody; the whole town fell in love with her. Including poor ol’ Stevie.

“When the two started dating, we were thrilled for ‘em. Steve was finally starting to act more like himself; you shoulda seen him. The kid was head over heels, and she was the same. About six months went by, and we really thought that they were gonna make it.

“But then…”

Earl swallowed thickly, eyes darting back up to your face before resting once again on his hands.

“Peggy was found one day in the woods, just like Steve’s parents – mauled, butchered…dead.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“No one saw or heard from Steve for years after that. The kid just vanished into thin air without warning. And so soon after Peggy’s death, well… You can imagine the rumors that started flying around about him. Five years went by, and that was when people started hearing and seeing strange things in the woods. And your cottage, it’s right by where the bodies were found; you can’t be more than a quarter of a mile from where they found Peg.

“Eventually, Steve moved back into town, though no one recognized him. He’d always been a skinny, lean kinda guy, but when he moved back, he looked like he does now. And even if he hadn’t changed so much on the outside, no one would’ve recognized the polite young man we’d all watched grow up in this new Steve. He was mean; I can’t tell you how many fights he got in at the bar, or how many times he lashed out at someone just to have an excuse to throw some punches.

“Whatever happened to his family and his girl, he’s never been the same since. And if he really believes what he told you earlier at the soda shop, then he’s finally lost his mind.”

___________

You spent the night at Earl’s house. He and his wife set up their guest bedroom for you, and as you and Sherry ate dinner, Earl called the sheriff. You listened in as he told him everything that Steve had done, including watching you the night before, and after ending the call, Earl gave you the sheriff’s number.

“He said to call him at the first sign of trouble,” Earl instructed. “And he said that he’s gonna head over to Steve’s cabin to have a nice, long talk with him. Don’t you worry; Sheriff Wilson is a tough son of a bitch, and he’s a great man. You’re in good hands with him.”

You thanked the couple profusely, and you were finally able to sleep restfully through the night, knowing that you weren’t alone. You didn’t even mind that you could hear Earl and Sherry’s snoring from all the way down the hall; you hadn’t had such a good night’s sleep in days.

The next morning, Sheriff Wilson stopped by after Sherry had served up breakfast, and you had to admit that you did feel better after talking to him.

“So I set everything straight with Steve,” Sam explained. “He said that he’d been drunk that morning at breakfast, and he admitted to saying some things that he regretted. He asked me to apologize to you on his behalf, and he said that he would stay away from you from here on out, if it would make you more comfortable.”

“I’d be more comfortable if he moved to a different country altogether, but I’ll take it,” you’d joked weakly, coaxing a laugh out of the sheriff.

“Well, I’ll run it by him the next time we see each other,” he’d chuckled. “But for now, I think you’ll be just fine.”

After helping Sherry clean up from breakfast, you reluctantly got into your car and started back to your cottage, feeling your short-lived relief start to dwindle away as you approached your home. Who’s to say that Steve would stay true to his word? And there was something about the memory of him calling you ‘omega’ that didn’t sit well with you. You had no idea what that meant, but the conviction, the possessive, commanding tone in his voice still made shivers crawl up and down your spine.

Once you stepped into your cottage, you gave each room a cursory once-over, making sure nothing was out of place before plopping down onto your couch with your laptop. You were severely behind on work, and you needed the distraction to calm your nerves.

Before you knew it, the sun was starting to slip over the horizon, and as the evening turned to night, your eyelids started drooping. You’d finally managed to catch up on work, and although it took you until 9 o’clock at night, you were back on schedule with your blog.

Finally giving in to your sleepiness, you stood up and stretched before methodically going around to each door and window, making sure that they were all closed and locked. After once more checking that Steve wasn’t hiding in your wardrobe, shower, or backyard, you relaxed and went into your bedroom, changing into a flannel pajama set before crawling into bed.

Sleep came easily to you that night, but it didn’t stay for long.

_________

It was, once again, just after 3 in the morning when you woke up, although there was something different about this time around. There was an almost electric charge to the air, and it immediately made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You sat up in bed and looked around your room, and even though the curtains were still closed, just as you’d left them, you immediately noticed the smell.

Your hand fell onto your nightstand, blindly fumbling for your phone, but it wasn’t where you’d left it. Panic pierced through you, and you frantically reached for your charging chord, but it was no longer plugged into your cell. There was, however, something new sitting on your bedside table, and you flicked your lamp on to see clearly what it was.

Your blood went cold when you saw the paper bag from Earl’s, still filled with your new books, just as you’d left it in the art shop.

“I’d been meaning to give that back to you.”

A scream tore itself out of your lips, and your hand flew up to clap over your mouth as you turned to the man now leaning in your doorway.

Steve was watching you with an amused smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. His hair was wild, and you noticed the way his chest rose and fell with quick, uneven breaths. He looked…unhinged, and Earl’s voice started ringing in your ears, telling you all the gory details about the deaths that had followed this man through his life.

“Steve, please,” you begged, pressing your back against your headboard. “I don’t know what you want-“

“Oh, c’mon,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re a smart girl; I’m sure you can put two and two together.”

With that, he pushed off of the wall and sauntered towards you, ignoring the way you trembled as he took a seat on the edge of your bed.

“I read your blog, by the way,” he remarked. “I actually liked it; you’ve got a talent with writing.”

You gulped, not sure what to say as he turned to face you. For a moment, something flashed through his eyes, something other than the smug cynicism that usually dwelled there, but he looked away before you could get a good look at it.

“I’m sure Earl told you a lot of things about me,” he murmured. “And I’m sorry that’s how you had to hear them. But I’m not… I don’t want to hurt you. Honestly.”

“Wow, that really puts me at ease,” you grumbled. “It definitely makes the fact that you’ve broken into my house twice now totally ok.”

Steve huffed, and annoyance crossed his handsome features.

“Careful, omega,” he grunted. “I’m trying to be nice, here.”

You wanted to snap at him that he should really try harder, then, but you kept your mouth shut, knowing that you didn’t want to anger him if you didn’t have to.

“…Why do you keep calling me that?” you instead asked, and the fire in his gaze cooled just a bit.

“…I’ve given this a lot of thought,” he finally sighed. “And I can understand why this all sounds so crazy; if I were in your situation, I would probably think the same thing. But just… hear me out, ok? I’m going to tell you everything I know.”

You nodded, hugging your knees to your chest, and after another deep breath he began.

“I used to be normal, or so I thought,” he began. “I used to be like you; I didn’t know what was out there. I didn’t know that certain legends that we’ve all learned to accept as fiction were actually based on fact. But that all changed on my 18th birthday.

“That was the day that I first turned into a wolf.” Steve paused, looking pained for a moment, but after swallowing thickly he continued. “I had no clue what was happening to me. I just felt…wrong, like I was being torn apart from the inside. I fought to keep control of myself, but… I couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“People got hurt; I’m sure you’ve been told all the gritty details. But that wasn’t… It wasn’t me. I tried so hard, so goddamn hard, to keep it inside, bottled up, but eventually I couldn’t hold back anymore. And that was when I left.

“I went looking for people like me. It took me a while, but eventually I found a small group of them in New York. They called themselves the Howling Commandos.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head.

“Not the name I would’ve chosen, but they were good people. They helped me control it, taught me how to remain myself even when I’m in my other form. And I learned more about what it means to be a, uh…

“Werewolf.”

You bit your lip, staring at him as you grew even more fearful; he believed this. You could tell by the way his eyes were glistening with barely-contained tears, and if you weren’t so terrified of him, you would feel sorry for how sad he looked.

“Steve, you… you must realize that this is hard for me to believe, right? I mean… This isn’t Twilight; this is the real world.”

He rolled his eyes at the mention of that book.

“There’s about a thousand things wrong with that fucking story, and I’ll die mad about it,” he muttered under his breath, and you hugged yourself tighter as he stood up.

“You want me to prove it to you? Fine.”

Steve stood still for a long moment, closing his eyes, and you found your gaze straying to the door behind his back. He was distracted, evidently focused on transforming into a fucking wolf, oblivious to you as you slowly moved to set your feet on the floor.

Now is your moment, your brain whispered, and after taking a deep breath, you leapt to your feet. You didn’t notice the way his skin was slowly starting to grow patches of blonde fur, nor did you register that his voice had become more of an animalistic growl as he realized that you were trying to run. You were solely focused on making it out alive.

The back door was closer to you than the front, and you could practically feel Steve’s breath on the back of your neck as he gave chase, and so you nearly yanked the door off of its rusty, old hinges as you went flying out onto the back porch. You just barely managed to close the door behind you, and right before it slammed shut, you were able to make out an open maw filled with sharp teeth. The same thumping you’d heard several nights ago sounded from within your home, but with the way the wood was creaking and splintering, you knew it wouldn’t keep Steve trapped inside for long.

You began to run towards your car, but with a curse you realized that your keys were still resting on your coffee table inside the cottage, and you wouldn’t go back inside there if someone offered you a million dollars to. So, fully aware of what a terrible idea it was, you started running down the length of your gravel driveway, the small stones and twigs digging into your feet until you felt them starting to grow slick with blood.

You didn’t get far at all before you heard the sound of a low, deep howl split the silence of the night, and you pumped your legs even faster when you heard heavy footfalls starting to give chase behind you. Frantically, you turned and made a beeline for the forest, hoping to lose him in the woods. Low branches and brambles clawed at your face, and the cuts on your feet burned so bad that tears started rolling down your cheeks.

It was simultaneously an eternity and a millisecond before you felt a massive weight crash into you from behind, and with a cry you fell onto your belly. Your arms and legs scrambled about as you tried to crawl away, but you stopped with another scream when a set of impossibly sharp teeth nipped at your shoulder. Even though they didn’t cut deep, it was still enough to scare you into submission, and you immediately went still as your captor panted above you.

Your chest rose and fell as you fought to catch your breath, but it felt as if your heart had stopped beating entirely when you chanced a look to your right and saw…a paw. A huge, sandy-blonde paw about the size of your head was planted in the mud right next to your neck. You turned, and on your left side was the same thing.

Slowly, you rolled over onto your back, and you found yourself face to face with the wolf from before, only this time, you were close enough to see its blue eyes clearly – Steve’s eyes.

“…Steve?” you breathed.

Before your disbelieving eyes, the animal hovering over you started to shift and change, morphing gradually back into the man who’d terrorized you so much up to this point. Except now, as he straddled your hips, completely nude, you knew that he’d been right all along.

“Still think I’m crazy?” he panted, still out of breath from the chase.

“I… How…”

“I tried to tell you,” he grumbled, leaning down. You squirmed when you felt him press his nose to your neck, nuzzling it as he inhaled deeply, and you whimpered when his cock twitched against your thigh. “God, you have no idea what your scent does to me.”

You made a small noise of protest when his tongue darted out, laving over a spot right under your jaw.

“I thought it was too good to be true, you know,” he groaned, and you let out a noise that was dangerously close to a moan as you realized you could smell him once again. “I thought that people had to be a werewolf to be an alpha or an omega, but as soon as I smelled you in the art shop… Fuck, I knew you were mine.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried to protest, but you were silenced when Steve nipped at your neck.

“We both know that’s not true,” he chided. “We both know what my scent does to you.”

Steve dragged his teeth down the side of your neck, and you shivered at the sensation. You wanted to fight this; you didn’t want to give in to him. But something inside of you refused to do anything but lay there beneath him, panting as he tasted your skin.

“I’ve never been with an omega before,” he confessed. “The Commandos told me they were incredibly rare, a dying breed just like me. But fate must have brought us together for a reason.”

“I’m… I’m not an omega,” you insisted, but a soft mewl fell out of your lips when he ground his hips forward, the line of his cock sliding up the length of your clothed pussy.

“Then why do you have a mating gland?” he rasped, his tongue darting out to lick at a spot on your neck.

“A what?” you squeaked, but suddenly his hands were on your hips, flipping you over onto your hands and knees. His palms groped your ass, and suddenly you felt your pajamas being pulled down until they pooled around your knees.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Steve growled.

No, no, no. Your thoughts were swirling rapidly as Steve’s fingers slid down your spine. You didn’t want this; you weren’t an omega; Steve was crazy.

Why does your body want this so bad?

You couldn’t find the strength to try and crawl away when Steve’s hands left you, but your eyes widened when he suddenly spread your legs wider apart. The cold night air was icy against your cunt and your thighs, and when the warmth of his hands finally returned to your body, you couldn’t hold in your moan.

“That’s right, omega,” he panted, his hand reaching down to cup your pussy. “Fuck, you’re so wet; it’s already dripping down your thighs…”

Your pussy made an embarrassingly loud squelching noise as he pushed his finger inside, and your body’s reaction started drowning out your brain. As he thrust his finger in and out, your hips started pushing back against him as white noise echoed in your ears.

“Mmm,” you whined, clenching your teeth. “M-more, fuck-“

“More?” Steve cooed. “You want more?”

You nodded your head, and a gasp parted your lips as he added another finger, curling it in a way that had you seeing stars. Your legs spread wider, and you dropped to your elbows, pushing back in time with his hand.

“This is what you need,” he growled. “You need your alpha to take care of you, don’t you? To use your pretty little cunt and fill you up with my seed. Ain’t that right, doll?”

“Y-yes,” you moaned, feeling your walls start to flutter around him.

All too soon, though, he pulled his hand away, leaving you hanging on the precipice of your orgasm. You burrowed your face into your arms and whined at the loss, but a few seconds later, Steve was gripping your hips. You could feel his fully hard length against your ass, and your breath caught in your throat upon feeling how big it was.

“W-wait-“

Steve shushed you, tangling one of his hands in your hair as the tip of his cock glided through your folds, brushing against your clit.

“It’s ok, omega,” he whispered. “Just lay back and take it.”

With that, his head pressed against your entrance, and your lips parted in a silent scream as he impaled you. Your cervix ached as his dick pressed against it, and you were vaguely aware of the broken moans falling out of your lips.

“Fuck, doll,” your alpha breathed, and you felt him rest his forehead against your shoulder. “Feels so good, so fucking good. My good girl…”

You groaned when he drew his hips back and thrust forward again, jarring your whole body with the movement. Your teeth clenched together as he found his rhythm, the initial stretch still burning. You’d never felt anything like this before, and the pain was mixing with your pleasure until you couldn’t tell one from the other.

Slowly, as the minutes went by, your abused cunt started to adjust, and your moans became less and less strained as you once more felt pleasure start to crest within you.

“That’s it,” Steve praised, pushing your hair away so he could press a kiss to the side of your neck. “Just relax; let your alpha make you feel good.”

You whimpered as he started thrusting faster, his hips snapping as deep, gravelly growls spilled out of his throat. Your own moans filled the air as you once again felt your orgasm build up inside of you. Your pussy walls contracted and fluttered as you got closer and closer, and Steve’s hand came down hard on your ass.

“Go ahead, omega,” he commanded. “Cum for me; don’t hold back. Give it to me; let me feel it. Cum for me-“

With a wail, your body did as it was commanded, and you trembled as you reached your climax. Your cunt squeezed his cock as he slowed his thrusts, and your hips moved of their own accord as you rode it out. Quiet, hoarse moans were still trailing out of your mouth as you came down from your high, and Steve’s beard tickled your skin as he pressed kisses along the curve of your shoulder.

“Good girl,” he praised, and you were sickened to realize that you enjoyed his words of encouragement.

You were surprised when he pulled his cock out of you, and you allowed him to flip you over onto your back. His cheeks were flushed, and he was panting, and your eyes trailed down to see his cock still painfully hard.

Without warning, he shoved it back inside of you, and your hands flew up, digging your nails into his back as he once again started thrusting at a brutal pace.

“’M gonna fill your fucking pussy up,” he was moaning, his hair falling into his eyes while his mouth hung open. “Gonna breed you like the little bitch you are-“

Despite having just cum, shocks of pleasure spread through you as he filled you, and in this position, you could watch his muscles bulge and flex as he chased his release. His eyes were squeezed shut, and one of his hands was pawing and kneading at your breast as he used the other to support his weight. The veins in his neck throbbed as he grew closer and closer, and you were taken off guard to find that you were approaching your second climax with him.

“You already gonna cum again, baby?” he whispered. “Do it. Give it to me; I want it.”

You closed your eyes and arched up, frenzied moans of yes, please, God, more, I need more, spilling past your lips almost unintelligibly. You were so close – just a little more and you would be pushed over the edge.

Just before you could reach it, though, Steve’s eyes snapped open, focusing on your neck hungrily. You should have felt fear, knowing what he was, what had happened to his parent and his last lover. But instinct took over, and you found yourself tilting your head back, baring your neck to him in a sign of submission.

With a feral growl, he lunged forward, and you shrieked as his teeth pierced your skin, right where he’d claimed earlier your ‘mating gland’ was. You closed your eyes, expecting to feel your life fade away, ready to see blood spurting up from the wound. But that never happened; no, instead you felt as if you’d just been electrified. Every sensation you were feeling was suddenly amplified tenfold, and your vision went black as you came for the second time.

Your ears were ringing, but you were still able to hear the primal roar that Steve let out as he came, painting your inner walls with his seed as hips finally slowed to a stop. For several long seconds, the two of you were perfectly still save for your chests as they rose and fell with your heavy breathing. Steve’s cock began to soften inside of you, but he made no move to pull away. No, instead he collapsed over you, his head resting against your chest as his heated skin shielded you from the cold air.

“You were perfect,” you heard him whisper, and one of his fingers came up to trace the bite mark he’d left behind on your neck. “Your bond scar is gonna be so gorgeous, little omega.”

Sleep threatened to overtake you as you lay there, not truly processing Steve’s words as his weight atop you lulled you towards sleep.

“Go ahead and rest, doll,” he murmured. “I’ll carry you back home, and then we can go again. Don’t worry, doll; I won’t stop until you’re nice and round with my babies.”

You should have felt scared – you should have pulled away and ran into the woods. But instead, you let out a content noise of acknowledgement before doing just as he said. The last thing you registered before slipping into a deep, dreamless slumber was his arms as they wrapped around you and picked you up, carrying you away from the road and into the forest.

[thejilyship]

12. Roommate AU

I love jilytober prompts because I don’t need to come up with titles for things. Also, if anyone is looking for a job in which they don’t get paid, I will hire you to name things for me. 

WC- 1.8K

“Listen Red-”

“My name is Lily.” 

“Yes, Red, listen. I know that we put an ad in the paper, but that was to upset the roommate that we had to kick out.” 

“Yeah, it’s still a sore subject, but we hate him now.” 

Lily looked back and forth between the three boys before her and frowned. “Okay, but you put out the ad. And the price for the room is like, the best in the city, and I really need a place to live. Like, yesterday.” 

One of the three had been quiet since she’d walked through the front door and so she looked at him now, wanting to see if she could make headway with him, since the one that kept calling her ‘Red,’ didn’t seem as sympathetic. 

“I mean, it’s not very fair to put an ad out, if you had no intention of even-”

“We can interview you.” The quiet one said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I mean, we do have an empty room after all. Just because we don’t need a roommate-”

“James.” 

“Prongs.” 

“Let’s just think about it.” James said. “We did put the ad out. And she said that she needs a place-”

“James,” The one with sandy hair sighed and shook his head. “It’s always the redheads with you.” He muttered quietly, and so Lily assumed that she wasn’t supposed to have heard that. 

“Please. I have a sob story if you need to hear it.” 

“We’ve all got a sob story, Red.” 

“Yes, but my sob story is currently happening. My mum died a few months ago, and my sister sold our parents house, which I was living in. So I had to find a new place to live. My childhood friend let me move in with him, but I found out yesterday, that not only is he obsessed with me in a yucky kind of way, he’s also a white nationalist. Like he’s in a cult and everything and I can’t stay there anymore. I don’t even want to go back to get the rest of my shit.” 

The three boys looked at her and then at the two bags at her feet.

“That’s all you have now?” The sandy haired one asked. 

“Yes. Well, no. My friend Mary, her parents let me put some family memory type stuff in their garage. I’m glad I hadn’t gotten the chance to bring that to the city yet.” 

“Alright fine. We’ll interview you. But don’t think you’ll be getting any sympathy points from me.” 

“Sirius,” James sighed, running a hand through his hair. 

“What?” He looked at Lily and raised a brow. “Are you a tidy roommate?” 

“Yes.” Lily nodded, glad that she’d managed to get her foot in the door. “I always pick up after myself.” 

“Do you cook?” 

“Not for you I won’t.” He cracked a smile. 

“Do you have a job?” 

“I do. It’s a shitty job, but I’m working on it. I have another semester left of school. If I had a better job now though, I wouldn’t be begging you for your extra room.” 

“So a job and school? How often would you actually be here?” 

Lily paused for a moment. “I’m a bit of a homebody to be honest. But I do work thirty hours a week and I’m in class for another sixteen hours. Would you like me to promise to stay away from you? I can do that.” 

“No, I think I’m starting to like you.” Sirius grinned. 

“You’d need to move in tonight then?” James asked. 

“I would,” Lily nodded. “Like I said, I can’t go back there.” 

“We can go for you.” Sirius shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind rattling the pants off of a piece of shit.”

Lily bit her lip and looked down at the ground. She had no doubt that these three men would succeed in intimidating Severus, but she didn’t want them to go there either. “My stuff isn’t even packed up. I appreciate the offer, but what you just suggested sounded a bit like sympathy.” 

Sirius shook his head and the other two laughed. 

“No. Offering to kick the snot out of a racist bastard is simply a hobby of mine. I’m still not sure if I’m going to let you have the room.”

“It’s my house. I’m going to let her have it.” James said. “Remus, are you alright with that?” 

“Excuse me,” Sirius widened his eyes and shook his head. “I’m in the middle of-”

“Yeah. I don’t have a problem with it. Welcome to the club, Lily,” He reached out and offered her his hand. She took it and sighed in relief.

“Okay, thank you, but now I have some questions for you three.” 

“Oh do you,” 

“Yes.” Lily nodded, looking at each of them in the eye. “Are any of you going to murder me?”

“If I was, I wouldn’t tell you.” Sirius grinned. 

“Yes, I know. But my sister said that I had to ask.” 

“I’ve never murdered someone before, so the odds are low.” Remus shrugged. 

“I’ll just say ‘no,’ because I’m not, you know, insane like these two.” James shoved Remus’ shoulder. 

“Alright.” Lily took a deep breath and tried to exhale the weight of the world that she’d been carrying around today. If this had fallen through, she would have had to get on a train and beg Petunia for a few nights on her couch, or just called London a bust and gone to live with Mary in Ireland.

But she wouldn’t have to do that now. 

She was somewhere safe. Probably. They all seemed fairly harmless anyway. 

“I can show you where the room is,” James offered. 

“Am I just supposed to pretend like you two didn’t just get us a new roommate without asking for my vote?” 

Lily had the feeling that Sirius was simply giving them all a hard time, but she folded her arms over her chest and huffed. “Look, Sirius, if you don’t want me here, I’ll leave. I can figure something else out.” She reached for her bag and stood up, pulling the strap over her shoulder. “I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes or-” “Lily,” Sirius looked a bit stricken. “No, I’m an asshole, you’ll get used to it. You can stay.”

She smiled at him. “I know, and now you have to stop complaining about it.” She winked at him and then turned to James, hoisting up her second bag. “Lead the way.” 

Sirius started laughing and James looked plenty amused as well. 

“You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?” James asked as they walked toward the stairs. 

“No more so than he is.” 

James laughed. “Hopefully less trouble than he is. He is a lot of trouble.” 

“Yeah, I kind of guessed that.” 

“I thought I was going to have to yell at him when you grabbed your bag and pretended you were leaving.” 

“All jokes aside, I really do appreciate you all letting me stay here. What did your fourth roommate do to get kicked out?” 

“It wasn’t just one thing.” James shrugged. “But a couple of days ago, he uh-” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Well, it wasn’t actually me that he hurt, so I’ll have to let Sirius and Remus tell you. And they will, because they both want to take every opportunity to bitch him out that they can.” Lily smiled at him and he smiled back before reaching out and pulling a door open. “And here is your new room.” 

It was entirely empty aside from a stripped bed. No furniture, no hangers in the closet, no lamps or rugs or posters. This room looked as though it's been abandoned for a while, not just since the other day.

“I know you just met us and so you’re not comfortable with us helping you out, but when you’re ready, we would like to help you get your stuff back.” 

Lily let one of her bags drop to the ground, the one that didn’t have her laptop in it, and sighed. “Thanks, but I’m not sure that it’s worth it.” Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she knew that it was either Mary, asking if she was alright, or Severus, asking her where she’d gone and when she’d be back. “I didn’t even tell him that I was moving out. I’d rather him not know anything about where I went or who I’m with now.” 

“Was he your b-”

“No.” Lily shook her head. “No, we reconnected at school after my mum passed. But then I found out that he transferred to my school when he found out that I was there. He printed off photos from my social media- I don’t know. I just didn’t feel safe there anymore and Mary told me that if I get murdered because I didn’t trust my instincts then she’s not going to come to my funeral.” James let out a soft laugh. 

“Is Mary your sister?” 

“Yes, but not by blood. Petunia is my actual sister, but we don’t get on well- Why am I telling you all of this? Mary is my best friend and she is also a bint and lives in Ireland.” 

“People tell me things all the time. It must be my charming smile. I put people at ease. It’s how I got stuck with both Sirius and Remus.” 

“You didn’t get stuck with us, you prat.” Sirius came up the stairs and leaned against the wall in the hallway. “I’m the one that’s stuck with you.” 

“My parents adopted him when we were twelve.” James said. “I found Remus at school when I was nine. We’ve been inseparable ever since.” 

Lily nodded. 

“Do you need help unpacking, Red?” 

Lily looked at Sirius, her bags and then the lack of stuff in the room. She laughed and he smiled at her. 

“I’ll go and fetch you some clean linens from the closet.” James offered. 

“And you two made fun of me for putting extra sheets in there!’ Remus shouted from down the stairs. “What do you all want for dinner?” 

“Pizza,” Sirius shouted back. 

“We had pizza yesterday, Sirius.” James reminded him. “Make your lobster mac n’ cheese, Remus!” 

Lily picked up her bag again and moved into the room, setting them down on the bed and then unzipping them. 

“Red?” She looked over at Sirius. “You good with lobster mac?” 

She smiled. “Yeah.” 

“Good.” He turned and walked off. 

James came back with sheets, pillows and a comforter. He helped her get the fitted sheet on the bed before he bowed out and gave her some time to herself as well. 

Things had been shit for a while now. 

But she had the feeling that she’d just lucked into something quite spectacular. 

[theadventurousdork]

Two Sides of the Same Coin: Chloe Price

If Chloe could go back and meet herself... would she?

Chloe takes a drag from her cigarette before flicking it away. She lays on the rusted roof of an old fishing boat, the breeze carrying away her puff of smoke. The sun is setting over the junkyard. Everything is still, yet her mind is buzzing. Can she really do it? Run away. Away from the torment. Away from the emptiness. Away from Arcadia Bay. Away from it all. And with Rachel freakin' Amber.

Chloe flicks her cigarette as her arm hangs over the side of the roof. Shards of broken glass are crunched under a shifting foot a few yards away, causing the rebel to sit up in caution. She looks around the junkyard, a feeling of unease sits in her gut. The shifting footsteps move behind a run down car.

"Rachel, I swear to God if you're fucking with me..."

Chloe hops off the roof of the boat and onto the splintered deck below, the setting sun shines in her eyes. She squints over the edge and looks down to see a figure looking up at her. She feels familiar.

"Jesus christ. That's what I looked like back then?" The woman says. Her hair radiating a faded green through the sunlight.

"Who the fuck are you?" Chloe demands as the woman climbs onto the boat.

"Look at me, you little nugget," the woman says as she hops onto the deck, the wood creaking beneath her, "I'm you."

Chloe takes a step back. She looks at her future self in confusion, "Alright, that cigarette I bummed from Justin was definitely laced with something."

"Holy shit. Justin." Older Chloe says in an amused tone. She looks over the trees at the setting sun, "I wonder how he's doing nowadays. Either he finally became a skate pro or he's now the creepy dude no one knows who's still riding the same rails at Blackwell."

Young Chloe is at a loss of words. She stares at her older self not being able to comprehend what she's seeing.

"You... I... we... look pretty rad," she finally says after an awkward silence, "I just... don't understand what the fuck is happening."

Older Chloe walks past the teen and hops onto the roof of the boat, her feet dangling over the edge. She looks down and pats the empty space next to her. Young Chloe looks around the empty junkyard looking for any sign of being pranked. After realizing there's no one else around them, she takes a deep breath and climbs to the top of the boat to join her future self.

"It's all very confusing so I won't waste time explaining how I'm here," Older Chloe says as she takes out a pack of cigarettes from her jacket pocket. She takes out a stick and puts it between her lips before extending the carton out to her younger self, "Trade you a cig for a light."

Young Chloe reaches into her ripped jean pocket and takes out a lighter. She takes a cigarette from the carton and lights both of their smokes. They both take a long drag unison.

"So... let's say I'm not tripping absolute balls right now," young Chloe says, "why are you here?"

"If YOU had the chance to visit younger you, would you?"

"I don't think I would." Young Chloe takes another drag, "It would hurt too much."

"Well... opinions change as you get older, I guess." Older Chloe looks at the junkyard around them, "Man, I miss this place. Brings back so many memories. What year is it anyway?"

Young Chloe hesitates, still not fully absorbing what's happening, "Uh, 2010."

"Fuck. That feels like ages ago."

"What year are you from?"

"Doesn't really matter." Older Chloe brushes off the question, "So what's going on in your life right now?"

"Well, my stupid mom betrayed me by letting the walking mustache move into the house." Young Chloe grumbles as she pushes the butt of her cigarette into the deteriorating metal.

Older Chloe smiles, "David and his damn mustache."

Young Chloe doesn't hear her comment, "And the ever so elusive Max Caulfield hasn't answered a single text or call in months. So she could be dead." She lifts up her legs from the edge of the roof and hugs her knees, "Not that it fucking matters anyway. I mean, I could be dead and she wouldn't even care."

Older Chloe softens her gaze as she looks to her broken, younger self.

"What else is going on?"

"Well, I finally got booted from Blackwell."

Older Chloe lets out a small laugh, "Jesus, took you long enough."

"Right? You should've seen how smug Principal Wells looked with that stick up his ass as he broke the news," Young Chloe furrows her brow, "I mean... I guess you have seen what he looked like then."

"Oh, man. Of course I remember what he looked like. So pleased with himself. He definitely celebrated our departure from Blackwell by shoving two more sticks up his ass."

Young Chloe couldn't help but laugh.

"And uh..." her laughing died down to a nervousness, "I also met Rachel Amber recently."

The burning cigarette hangs loosely between Older Chloe's fingers as she stares over the treeline. Her mind is obviously in a different place.

"Rachel Amber." she finally says after a moment, "How is she?"

The words leave her mouth with a heavy weight.

"She's... awesome." Young Chloe breathes out. Her shoulders loosen as Older Chloe's tense up, "I just... I don't know how to describe it. Ever since we went to that Firewalk concert a few days ago and we started hanging out... I don't know. She's just so fucking cool. She has this..."

"Light around her." Older Chloe says, finishing the younger's sentence, "A light that seems to never dim. No matter what kind of darkness hits."

"Yeah, exactly."

Young Chloe notices the shift in the elder's tone, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Older Chloe blinks away her tears, "Can you... can you tell me more about her?"

Her words feel slightly desperate. Like she's treading water, desperate to relive the feeling she's lost so long ago. The feeling of knowing that Rachel's okay.

"I mean, you've already lived through all of this. You must know more than I do. What do you want to know? Honestly, I should be the one asking YOU questions," Young Chloe sits up straight, eager to ask her future self a barrage of questions, "What's it even like in the future? Have the mole people taken over? Have we discovered life on other planets yet? Is weed legal in every state now? Do I ever make it out of this shithole?"

Older Chloe puts out her cigarette before looking at her wide eyed younger self, "How about you answer my question and I'll answer ONE of yours."

"But..."

"My time is limited here, you ding dong. You really wanna waste it by fighting?" Older Chloe leans back on her hands, "You know I'd win."

Young Chloe huffs at how smug she is, "Okay, fine." She takes a moment to collect her thoughts. "So you wanna hear about Rachel?"

"Yeah. What's she like right now? Where are you at when it comes to her?"

The younger lays down on the roof, her hands clasped behind her head, "She's absolutely amazing. I don't think I'll ever meet anyone else like her. There's this indescribable thing about her that makes me want to... be better." Young Chloe closes her eyes, images of Rachel flashing through her mind, "It's like ever since we started hanging out, everything's felt... not as heavy, you know? I mean, don't get me wrong. This place is still a top tier shitter, but she makes it... not as shitty."

Older Chloe doesn't say a word.

"And when I'm with her... I feel nervous. But not the 'Oh shit, I'm gonna throw up' nervous but more like the... 'Oh shit, I wanna stay in this moment forever' kind of nervous," Young Chloe feels a slight tinge of embarrassment as she opens her eyes to see the clouds moving in the sky above, "I must sound so stupid."

"You don't." Older Chloe wipes away a tear that escaped from her grasp. Younger Chloe doesn't notice.

The older's mouth hangs slightly open as she struggles to find the right words to say. After a moment, "Just... hang onto that. Hang onto that feeling. That feeling of wanting to be better. That feeling that there's a light that will never dim. It's important."

"Since when did I get so mushy?" Young Chloe sits up.

"Don't act like you haven't always been," says the Older.

"Okay, my turn."

"One question. That's all you get."

Young Chloe crosses her arms as she thinks carefully about her question. The sun has just touched the top of the treeline. A blanket of golden light lays gently across the junkyard. The familiar sound of glass crunching under a shifting foot gets lost in the sound of the trees rustling with the breeze. Young Chloe, lost in thought, doesn't seem to notice it this time.

"So," Older Chloe interrupts, "I don't got all day. It's now or never, young grasshopper."

After another moment of silence, the younger uncrosses her arms and takes a deep breath. She looks to the setting sun. Two sides of the same coin, sit side by side under its light.

"Will I ever find the happiness I lost?"

Older Chloe furrows her brow, slightly taken aback by the younger's question.

Young Chloe's heartbeat increases slightly, scared of the answer.

The older looks up at the sky before taking a deep breath, "Look, kid. You're going to lose a lot. You're going to lose so much that it feels almost impossible to make it through... but you will. You'll be okay."

Young Chloe, looks down at her feet dangling off the side of the roof. Slightly disappointed with the answer.

The sun has begun to disappear behind the treeline.

"But," Older Chloe starts up again, "about that happiness..."

She looks out to the junkyard. Hidden just out of the younger's sight, an older Max Caulfield sits behind a dilapidated car door. She's waiting patiently, as she looks up at Older Chloe. The two look at one another with a reassuring gaze. Max gently nods her head as she gives Older Chloe a kind smile.

"You'll find it again." Older Chloe finally says without breaking eye contact with Older Max, "Happiness will always be within reach even when you feel like it's gone forever."

A breeze blows through the junkyard just as the sun has finally disappeared behind the trees.

Young Chloe looks up and finds herself alone again.

[aomineavenue]

Homesick (Miya Atsumu x f!Reader) | 006. dinner disaster

Summary: Six years ago, L/N Y/N wouldn’t exactly say that she loves her life. It had always been problematic but her best friend, Miya Atsumu, since she was eight when she moved to Hyōgo, has always been there for her, and she wouldn’t change it for the world. However, things would always fall apart for her ever since, so she should have expected of such. Running away from her problems seemed like the easiest route to take at the time, so what happens when the past comes barging back into her life demanding answers? Will she be able to confront her demons?

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x f!Reader

Updates: irregular.

Genre: Angst, ANGST I LOVE ANGST, a lil bit of fluff here and there.

Warnings: Language, etc. (Will be mentioned once posted because I don’t want spoilers huehue)

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except for the reader and my ideas. I do not claim any images used for content in this fic, everything goes out to their respective creators unless it is mentioned that it is mine.

Status: ongoing. | series masterlist

↩ confessions | dinner disaster | realizations  ↪

mia’s note(s): 

can you find the easter eggs in here? 

i am sorry, i am not very fond of this chapter lmao i told you guys im bad at writing that isn’t angst man 

i hope you guys enjoy anyway, lemme know what you guys think!! and tell me if you find the easter eggs mwa mwa

You nod eagerly as you shut the menu in your grip, completely ignoring Reiji’s protests from beside you as the rest of the individuals seated around the table either watch in amusement or curiosity. “I believe there is always a three special course meal that changes every day according to the chef, we’d absolutely love that.”

At the sight of Reiji’s features scrunched up in horror, you inwardly squealed in victory. 

Years have flown by, you’re both practically strangers at this point. Yes, strangers. Just two strangers who know every shameful secret, every hidden freckle, and even every fatal flaw in each other. Who were you kidding anyway? Six years have gone by just like that, but you knew it yourself, deep down that you still strongly cared for the man that now stood before you, his eyes the only thing you could focus on, not even the soft chatter of the other guests or the soft instrumental melody produced by the restaurant’s speakers could capture your attention and disrupt your thoughts. Mesmerized, that is what you are. What even. 

It has been six years and to this day, he still completely steals your breath away. 

Not that it should surprise you or anything. Despite everything, how he had hurt you back when you were both 17 and in your second year in senior high school back in 2013, or the hurtful words that spilled from his mouth from the running emotions that day back at the sports complex when the truth revealed itself, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him or even be angry. You’ve thought of this a billion times since you left Hyōgo. You have imagined a billion scenarios, trying your best to prepare yourself because you knew. You knew that it was inevitable to stay hidden, to keep your secret hidden. A part of you always knew you were going to meet him again. Not that your reunion was delightful or anything. It was nowhere near such. No matter how many scenarios you created in your head, it had not been enough for you to prepare for any form of response. 

You hadn’t realized it at first when you had met him on that day because of the emotions running high through your veins, but now, standing in front of him, your eyes drank him up completely. Of course, you notice the differences from six years ago. It wasn’t as if he was going to stay how he had been back then, nor was it difficult to notice the changes from the boy you used to adore. Looking at him now, it was clear as day that he had grown up from the charming boy next door to a breathtaking man that you can’t seem to tear your gaze away. 

As your name rolls off of his tongue, you snap out of your trance, blinking a couple of times. Thankfully, you suppressed your emotions quick enough from allowing the warmth that wanted to creep across your cheeks. God, how embarrassing. Did he notice you were practically devouring him with your eyes? Hopefully not. 

However, despite his handsome features, you are suddenly reminded of the last conversation that the two of you shared and it was enough for you to push your mushy thoughts to the very back of your head. Ah, right. You remembered now, before being distracted by Atsumu’s ridiculously handsome face, you were going to give Asuma and Reiji a good smack. If only you had known of this setup, you would have never agreed. Jumping back to reality, you were about to take a step back, wanting to leave the premises, only to be held back by Reiji, gripping onto your arm to stop you. 

You were cut off from your protests, Reiji moving closer to whisper in your ear with the all too familiar tone he uses on you during arguments. Before he could even finish his sentence, you already knew that the excuses you have in mind were no use. There was no room for negotiations. “Stop being stubborn and sit down. Do this for your kids. It’s not like it’s a date or anything.” 

Grumbling underneath your breath at how much of an ass he was, he only replies with a chuckle as he releases his grip on your arm, neither of you realizing the green-eyed monster’s gaze that followed the whole interaction. The two of your friends took their seats, greeting the rest of the party, while you’re left standing there before Atsumu. As you stood there face to face, you didn’t realize the two occupants around the table sharing hushed whispers amongst each other, berating each other for bringing other people along. Meeting his gaze once more, you give him a small nod, “Atsumu. Shall we then?” 

He nods, his voice cracking slightly because of his nerves, “Yeah.” 

However, as you turn to greet the rest of the party, you feel your shoulders grow tense at the realization of what your two friends did once again. They had occupied seats around the table, leaving the only available seats next to each other for you and Atsumu. If it’s one thing you hated, it was when your friends become the meddling monkeys that they are. 

Not wanting to cause a scene, you inwardly groan and occupy the seat next to Reiji, leaving the seat next to you for Atsumu. In spite of your irritation, you find yourself flashing a half-hearted smile at the three across from you. 

“Hi!” the one in the middle greets you happily with an enormous smile plastered across his face, “I’m Hinata, it’s nice to meet you.” He extends his arm across the table, holding out his hand for you to shake, which you gladly take. 

“Nice to meet you too,” you respond with a nod of your head as you release your grip from his hand, just in time to retrieve the menu that the waiter had passed throughout the group. Flipping it open, you avoid the glances from Bokuto and Osamu, who looked as if they were itching an interaction from you, but because of your irritation, you definitely didn’t want to talk to them just yet, they probably had helped your friends in setting this up. “So Hinata-san, I’m assuming you're Bokuto’s teammate?” you ask before tearing your gaze away from his to examine the menu in your hands. You don’t notice the frown that briefly appeared on Atsumu’s lips. 

“Oh, Hinata’s just fine!” he waves his hand with a laugh, “Yes, I’m Bokuto and Atsumu’s teammate. We actually wanted to bring our friend Sakusa here too, but he said he has an emergency at some hospital.” 

"Hmm…" you hum, letting your eyes scan the menu, thinking you might as well enjoy the food, "Oh, I hope everything is okay with your friend Sakusa and it’s nothing too serious, but now that we're here, might as well enjoy and run Rei's wallet dry. Right, Rei?"

You tilt your head a bit, glancing over at Reiji from the corner of your eye with a sly smirk forming on your lips. Ah, the man could only let out a nervous chuckle, knowing full well what you were planning as he recalls a similar scenario a few months back in the very same restaurant that put a dent to his savings because of the ridiculous price of the meals you had ordered that night. Not tearing your gaze away from your best friend, you call for the waiter's attention, who quickly responds by walking over and pulling out his tiny notepad to jot down your table's order. 

"Hello, I'm Daiki and I'll be your waiter for the night." He greets with a friendly smile, not realizing the awkward atmosphere among the group, "What will we be having?" 

Clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, you give Reiji an innocent grin before turning your gaze over to the waiter to return his smile with your own, "Hello, Daiki. You see, my friends here aren't really sure what to order, but I told them not to worry since I've been here so many times, so I'll be ordering for everyone!" 

"Excellent, ma'am!" He nods his head, matching your enthusiasm.

You nod eagerly as you shut the menu in your grip, completely ignoring Reiji’s protests from beside you as the rest of the individuals seated around the table either watch in amusement or curiosity. “I believe there is always a three special course meal that changes every day according to the chef, we’d absolutely love that.” 

At the sight of Reiji’s features scrunched up in horror, you inwardly squealed in victory. 

It was going to be a long night.

Mayuzumi Asuma and Suwa Reiji were now considered dead.

To you, at least. And somehow, you knew that, despite them avoiding meeting your gaze alongside with the other three across from you who freely interacted with each other, they themselves knew what they were getting themselves into. They were digging their graves for this stunt they have pulled. 

You’d got to give Reiji credit, though. Despite pushing his buttons by ordering everyone the high priced three course meal, he wasn’t his usually squirmy and irritating self. You had at least expected sharing a heated argument with him after such a display, but instead of giving in, he continued to pursue his plan with the others. 

Oh, they think they were so slick, as if you hadn’t caught on with their little plan. Not a date, they say. It might as well be one, since they’re bluntly ignoring your attempts to converse with them. All was missing was some privacy. At first you hadn’t thought about it when you had tried to share a conversation with Hinata, it was only right for you to get to know someone; you were just being nice. However, before Hinata could respond to your question, Bokuto had dragged him into a conversation about volleyball. You brushed it aside, not thinking anything rude of it, as you knew Bokuto would often speak with anyone out of the blue. It was just how he is. 

You hadn’t even thought about it the second time around when this time; you tried conversing with Osamu, wanting to know about how his business is going so far. Except, the conversation between you and Osamu never happened due to the fact that Asuma had cut you off mid-sentence, engaging the man in a ridiculous conversation about healthy diets. Like, what the heck was that all about? Asuma and healthy diets just don’t sit well with you. Nevertheless, you brushed it aside, shifting your attention to the first course meal of the night that had been placed before you. 

They think they were so smart, trying to pull it off. Ah, but no. You had caught on with their little plan the third time around when you tried to join in Bokuto and Hinata’s conversation. You were instantly shot down by Reiji, shifting the conversation to another topic that only they could understand. 

They were dead men. All of them. 

Placing your chopsticks down, you turn your head towards Reiji’s direction with a false innocent smile curling upon your lips. “Reiji, dear.” 

Ah there it was, catching the nervous bob of his Adam’s apple in this throat with your gaze. "Yeah?"

"I hope you know—” 

Hinata cuts you off by standing up abruptly from his seat, waving frantically towards someone’s direction, “Ushijima-san!” 

You blink before turning your head to look at whoever Hinata was waving to, catching a glimpse of a tall, muscular man nodding towards Hinata’s direction in greeting, a woman trailing close behind him. Not wanting to be rude, you return to your previous position to face Hinata that was seated across from you, “Was that the Ushijima Wakatoshi?” 

Hinata nods as he sits back down, a huge smile on his face. “Yeah, I’m sure you know about him.” 

“I suppose,” you lift your shoulders up in a shrug as you pick up your chopsticks once more, completely forgetting to reprimand Reiji’s actions much to his relief, “I was volleyball manager back then in high school, so I would know a few things, including some players.” 

“Where did you go to school?” Hinata asks, tilting his head a bit as he looks at you curiously. You wonder, briefly, had Atsumu not mentioned you at all since the incident at the sports complex? Weird. 

As you were about to reply, the man seated on your left answers for you. “She went to the same school as me, Shouyou-kun. She was our manager.” 

Hinata stares at you for a second, blinking a couple of times before realization hits him, his eyes widening, “I remember you now! You were that pretty manager!” 

The men around the table chokes and sputters their food, causing you to scrunch up your nose in disgust. Atsumu is first to respond after clearing his throat, “What? I mean, yeah. She was our pretty manager.”  

“I remember her because it was the first time I saw Tsukishima look stupid over a girl,” Hinata chuckles, shaking his head. “But, how come I only saw you once? Were you a third year at the time?” 

Suddenly, the tension was back in the air. You catch from the corner of your eye, Atsumu growing tense from Hinata’s question, and you had to fight the urge to show your own emotions. Everyone else was silent, probably waiting for you or Atsumu to answer. “Ah, I left high school towards the end of our second year, and moved to Kanagawa. I had my hands full at the time, so I didn’t return to high school.” 

“But wh—” Hinata gets cut off by his own yelp, making you raise a brow in confusion. He turns his head towards Osamu’s direction, wincing slightly, “Osamu-san!” 

Osamu lets out a laugh, not looking anywhere near apologetic. “Ah, sorry buddy. I was reaching over Bokuto but you were in the way.” 

An awkward atmosphere engulfs around the table once more. This dinner was certainly not going according to Osamu and Reiji’s plan. Opting to avoid the awkward glances from the other individuals, you turn your attention over to focus on your food while Osamu and Reiji were sending glares towards each other once they realized your attention elsewhere. The two had talked with Atsumu earlier, devising a plan for the two of you to talk things through. Originally, Osamu suggested that the dinner should be just you and Atsumu, but Reiji declined such an idea because of two reasons. First, you would completely decline yourself to go to a dinner and leave Atsuhiro in the hospital despite your mother being present, Reiji knew you too well that the idea of dinner at a fancy restaurant without your sons was a big no. That is, unless a friend of yours were to force you by dragging you to the restaurant. And second, if you were to be left with Atsumu alone, Reiji fears that you would leave almost immediately. 

And he was right for both. If he hadn’t dragged you here himself, you wouldn’t have bothered to go. And if he hadn’t stopped you earlier, you would have ran out the moment you saw Atsumu. However, they hadn’t expected this. Reiji hadn’t expected Osamu to bring two other people, while Osamu hadn’t expected that Reiji was going to bring someone else along. Yes, it was a disaster. 

Reiji had opted to bring Asuma along, because he knew you were going to be suspicious if it were just the two of you going for dinner. You would have accused him of coddling you like a child, it was something he would do now and then when he wanted you to release all the emotions you had kept bottled up. It’s not that you didn’t appreciate him for it, he just knows that if he did such a thing during such an emotional time, you would push him away when Reiji wanted to speed things along. As much as Reiji disliked the father of his favorite twins, he wasn’t going to deprive the little boys any longer of the chance of finally getting to know their father. If he was going to force everything on you, he would do it. He, too, has grown tired of your decisions of run away. 

Osamu on the other hand, only decided to accompany his brother himself but as he and his brother were leaving the apartment, the other two barged out of Bokuto’s room claiming to be starving from the lack of food the past couple of hours because of some intense gaming session on the PlayStation 4 that Bokuto brought along with. Not being quick on their feet, the twins had blurted out they were going out to eat. They unfortunately could not decline the two balls of sunshine. 

Clearing his throat, hoping to shift the tension in the air. “Anyway,” Osamu starts before tearing his glaring gaze away from Reiji over to where Ushijima was seated across the room, “Who is that girl Ushijima is with?” 

“She kinda looks familiar,” Bokuto hums, placing his chopsticks down after finishing his first course meal, shifting his gaze over to Ushijima’s table. 

“That’s the heiress of the Akita Empire,” Asuma answers, “Pretty woman, she is. I didn’t know she was dating anyone.” 

Hinata lets out a gasp of excitement, his eyes going wide. “I wonder if Ushijima-san is really dating her!” 

“Maybe you can ask him at the party…” Bokuto suggests while the rest of his words are drowned out by you, growing bored with the night as you wonder when you can possibly leave. 

Despite drowning out the conversation around the table and focusing on the food, Atsumu pulls you in with his voice from the side, “Hey, I’m sorry about this. I told Osamu and Reiji it was a bad idea from the start.” 

Ah, so it was those two who had planned the whole thing out. You let out a sigh, turning your head to face him to answer, your voice low to keep the others out of the conversation, “There’s nothing that we can do now.” 

“Would you have preferred that it was just the two of us?” he asks, hope laced in his voice. 

Lightly nibbling on your bottom lip, you tear your gaze away from him. Did you? You actually wanted to talk to Atsumu after having the talk with your sons. You were going to express your disappointment towards Reiji and his plan full of flaws. Had they planned this for the two of you to talk? If so, this was stupid to begin with. Something so serious between the two of you and Atsumu should be discussed within private walls, and this was nowhere near private. So maybe, yes. Perhaps, if the two were you alone, then it would have been better. “I guess,” you finally admit, “Maybe the two of us can talk things through properly when this is over. I think it’s time. For now, I hope you can accept my apologies.” 

“And I hope you accept m—” 

Hinata’s loud voice booms excitedly, “Oh remember that party!” 

The two of you snap your attention over to Hinata, the disappointment clear in your features for the disruption. What were they talking about? However, curiosity gets the best of you and you entertain him anyway. “What party?” 

“The Christmas party last year!” Hinata announces with a chuckle, “At first, I was thinking why Reiji-san and Asuma-san here look so familiar then I remember I attended the party with Bo-kun and the others!” As if on cue, the moment those words left Hinata’s mouth, Atsumu and Bokuto visually stiffened, causing you to grow more curious. 

“Ah, that party.” you let out a laugh, nudging Reiji with your elbow, “He’s talking about your all-time favorite party.” 

A scowl makes its way to Reiji’s features, “Please, do not remind me of that horrendous party. I had to move rooms just because of that, and I replaced the mattress too.” 

“You’re so dramatic,” you drawled, laughing along with Asuma as you remember Reiji going crazy the next day after the party. “Just because your guests did the dirty on your bed—” Reiji cuts you off by pinching your side, which causes you to let out a yelp in both pain and surprise.

Osamu interjects with a grin, “Actually, I have a feeling that Sakusa would have died hearing such information. But I would be pissed off too, Reiji. That’s nasty. I would have moved out the whole place entirely.” 

“Right?” Reiji exclaims by throwing his hands in the air, “I couldn’t step inside the room without wanting to poke my eyes out.” 

“That’s why we no longer let Atsumu drink too much because he’ll probably do that again,” Hinata adds, laughing along. 

Once again, silence. 

“Wait, what?” Reiji asks, the first to break the silence. “That was you?” 

Bokuto smacks Hinata’s head before looking away awkwardly. Hinata, on the other hand, takes a minute to realize his mistake before flickering his gaze back and forth from Atsumu over to you, waiting for his mistake to backfire in his face. The rest of the individuals around the table turn their attention over to Atsumu, waiting for his response. 

You were the first to defend him, letting out a laugh. “Okay, enough of this. Let’s leave the past in the past. Let’s not make things awkward, it’s not like Atsumu and I are dating or anything,” 

“Tsumtsum!” a squeal echoes throughout the restaurant and all you could think now was “What now?” 

[procrastinatingsapphictrash]

Slide in the wall

Word count: 1418     

Genre: I guess fluff but this is super random

Pairing: Platonic!Tony x reader (with some Pepper at the end)

Warnings: Swearing but in a friendly way (let me know if I need to add more)

Request: ... and this ones pretty vague but i just cried over a stark!reader after tony died so would love anything fluffy tony!

Summary: Tony and the reader find plans that they made while drunk and decide to build them without the permission of Pepper.

A/n: This request was for @casperlikej​ so I hope you like it. If I’m going to be completely honestly I don’t even know what I wrote here and it’s probably trash but whatever, I hope everyone enjoys anyways. It was also my first time writing for Tony so I don’t know how well I did but again, this isn’t meant to be a super serious fic, it’s very lighthearted fun. 

“How did you think that date was going to go well? It was at a seedy bar!” Tony asks you incredulously. 

“I was desperate.” You answer honestly.

“Why, because you haven’t gotten any action in months?” Tony mocks.

“Oh fuck off.” You tell him while holding up your middle finger behind her with one hand as you continue to work with your other. 

“Excuse me, is this how you speak to your boss?”

You laugh, “So you’re the boss of the avengers now? Besides, we both know you’re only the boss of anything on paper, if you wanted to fire me you’d have to go through Pepper first.” He opens his mouth to protest but you shush him. 

“Don’t shush me.” You ignore his warning and shush him again, holding out an architecture design you had just found buried beneath some folders. He grumbles and takes it but when he looks at what it says his annoyance disappears. You smile as you see him read the page that details exact plans of how to install a slide from the top floor where both your rooms are, all the way to the labs in the basement with multiple places to get on or off in between. 

“When did we make this?”

“I don’t know,” you respond, shrugging, “maybe while we got drunk a few nights ago?”

“That makes sense but this plan is good, even if we were wasted when we made it, we have to do this.” He says and you nod in agreement, knowing that he is serious and fully on board with the plan. 

“But we can’t let the others know because they would stop us,” you tell him, “and we need to do it before Pepper gets back from her business trip or else she’ll figure it out.” 

“We need to start now.” He agrees while calling a screen from Jarvis and pulling up some materials to buy. With Jarvis’s help it only takes a few minutes to decide which ones would be best to buy because Jarvis compared all of the different compagnies and figured out the best quality materials. You then move onto finding a team of workers who would be willing to work in secret to install the slide but it isn’t as hard as it sounds because Tony just promises to pay them ten times their normal hourly price so they agree easily. The rest of the day is spent improving the plans and figuring out how to keep the other avengers occupied so nobody notices. 

---

The next day you wake up early to go down to the labs and make sure all the materials and workers are ready. When you get down you find Tony is already there, explaining everything to the workers to make sure everything runs smoothly. The workers look weirded out by what they are being asked to install and the manner they are being asked to install it in but don’t question him because they are thankful to be paid this much. 

“Hey Tony,” you say as the workers disperse to get on with the day, “ready to distract the team?”

“Of course,” he replies, “keeping them off of the top ten floors shouldn’t be too hard, even if it is where their rooms are because I booked us a full day meeting with Fury to go over whatever he wanted, I didn’t pay attention to what he said.”

You groan. “Was there seriously no other way? I swear that man makes his meetings boring on purpose just so he can yell at us when we fall asleep.”

“Are you still mad about that? It happened two years ago.” You don’t have a response to that so you just stick your tongue out at him. He laughs at you as he starts walking out of the lab. “By the way, we’re both already late.”

“Fuck you!” You yell after him as you rush to catch up.

---

A week later and all seventy floors had been completed so the slide ran from the top floor to the labs with a place to get in and out at around every ten floors. Somehow none of the other avengers had noticed that on one of the far walls of each floor there was a jut out that hadn’t been there before, some of the jut outs even having doors. As soon as you say thank you to the workers and they leave, you and Tony rush up to the top floor to try the slide out. 

Both of you want to go first so you sit on the edge while Tony sits behind you, wrapping his legs and arms around you in a way that reminds you of doing this with your brother on the playground as kids. As soon as he is secured you push off, gliding down. It’s just as fun as you imagined and works perfectly, slowing down at every exit just enough for you to grab a bar to stop yourself, before speeding back up again. It takes almost a minute for you to make it all the way down, plopping onto the mattress Tony had the foresight to set there. You turn to each other with huge smiles and excitement shining in both your eyes. 

“Again.” You both say simultaneously, racing to get up the stairs. You were about to get on the elevator on the first floor when something made you pause.

“What is this?” Pepper’s shrill voice rang out. Tony gulped and you both creep to the room where the other avengers stood in fear of her and peek your heads around the doorway. If you hadn’t also been scared you would have been amused by the sight of the world’s greatest heroes rendered speechless by a normal businesswomen. 

Natasha speaks first. “I have no idea, I didn’t notice but I can assure you I had no part in whatever somebody did to change the shape of the room.”

“I trust you,” Pepper says, “Besides, Tony and Y/n are the only ones who are suspiciously not here.” After she says that you both pull your heads back. 

“I’m blaming it on you.” Tony says. 

“Me, no, I’m blaming it on you! You paid for it!”

“Yeah well you had the idea.” He accuses.

“No I did not!” You defend yourself although you don’t even know who made it since you were both drunk. 

“Fine, maybe you didn’t but you showed me the design when you could have just thrown it away.” 

“Oh like you would ha-”

“You two are not as quiet as you think.” Pepper says, cutting you off. “Now come out so I can talk to you properly.” You step timidly into the room, pushing Tony in front of you. 

“Hi sweetheart.” Tony says weakly, with a guilty smile. 

“Don’t sweetheart me. I want to know why the room is a different shape!” Pepper yells while the team snickers at your misfortune. 

“Are you sure the room hasn’t always been this way? I for one don’t notice a difference.” Tony says, playing dumb.

“You know that would be a lot more convincing if the paint colours were the same on the new walls as they are on the old ones.” Pepper says, looking completely done with Tony.

“How was I supposed to know there are different versions of white?” Tony asks her, ignoring the dangerous flash in her eyes. 

“Tony…” she practically growls, “why did you do this?” He nudges your side for you to respond instead of him. 

“We built a slide to the labs.” You tell her. 

“So let me get this straight,” she says, pretending to think out loud, “you two added a slide from here to the labs, renovating the floors without consulting me?” You and Tony look at each in horror. If she was this upset about one floor, she would undoubtedly be pissed once she found out the full length of the slide. 

“SoactuallytheslidegoesfromthetopfloorallthewaytothelabsI’mverysorryIloveyou. (So actually the slide goes from the top floor all the way to the labs, I’m very sorry, I love you)” Tony said all in one breath before running away pulling you after him.

Pepper stands shocked for a second but as you get further away you hear her yell something indistinguishable. You feel a little bad and you can tell Tony does too but after a lot of begging and making up for it Pepper will forgive both of you and besides, the slide was totally worth it.

[mortemersgf]

serendipity

hot couture: hazel nguyen x f!mc (arden moore)

summary: months after paris fashion week, a chance encounter reignites arden’s feelings for her former boss.

warning: suggestive themes.

word count: 2.2k

@choicesficwriterscreations

a/n: happy valentine’s day :D

click here for part two

Arden strides into Cremona’s, bearing a polite smile as patrons cast discreet glances at her. She slides into her usual table, the one located in the snug corner by the windows. It gives her an excellent view of the whole restaurant, allowing her to pick out who’s a diner and who’s a paparazzi pretending to be a diner.

She peruses the extensive list of dishes Cremona’s has to offer, settling on an order of Cacio e Pepe and a glass of white wine and murmuring a quiet thanks to the waiter as he glides away to prepare her dinner.

Some months ago, her eyes would have bulged at the price of the pasta dish. Now, she only breathes out a quiet sigh, too worn out to be startled.

Arden started her own business after the events of Paris Fashion Week. Her success in the states led to the opening of another branch in Milan. Since then, she’s been spending time in this beautiful city, solely focused on the task of overseeing the whole process. Milan is stunning with its vibrant culture, but Arden is lonely without Luz or Marco by her side.

She feels especially lonely this evening being Valentine’s Day and all. When she takes a gander around the restaurant, she sees couples after couples. A table to her left is sharing a slice of cake waist giggling to themselves. Two tables down, a man watches with adoration as his lover nibbles on her dessert, affection practically oozing out of his lovestruck smile.

Arden exhales slowly and unpockets her phone, swiping through various social media sites to pass time. A small smile dimples her cheeks as she reads positive review after positive review regarding her new collection. Who needs love when you have public validation? … Okay, me, but still. Her designs are being featured on the front covers of a range of fashion magazines. So long was the starry eyed newbie who picked up modeling as a means to work at Hazel Boutique.

Hazel Boutique… That’s a name she hasn’t heard in a while. Arden sets down her phone, fixing her gaze towards the kitchen. She must really miss her former job because she swears she sees Hazel Nguyen seated in the far corner, unbothered and nursing a glass of red wine as the man sitting across from her stomps away.

It’s indeed her. She’s wearing a dark dress that hugs her soft curves at all the right places with a dangerously high slit that teases her leg. Arden always found her tantalizingly beautiful no matter what she wore, but under the dim lighting of Cremona’s where the yellow gleam casts an ethereal glow on her, she looks all the more bewitching.

Arden is moving before she can absorb the absurdity of the situation, a hopeful smile spreading across her face.

“Hazel,” she breathes in greeting, “Hi…”

Hazel Nguyen, just as alluring as Arden had remembered, looks genuinely surprised. Her dark eyes widen. Goosebumps appear on her arms, sending chills down her back, the good kind. The kind you get when you see someone who you’ve been longing to see for the better part of a year.

She sets the wine glass down, eyes moving up and down the length of Arden in careful scrutiny before her gaze finally settles upon her starstruck features. An amused smile blooms on her face.

“Arden,” Hazel finally says, “Hello.”

Arden looks to the empty seat, asking, “May I?”

“Please,” Hazel nods. “How have you been?”

Arden slips into the chair, clasping her hands on her lap to keep her leg from bouncing in elation. “I’ve been good. Haut Monde has been doing well, too.”

“I know. I’ve been following your work.”

“You have?”

“Are you going to tell me you haven’t been following mine?”

“... Touché,” Arden says, recalling the way her eyes widened when images of Hazel’s new designs emerged online. They were fashionably elegant to say the very least, but the real prize was the genuine smile on Hazel’s face in those photos. She was posed among a crowd of local designers in Majorca, completely in her element. It was more than delightful to see her fall in love with creating once again.

Arden glances at the plate of untouched food sitting in front of her and shifts her gaze to the nonchalant woman across the table, mustering a small smile, “So, was that a supplier? An exec? He looked pretty upset.”

“That was my sorry excuse for a date.”

A date. Arden brushes off the strained feeling that washes over her with a small smile, willing herself to not bristle. It’s not as if they were anything more than a flirtation no matter how badly she wanted to be more with Hazel.

“Oh, that’s—that’s good. It’s good to date,” she murmurs, biting back a grimace as those words leave her lips. ‘It’s good to date?’ Really?

“Not so much when he’s an egotistical imbecile,” Hazel says, noting the way Arden’s posture tenses.

She pauses, letting the moment hang for another second before a faint, mischievous smile spreads across her face, adding, “That was Darren, my production manager. I don’t go on dates with just anyone, and I much rather prefer your company anyway.”

A surge of confidence rushes through Arden at the remark. She relaxes into her seat, huffing out a small laugh of relief, “Is that your way of saying you missed me?”

Hazel hums lowly, eyes slightly narrowed as she considers her words. Finally, after a brief pause, she reaches for her wine glass, swirling the dark contents gently. “I did miss your enthusiasm,” she says, “What happened? You look drained.”

Arden fights to keep her composure intact. She wants to slump over the table, truth be told. Running a business is tiring. “I am drained,” she admits, “Been stuck in meetings all day.”

“That sounds all too familiar.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t know a thing or two about running a fashion empire, would you? Any advice?”

“You have a team, don’t you? Utilize them, don’t pile everything on yourself”—Hazel pauses, noting the earnest look in Arden’s eyes—“Find the balance between leading and creating. Don’t get lost in the system, and don’t lose sight of what’s truly important to you.”

Arden nods, taking in her counsel with the utmost sincerity. “Thank you for that. I’ll remember it.”

As a waiter passes by, Hazel raises a hand, speaking coolly, “Another glass for my friend here, and clear this plate, please.”

“Oh, that’s…” Arden mumbles.

“Scared to share a meal with me?” Hazel questions.

“No, that’s not it,” Arden says. She bites her lip in thought, meeting Hazel's inquiring gaze. Something about her look coaxes Arden to straighten her spine, confidence filling her chest, spurring her on to speak her mind.

“I’m just still processing us, you know?” she says. “You said someday you could be convinced.”

An amused smile plays on Hazel’s face. She leans in and places her index finger below Arden’s chin, tipping the latter’s head upward. Arden swallows and pushes to keep her expression even, though her warming cheeks gives everything away. She catches the familiar scent of jasmine and vanilla wafting from Hazel being in such close proximity with the woman, and her heart drums with anticipation. It brings her back to Paris, back to the balcony.

“I did, didn’t I?” Hazel says, voice sultry.

Arden hasn’t got a clue as to what’s going on in Hazel’s mind. The woman is absolutely unreadable and she loves it, the mystery of it all, the unraveling of her thoughts. Right now, having her lips only a breath away, Arden doesn’t care to figure out Hazel’s intentions. Her legs feel weak. She’s sure she’d stumble if she were standing.

“Have you eaten, Arden?” Hazel asks, moving her hand to Arden’s cheek, grazing her face ever so lightly.

Arden’s face flushes with heat as she struggles to meet Hazel’s intense gaze. Her teasing touch leaves tingles in their wake, sending a thrilling chill down Arden’s spine. What is she suggesting?

“I—no, I didn’t eat yet,” she answers, “but I don’t feel like having dinner right now.”

“I don’t either. Come with me.” Hazel drops her hand, moving to stand. She places several hundred dollar bills on the table.

Arden follows suit and shoots an apologetic look at the waiter who’d just strolled out of the kitchen with her meal. He flashes her an understanding smile as if to say, It’s okay. I get it. It’s Hazel Nguyen.

They leave in a flurry with Arden tripping into the elevator. The ride down is silent, but there’s visible tension in the air. She waits with bated breath for Hazel to move, to push her up against the wall or even spare her a quick look, but the older woman looks straight ahead, face impassive.

Ping!

Arden follows Hazel out of the restaurant and into the darkening streets of Milan. The cold rushes at her like a swarm of bees, leaving her shivering. She wonders how Hazel is able withstand the chill having only a faux fur shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

“So,” Arden begins, “where are we going?”

“Eager, are we?” Hazel answers, striding down the streets of Milan as if it were a runway, elegance laced in every one of her steps.

“Just wondering is all…”

After walking for another block, Hazel halts. They’ve stopped in the middle of a bridge that overlooks the canal. Arden breathes out a sigh of wonder at the sight of glittering lights reflecting off the water.

The sun is setting, painting the sky in vibrant colors of pink, yellow, and violet. It’s unbridled, bold, and stunning. The colors blend together so well, it tempts Arden to create an outfit, a new line, just something, based off of this sunset. She had been trapped in meetings that always ran long since she landed in Milan, which never gave her the chance to appreciate the simpler things the city has to offer. This scene before her envelopes her in serenity, and she wants to share that feeling.

Arden is inspired, but her trusty sketchbook is currently sitting on her nightstand in her hotel room to her utter luck. She didn’t expect to see such a sight nor did she anticipate running into Hazel, who is observing her carefully.

The sunset reminds Hazel of dusk time in Majorca. Half of the time, she worked in her beach suite with the setting sun as the backdrop. The other half, she was thinking about Arden, checking up on her work via social media whenever she had spare time. Hazel was invested, itching to message her a congratulatory text after her new collection sold out. Is. She is invested in Arden, and being away from the young designer has helped her realize that. Arden Moore is truly something else. She’s not just anyone.

“This is beautiful...” Arden breathes, “I bet I can do something with this color scheme.” She whips out her phone, snapping a couple of photographs at different angles.

“You haven’t changed after all,” Hazel comments. Her eyes trace over Arden’s beaming features before flitting to the water. The faintest smile graces her lips.

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“It is.”

“Does that mean you still like me?”

“You are relentless, aren’t you?”

Arden pockets her phone, looking at Hazel with a playful smile. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Hazel trains her gaze ahead, studying the horizon as she speaks. “I said you couldn’t handle me once. You were inexperienced, new to the fashion world, to this life. That was nearly a year ago, and I see that you’ve grown exponentially as a designer and a businesswoman while retaining your authenticity. That’s certainly invaluable. I admire your passion and drive, Arden”—she finally turns, meeting Arden’s hopeful gaze—“I pushed away all thoughts of starting another relationship after my divorce, but I may have to reconsider that.”

Arden is flushing with her mouth slightly ajar at Hazel’s confession. To think Hazel Nguyen, her ultimate idol and former boss might actually want to pursue a relationship with her is something she didn’t see coming. It’s a delightful surprise to say the least, one that makes her heart soar with glee. She decides to play coy though, just to get back at her for the months of lack of contact.

“Hmph,” she murmurs, “You never did arrange a plane for me to visit you, you know. I could’ve helped you come to that conclusion sooner.”

“You would’ve been a distraction to the creative process,” Hazel simply says, “Being in Majorca, creating and refreshing my perspective, was what I needed to remind myself why I do this in the first place.”

“That makes sense,” Arden agrees. A crooked smile finds its way to her lips as she adds, “But you couldn’t have sent me a text? Maybe a letter?”

“I’m willing to make that up to you.”

“... How so?”

“You’ll find out soon enough...” Hazel says, leaning in so her breath fans over Arden’s ear, adding, “in my hotel room.”

Arden’s face splits into an incredulous grin. “Are you asking me to come home with you?”

“Depends,” Hazel answers easily, the hint of a teasing smile resting on her luscious lips, “Are you accepting my invitation?”

As if Arden needed to be asked twice.

[shipmistress9]

The Perks Of Your Boyfriend Being A Ghost

HTTYD -- Hiccstrid -- Rated E -- Ghost boyfriend AU -- so I guess Hiccup must have died at some point -- Modern AU -- I Guess...?

Summary: As a single mother of three children, Astrid's life is stressful and barely ever about her at all. Just good that her undead ghost boyfriend Hiccup makes sure that she gets some stress relief from time to time.

AN: As it says in the tags, this is 200% self-indulgent projecting. The only/main difference is that I'm not a single mother, and in fact have a loving and caring husband who helps as best he can. But still, let me keep my fantasies. ;P

. o O o .

With an exhausted sigh, Astrid leaned against the closed door and sank to the ground. Finally, Brianna was asleep, too. Zephyr and Nuffink had been restless as well after being locked inside on a bad weather day, had only calmed down two hours after their usual bedtime, but the eighteen months old toddler had taken even longer. But then, she was teething, so that wasn't surprising. Astrid just hoped that she would have a couple of hours now before either of her children needed her again. Not like last night where Nuffink had sneaked into her bed after a bad dream and Brianna hadn't wanted to sleep longer than six in the morning at all…

Astrid loved her children with all her heart, she really did. After she'd left her now-ex-husband when she'd learned about his constant cheating – and had inherited his fortune when he'd driven himself off a cliff soon after – Zephyr, Nuffink, and little Brianna were the most important and precious parts of her life. Under no circumstance at all would she ever give them up, and after they'd all moved into her great-grandaunt’s old mansion, their life was slowly settling into something more normal again. Something good even. They were happy.

But still, sometimes being a single mother was just exhausting and brought her to her limits. As much as she enjoyed taking care of her toddler or playing games with the older ones, sometimes she wished she could get just half an hour for herself. There was an archery range behind the house and she was dying to give her old hobby a try. But so far, she hasn't gotten the chance.

Even now, there were still so many other things to do. Like cleaning up, at least the most important parts of the house, sorting clothes so Zephyr wouldn't need to rummage through her brother's socks again to find a shirt, and the kitchen was in dire need of a thorough clean up as well. Maybe, if she put in an effort, she could get at least some of those tasks done…

However, when she tried to stand up, she found that she couldn't. Her legs gave way midway and she slumped back onto the hard ground with low outcry.

For a second or three, she just sat there in silence. Then some incoherent noises bubbled up from deep within her chest, and not even she could say whether she was laughing or crying.

Now she was even too exhausted and weak to simply stand up? That was ridiculous!

She tried again but this time, she didn't even manage to position her feet correctly; they just slid across the floor the moment she straightened her legs. And when she lifted her hands, just holding them before her eyes, they were shaking.

Defeated, she let her head fall against the door behind her. She was sobbing now, low but unrestrained. What was she supposed to do? She couldn't just sit here all night. There was so much left to do, so many tasks and duties, and failing her children just wasn't an option. They were all she had left and they depended on her.

She couldn't say for how long she sat there, crying from exhaustion, when she felt it. The brush of something cool against her wet cheek and along her neck. It could have been mistaken as a draft, nothing uncommon in an old house like this one – but Astrid knew better. The sensation returned, cool fingers caressing her skin, and without her help, her lips twitched into a weak smile.

Come…

She let out a heavy sigh. Right. Exhausted as she was, trying to get even one of her tasks done tonight was futile. It was far more sensible to get as much rest as she could so that, hopefully, she would function better in the morning.

This time, it worked when she tried to get on her feet. Her knees were shaking and she kept one hand firmly on the wall for stabilisation, but at least she could walk. Luckily, she didn't have to go far though, only to the other end of the corridor to where her own bedroom was. With her last strength, she stripped off her clothes and put on her comfortable flannel pyjama before she slipped beneath the sheets with a relieved sigh, revelling in the softness of her bed with her eyes closed.

Yes, that’s it.

There it was again, that featherlike touch, light as a breeze as it caressed her forehead and along her temple. As if brushing away a strand of hair.

That’s better, isn’t it?

Humming, she leaned into the touch, another soft smile playing around her lips. “Yes, it is,” she murmured into the darkness around her. “Thank you.”

Anytime.

There was a hint of humour in the voice, even as it was nothing but a faint echo inside her head, as always. Astrid opened her eyes, wanted to see whether there was a matching smile to go with that tone.

The other side of her bed wasn’t empty anymore, as it had been only moments before. Now, the outline of a figure was visible, a man lying next to her. Except that it wasn’t really a man, just his memory. He was pale, translucent, and aside from his face and the hand hovering near her face, he even seemed a little blurry. As if he was nothing but mist and the next draft would blow him away.

There was indeed an amused smile playing around his lips, but his eyes were full of concern. From the painting that hung downstairs in the entry hall, she knew that these eyes once had been vibrantly green, like the forest on a summer day, and that the unruly hair on his head used to be a beautiful shade of reddish-brown. Now, however, all colours were washed away by time and death, even as he was glowing slightly in the darkness of the night.

You’re working too hard.

She chuckled weakly at his word. “Well, there’s little I can do about that. They need me so I have no choice. Not as if I can take a day off from being a mum.”

He frowned but nodded. True. They’re lucky to have you, though. Not all parents care this much.

Astrid shrugged. To her, it was no question. Her children came first, always.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was still stunned at how easily she could talk to the ghost of a man that had lived long before her in this house. But it felt so natural, so easy. Aside from the very first seconds, she hadn’t even been afraid of him.

Maybe that was because he wasn’t really here and she was just going insane. But Astrid didn’t want to think about that. Hiccup felt so real. Besides, she never could have come up with such a ridiculous name on her own anyway.

Astrid was bone-tired, but watching him was still something she didn’t want to miss out on. And as they gazed at each other, his features changed; the frown and worries from before melted away and got replaced by a surprising warmth and only a small hint of underlying sadness.

You’re amazing…

His words were nothing but a whisper in her mind as he leaned closer and cool lips brushed against her own. It made her heart flutter in joy, her eyes falling close.

Her instincts told her to lift her arms, to wrap them around her lover, to hold him close. She wanted to run her fingers through his soft hair, wanted to explore the wiry strength of his shoulder, his back. But with Hiccup, that wasn't possible. It already took all his will power to let her feel him at all, to garner enough solidity for his lips and tongue to not pass right through her. At least, that’s what he’d told her all those weeks ago when this wonderful craziness had started.

So instead, she just enjoyed what she could, the cool pressure of his mouth against her own, his presence, grabbing at her soft blanket instead of firm flesh. But if that was the price she had to pay for loving a ghost then she would pay it. Because Hiccup was worth it.

I think you deserve some stress relief.

Astrid hummed when his lips wandered along her jaw and down her neck. It tickled but in the most wonderful way, the way that made her shiver in anticipation and tiny sparks of electricity run through her entire body. He always knew what she needed, be it someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on – or this. And he was so good at this, too. A soft kiss here, a gentle bite there, and she was putty in his incorporate hands.

A soft moan slipped from her mouth when he suckled on her neck, directly above her pulse point, and her mind went blissfully blank. This was just what she needed. She luxuriated in the sensations he elicited in her body, the chance to just let go of everything. But then, she gasped when she felt something new. At first, she thought he'd brought a hand to her breast, to caress and squeeze at flesh and let cool fingers play with sensitive nipples. Except that it felt different, not like fingers but teeth gently nipping, lips and a tongue sucking on the hardening bud. Her eyes widened when she felt the same at her other breast too, three ghostly mouthed now working to drive her insane.

"I-is that all you?" she asked, shifting a little until she could look at him.

Hiccup had a look of high concentration on his face, his eyebrows furrowed. Yes. He seemed to hesitate for a moment. Is it okay for you?

Humming, Astrid laid back down into her cushion and nodded. "It is. I was just surprised, is all."

In her mind, she heard him chuckle, a little embarrassed. It's got to have at least one perk that I don't have a solid form…

That was something she couldn't really argue with. She wished she could feel more of him, his body, his warmth, his breath on her skin or his beating heart beneath her hand on his chest. But since none of that was possible, multiple mouths and hands to pleasure her… well, she at least wouldn't say no to this.

Although… it was so surreal. She was still wearing her warm pyjama and lay beneath the heavy blanket, safe from the cool night air. And yet, she could feel his phantom touches on her skin as if she was entirely bare to him – which in a way she was. Neither walls nor fabric meant anything to him.

After kissing her once more on her lips, so soft and sweet that she nearly melted, Hiccup returned his attention to the rest of her body. Before long, she could feel him everywhere. Phantom mouths were suckling on her breasts, her clit, and even her toes, tongues teasing and lapping eagerly as phantom hands ran over her entire body, caressing over delicate skin or squeezing to heighten her sensitivity.

The onslaught of sensations left her writhing and twisting between her sheets, gasping and moaning. But no matter how much she moved, his phantom touch always followed. She couldn’t escape, couldn’t get even the smallest reprieve. All she could do was press her forearm to her mouth to muffle the endless stream of moans and little screams that left her throat. It could have been scary, feeling so helpless and being at someone else’s mercy like this. But this was Hiccup and she trusted him completely. She couldn’t even say why, she just knew that she had nothing to fear when she was with him.

And it was wonderful. All her worries and the stress of the day melted off her as her body and mind got submerged in this endless ocean of sensations. Chasing only one feeling was impossible, so she quickly gave up to even try and instead gave herself over to him, to his care.

Astrid had no idea for how long he kept her in this wonderfully-mindless state of need and longing; it was just an endless rollercoaster of building pleasure. Everything inside her was tense, coiled so tightly like never before until he finally showed mercy. Her orgasm washed through her like a crashing wave, so powerful that it made her entire body shake violently, her back arching off the bed and her lips were parted in a silent scream. Her mind empty of every thought.

When it was over, she only slowly drifted down from her height, didn’t want it to end. She felt better than in a long while, safe, secure, cared for.

“Thank you,” she sighed into the darkness, her voice so weak that it nearly broke. “I… I think I needed this.”

Again, she heard him chuckle inside her head. I think you’re right there. And I also think you deserved it. You’re doing so much and–

He broke off when another sound echoed through the old house, a crying child. Brianna must have woken up. But before Astrid could react, could even do so much as let out a tired groan, it had stopped again. Surprised and a little confused, she blinked to clear her mind of its blissful haze, then jumped when Hiccup appeared next to her again. She hadn’t even registered that he’d left.

It’s okay. She’d just lost Mr Carrot, but once he was back in her arms, she fell asleep again.

Smiling, Astrid relaxed back into her cushions. Mr Carrot was Brianna’s cuddly rabbit. He was old, a hand-me-down from Astrid’s own grandmother, and rather ugly to be honest. But Brianna loved the beast.

“And thank you again,” she murmured, exhaustion taking her quickly now. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The same you’re doing now. Be the best mum a child could ask for.

Her lips twitched into a sad smile. Hiccup's own mother had left him when he'd been younger than Brianna was now, so his bar of what counted as a good mother was bound to be rather low. All she did was struggling not to fail, really.

"How did you do that?" she asked to change the topic. "Didn't you say it costs all your concentration and energy to let me feel you at all?

He nodded, his eyes flickering away as if he was embarrassed. It did in the beginning. But the more time I spend with you, the stronger I feel. I barely have to think about simple touches at all anymore. To prove his point, he reached for her face and brushed a few sweats strands of hair out of her face. So I thought I could try something more… advanced.

“Mmmh, a good idea.”

Once more, she heard him chuckle in her mind. Now, rest. You’re going to need your strength tomorrow.

Sighing, Astrid complied. She curled up in her bed, feeling more relaxed than she had in days, and hummed in surprise and delight when she somewhat felt Hiccup curl around her back. He even wrapped an arm around her waist without it passing right through her. Hopefully, they would soon get the chance to further explore Hiccup’s newfound strength.

After a good night’s sleep!

. o O o .

"I just want to write a quick one-shot. Nothing difficult. Just something short to get back into writing. It won't get any sequels."

That's what I told myself the entire time, even when I was plotting out several more chapters for this verse. Ah, well... This does work well on it's own for now. And I can always add more when I feel like it and have the time.

* - . - * - . o O o . - * - . - *

If you want to support me you can buy me a coffee. I love coffee 😊 (Ko-Fi)

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Night Oliver Branch Died

CW: Drowning, threats with a gun, discussed/referenced noncon of a minor, discussed pet whump/dehumanization, oliver branch is gross but hey he dies in this one so, related note: character death

Tagging Chris’s crew just because I feel like you’ll all appreciate this:  @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @stxckfxck , @slaintetowhump

READERS: Tell me if you guessed it before reading this!

TIMELINE: Takes place in the future of Chris’s timeline, when he has been free for years and has enrolled in college.

The night Oliver Branch died was absolutely ordinary.

He spent some time going over the notes for the trial, sitting in his nicely appointed but perfectly modest three-bedroom home, scanning his handwritten planned remarks for the press while he ate a light dinner of soup and salad. The cook left for the night, and Oliver was the only one in the house.

Well, or so he thought.

It used to bother him, but honestly he didn’t mind the solitude any longer. Years spent with a full staff, worries he had to constantly consider at all hours of the day and night, natural disasters and economic downturns and everything else. It was nice just to take a deep breath, smell the candle burning in the center of the table, a soft sweet magnolia smell that reminded him of his childhood home.

After the trial, perhaps he would move back home. He’d lived in this state for twenty-four years, was its governor for eight of them, but he felt… a bit tired of it all. He wanted to go back to a place where people moved more slowly, wandered the streets after church in pale linen suits in the summer with the ocean air a constant truth of everyday life.

They would know, of course, about his disgrace. But they would be polite about it, keep it to themselves. He had the sense that while the scandal would follow him, it would be easier to ignore in a place where people keep their secrets safely behind closed, locked doors.

Oliver had done the same, once upon a time, only to have the secret simply walk away when someone else opened the door. 

He sighed, sitting back, looking at his half-finished soup with a wistful sort of sadness. 

Honestly, he couldn’t complain. He was just grateful to be out of prison, living in his own house with his own cook and the cleaning woman who comes by twice per week. Almost back to normal. Once this trial was over, of course, he’d sell the house and move back home, and it would all be just fine.

He took a deep breath and picked up his notes, handwritten in a series of different ink colors to differentiate which part of the speech he was in. It helped him to memorize if he thought of the colors. The only one he didn’t like, but used, anyway, was a deep teal ink in the paragraph where he admitted to what he did to his beautiful boy.

His beautiful boy, who had ruined himself with freedom, just as Oliver had always known he would. Some people were meant to be kept, they could not be trusted to keep themselves. His Baldur had been one of those, he had known the moment he’d been shown the intake photo, of the pretty boy curled up in a corner of a plain white room, hands up over his face in some attempt to protect himself.

We believe this will suit your specifications, the email from Ms. Renfod had stated in flat, clean prose that could never have encompassed the perfect leap in Oliver’s heart at the sight, the excitement that ran through him from scalp to toes at the fear and tears in big green eyes. We have recently acquired this individual as a result of a deal involving a family member. No inconvenient missing persons report, Mr. Branch. Perfect confidentiality, no complications. We believe he will require three and one-half months of training, plus two weeks extra for final preparations. I have attached a price list for added fees.

God, what a sight, the pretty thing before they’d taken him from himself, before he’d been delivered smiling and silent and still in the dead of night to Oliver’s door.

Honestly, what a loss that he was roaming around like some wild animal now.

Some people needed a keeper, and every time he had seen his beautiful boy since his liberation it had only emphasized to Oliver how badly Baldur needed the right sort of keeper. This new one, the tall young man with his threats and curses, clearly wasn’t doing a very good job.

Well. That was fine. Not his problem any longer, and soon enough Oliver would stand up at a podium before the press, looking at all their little recorders, and he would tell everyone exactly who Christopher Stanton was and what he had been. Oliver’s disgrace would be total, but if he played this right, Baldur would never go anywhere again without no longer being able to hide behind his earrings and awful hair and the patch of scarred skin where his barcode once had been.

Baldur might have gotten away from him, all those years ago, but Oliver intended to ensure he could not get away from what he had been made to do, to be. One did not stop being a pet, once they were made into a thing to be used for pleasure, there was nothing else for them to be.

Baldur might have delusions otherwise, but Oliver could ruin those, for him, just like his boy had ruined himself.

Kicked out of his fancy little college for his fake identity, maybe even charged with it. All his new little friends would know who he was. It was the last bit of pettiness Oliver intended to allow himself to indulge in before he returned back to his hometown and let Baldur’s fragile new life come down around his ears.

Oliver smiled, trailing fingertips over the teal ink, the exact shade of Baldur’s hideous dye job. He still had a PI on retainer, taking pictures of his pretty boy out living his life. Oliver liked to keep tabs on his old flames, just to ensure they were keeping quiet, keeping to themselves, living nice respectable lives. 

Lately, with his reduced income, he’d had to cut that down to tracking Baldur alone.

Christopher Stanton. Oliver snorted. Awful name. Hardly did any justice to the perfect line of his cheekbones, the still-gentle curve of his jaw, the nicely full lips that would no doubt still part just so with a press of the right fingertips-

“Daydreamin’, are we?” A strange male voice asked, and Oliver looked up to stare down the barrel of a gun. 

His heart stopped, eyes caught by that circle of infinite black surrounded by unfeeling metal, and then he raised his eyes to see a man he had never seen before. He wasn’t very tall, draped in heavy clothing that disguised his body type, though he seemed a bit on the muscular side. Perfectly average face, difficult to describe to any law enforcement, blondish-red hair cut in a flattop, narrowed eyes, smattering of freckles. Too far to see the eye color.

Robbers, really? Tonight, of all nights?

Oliver put both palms carefully down on the table as his heart began to pound. “Can I help you?”

His voice was admirably steady, and he was more than a bit proud of himself for that. He did not visibly tremble or shake, but he was deeply, deeply aware of that gun. He could see the safety was off, the man’s finger resting lightly around the trigger.

“You can,” The man said, with a hint of amusement in the blocky lines of his face. It came out more like ye can, an accent Oliver couldn’t quite place. Irish, maybe? “Hearing some rumors, about someone planning to testify next week. I was hoping’ you’d be able to disabuse me of such a disturbin’ notion.”

Oliver blinked, caught off-guard by the man’s friendly, personable tone even as the gun never faltered but it’s position held pointed directly at him. “If you work for WRU-”

“Oh, I don’t. No, as heartbreaking as it is, lad, Rossi’s group got the WRU rejects pipeline all sewn up, don’t he? Clever fuck. And I am a good many things, but I’m not a man stupid enough to cross Giovanni Rossi. You don’t put that man in a bad mood and walk out alive, do you?” Once again, the word slipped into ye, and Oliver was sure now that the accent was Irish. Faded, with the local accent flattening the vowels and roughing up the consonants, but the Irish was there nonetheless.

It occurred to him that it didn’t really matter if he identified his accent, because he almost certainly wasn’t going to walk out of this alive if the man was so easily dropping names.

“I wouldn’t know. If you’re not with WRU, I don’t see why there’s-... there needs to be a problem,” Oliver said, without moving, barely even letting his lips form the wounds. His heart still pounded in his chest. His dreams of moving back home by the coast, to Charleston’s beauty and grandeur and age, were rapidly feeling like scraps of tissue paper dissolving in water.

“You’re not just testifyin’ about the company, now, are you?” The man sighed, pulling a chair out on the other end of the table, sitting down without lowering the gun, keeping it trained on Oliver, just shifting it slightly to aim directly into his chest.

Oliver had taken a few courses in self-defense, back in the day. Aim for the center mass, the easiest thing to hit. People in movies can nail an arm or a leg with accuracy but in real life it’s rarely so easy. Aim for something lethal.

“The trial is about the company,” Oliver said, voice shaking, his own genteel accent thickening the more the fear settled in.

“It is, at that,” The man said, nodding. “But it’s not only about that, either, is it?” He snapped the fingers on his other hand, and Oliver jumped nearly a foot in the air as he realized there were two other men standing behind him he hadn’t even noticed. They appeared on either side of him, one of them picking up the papers on the table and moving them over to the man, who gave a soft, polite thanks and looked them over.

Suddenly, Oliver’s different ink colors for different aspects of his speech seemed… superfluous. He was never going to give that speech.

“What else is it about?” Oliver asked, breathy. He was going to die, and he’d always hoped for one more chance to visit his parents’ graves. Spit on them once or twice, leave flowers, and go. He’d always hoped…

Something occurred to him.

“Is this about my Baldur?”

The man’s face twisted in an expression of utter, absolute disgust.

“Is that it? Did his new keeper send you to-”

“No. Oh no, fucknuts, no.” The man laughed, looking over the papers, flipping through them idly with one hand as his associate stepped back, one of them lurking on either side of Oliver, hands pressing steadily into his shoulders to keep him right where he was. “No, no. I’ve nothin’ to do with that young lib boy. Know of ‘im, though. We keep an eye out, on our own. It’s been a long, long time, but… I owe a debt.”

“A… A debt?” Oliver’s voice caught in his throat. 

“Indeed.” The man set the papers down, and for a moment, Oliver could have sworn there were tears in his eyes, emotions that played openly across the man’s utterly nondescript face. Grief, anger, sadness all warred there. 

The hands on his shoulders tightened. 

“Long time ago now, but I don’t forget, do I? Ah, look, here ‘tis.” The man tapped his finger in the teal paragraph so carefully written on the third page of the speech. “Here’s our lad. Tristan.”

“Tristan-... are you talking about Baldur?”

The man snarled, and Oliver flinched back against the back of his chair, waiting for the burst of sound and the bullet and his own death. Nothing came, and after a moment he opened his eyes. The man had settled his expression, but it was with effort - the anger was still clearly visible. “I’m not talkin’ about your bullshite pet name in the slightest, you sack of shit. No, I’m talkin’ about my friend’s boy Tristan.”

Oliver swallowed, and offered, “I believe… I believe he goes by Christopher now. I could give you his address-”

“We know where he lives, gobshite.”

“Then why are you here-”

“I told you, my debt. You’re an awful thick, aren’t you? We’re not the type to abduct a wean, although that never gave your like a pause, did it?” The man tapped his gun on the table, the first time it had truly lowered since Oliver had first realized he was here. Oliver let out a breath of relief.

“What is your debt, exactly?” His voice was still airy, but he tried to sound calm, in control. Never moved his hands. “I still have some funds the courts are not aware of, perhaps we could work out a deal-.. I have a safe upstairs-”

“Not that kind of debt. I had to stand by when my mucker and his wife got his face shot in by our own boss, no less, but I’m the boss, now. Took a while, took too long. I’ve had to wait and wait and wait, but me and my lads here, we’ve all owed Paul Higgs a debt since, Lord, has it been nearly a decade now? And I intend to pay it tonight.”

The man smiled, briefly, at Oliver.

“Couldn’t stop Paul’s boy from the sufferin’ already inflicted, but I can ensure you don’t say a word about him ever again, can’t I? Ah, no, we can’t have that. He’s got a good life now. Nice boy, all grown up. Hair’s a bit bollocked but who are we to judge, hm? He’s got himself a nice life goin’ and I intend to ensure he does his da proud, just like he would’ve if he weren’t forced to fuck you, you depraved bit of dogshit on my shoe. Fucking a child. A boy. What’ve you got to say for yourself?”

Oliver didn’t even bother to open his mouth. He understood that any attempt at self-defense wasn’t needed or even wanted. He understood that probably there was absolutely nothing he needed to say, ever again. He closed his eyes, lips moving in some dim form of prayer.

“Ah. A man of God, then?” Oliver looked to see the man pull a rosary from underneath his shirt. “That’s a fuckin’ laugh, considering what you’ve done. But, hey, He’s forgiven worse, I imagine. Tristan might even forgive you, too, he was always too good a boy for it all. Too bad for you that I don’t forgive shite.”

“If you’re going to shoot me,” Oliver said, barely able to get his voice above a whisper, “then do it.”

“We’re not going to shoot you, idjit.” The man rolled his eyes, giving his companions an exasperated can you believe this? look. One of the men, the one on Oliver’s right, laughed. “They’d trace it, we’d have to deal with the law, and honestly I am just not in the mood to pay any cops off this week. I’ve already paid Rossi off to keep him from gettin’ pissed at me, although he’s a man who understands the value of family, I think he’d have let us anyway. Still, never hurts to grease a palm, does it? What we’re going to do, Mr. Branch, is drown you. Your bathtub’s chock full of river water.”

“What?” Oliver swallowed, jerking forward as if to push himself up, but the hands on his shoulders pushed him back down. “H-how-... why-”

“When we dump you in the Trelawney,” The man said, calm and easy, “your lungs’ll already be chock full of its water. Nothing unusual about that, hm? Just another child molester dumped in that chemical swamp where he belongs. My mucker’s boy-... I couldn’t help him. I’ve owed Paul for that, we all have. This is my organization, now, and I will ensure Paul’s boy’s name never leaves your lips again.” The man snapped his fingers and Oliver shouted as he was dragged to his feet by the other two, kicking out, knocking his chair over with a clatter.

Just beyond the window were a hundred other houses, lights on in some, families laughing in front of their televisions. Utterly unknowing as their neighbor was dragged upstairs to his own master bathroom, to a custom-made clawfoot tub absolutely full of disgusting, muddy river water dredged up and brought here and Oliver had never even known they were in the house. 

They held his head over the water as he screamed for help.

The leader leaned back against the sink, lit a cigarette, took a long drag and let the smoke float over his face. His eyes were green, Oliver realized with a kind of hysterical panicked giggle. His eyes were green. 

Like Baldur’s.

“W-wait-, wait-... one question, just one, one question-”

The leader held up his hand. They kept Oliver’s head a few inches above the brackish water in the tub. 

“Paul Higgs-... Baldur’s-... the boy’s father.” Oliver could barely breathe, barely get out the words. He was going to die, why was this question so important? Still, he couldn’t stop himself from asking it. “The boy’s-... just a friend?”

The leader snorted, flicked his cigarette onto the bedroom carpet through the bathroom door. A trail of thin smoke began to rise. “Paul was my best friend, yes,” He said flatly. “His da and mine were cousins. The looks run in the family, don’t they?”

“Why… why now? Why not before? When he was-... why only now?”

The man’s lip pulled to the side in a sneer. “Had to wait ‘til the company couldn’t protect you, didn’t I? You’re not a client now, Mr. Branch. Just a bit of blood on Karen Renford’s shoes. Loose thread. You’re not the only one keeps tabs on runaways, you know.”

“What?” Oliver’s eyes widened, the muddy water giving him a strange, distorted, half-transparent view of his own reflection. “What, what are y-you-”

“Ah, it’s not worth explaining this shite to him, is it?” The man rolled his eyes. “Renford knew where he was. She knows where all the runners are. She’s not going to let you fuck the company just to get your fifteen minutes, gobshite. I hate that insufferable bitch and she’s the one who made Paul’s boy into a pet, but I know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth even if the one given’ it should probably be shot herself.”

“Wh-why-”

“Shut your feckin’ hole. We may not have the pleasure of a regular contract, but I was happy to accept this little job free of charge. Everyone gets what they want, don’t they? Paul’s boy gets his nice little life for keeping, Renford gets the blood out, and I get to make up to Paul what I couldn’t do back then. Ah, Tristan was a sweet boy. Bit of a wild thing, but…” The man sighed mournfully. “Well. We all lose people, in this business, Mr. Branch. I’m sorry to’ve lost him but I’d never think to take him from what he’s got. I’m no monster.”

Laughter bubbled in Oliver’s throat, and he barely held it back. No monster, but you’ll kill me, will you?

“Tonight, everyone gets what they want.”

“I wanted Charleston,” Oliver said, staring into the brownish silt-soaked water, thinking of the blue of the ocean, the waves battering the shore, white-capped on rougher days, the salt-smell of the sea. His mother’s hands holding him, sitting on his father’s shoulders, before it had all changed. “I, I wanted Charleston.”

The words were more plaintive than he intended them to be.

“Sad for you,” The leader said without sympathy. “The heart bleeds. Perhaps you should’ve kept your wee dick in your pants and not touched our friend’s boy, then, hm? Bit late for that, though. Hope the Good Lord’s feelin’ His mercy today, pervy fuck, ‘cause you’ll see none from us.”

He snapped his calloused fingers, and Oliver’s head went under the water. He’d jerked in a final breath just before, and as he held it - lungs burning, time running out - Oliver had only a single remaining defiance. His last thought, before he had to pull water into his lungs, before the thrashing and the choking and the final blackness that pulled him under, wasn’t of Baldur at all.

He was found in the Trelawney River, the water in his lungs a perfect match for the water around him. His bathtub had been recently cleaned, but that wasn’t suspicious, as his cleaner had been there only the day before and Oliver rarely took baths. His dinner table was clean of any sign of his final meal. 

There were no papers on the table, or anywhere in the house, detailing his intended speech to the press. Those papers were burned and the ashes spread on the graves of Paul and Veronica Higgs, along with a fresh spray of daisies, Ronnie’s favorite flower. 

Oliver Branch’s testimony could no longer be given, due to his untimely death.

The suggestion that he had killed himself because of the shame of his own actions made the rounds in the press, followed by certainty in certain spaces that he had been murdered to protect WRU on Karen’s orders. 

Perhaps a handler had done it, the rumors went, sent by the strange emotionless Karen Renford, who sat on the stand and spoke with perfect diction and a total lack of feeling on the particulars of her job, and who had never once set off a lie detector in her life. Perhaps a pet liberation member had finally snapped - there had been an incident years ago with someone who had beaten Oliver nearly to unconsciousness, maybe that person had hunted him down again.

Maybe Karen had killed him herself.

The rumors went in circles, but no one ever guessed the truth. 

Oliver’s final defiance was known only to him, and went with him to the grave he was eventually buried in. His final thought was simply of the crash of a white-capped wave against the shore. 

Oliver Branch died thinking not of his crimes, but with the ocean behind his eyes. 

[kyber-kisses]

Lights Out

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: cursing, Y/N and Dean acting like utter children, some minor injuries.

Summary: When the power cuts out in the bunker, Y/N devises a plan on how to pass the time. (Consider this a crack!fic)

A/n: for once, I wrote something fluffy and not full of angst. Arnt y’all proud of me? Anyways I hope you enjoy and feedback is greatly appreciated! ( Also this is a hot mess, and definitely not my best piece  but idgaf.)

It was one of those rare Saturday nights. One of the few times where no one was working a case, and the residents of the bunker were practically free to do whatever they wished. Sam had taken Eileen out for the night, Dean was probably having a horror movie marathon on the TV in Sams room, and you were curled up in one of the massive chairs in the library, nose deep in a book you had bought months ago, determined to finish it.

But like so many times before, it was as if the universe saw you with your guard down and decided to spice it up a little bit.

Just as you were beginning the final chapter, the power shut off. All the fucking power just shut off, drowning you in darkness as the bunker became eerily silent.

You half expected the warning lights to flash on, igniting the room in a deep red hue, but it never came, meaning the power shutting off was from a purely normal cause and nothing supernatural.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” There was a shout from down the hallway, and you couldn’t help the grin that crossed your face.

Dropping your book down on your seat, you stood up, naturally moving across the room. You had lived in the underground palace long enough to know where everything was, which made maneuvering through the dark that much easier.

But apparently Dean hadn’t gotten any better, because as you rounded the corner towards your room, you slammed into a solid wall of muscle, and then tripped, collapsing onto the harsh tile floor. Dean going down with you.

The hunter let out a sigh, “Ow. You could have given me a warning.” Dean groaned, untangling his body from yours as he tried to sit up. Even if he squinted, he still couldn’t see shit.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” You joked, voice thick with sarcasm, as your hands flew out to find the wall. Unfortunately they did not meet the intended destination. There was another yell from Dean, and you recoiled.

“First you trip me and make me fall, and now you’re slapping me?! What the hell did I do to you?” He exclaimed.

Pushing yourself up from the ground, you sucked in a breath, “I’m so sorry! I swear I didn’t mean-“

You shouldn’t have been waving your hands around because one of them came into sharp contact with Deans jaw, sending the hunter stumbling back in the dark, clutching his face.

“Ow! What the fuck?!”

“Oh God, I did it again! I’m sorry, I so so sorry!”

This was just going downhill at an alarming speed. You needed to fix this, and quick. Before you accidentally found a way to kill Dean.

“I think I have some flashlights in my room.” You breathed, trying to calm yourself.

“Good idea. I’m right behind you.”

But he wasn’t.

As you took a step forward, the two of you slammed together again, Dean hitting his nose against your forehead with an alarming amount of force as yours connected with his chin. You both let out another yell, followed by a couple groans as you nursed the bridge of your nose.

“Oh god, oh fuck. This is a train wreck.” You mumbled, suddenly desperate for the light the bunker was currently lacking.

“Good god, woman. Your sense of direction is terrible!” Dean breathed, “here, c’mon.” His hand shooting out to find yours, only to hit something else, (that was most definitely not a hand.)

A puff of air escaped your lips as you gasped, doubling over in pain “Dean, did you just punch me in the boob?”

“I swear I didn’t mean to. I was trying to grab on to your hand.”

“Well, you almost grabbed something else. You do that again and I’ll kill you.” Bringing your arm back, you threw a punch in the general direction of his arm, finally hitting your intending target for the first time that night as your knuckles connected with his bicep.

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry. Can we just go get those lights you were talking about?”

“Yeah, that would probably be a good idea.” You nodded, sliding your hand down Dean arm and tangling his fingers with yours. A rush of heat went up your body and you were glad the lights were out so Dean couldn’t see the blush on your face.

What you didn’t know was that Dean was glancing down in the direction of your intertwined hands, suddenly surprised by your action but not daring to let go.

“Also, my room is in the other direction, Dumb ass. You’re the one who needs to work on their sense of direction.” You quipped, pulling Dean through the dark with ease as you navigated the corridors towards your room.

Dean ended up sitting on your bed patiently as you dig through the drawers of your desk, waiting in almost complete silence. Almost.

“Are you humming Metallica?” You mused, haphazardly discarding a pile of folders on the floor as you continued to search for the object you needed.

“. . . Yes. Don’t judge, I don’t really have anything else to do at the moment.”

“Aw, poor baby.” You teased, throwing another folder over your shoulder.

“Shut up. I was on the last five minutes of the movie when the power shut off. I’m a little bitter.”

“Oh, whatever shall you do Dean Winchester?”

Dean purses his lips, twiddling with his thumbs as he continued to wait, “Your obnoxious, you know that?”

“Yes, but you love me, so quit your whining.”

There was another thud from across the room before you let out laugh, finally producing what you had been looking for.

“Bingo!”

“You find something?”

There was a small series of cracks from where you knelt, and then your face was illuminated with a neon glow, giving off enough light to show Dean your proud grin.

“I thought you said you had flashlights.”

Crossing the room, you dumped a collection of glow sticks into Deans lap, giving him any array of colors.

“Yeah, well I lied. Plus, these are so much more fun.” You shrugged, pulling open the door to your closet as you went in search of the next item on your list.

“But why do you just have glow sticks lying around?” He questioned, flipping a bright pink one in his hand as he looked over at you.

“I was at the dollar store. It was a box of fifty. I couldn’t just walk away.”

“You’re so goddamn weird.”

Looking over your shoulder, you shot the older Winchester another grin, dragging an old cardboard box out from the depths of your closet.

“Watcha got there?”

“Well, seeing as we don’t know when the power will come back on, I thought we could do something to pass the time.” Throwing the box onto the bed, you snatched one of the glow sticks from Dean, flipping open the lid.

“Oh?”

You hummed a response as you tilted the box in Deans direction, allowing him to peer at the contents.

“Are. . . Are those nerf guns?” An amused smile taking up his face as he reached over to grab one of the harmless weapons.

“Yes. Yes they are. What do you say we have a nerf gun battle in the middle of a power outage?”

*. *. *. *. *.

“Why the hell are all the lights out?” Sam yelled, taking cautious steps down the bunkers stairs, quickly flicking on the flashlight on his phone as he and Eileen slowly entered the war room.

The power was never shut off like this in the bunker. Ever. There was always at least one light on, even when nobody was home.

“Guys?”

Suddenly there was a soft whistle as something shot past Sams ear, hitting the wall behind him with a light tap before landing on the floor almost silently.

“What the fu-“

“Sammy? That you?”

“Yeah Dean. Want to tell me what exactly is going on?” Sam questioned, walking across the war room towards the electrical box and flipping it open. There was a series of clicks and just like that, the power flickered back on, illuminating every inch of the bunker.

Dean stood at the bottom of the library step, a bright orange nerf gun clutched in his hand, and a couple of glow sticks tucked into his belt loops. Beyond that, the floor was littered with foam darts and even more of the neon glowing objects. It looked like some party enhanced battlefield.

“Dean, what the hell happened?” Sam spun, eyes taking in the state of the bunker.

The hunter opened his mouth to answer but was cut short when he saw you step out of the doorway behind Sam. Without hesitation the two of you were raising your weapons in unison, firing at each other. Quickly stepping out of the way, Sam and Eileen watched with surprised eyes.

Your aim was perfect as the dart whistled past the confused duo, hitting Deans forehead dead center. His was a little more off and you paid the price as his shot hit you in the throat, making you free hand fly up to your throat as you coughed, eyes wide with surprise.

“Oh god, Y/N I’m so sorry.” Dean dropped his gun, taking quick steps towards you.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” You waved him off, stooping down to pick up the dart, “but I did win.”

When you popped back up, your eyes widened along with Dean, finally getting a thorough look at each others face.

“Oh my god.” The two of you speaking again in unison. Dean had a small cut on his lower lip, along with a red welt just beneath his eye, no doubt from your hand when you accidentally hit him. As for you, you had a bruise across the bridge of your nose and a tiny cut on your chin indicting that he had slammed into you much harder than he originally thought.

“Did I do that? I’m so sorry, Dee.” You stepped forward, thumb lightly grazing over his busted lip. God, you were a hot mess, and Deans beautiful face had paid the price.

“Hey, hey it’s fine. I should be the one apologizing.”

“Oh, and why is that?”

“Because I should have watched where I was going.” He smiled.

*. *. *. *. *.

Digging through the freezer in the kitchen, Dean produced a bag of frozen vegetables, wrapping it in on old dish towel before walking back over towards you. He still felt guilty for accidentally plowing into you earlier, and it made his insides churn.

“I could have gone and gotten ice myself.” You sighed, Dean sinking down in the seat next to you and pressing the bag softly to the bridge of your nose.

“I know. But it’s the least I could do. I did punch you in the boob earlier, and slammed into you . . Which I am sorry about by the way.”

“It’s okay. It happens.” You chuckled, moving to press your hand on top of Deans, holding the bag in place. There was a small stretch of sudden silence as the two of you got lost in thought, eyes softly locked on to one another.

“I had a lot of fun with you tonight. I haven’t had that much fun in a long time.”

“Me neither.”

Though your face was partially covered by a bag of frozen vegetables , Dean could see how bright your eyes were. You still looked so happy despite being slightly battered by him.

God, he felt like a little kid with a crush. This was so weird.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“why are looking at me like that?” You slowly questioned, lowering the bag of veggies from your face.

oh god, had he been staring again? Damn it.

“Oh, uh. . . You’re just really pretty that’s all.” He stuttered, suddenly fidgeting in his seat, the words practically falling out of his mouth. He couldn't contain them anymore.

That got you to fall silent. And you definitely couldn’t stop the scarlet tone your face was taking. Dean thought you were pretty? The Dean Winchester thought you were pretty?”

“I’m really not, but thanks?”

“But you are.” Dean spoke, eyes never wavering from you as he tilted his head. And then, a sudden as the light coming back on earlier, he was leaning forward and capturing your lips against his. It came out of nowhere and sucked all the breath from your lungs.

And You froze. You don’t mean to, but you froze, which only made Dean pull back, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-“

“Shut up.” You sighed, grabbing hold of the collar of his flannel and tugging him back to you and firmly planting your lips on his.

This time you kissed him. This time you were prepared. This time it was perfect.

“Are you trying to tell me you like me?” You mumbled against his lips.

“Yeah, I think I am.”

Sometimes it takes a few tries, but eventually what’s meant to happen always finds a way.

The End.

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[twiistedgalaxies]

Genesis: Chapter 4: Arrival

How two brothers can take two opposite paths. How a man can be made into a monster and how the other must pay the ultimate price to save everything he knows and loves. Or, alternatively: The origins of All for One and One for All.

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

        The Our Lady of Perpetual Help Orphanage was a dilapidated, angular building with sagging windows and chipping, sun bleached paint. It was two stories, the windows were small, and it had rose bushes in the parking lot that were withering and dying, despite the winter rains. This is what Tomura saw as he peeked out from the car window, worrying his bottom lip.

        “Alright brats,” Their driver barked, a man in his late thirties who smelled perpetually of nicotine and bourbon, “Get outta here, I got places to be an’ people to see.”

        He heard the car door click behind him as his brother disembarked. Tomura, however, hesitated. Was this really it? The pamphlets the social worker had pushed towards them had shown something more… not this.

        “C’mon, hurry up!”

        “Sorry,” he squeaked, pushing himself and his bag out of the car. He stood on the sidewalk, hands twitching nervously.

        “Are you alright?” His brother asked, eyebrow raised but a smile on his lips, clearly amused.

        Tomura felt his face flush and they began to walk towards the entrance, “Stellar. So what do you think the orphanage will be like? The pamphlet said there’ll be a recess area and shared meals and that we’ll have our schooling here and-”

        “Well, whatever it’ll be like, the pamphlet was clearly lying,” Hisashi’s face darkened, “Just try not to do anything I wouldn’t and you should be fine.”

        As if that statement wasn’t ridiculously vague. “Okay.”

        They pushed open the front double doors to the orphanage, revealing a shoddily lit front room. It was tiny, consisting of a single helpdesk, a folding chair by the wall, and a sad snake plant. A stern looking woman sat behind the desk, her features were angular and pinched, like a bird that had tasted something sour.

        "I presume you are the Shigaraki brothers?" the woman asked, voice high pitched and nasally.

        "Yes?" Tomura said, though it came out as more of a question than an answer.

        "You're late," the woman sneered.

        “Sorry,” he mumbled. Next to him, his brother gave a polite, albeit strained, smile.

        She stood up with a huff, “Come, I’ll have one of the children show you around.” They stepped through a door and walked down a long, carpeted hallway. The air smelled sharp, like mildew. “I’m Matron Abra, the head of this fine establishment. I will tolerate no horse-play, no dilly-dallying, and no backtalk. Tomorrow you will be given a schedule by which you eat and breathe, if you’re caught one toe out of line the punishment will be severe, understood?”

        Tomura nodded, biting his tongue to keep from protesting. This is ridiculous!

        “Say ‘Yes Matron’, I won’t put up with such disrespect,” she scowled.

        “Yes Matron,” the brothers chorused. Hisashi looked at her like she was a particularly nasty piece of gum stuck on the sole of his shoe.

        They arrived at the doorway of what appeared to be a classroom. A large chalkboard was at the front of the room, and desks were lined up in neat rows. The furniture was beaten and battered to hell, seeming to have taken many years of constant abuse. Despite being packed with children, the room was quiet. Eerily so. The stout, balding man at the front of the room paused his lecture to greet the matron.

        “Ah, Matron Abra! What a pleasure to see you,” he stammered, looking as wide-eyed and fidgety as his students.

        “Can it, Stewart, I need to borrow one of your brats.”

        “I- Why of course, who do you need?”

        Abra looked down at the class over her narrow, crooked nose, “Any of them will do, as long as they’re capable of basic tasks.”

        Stewart’s eyes swept the room, “Leo,” he barked, gesturing at a blonde teen in the back of the room, “You’re excused from class, just do as the matron says.”

        The boy nodded and hastily gathered his things before making his way towards the door. It shut behind him with a click.

        “I trust you’ll be able to show these two around competently, yes?” the matron said in a clipped manner.

        “Yes ma’am, but what about-”

        She cut him off, “Good. When you’re done bring them to the boys’ room and return to class. They’re to attend dinner after they arrange their things.” Abra strode down the hall towards the front room. Leo frowned at her retreating form, clearly frustrated.

        “Well, she’s uh..” Tomura began once she was out of earshot.

        “A witch of a woman?” Leo finished dryly, “The first rule of surviving here: avoid her as much as you can.”

        Hisashi quirked an eyebrow, “Why?”

        “Just trust me, crossing her is a bad idea,” Leo paused, “Anyways, I should probably give you two a tour, shouldn’t I?” He began to walk down the hall, gesturing for the two to follow, “The room you guys probably just came from is the reception area, it’s where we receive guests and stuff. Though, it’s not like we get any.”

        Tomura hummed, he couldn’t really blame people for avoiding this place, especially since he just saw a particularly monstrous looking cockroach skitter into a crack in one of the walls.

        “This hallway has two bathrooms and the classrooms. We’re split up by age, kindergarten through third grade share a class, fourth to sixth share one, seventh through ninth, and then tenth through twelfth.”

        “How do you learn anything like that?” Hisashi asked as he frowned, looking almost offended.

        “We don’t,” Leo coughed.

        They reached the end of the hall and stepped into a small room with ratty arm chairs and a stained rug. The walls were lined with ramshackle bookcases that were used more to store various knickknacks than hold any actual books. There was a large, imposing portrait of the matron hung over the brick fireplace.

        “This is the common area, we like to hang out here during our free time on rainy days,” Leo’s eyes lit up and he walked over to the shelves, he dug around and pulled out a monopoly box, yellowed with age, “A while ago, one of the other kids found this while they were out on an errand. We don’t get many games or toys, so… Anyways! If you want you guys can play a few rounds with us after dinner.”

        Tomura felt a smile dance on the edge of his lips, “Sure, that sounds fun, right Hisashi?”

        His brother shrugged noncommittally.

        “We’ll be happy to have you! So,” Leo gestured to a door to the right of them, “Down this hall is the eating area and kitchens. We haven’t been allowed in the kitchens since Matron Abra caught Thomas sneaking food.”

        Tomura winced at that.

        Leo pointed to a door to the left, “And this hallway leads to the two dorms, one for girls and one for boys, which is at the end of the hall. Do you guys have any questions?”

        “She said something about schedules?” Hisashi asked, arms crossed over his chest.

        Leo nodded, “Yeah, our day is split up between school and meals and such. She’s usually pretty strict about those, if she catches you somewhere you aren’t supposed to be you get in a lot of trouble,” he grimaced, “One time, I had to clean the gum off the bottoms of the dining tables for a month.”

        “How do we know which beds are ours?” Tomura inquired.

        “Oh, they should have a plastic name tag on them, just look for that. Unless you guys have more questions that’s pretty much it for what’s here. I should probably head back to class, if you need anything, let me know, okay?” Leo finished and went down the hallway they just came from. 

        “So…?” Tomura began.

        Hisashi hummed and headed towards the boys’ room, “We’ll be fine, like I said, don’t do anything stupid.”

        He followed his brother and stepped into the dorm. It was surprisingly large, but lined wall to wall with rickety twin beds. The floors were covered in dust, grime, and fading painted lines. On either side of the room were rusting basketball hoops. It took a little while of scouring the rows of bed frames before the duo finally found where they were meant to sleep. They were situated in the center of the room, bare and exposed for their peers to see. Tomura sat on his bed, ignoring the feeling of springs stabbing his butt, and pulled his stuff out of his bag.

        They were only allowed to take a precious few items with them. He himself had grabbed a few changes of clothes, toiletries, medication, joint braces, and a photo of his family tucked neatly into the pages of his favorite Captain America comic. Looking around, Tomura was at a loss as to where to put his things. There were only beds, no storage to be found anywhere. He hastily slid his comic under his mattress, and placed his hand on his chin as he worked out where to put his medical equipment. Glancing at Hisashi didn’t help, as the teen seemed to have already put everything away somehow and was lounging on the stiff bed with his phone. Eventually, Tomura decided to just shove his things back in his bag and place it on the foot of his bed until he found a better alternative. It’s not like the other kids could find much to do with joint braces anyways, so they were probably safe.

        Mimicking his brother, he pulled out his phone and checked his text messages. Since that night replies from Zach had grown less and less frequent, Tomura was worried, had he done something wrong?

                                                     4:50pm

                                                                                                                        [Hey]

                                           [You doing okay? Hisashi and I got to the orphanage.]

                                                                                                                        Seen

        Tomura heaved out a sigh. Figures. Still, ranting into the void was better than nothing at all, hopefully his friend would respond soon. Maybe he was busy?

                                                                     [The matron lady is suuuuper uptight]

                     [Man you should have seen her, she was like Mrs. Nott on steroids]

                                       [The social worker said something about our data being 

                                               cut off since our parents can’t pay our phone plan.]

                         [Talk to me when you can so we can move to Discord or smth :P]

                                                                                                                        Seen

        He flopped onto his bed with a groan.

        “You alright?” His brother asked, not looking up from his phone.

        “Yeah, I’m just really sore, and Zach’s ghosting me, and this is just all too much, ya know?” Tomura replied, throwing his hands into the air for dramatic emphasis and wincing as his elbows cracked.

        Hisashi sat up, eyebrows knitted together in a scowl, “Zach’s ghosting you?”

        He glanced over at his older brother, “Yes? But I think he’s just busy, this is our first year in middle school and finals are in a few weeks.”

        “Right.” the teen replied tersely, his focus returned to his phone. They sat there for a while like that, with Tomura reading web comics and his brother typing something into his device.

-@~*^*~@- 

        The dining hall was a large, rectangular room with high angular ceilings and stained glass windows depicting haloed figures. There were holes in the floor from where pews had been ripped out to make room for the lunch tables. It was loud with the chatter of children, both those who already had food and those standing in a line tightly wound around the room leading towards the kitchen door. The brothers sat at a table in the far corner of the room. Tomura tried desperately to eat the blandest mashed potatoes he’s ever had the misfortune of tasting to no avail. Hisashi, meanwhile, was chatting up a storm. While they were in line he had managed to somehow befriend most of the older kids. The preteen looked on at his older brother with envy. 

        “So how’d you all end up here?” Hisashi asked the others, a gleam in his eye as he leaned forward with mock-interest. 

        They were met with stories of drug deals gone wrong, of parents unable to afford to financially support their kids and dropping them off here, of parents leaving their children on the orphanage doorstep the moment they displayed the slightest hint of a mutation. His brother regaled them with the harrowing tale of the home invasion, painting a dramatic picture of their mother’s withered form in a hospital bed, surrounded by flowers.

        Tomura felt something catch in his throat. She was never given flowers. If he didn’t have an appetite before he certainly didn’t now.

        “How did you get that Monopoly board?” Hisashi asked, “I noticed it when we went in the common room, you don’t seem to have many toys, there must be a story there.”

        He frowned, hadn’t Leo told them already?

        One of the teens - a Hispanic kid, Jose - clapped another on the back, “That’s thanks to Rafi over here, he snuck out one night and found it in a back-alley dumpster, he smelled like garbage for weeks!”

        Rafi buried his head in his hands, “It wasn’t that bad!” he cried.

        Hisashi’s eyes narrowed slightly. He opened his mouth to say something, but Tomura didn’t hear. He got up to dispose of his food and wander into the dorm, fighting an onslaught of dizziness. He really didn’t feel good. Has the orphanage always been this cold?

        Tomura crawled into his bed, wrapping the cheap linen blanket around himself. He tried desperately to get comfortable but the thin mattress made such a task impossible. His face burned and itched. What the heck?! He closed his eyes and tried to sleep to no avail. At best he drifted aimlessly in inky black, at worst? The pain in his joints and muscles intensified into a shrieking crescendo.

        What had he done to bring this on? Tomura tried best he could to recall the events of the day, to a potential trigger of his flare-up, but he drew a blank. Sure, he’d been beyond stressed lately for understandable reasons, but that didn’t explain this sudden spike of agony. Had it been from wandering around the orphanage all day? Maybe, but the orphanage was really small, certainly not big enough to make his body do the electric slide of death.

        He let out a groan as the other kids entered the room, flicking on the harsh fluorescents and bringing noise with them. Tomura curled up on his side and pulled his pillow on his head in an attempt to muffle the outside world. There was a cold hand on his shoulder. He made a sound that came out like a whine.

        “Tomura,” His brother said, voice soft, “Did you remember to take your medications?”

        Oh. Whoops. In the blur of seeing the social worker and moving into the orphanage he must have forgotten. He shook his head causing the pillow upon it to shift.

        A sigh, and Hisashi rummaged through Tomura’s bag, “What am I going to do with you?” he muttered. “Hey Leo, can you come over here for a second?” the teen called. Tomura cringed at the sudden sound.

        “What’s up?” Leo asked.  A set of footsteps approached the pair.

        “I was wondering if it’d be possible to get my little brother some water, he needs it for his medication. The dumbass forgot to take it this afternoon,” Hisashi said, the last part teasing and aimed towards him. Tomura made a sound of indignation. 

        Leo hummed, “I can probably get a cup from the dining hall, hopefully the bathroom will be open.”

        “Alright,” Hisashi replied, “be quick.”

        The bed creaked as Hisashi sat by his side, “I take it you’re making a raincheck on Monopoly tonight?”

        Tomura rolled towards his brother, feeling his heart get caught in his stomach, he had forgotten about Monopoly, “No, I want to play.”

        His brother chuckled, “Not in this condition you won’t,” he pushed a long strand of white hair out of his younger brother’s face, then paused, “There’ll be other nights you can play.”

        Hisashi began to move his hand away from his brother’s face but Tomura grabbed it and moved it back. The cold skin felt nice against his burning, inflamed face. 

        “It looks like Leo’s back, sit up.”

        Tomura grumbled complaints, but sat up regardless, leaning against the metal bed frame. A plastic cup was shoved in his hands and he brought the cool liquid to his lips, “Thank you,” he said. Hisashi handed him his medications, and he downed them in one gulp. He pushed himself downwards to lie on his back. The lights of the dorms flickered out as the other kids settled down for the night. Tomura fell into a fitful sleep, to the sensation of his brother sitting by his side.

A/N: Woo! 2020 is over, thank the gods.  Updates may be a little slower because I am starting winter quarter classes this week, but I'll still try to get a chapter uploaded each Monday whenever possible. Next chapter should be Hisashi's POV, which I'm both dreading and excited to write. Please leave comments, feedback fuels my motivation!

AO3

Next Chapter

[1980s-robin]

really, “ahoy”?

pairing: steve harrington x female!reader

fandom: stranger things

requested: no

a/n: i posted about this last night and one of you liked the idea so i decided to go ahead and start writing it! couple things, this is season three based and yes the reader one hundred percent needs to be female because it’s the only way the line “ahoy ladies” is going to work here. 

summary: soulmate au where the first thing your soulmate says to you is tattooed on your arm and vice versa

warnings: i don’t know if soulmate au is a warning, there are mentions of pain because when you meet your soulmate the tattoo feels like it’s burning, or at least that’s how it’s been in every single soulmate fic i have ever read in my entire life with this particular au.

word count: 1.5k words

“El, I know this is your first time going to the mall but I don’t want to be an enabler-” You muttered and she shook her head, a grin still covering her face. “He doesn’t need to know, come on this could be the only time we could hang out outside of the cabin.” You sighed, trying to fight a smile on your face before agreeing to go with the younger girl, she could probably use an older figure with her anyway.

This was one of the only days you had been off from work recently, and you wanted to support your younger friend. You hadn’t been quick enough to get a job at the mall. You moved into Hawkins a few months prior, and you were quick to become friends with your classmate Jonathan, who ended up introducing you to the rest of the gang. 

You’d heard word of Steve Harrington, but you’d never met him in your time in the town since he graduated the year before you. You knew he was friends with El’s friends, and that she wanted you to meet him because she thought you two would be good friends, but you hadn’t met him yet. Allegedly he worked at the mall, but you weren’t sure. 

That’s how you ended up on a bus taking you to the newly built Starcourt mall. While you did want to support the younger girl, you also thought that, even though she was only a couple years younger than you, she might benefit from having someone a little older with her to make sure she didn’t do anything that could get her hurt or make Hopper angry if he managed to find out. 

The second you walked into the mall you were met with the familiar feeling of rush, excitement and the smell of a newly built building. Something felt off, well, not off. But something felt different, and you just couldn’t place what. 

You had only been to Starcourt once, it was the first day it was open and the food court was still closed off for final renovations, but something about it just felt deeper than it being a full, real mall that had a good court. And El could tell something was up with you. 

“(Y/N), is something wrong?” El asked and you glanced down at her, taken from your thoughts before shrugging. “Yeah… no. I don’t know.” You responded and she sighed but didn’t pry. El was observant, of course she was going to notice that something was going on with you. “Let’s go shopping!” Max said, trying to diffuse the tension before dragging you both to the newly built The Gap store. 

After about an hour of shopping, each one of you wore new outfits that you both felt confident about. While your outfit was a tad bit expensive, it made you feel good about yourself so you ended up paying the price. One thing that could be said about it, was that as it rode up on your hip, you could see your birthmark. 

The birthmark wasn’t any birthmark, it was something just about everything had. It was the first words your soulmate said to you. Some people had something normal like “Hey.” Like “Nice to meet you.” But yours had been something that people made fun of you for when they saw it because it was just so fucking weird. “Ahoy ladies?” You thought to yourself. Of all the things that your soulmate could say to you, Ahoy? 

Without thinking, you were tracing the words with your finger. Before your eyes caught the ice cream shop: Scoops Ahoy. It had to be a coincidence, it’s not like you had never seen the words Ahoy before. But Eleven and Max looked from your hand tracing over your hip to the ice cream shop before sharing a look. 

“You know, I’ve been meaning to introduce you to Dustin’s friend Steve. He was one of the reasons we survived last year, you two might get along.” El said, and you glanced down at her, you questioned why she would say this before you remembered that she said he worked at Starcourt. “Sure, El. Where does he work?” You questioned and she pointed her finger, you followed and found that she was pointing to Scoops Ahoy. You felt your heart start racing, but you had no idea why. “Sure, yeah I could go for some ice cream,” you said before the three of you made your way over to the ice cream store. 

It took only a few moments, before a dark-haired boy with the name tag Steve approached, and you could feel your heart racing. And that’s when he spoke.

“Ahoy Ladies- Wait a minute El? Why are you here shouldn’t you be home?” He questioned, and then you felt your birthmark burning, literally scorching on your hip. “Are YOU my idiot?” You questioned, interrupting El and Steve looked confused for a moment, before you could see him grabbing the same hip you were in pain. “T-That’s what my birthmark says.” He said as he looked down, only to see it was disappearing, the bumpy words going down to leave him with nothing but flat flesh. You pulled your shirt up only to see it doing the same thing on your hip.

“We’ll leave you two,” Max said, pulling El away and explaining to her what was happening. Whatever the doctors did, el didn’t have a birthmark. She didn’t really know what it meant, Max was probably going to tell her what was going on between you and Steve.

“I’ll be right back,” Steve said, quickly running to the back to say something to a girl who popped her head out a few seconds later before putting a tally on her board in the “you rule” column. She waved to you, a grin on her face before giving Steve a thumbs up, popping back into her storeroom before entering the sales area. “Do you want to talk?” Steve asked, a dark red blush on his cheeks and you nodded, “Y-Yeah.” You stuttered out, your cheeks equally as red before he took your hand and led you out of the mall. 

“Why haven’t I met you before?” He questioned and you smiled, a bit lightly as you both sat down on a smaller, calm area outside of the mall. “I just moved in a little while ago, you were just in the grade above me. I never met you, I moved here in the fall.” You answered and he nodded in understanding, “So you graduated this year?” He questioned and you nodded. “And chose not to leave?” Steve asked again. 

“Decided to stay, I got a job as an intern for the sheriff’s station.” You said with a shrug and he snorted. “You work under Hopper and encouraged his El going out of the house to a gigantic mall without Hopper’s consent?” He questioned, an amused smile on his face before you blushed lightly. “Never claimed it was a good idea.” You rebutted, already feeling calm with Steve. 

And that’s how it started, your day with Steve. Robin let him have the rest of the day off, and so you spent the day wandering around Hawkins which all led to you, sitting on your porch in the moonlight sitting beside Steve, his hand intertwined with yours and your head resting in the crook of his neck.

“I never asked if you wanted to be my girlfriend.” He said, causing you to snort and look up at him. “Do you really need to ask?” You asked amusement clear in your voice before he nodded. “Well, I think it’s better to make sure.” You knew he was kidding, there wasn’t a single case of a soulmate turning another soulmate down, but you figured you’d play along. “Hm, I  guess I don’t know. I mean, we’ve only known each other for a day…” You trailed off, causing a grin to break across his face before his free hand cupped your chin, bringing your face to meet his, his breath a centimeter from yours before he stopped. “I guess since we’re not dating we can’t kiss.” He said and you pouted, much to his amusement. 

“Shut up and kiss me,” you muttered causing him to laugh before pressing his lips to yours. After a few moments, you both pulled away before you stood up, Steve following and you turned to your door. “Wanna stay over?” You questioned, your parents were out of town for a few more days, so it couldn’t hurt to at least get to cuddle the person who turned out being your soulmate. “Forward-” “That’s not what I meant!” You cut him off causing him to laugh before nodding. “Yeah, I’ll stay.” He said and you grinned, opening the door to your house. God, were you glad you listened to El and went to Scoops Ahoy. Maybe it wasn’t that bad living with the words “Ahoy Ladies” Engraved on your hip for eighteen years.

[ladala99]

October’s Aftermath

(Lioden October event narrative part 4, November event narrative part 1)(I’m going to call these ‘Chill’s Saga’ now. So it’s part 4 of Chill’s Saga)

Chill let out one last roar, sending the Nepheline he was fighting flying back to its home in the skies. Around him, he could see the war fading. The dark forces from below sinking back into the ground and the heavenly forces above flying back to the sky. They were retreating. They were all retreating. Why?

Chill bounded back to the portal he used to speak to the demons. It, too, was starting to diminish. Had they won? Had they lost? Had all Chill’s effort meant nothing? Chill ran for the portal. He had to know. However, a familiar wing spread out in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. It belonged to Nirah, the manticore.

“My dude, unless you want to get stuck in there, you should stay on this side,” Nirah said.

Chill growled. “It’s all ending so suddenly,” he said. “I need to know what happened. Who won?”

“No one wins these wars, my dude. They won’t until the end of times. They just go until they decide it’s enough, and now it’s enough.” Nirah said.

A few red wisps flickered in what used to be the portal to the demon lands, and finally, they too vanished. Chill wouldn’t be able to check back in.

Nirah arched his back in a relaxed stretch. “I should be going, too. See you around, my dude!” Without any other explanation, the manticore leapt into the air and flew off towards the horizon.

Chill checked his whip paw. The power was completely gone. And he no longer could sense the presence of Lana and Sandy in his mind. It was over. But what did that mean for the lionesses?

---

The dark presence over the land was gone, and Lightning was relieved. Demonic and angelic magic retreated, and her kind of magic, nature magic, took their place as the dominant power over the land.

“Uh, Lightning?” Ember’s daughter, the Piebald lioness, asked hesitantly. “Something’s wrong with Sandy. Penelope asked me to get you.”

Sandy. She had never recovered from that fight with the demon lioness, Ilere. Sandy had claimed she didn’t feel any different, and had refused Lightning’s treatment. Something was definitely different about her since that time, however.

“Bring me to her.”

Sandy was breathing, at least. It was shallow, however. Dark clouds of magic rolled off of her, but Lightning knew none of the other lionesses could see that. They weren’t in-tune enough to notice.

“She’s not waking up,” Penelope said. She was pacing in front of the sleeping lioness. “Is there anything you can do for her?”

“I don’t know,” Lightning said. “I’ve never seen this affliction before.”

“Don’t you know of an herb to force her awake or something?” Penelope asked.

“She is blanketed in darkness,” Lightning said.

Penelope rolled her eyes.

“This is the result of magic, believe it or not, Penelope.” Even after Lightning had fought with Ilere, some of the other lionesses didn’t believe that she had powers. “Ilere did this to her.”

“We haven’t seen Ilere in months,” Penelope replied. “And if she did this to her when we last saw her, why didn’t you fix it then?”

“Because Sandy refused treatment,” Lightning said. “I won’t force treatment on anyone. She chose to take this risk.”

“And now she’s going to die,” Penelope said.

“Not necessarily. I only said I didn’t know if I could fix her. Not that I wouldn’t try. Ashes,” she said to another lioness who was standing around, “get my herb stores. I need to try something.”

Nothing of Lightning’s cleansing and warding rituals put a dent in the dark magic coming off of Sandy, but it did slowly fade away on its own. Well, not necessarily fade, but condense. It stopped seeping out of her body because it collected itself within her soul.

Finally, not even a tendril of darkness seeped out of her. She flashed for a moment in pure magic, and opened her eyes.

“You’re awake!” Penelope lit up. She stepped irreverently over the circle of stones Lightning had set up and pressed her muzzled to Sandy’s side. “I was so worried.”

Sandy slowly blinked. “Worried about what?” she asked.

“You wouldn’t wake up,” Penelope said.

Sandy shrugged. “I’m up now.”

The other lionesses also similarly greeted her, and she reacted with confusion the whole time.

Lightning didn’t join them. She could see clearly in Sandy’s eyes that this wasn’t Sandy. Previously, it had been Sandy, but tainted by evil magic, but now there was nothing left of the lioness. It was something else pretending to be her.

None of the lionesses noticed when Lightning walked off, taking her herbs with her. She knew if she tried to warn them, they’d wonder what it was she had done. They’d blame her for failing. Or simply not believe when she said Sandy was in imposter.

“I have one job.”

Lightning jumped as she heard Sandy speak. It was sunset, the others were soaking up the last rays of the evening. Lightning had been looking at her herb stores within a section of the cave, wondering if there was anything she could use to reverse Sandy’s transformation.

Lightning turned towards the other lioness. She kept an eye on the exit. Could she run?

“I know you can see who I am,” ‘Sandy’ said, “and who I am not. The Sandy you knew is gone. It’s no use trying to bring her back.”

“Where did she go?” Lightning asked.

‘Sandy’ smirked. “Where the rest of the demons went after the war ended. She belongs to them now.”

“Why? She wasn’t evil.”

“She was enslaved by the Demonic Whip,” ‘Sandy’ said. “All who it touches have their will erased, enslaved to the whip’s holder. Unfortunately, that mortal’s time to hold the whip has passed, and she is in new hands. An elder demon’s hands in particular. She’ll make a nice pet.”

“Who are you, then? Why are you here?” Lightning asked. “Why are you explaining this?”

“Answer number one: another demonic slave. My old master got bored of me, so he’s letting me be reassigned. Answer number two: the one who enslaved Sandy did an excellent job fighting the angels, and the demons do intend to reward him while he’s alive. I am here to help fulfill his wishes. Answer number three: his wishes include you trusting me and him. And I know if I’m not frank with you, you won’t.

“I know you’re more powerful right now,” ‘Sandy’ continued. “Even if I was a demon, I wouldn’t be able to control you. I mean no harm. And the mortal I’m helping means no harm. Quite the opposite - he wants to reunite the pride.”

Chill. Of course. The Primal lion that Sandy, Penelope, and Ashes had fled when he took over the pride from his destructive father, Tiger.

“I know it’ll take time,” ‘Sandy’ said, “but give me a chance. I promise no harm will come to you or the others if I have anything to do with it.”

With that, she left the cave.

Lightning wasn’t sure what to make of all that. Perhaps, now that the ancestors were closer than ever, she’d be able to ask them what she should do.

---

 As Chill got back to where his portion of the pride currently rested, Ilere stood in his path.

“My king, there is something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?” Chill asked. “Is it Lana?”

Ilere nodded. “As the power of the demons faded over the mortal realm, you may have noticed you no longer possess the Demonic Whip. It has been taken back, and so have the lionesses you had taken control of.”

“So someone else controls her?” Chill asked.

“And has taken her soul,” Ilere said. “Her body, however, is still usable. Someone on the other side may be able to possess it for the rest of its lifespan. If you want it, of course.”

Chill wasn’t sure. “Using it against Lana in the first place was an accident. There’s no way to get her back?”

Ilere took a bit to respond. “There is, but it’s a price I don’t think you’re able to pay.”

“What is it?” Chill asked.

Ilere looked him dead in the eyes. She didn’t put him in a trance, though. Either she didn’t want to or no longer could. “Most of the time, the price is yourself. However, your father sold you long ago already.”

“Wait, what?” Chill asked. “My father...?”

Ilere smiled. “When your father procured my mother, he also procured a potentially endless lineage of part-demon lionesses. His payment was not only himself, but also every one of his male descendants, to be broken only if one of my mother’s descended sons becomes king. I serve you in life, but you serve me after. And I will not give you up.”

Chill felt a shiver run down his spine. He was giving that fate to every one of his sons?

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” he asked.

“It’s not like you can do anything about it,” she said.

“Perhaps I don’t want to continue this curse to the next generation,” he said.

“Too late for that,” Ilere said.

“Now it is,” Chill said, “but if someone had told me earlier—”

“—What’s past is past,” Ilere said with an annoyed twitch of her tail. “We need to decide what we’re going to do about Lana. We can’t get her back. We can, however, get back another of our ancestors. Ones owned by the demons, anyway; the ones who moved on to other skies aren’t available. So, just my mother and your father.”

“I’m not bringing back Tiger,” Chill said without a second thought. “I’m not sure I want your mother back, either. I don’t need two of you, no offense.”

“I understand,” Ilere said. She seemed amused by this.

“Can we ask about the real Lana at least?”

“If that is what you wish, my king.”

---

Ilere set up the summoning circle in a wide open field a good distance from where they had settled their den. The full moon shone bright above. Without the portal, they couldn’t enter the demon’s land to speak to them - they had to get the demons to come to them.

Ilere chanted in some unholy language, and the symbols in the field started to glow. An ugly shape rose from the ground, made of ash and dirt. Two glowing coals rose from the ground and formed eyes on the creature.

“What do you want?” The demon’s gravely voice said grumpily.

“Is there—” Chill began.

“—O old one,” Ilere interrupted him. “We wish to obtain the lioness Lana’s soul from you. What do you want in exchange?”

“She’s mine,” it hissed. “She and that other one.”

The demon was talking about Sandy. Was she knocked out, too? Did the other lionesses realize what was going on?

“There is nothing you would like more?” Ilere asked. “No other souls? No—”

“—Nothing,” the demon said. “Nothing you can offer. Willess souls are too precious. Is that all you wanted? Because I refuse.”

Ilere looked to Chill, but he didn’t know what to do. That was it, then. His mistake had cost Lana everything. And Sandy too, but that was Ilere’s fault.

“That is,” Ilere said.

“Then goodbye,” the demon said, and disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” Ilere said to Chill as the symbols’ glow faded.

“You did what you could,” Chill said. “What’s going to happen to Lana’s body now?”

“It will be filled. It probably already has,” Ilere said. “Come. Let us meet her.”

Lana was dozing towards the edge of the den when they arrived, but woke up and stretched as they approached. The other lionesses were farther in.

“Hey Ilere, Chill,” she said. She sounded way more relaxed and confident than the real Lana ever had.

“Greetings,” Ilere said. “May I ask who you really are?”

“Sure, but I don’t remember. I’m told that was part of the deal,” Lana said.

“So are you a demon, or...” Chill asked.

“No way!” Lana said. “Just a poor unfortunate soul excited to get another chance at life. That is, if you’re not replacing me. I’ve been serving... well, I’m not supposed to tell you his name, but I’ve been serving him for centuries. It’s nice to get a breath of fresh air. I hear you’re all about bringing your family back together? That’s so cute!”

“I... I don’t think I could replace you,” Chill said. “But I do hope Lana’s okay.”

“Man, you’re not even evil,” Lana said. “How’d you get caught up in all this?”

“My father, Tiger.”

“Ohh, I’ve heard of him. He had some serious issues. Got bullied as a cub and couldn’t let it go. Turned to the dark side for revenge and ended up selling out all his descendants, plus giving his whole self to a demon, turning him into a machine of hatred and destruction. And you’re a descendant, so that’s how you ended up doing this stuff. Okay.”

Chill knew Tiger had made a deal to get Ilere and possibly even the throne, but he hadn’t known it had gone that far.

“This goes way deeper than I thought,” Chill said. “I think I need to get some rest. So, uh, what should I call you?”

“Keep calling me Lana. Unless you want to tell everyone what happened to her.”

Right. He didn’t.

“Yeah, are you acting like her around the others, or...?”

“Absolutely. Unless you don’t want me to.” She cocked her head.

“Keep it up,” Chill said. “Maybe I’ll feel better about all this in the morning.