#no matter how long it takes i know we can get there

[3liza]

because most of us can't. the majority of subsistence artists, like sex workers, are in this line of work because we can't do other work. there is also a huge amount of overlap between sex work and subsistence artists and always has been. i have no clue why I continue to see it being discussed as something every artist is simply choosing to do out out some combination of stupidity and narcissism. i would cut off one of my toes to magically have the ability to show up to a normal job every day.

there is a huge blind spot about artists in Marxism and leftist discussion of labor generally because Marx literally didn't talk about them and they don't fit into the "owning the means of production = bourgeois" model unless you're dumb enough to call the guy doing tourist caricatures on the boardwalk "bourgeois", and no joke I have actually seen people try to argue this, but everyone normal understands they are stupid so it doesn't matter. we agree that the guy on the boardwalk with the easel or the bucket drums or the harp is not actually bourgeois.

if you have actually worked in the "creative industry" without support while paying your own rent and groceries and not being supported by parents or friends or a spouse, and you know a bunch of other people who have been doing the same thing for a long time, you are similarly confused by discussions along the lines of "why do artists simply not get other jobs if they hate being slowly fed into the social media meat grinder 🤔"

i can tell you exactly why. it's because I spend 25 days out of every month having to Lie Down, and when I tried saying the words "Americans with Disabilities Act" to various employers and school administrators like you're supposed to, I got shitcanned and failed so many times it was like a vaudeville routine. you will find that this is true of a great many working artists (not hobbyists and not students living at home, adult working artists), perhaps most, and I genuinely continue to be baffled by the fact that nobody seems to be aware that drawing things for cash (or dancing or writing articles or editing manuscripts or taking wedding photos or whatever) and other jobs without set schedules (like stripping, camming, etc) are careers a lot of people, certainly the ones without any starting capital, end up in when they can't get paid more for fewer hours. and you get paid more for fewer hours in basically any other job than these, including working at fast food or walmart.

surely you can hear how this sounds? "if you don't like it, why don't you just get a job that pays more?" where have we heard that before? stop. think.

[midnite-c6]

thanos and namgyu putting your bed in between theirs 🙏🙏 even if you chose to stop playing the game they are still making you go to the circle side to sleep and perhaps that night they could change your mind about the next time you vote..

this trope is js the best fr in another life im an X picker and these two teach me to b obedient to their requests💔

thanos & nam-gyu imagine !!!!!! pt. 3 💓

warnings: 18+ DARK content, noncon, sa

pleassee read at ur own risk

soooo, they're literally like dogs tryna chase you, even to as forcing you to be next to them : "shitheads, no matter what, i'm still gonna pick X. i'm not gonna be easily convinced." you tell them firsthand, and they both laugh to themselves

"she obviously won't listen to us, you think her stupid brain could handle it?" nam-gyu complained to thanos, annoyed by how thanos was so persistent in making you switch sides. you scoff since he wasn't so quiet in saying that either, "hey, fuck you, you think I'M stupid enough to play again? don't wanna die than-" "shut up, cunt." nam-gyu cuts you off, placing his hand on your mouth to shut you up, the cold metal of his ring grazing your warm skin. your instant reaction was to bite him, "agh- i'll fucking kill y-" "calm down! everybody chiiiillllll." thanos, like a saviour, stopped nam-gyu from hitting you. "i'm sure we can all have a fair agreement, everybody gets what they want. right, pretty?" thanos turned to look at you, pushing his face awfully close to yours. "and what i want iss.... you." he stares directly into your eyes, that creepy smirk with eyes you KNOW isn't sober at all.

"you could scream and cry all you want, but you know noone in this room would be bothered to help you, girl." nam-gyu whispers into your ears whilst thanos carries you to the bathroom..

nsfw beloww ＼⁠(⁠^⁠o⁠^⁠)⁠／ ->

you were now naked, your sweaty body laying on the filthy bathroom floor, noone could hear your cries for help when nam-gyu's cock forces you to deepthroat him, his hand pulling on your hair to further be balls-deep inside your mouth.. you'd choke on him, saliva dripping all over his dick and your chin. you couldn't scream... and you couldn't fight it either, if it weren't for thanos' stupid, rough hands wrapped around your arms, pinning them to the ground, your legs placed on his shoulders as his tongue laps up and down your folds.. you try your best to wiggle away (even tho its impossible) and thanos notices, "don't even.. don't even try to pretend, baby." you could feel him smile against your pussy, that sensation leaving you to moan against nam-gyu's cock. "been trying to suck in all your juices, pretty, and.. they just keep comin' out..." thanos mocks in a baby voice, "you're dripping... so you're actually a slut...a whore, huuhhh, not that cool, confident typa girl?" you cry, but.. why did you like the sensation? his warm tongue in and out of your cunt. at this point, the ecstacy that was in his mouth was getting your pussy high. "m'not into whores like you," thanos frowns and slides his' tongue up against your clit, biting it harshly, which made you yelp in pain, causing you to lightly bite nam-gyu's dick. he hissed, roughly slapping your face. "bitch!" he pulls your hair to face you, "do that one more fucking time and i'll speeden up your death, fuck." thanos' fingers came on cue, middle and ring finger plunging inside you, making you speechless, mouth open to nam-gyu's comment. he just takes it as an invitation to stuff your mouth again, leaving a low groan at the action.

"y'know dude,," thanos looks up at nam-gyu, "maybe we should keep her, after we win." nam-gyu scoffed, flicking your forehead, "you think you deserve to live, huh?" thanos chuckled, rubbing his fingers against your clit, he doesn't care if it felt good, you were just a toy afterall, "think about it.. she feels good, right? she'll be good for in the long run, trust me, man." "pft." "trust me! her cunts still tight, anyway, right princessssss?" your visions blurry, your will to live gone, still, atleast you're useful to someone or two, two of the most evilest dumbasses you'll ever encounter in your life.

[shoresoftheshadowlands]

For me this is part of my aversion to small-talk and verbal chatting. If its in text, I can usually glance back right away at what was said. When its verbal, I have to struggle so hard and I get headaches quickly trying to hold everything together. It isn't anything against anyone trying to talk to me, it's just I cannot follow it, especially if people are talking too slow, or being too roundabout on what they're trying to convey, which I know is part of the art of small talk. I know its an important skill to have, but damn, it sucks.

It's even worse when it isn't small talk but some kind of lecture I'm getting for some reason, especially when it's complete BS (I live in a household of far rights, if you know you know), or if it's something that is a non issue that, for some reason 'today', it is suddenly their problem (For example, I organize the space behind my desk in a way that works for ME. It is in MY room which I pay rent for. It may look disorganized at first glance but isn't actually messy. Got a lecture today about how I must clean up and organize and so on because partner is coming to visit.

And I basically just said 'Look, this is organized in a way that works for me,' (I did not bother trying to explain how or why it does because it wouldn't matter in the long run trust me) and I explained that anything that does need tidying up I've already begun working on (Which she did not notice whatsoever, and instead got on my ass about 'all the dishes and stuff' which are clean, or was a take out container I'd only just been using moments prior to her walking in so it wasn't like it was sitting here moldy) Queue the 'Well I know you love me but I am beginning to suspect you don't like me very much!' because I am short and to the point and we've done this dance countless times and I'm so tired. I say 'While I'm gone please DO NOT DECORATE MY ROOM FOR ME.'

I come home. Wow, looks like my room is decorated! And there's nick-nacks and shit in place of where my things need to go! Great! I hate it! Exactly what I asked you not to do! COOL! I'm so glad you value your 37 year old disabled adult child's wishes and boundaries!

But even trying to maintain a conversation about it, verbally because her reading comprehension is shit and she doesn't understand what I'm saying even when I write it down very clearly, we are always at an impass of 'wow this lecture is going on for so long I don't even know how we started' or 'nod and agree, it will be over sooner'

the curse of adhd:

i will remember with absolute clarity, when the thought strikes me that i have a text to send someone, that this is the fourth time in three days i've attempted to send this specific text

i will forget, in the time it takes me to pick up my phone, that i picked it up intending to send a text

[figthoughts]

How do you think SB and Dean would react to reader safewording? I have some sort of idea for Dean, but with SB? Very mixed tbh

omg i have many thoughts !! allow me to ramble thank u ! (soldier boy’s part is a little ehhhh, just read with caution if ur sensitive to dubcon type scenarios!) 18+ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

— dean winchester ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

dean loves sex. he’s made that abundantly clear throughout your relationship. anytime he can get his hands on you, he will. and so naturally, you’ve spent time learning each other’s bodies, kinks, likes ‘n dislikes and everything in between. you’re entirely comfortable together.

so one day when you suddenly blurt out your safe word, dean pauses, his eyes flickering up to meet yours — to check in with you.

“baby, you okay? you wanna stop?” his words are gentle and full of love, concern splashed across his features.

his face softens while he nods along to your quiet explanation, pulling out/away from whatever he’d been doing to you. he settles down beside you, watching you as if you’re about to shatter into a million pieces.

“s’okay, sweetheart. we can stop. you don’t need an excuse. if you’re not feeling up to it, it’s not a big deal. we can just cuddle if you want,” he shrugs with a reassuring expression on his face, “you look like you need a hug, yeah? c’mere.”

dean opens his arms for you, letting you crawl against his chest. he nuzzles his chin into the top of your head, holding you snug against him, his hand rubbing down your back in a soothing motion.

“thank you for letting me know, baby,” he murmurs against your hair, leaving a soft kiss. he’s just happy you feel safe enough to ask him to stop whenever you need.

— soldier boy [ben] ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

i can’t decide between two ideas, so i’m giving you both !!

ben—your ben—the world’s strongest man who, simultaneously, is the world’s softest man the second he’s got his sweet little lady between his sheets.

there’s no denying he fucks like a pornstar on speed. it’s sometimes frightening how long he can keep at it — fucking you until you’re spent and boneless, blissed out and overstimulated from your umpteenth orgasm. he loves when you’re unable to form words, just soft incoherent babbles that force a grin to spread across his face as he plows into you with a superhuman force.

he loves going over the top to please you. and so it’s no surprise when you mumble out your safe word through warm salty tears, tired and unable to take any more of what he’s giving you. he slows down, meeting your gaze with his own. “what’s the matter? had enough, my pretty lady?”

ben knows sex with him can be a lot, and considering you’re just a sweet little doll, he knows it’s up to you to call it when you’ve had enough — cause if it were up to ben, you’d never leave his damn bed.

your mumbled pleas earn a nod in return from ben, “alright, babygirl. s’not a problem. here—” he pulls himself away from you, “i’ll run you a bath, yeah?”

you watch him get up and start heading to the bathroom, but not before he turns around, throwing you a cheeky wink, “i think that might’ve been a new record for ya, doll.”

alternatively… ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

ben’s rough. he’s rough around the edges. you know it. he knows it. everyone he’s ever met knows it. but he doesn’t just look rough or talk rough — he fucks rough.

you’re no stranger to the supe and how he bends you in half, like he’s unafraid of breaking you with his strength and brute force. for the most part, you take it like a good little thing, letting him break you down into nothing, but a whimpering little mess below him. and he loves it, ruining women while he doesn’t even break a sweat.

so when he mentions going a little further—adding a few new things to your nightly affairs—you agree, but only with the clear understanding that you get a safe word.

and ben agrees. i mean, anything to get his babydoll back into his bed, right?

so when he’s got you in half, your limbs flailing around in the air, pleading for him to stop, he simply doesn’t. he knows you know your safe word, and he hasn’t heard it leave your sweet little mouth yet. so he continues on, tiring out your sore body beyond belief — he’s really getting his kicks from seeing you all fucked out and begging like your life depends on it.

“look at you, damn slut. you like this, don’t you?” he grunts out, watching you sob and try to free yourself from his restraints. your eyes are filled to the brim with tears, your emotions clear on your face. he loves that you’re taking it for him — being a good ol’ little thing for him.

so it’s much to his surprise when you sob out your safe word. he’s a little bewildered to say the least. his brows pinch together, but he doesn’t slow down, not one bit.

his thrusts get harder, his eyes locked on your pleading little face. “just give me a damn minute. i’m close,” he mutters, his breath a little laboured, as if seeing you like this is the driving factor pushing him to the edge.

it doesn’t take long for him to finish, and when he does, he’s panting with the stupidest grin on his face. he slumps down on top of you, invading your space, “jesus, that was fuckin’ something, hey? you liked that, my sweet little thing?”

all you can do is sniffle and try to catch your breath while his weight crushes you. he presses a kiss to your cheek and he hears your breath hitch. and he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants — in the palm of his fucking hand.

A/N: this was soooo fun to type up !!! i love scenario requests sm (feel free to send me more) !!!!!! also first time writing something a lil darker w the dubcon part !!! what do we thinkkkkk? <3

feedback and reblogs are appreciated! thank uuu!

✩ taglist cause why not: @chevroletdean @fitxgrld @jasvtsc @bluestrd @1-imbroglio @titsout4jackles @faithfulsofi @tortureddarkstar @abellmunsonmovie @legalmente-loca @theoneandonlystonedspiderman420 @manicjk @aileenunfiltered @minettacreekk @jackleslvr @winchester-whiskey @emeraldcrs @freyabear @floralscented @cosmopolitan-thedrink @jwritestuff @suhnisideup @spookyysinsanity @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @deansbeer @artemys-ackles @bluemerakis @misatxox @star-yawnznn @ambiguous-avery @sl33pylilbunny @k-slla @deanswidow @psychicnatural @ghostlyaccurate

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[aperrywilliams]

A Bit Rougher (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: You and Spencer have been in a relationship for a little bit more than four months now, and the team doesn't know. One day, the BAU girls ask you by your mystery partner they know you have - even if they don't know who it is - and bring up a topic you are not so sure to share with Spencer yet: your kinky side in sex. What happens when the same Spencer puts a test on you on that matter?

Word Count: 6.5k (I'm not sorry)

Warnings: SMUT/18+/MDNI. Where do I start? Reader sleeps with Spencer (obviously). Talks about sex life. Mentions of tantric sex and rough sex. Mentions of some kinks like choking, spanking, and dom-sub dynamics. Clothes get ripped, Spencer calling you 'my girl' (oh God), masturbation (f receiving), fingering, kind of choking, dirty talk. Spencer does his best as a dom (soft!dom because it can't be any other way), penetrative sex, spanking, begging, more dirty talk, creampie (it really doesn't exist another word for this?), and aftercare. Spencer is the best boyfriend in the world. If I forgot something, please let me know.

A/N: This one was a request. I can't find the original message, and I don't know if the person who asked wanted their name here (I can quickly add it if they want to).

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The moment rays of sunlight peek through the curtain and hit my face, I turn to my back to avoid them, not ready to fully start the day yet.

Still half awake, half sleepy, I can feel a pair of hazel looking at me. I peek one eye open, and I see Spencer smiling at me.

"Good morning, beautiful," he rasps. And I don't know why such simple words have me blushing like a schoolgirl. Beaming, I return the greeting.

"Morning, handsome."

I get my reply with a lingering kiss on my lips, which I fully savored until a sudden thought came to me.

"What time is it? We need to get up."

Spencer, with his calm voice, shakes his head.

"It's a bit early yet. We have time. Also, you have some clothes here, so you don't need to go to your apartment before driving to work."

Smart me for bringing clothes to his apartment. It's an obvious decision, though, considering I have spent more nights here in the past weeks than in my place.

A devilish smirk makes an appearance on my face.

"So, we do have time, don't we?"

"Yes, sweetheart. We do," Spencer mumbles, scooting closer and peppering kisses on my face and then down to my collarbone.

Oh boy, this is what I call a good way to start the day.

-

How much time can you fool a bunch of the best profilers in the country, hiding your relationship with one of your coworkers? Spencer and I keep the count. The mark is set now in four months and two weeks.

It's not that we are embarrassed by what we have or anything close to that. It's just that things started so casually and naturally, and they're running so smoothly, so we want to keep it to ourselves as long as we can.

And by now? It's working.

We have also been careful about it. On our first nights together, we woke up early and went home for a shower and a change of clothes. After some weeks, we started to pack extra in our go-bag. Now, we have at least a change of clothes in each other's places. The second rule is never to get to work at the same time or on the same transportation. Spencer usually takes the metro even if I can drive and make time in the parking lot. Just one day, we did it, and we were so worked up in our making out session that we almost got caught by Morgan, who parked two cars away from mine.

Naturally, any form of PDA at work is completely off-limits. That's the toughest rule to follow. After all, we spend more time at the office and on the road than we do at home, so avoiding any kind of touch is definitely a challenge.

Despite all that, I can't help but feel happier every day as I fall deeper for Spencer. I often feel like a schoolgirl with a crush, constantly distracted by thoughts of him. Clearly, my behavior hasn't gone unnoticed, at least not by the three girls cornering me right now in the BAU kitchen.

"So, are you going to deny you're having fun these days?" Emily teases me while JJ and Penelope giggle in agreement.

"Where did that come from?" I say, intentionally diverting my gaze to the mug I'm filling with coffee.

"It's just basic observation, my dear," Penelope chimes in.

"Basic observation? I honestly don't follow you guys at all," I reply, feeling a bit overwhelmed by this unexpected Tuesday morning interrogation. This time, JJ steps forward with her evidence laid out right before me.

"We have all noticed the changes in you over the past few months—the giddy smile that lights up your face when you read a text on your phone, the new pep in your step, and how you hurry home every time we finish a case. Do I need to say more?"

"Busted!" Garcia points a mocking finger at me. I roll my eyes in fake annoyance. After all, they are completely right.

"Okay, okay. Yeah. I'm seeing a guy. Happy?" I confess, and Garcia squeals.

"Yay! We need to know everything about him."

Oh. That's dangerous territory.

JJ notices my discomfort and tries to ease it a bit.

"Penelope, I'm sure we'll know more with time. Right?" JJ looks at me, and I nod appreciatively.

"Okay. But the basics. Is the guy good?" Emily asks. A silly smile appears on my face.

"Of course he is. He's caring, fun, always attentive-" I'm about to start a rant about how my mystery man is perfect. But Emily's snort stops me at mid-sentence.

"What?"

"Emily is asking if he is good in bed!" Penelope clarifies, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Oh, Lord. What have I got into?

"Are you really expecting me to tell you about my sex life?"

The three girls nod in unison with no shame. Well, I guess I got my answer.

"Like if you haven't done it before. And for what it is worth, we all have said something about it more than once. That's why we created girls's night in the first place," Emily points eloquently, as always.

Touchè. They are right. I have said more than I would like to admit about my sex life. But now it's not that simple. We are talking about Spencer, even if they don't know it yet.

"Then? Is he good or not?"

I contemplate my answer not because I don't know what to say but not revealing more than necessary.

"I don't think good is enough to describe sex with him. The first time we slept together was amazing. The whole night was if you know what I mean. Since then, we have taken our time, savoring the moment, giving, and receiving a new part of ourselves when we do it. So, yes, sex with him is more than good."

"But it could be better," Garcia interjects, and I look at her baffled.

"How's so? Didn't I just say the sex is great?"

The three women nod in agreement, but I think I'm missing something here.

"Don't take it the wrong way, my lovely. We are really happy you are having fun and enjoying yourself," Garcia says, patting my shoulder. "But it sounds pretty vanilla to me. And it's not bad! Not at all!"

I frown, and Emily rolls her eyes, continuing Garcia's idea.

"What Penelope tries to bring here is what we talked back then about your last partner. Remember? The one who liked tantric sex?"

Oh. Yeah. I remember that one. It's not one of my finest choices, if I have to be honest. But it wasn't the guy's fault.

"Yeah. What about him?"

"You forgot how you complained about him being basically a statue? That you wanted it rough, and the guy never got the memo?" Penelope fills in, arching an eyebrow. My cheeks are flush crimson right now.

"I can't believe we are talking about this in the office kitchen," I mumble, embarrassed. "But that was different."

Emily scoffs. "What? Did you change your kinks now? What happened with the choking, the spanking, the begging, and all those things?"

"Emily Prentiss, can you please shut up? This conversation is too much for a morning in the office," I complain, shaking my head to try to cool my red face.

"Okay, okay. I'll stop. But if you are still into it - and I'm sure you are - maybe it's a good idea to share it with your partner. Healthy sex life and all that, so it doesn't happen what it did with the tantric guy."

"Well, thank you all for your concern. But I think I'm good. Now, can we please drop the subject?"

Luckily for me, the girls listened and changed the topic. By the time we leave the kitchen, I feel less embarrassed and ready to continue my paperwork.

But the conversation kept popping into my head from time to time during the day. My sexual preferences haven't changed 180 degrees, that's true, but with Spencer, it's different. I wouldn't want to bring something like that up if it's going to make him uncomfortable. Our relationship is still fresh, and I'm happy with our current sex life.

And talking about Spencer, I haven't seen him the whole morning. By the time lunchtime arrives, he doesn't come back to his desk, so I go with the girls and Morgan.

When we come back from lunch, I finally see him at his desk, concentrating on a pile of files. A smile creeps in my face. He looks so damn good with the crocked tie, messy hair, and shirt sleeves rolled up his forearms. This man has ruined me just sitting there. I'm doomed.

"Hey," I call his attention, and he turns his head to look up at me.

"Hi," he returns a smile.

"I haven't seen you around in hours. Are you okay?"

A frown appears on his face, but he brushes it off quickly.

"Me? Oh, yeah. Fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It's just Hotch that had me checking and analyzing a pile of boxes with folders from old cases in the store office. That's all."

It makes sense. Spencer's fast reading is a blessing and a curse, and obviously, people tend to use it often in the office.

"I'm sorry, sure it wasn't a very entertaining task."

A shy smile creeps on his lips, and I have to use all my self-control not to pounce on him right now and pepper his face with kisses.

"It's okay. I'm already done, anyway. How has been your morning?"

"Oh. Mostly paperwork. As everyone. But I think I'll be done soon, too." Before continuing, I check my surroundings to ensure nobody else is listening. "Maybe we can go home early?" I suggest seductively.

The flush in Spencer's cheeks is endearing. It's like the ones I sported this morning when the girls were interrogating me. And they want me to tell this boy about my kinks? No way. I won't do that if it means he won't feel comfortable with me again.

"We could. But I'm afraid plans will have to wait," Spencer says as his gaze shifts from me to Garcia and the quick tip-tap of her heels, heading to the conference room.

Fuck. A new case.

-

Don't get me wrong. I love my job. But being stuck in the middle of the desert, looking for an unsub that seems to be a ghost? And I say 'ghost' literally because we are looking for a guy who is dead for the town records. No, this is not my idea of a 'normal work day.'

It's frustrating, and not only for the lack of progress. The heat here is like hell. The AC barely works, and everyone's mood is bitchy.

We are not making any progress by now, so Hotch sends us to the hotel for the night. Once in my room, I text Spencer, not with an explicit purpose but to talk to him for a while. But he doesn't answer my texts. Is he sleeping by now? Considering he's a night owl, I found it very rare. But maybe he's drained like everyone else, so I let it slide.

In the morning, after my shower, I'm checking my phone, and I don't have any messages. Has Spencer received my texts?

I don't want to sound paranoid, but it's like something is going on. At the precinct, I barely get a hello from Spencer. Okay. Maybe it's the stress. I don't give it too much thought, either. Not when we have work to do.

And boy, we have been working hard on this one. Some clues give us hope, but we're far from catching the unsub.

In the little spare time we have between interrogations and visiting dumping sites, I try to share moments with Spencer, but it definitely seems like he doesn't want to be alone with me in the same room, even if he doesn't say it or shows signs of annoyance or animosity towards me.

I can't tell why he is so distant, but it's starting to worry me. Did I do something? And it's killing me because the more I think about it, the more I miss him. A kiss, a hug, anything from him would ease the ache I'm starting to feel.

It doesn't help that he has been choosing to wear the sexiest clothes he has in his go-bag. Those tight grey pants that accentuate his ass, those button-ups with sleeves rolled up.

We have been here for six days, and I think I'm going crazy. I have been trying to be subtle and professional. But I swear that if one more day goes by without being able to feel Spencer's touch, I don't know what I'll be able to do.

It seems heaven has listened to me because we finally managed to catch the unsub, and we're on the jet on our way home. But I'm nervous. I didn't even want to sit next to Spencer like I usually do. I don't know why. What if he wants to break up with me, and I'm just dragging things out?

What the hell am I talking about? I don't believe I'm thinking clearly here. But this week has been so odd that I don't know what to think.

Maybe when we land, I can finally talk to Spencer and put an end to my overthinking. With that in mind, I doze off for the rest of the trip.

Once the jet is down, I'm starting to gather my things when I hear Spencer rushing out, saying goodbye to everyone.

Disappointed and frustrated, I leave the tarmac.

Maybe a full night of sleep in my bed isn't a bad plan after all.

But be that as it may, fuck you, Spencer Reid.

-

As if all that had happened wasn't enough, when I got to the parking lot, my car fucking didn't start. I knew I had to get it checked before.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

That delayed my arrival home for another 45 minutes.

Now, disappointed, frustrated, and with no car, I slam the door shut. The apartment is pitch black, and I have no energy to flick the lights on, so I drag myself to the bedroom. When I open the door, a yelp escapes my mouth when I see a silhouette of a man sitting in the chair I have in one corner.

I'm about to reach for my gun when the bedside lamp flicks on, and the scare turns to confusion when I see Spencer sitting there.

"What the fuck!"

"Hi," he says as if he hadn't almost scared me to death two seconds ago.

"Spencer! What are you doing here?" My voice sounds harsher than I intended, but Spencer brushes it off quickly.

"Waiting for you," he says matter-of-factly.

I'm officially confused. We were together an hour ago? He left without saying anything.

"I don't understand. The way you left the jet in such a hurry, I thought I was the last person you wanted to be with."

My words come out resentful, but I can't help it. Spencer's eyes soften. I averted his gaze as I dropped my go-bag, unholst my gun to set it on the safe, and sat at the end of the bed to remove my boots.

"Hey, don't say that. Of course, I want to be with you," Spencer says, standing from the seat and kneeling to help me remove my boots.

"I'm sorry, but it didn't show that way. You avoided me all week!"

Great, now I sound like I'm making a tantrum.

From his place where he knelt on the floor, his eyes met mine, and I don't know why suddenly I felt a shudder running down my spine.

"Sweetheart, you know we were working, weren't we?"

That condescending tone escaping Spencer's lips? It is something unexpected. But why does it make me kind of nervous? It's a type of nervousness that gives me butterflies in my stomach.

"I know! But- but then in the jet. And you left."

Why am I babbling? Since when did Spencer have looked at me with those piercing eyes?

He stands and offers me a hand to help me to do the same.

"Is my girl upset?" He asks when we are both upright.

'My girl'? That's new. Spencer always calls me by my name, a short version of it, or beautiful, or sweetheart. But thinking about it, 'my girl' doesn't sound bad at all.

"No! I'm not-"

"Oh yes, you are. Look, I wanted to prepare a surprise for you tonight, so I left in a hurry. I was thinking about a bubble bath, dinner, wine, and a movie. I even had the table done with candles ready to lit," he says nonchalantly, and I feel silly for thinking the worst scenarios all week.

"Oh," is the only thing escaping my lips.

"But now, thinking about it, maybe you don't deserve it. Not if you're questioning me like this," Spencer shakes his head in fake - I hope - disappointment.

Okay. Stop right there. What the hell is going on here? Why is Spencer talking like that? About me as 'not deserving' something? What's next? That I'm a naughty girl? - Uhm, I wonder how it could be hearing those words from his lips.-

"What? Why I-"

"Come here," he requests as now he is the one who sits at the edge of the bed and pats the spot in his lap. It doesn't sound too commanding, but sure as hell, I don't need anything more to comply. I need to know where this is heading.

As I'm at Spencer's reach, he pulls me by my wrist to land on his lap while his other hand cradles my face.

"Tell me, uh? Why are you upset?"

His voice drips like honey, and I start to feel hot here.

"I- I don't know. I just missed you, I guess."

"You guess?" He arches a questioning eyebrow.

"Yes. I mean, I do know. I have missed you," I confess, defeated. Oh yeah, now I'm the needy one.

"It helps if I say I have missed you, too?" he says, caressing my cheek tenderly with his knuckles. "I have seen you tense all week; that's why I thought I could do something special for you tonight."

I close my eyes, and for the first time tonight, I let myself enjoy Spencer's embrace.

I exhale a heavy breath as I get lost in his arms.

When I open my eyes, Spencer's are fixed on mine. But his look is not as sweet or reverent as it usually is when we are like this. No, this one is dark and raw. His pupils are fully dilated, and I feel like the breath leaves my lungs.

"Spencer-" I barely mumble.

"I know," he whispers, moving one hand to cradle my neck and bring my lips to his.

Oh God, what I have been craving for days is finally happening, and I can't stress enough how happy I am.

The kiss starts slow and sensual. But not far from that, it gets needy and messy, charged with all the pent-up emotions from the past days. If I had any doubt about Spencer's distance in the last week, this kiss quickly eased my anxiety.

My fingers go to undo the buttons of his button-up, but Spencer stops me with one of his hands, grabbing both of my wrists.

Why didn't I notice before how big and strong his hands are compared to mine? I mean, I always admired his long and deftly fingers, but this? Wow. It's new territory.

"But I want to touch you," I pout when he keeps hold of my wrists in his hand. The cocky bastard raises an eyebrow, contemplating my request.

"You will have to be patient this time and earn it, darling," he says casually, and as my eyes go wide, my jaw goes slack. These words have never come out of Spencer's mouth before. But why am I suddenly starting to feel hotter and more worked up? I blame it on sex abstinence.

"Please, I have missed you so much," I insist, trying to escape his grip to get what I want: undress him. But he doesn't budge, tsking his tongue.

"I already told you. You need to earn it. To my knowledge, only good girls get what they want, and I don't think I'm wrong, do I?"

Jesus Christ! I had never heard Spencer say 'good girl' before, and I'm sure now I'll be addicted to hearing it every chance I get.

"Spencer, please. I'll do anything. I promise. I want to be a good girl. I want to be your good girl."

Spencer's smirk tells me he likes my response, and I'm not at any ounce ashamed of sounding desperate.

He maneuvers me so that I am now on my back on the mattress. I watch his every move intently, and I get lost in his gaze, which screams lust and desire.

He kneels between my spread legs, staring at me intently as his hands move to the edges of my blouse. Just when I think he's going to work on unbuttoning it, he grabs it and rips it open.

A yelp escapes my lips at the raw sound and the view of buttons flying. Spencer doesn't seem fazed by his display of caveman style. And me? I won't mind if he rips all my clothes right now. His hands go to caress my breasts over the fabric of my bra. And then pull it down to free the skin. The cool air quickly stiffens my nipples.

Spencer leans down to suck one of them, twirling the other one with his fingers. A moan escapes my lips at the pleasure his touch is giving me.

"You like that, uh?" he mumbles, still with his mouth sucking and lapping.

"Yes!" I say, as my hands fly to his hair so I can ground myself in something.

After giving enough attention to both of my nipples, he helps me to get rid of the fabric of the ruined blouse and my bra. Now his mouth is sucking a hickey under my jaw, and I feel like I can faint of how aroused I am. One of his hands goes south and stills at the button of my work pants. His breath is hot in my ear.

"I'm going to take care of you. If I do something you don't like, just say it, okay?"

That's a sliver of the Spencer I know, and I can't even think of something this man can do to me that I wouldn't like.

"Okay," I manage to blurt when his fingers work on my pants, leaving me clad only in my panties in a matter of seconds.

Under his intense gaze, I feel exposed, but I also feel safe. There is no place where I would rather be right now.

"You're gorgeous. You know that?" Spencer says, trailing feather touches on my skin aflame with desire. "You don't know what you do to me, do you? I barely can control myself," he continues his praises, thumbs toying with the waistband of my panties.

I'm about to combust.

"Spencer, please."

"What is it, my girl?" he asks, kissing my neck as his fingers slide down my legs, removing the soaked fabric that used to cover my most intimate part.

"I - I need more."

"Are you already desperate for me?"

I can feel how his fingers trace soft patterns in the skin between my thighs, explicitly avoiding the spot where I need him the most.

"Yes! I am. I - I can't-"

I don't even care if I sound coherent at this point. I'm already so turned on and desperate that I can't be bothered by my lack of speech. Spencer still doesn't budge, though.

"I know you want to beg. And I know you can do better than that."

Oh God. I don't know how Spencer's words manage to make me more aroused, but they do.

"I need you," I croak, eyes pleading him to take me. I can feel his fingers ghosting my throbbing clit.

"I need you, sir. Please. You can use me whatever you want, but please, touch me!"

What the fuck? I just called Spencer' sir' and offered my body explicitly to him to use. And the bastard doesn't even flinch? Who is this guy in full control, and who am I acting like a pathetic submissive?

I don't have the answers, but honestly, I don't care. Did he want me to beg? If this isn't begging, I don't know what it is.

"I know you do, baby. Do you think I didn't notice how needy you have been all week? How have you tried to get my attention all these days?" Spencer's voice drops almost two octaves as his finger finally starts rubbing circles on my clit.

Just feeling his touch makes me whimper pathetically.

His lips ghost in my ear, and I can feel his breath heating the spot before his teeth nibble my earlobe.

A mewl leaves my mouth, and if I wasn't soaked before - which I was - now I'm dripping.

"Tell me, this is what you wanted?" His voice is commanding but feels like honey leaking on my body.

"Yes! Please, don't stop."

His movements are deliberate and precise, and when he buries a finger into my core, I can feel the coil in the pit of my lower belly beginning to form. My moans increase in number and volume.

"So needy, my sweet girl. Like that? That's how you want me to touch you?" Spencer coo as he watches me tremble under his touch, adding a new finger to fuck me.

His ministrations continue, but his free hand moves slowly from my cheek down to my neck, caressing the exposed skin with his thumb.

"Or maybe you want me to touch you like this?"

A mewl escapes my lips when he poses his open palm over my throat, not squeezing but seizing how much of my neck he would be able to cover with his huge hand.

"Yes! Please, do it. Please Spencer," I babble, feeling my orgasm closer and closer. And he complies. Applying the minimal pressure in my throat is enough to highlight all of my senses. That, plus the way his ring and middle finger pound in and out of me and his thumb toy with my clit at the same time, sends me to the edge.

"Spencer!" I scream as my climax washes over me.

I don't remember having an orgasm like this in a long time. My vision blurs and I feel like I'm floating on a cloud of pleasure that I don't want to come down from. I can hear Spencer's encouraging words in the distance as he helps me ride my orgasm.

"That's it, my girl. You did so good for me. See how good I can make you feel?"

With hooded eyes, I see Spencer sucking clean the fingers that were fucking me seconds ago.

"You taste amazing. I'll never get tired of it," Spencer says, with a satisfied grin on his face.

Still dizzy, I gesture for him to come closer. When he does, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him in for the most passionate kiss my current post-orgasmic state will allow. I can taste myself on his tongue, and it is like my sex drive reminds me I want more. I need more.

"Please, fuck me," I mumble between kisses, and I can feel the smirk forming on his lips.

"I just did that," he states when we part from the kiss. "Are you being ungrateful?" Is he joking? I hope he does, but I won't take the chance of not having his dick in me tonight.

"No, baby. I'm thankful for the way you have touched me tonight, but I want you to feel good, too."

Spencer looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Is that so? Are you willing to do what I want to make me feel good? It's not only for your benefict?"

"Yes! Whatever you want. I'm yours. Take me the way you want to do it. Whatever you want to give me."

I don't know at what moment I became this kind of submissive, but if I have to beg again to have Spencer inside me, I will do it without complaining. And considering he's still fully clothed, I don't know what kind of plan he has right now.

"On your elbows and knees."

It's simple, and the moment the words leave his mouth, I move quickly to obey.

Unfortunately, from this position, I can't see Spencer, but I can hear him undressing. When I listen to him undoing his belt buckle, I have to do everything in my power not to rub my thighs together in search of some friction. And Spencer notices.

"I can bet you're dripping again. Don't you?"

The anticipation is killing me. When I feel the mattress dip with Spencer's weight, I can't stop the mewl that leaves my lips. It doesn't help when he presses his body to mine, and I can feel his hard cock pressing my ass.

"Can you feel what you do to me? I want to fuck you so bad. I want to ruin this pussy." Spencer's voice is husky and low, almost predatory, and I can't wait to feel him.

While we've used dirty talk before, I think this is the first time I can feel it coming naturally from Spencer. I'm usually the one with the filthy mouth.

When I feel his tip teasing my entrance, I instinctively push my ass back, gaining a laugh from Spencer.

"Be patient, once inside there is no coming back." Before I can say anything in reply, I feel him push his cock between my folds, and the stretching is painfully delicious.

"Oh, fuck!" I yelp as I hear Spencer hissing when he bottoms it out. He is still there, grabbing my hips to keep me from moving.

"So warm. So tight. Made for me," he mumbles, leaning to kiss my shoulder blades.

"Just for you, it was made for you," I agree, in a new state of pleasure and urging him to move. Spencer pulls back almost completely, only to thrust hard again, setting a slow but deep pace.

"That's my girl, taking everything I give her. You wanted this, didn't you? I know you do. Fuck! So good for me."

Another thing I'm not used to is Spencer being a talker during sex. I mean, yeah, he's very vocal, moaning, whining, cursing, and so am I, but his words are now taking me there faster than I expected.

"Spencer, yes! Don't stop, please!"

"I won't, baby, I won't. Not when this pussy tighen me like this."

His pace quickens, and in the room, you can only hear the sinful sounds of skin hitting skin, our moans, and the dirty words escaping Spencer's mouth.

"Spencer, please, harder," I beg to him. I don't know why, but I want to go to my limit, and I trust Spencer. I need it. He's quick to deliver, and with every thrust, I'm entering into a new space of ecstasy.

He is pounding me harder, and my broken moans are testimony to the brutal pace he leads. I can feel him hitting in all the right places.

"Like that?" He asks, panting in my ear.

"Y-yes."

"I can't hear you, darling," the bastard demands, not faltering his thrusts.

"Yes! Fuck, yes! Like that! Oh, fuck-"

My voice cracks when I feel a sharp smack in my ass.

And I can't stress enough how good it feels and how it helps the ball forming in my lower belly to grow.

"What a sight. You should see how my fingers are red imprinted on your skin," Spencer says, amazed with his doing, not ever slowing his thrusts, and I can feel closer to a new earth-shattering orgasm.

"We need to even the score, right baby?" I can't even catch what he's talking about when I feel a new smack in my other ass-cheek. And then I lose it. I'm teetering to my end, and I need Spencer to fall with me.

"Spencer, I'm so close. Please, I need-"

"Are you going to come? That's what you're trying to tell me?"

"Yes! I need to cum, please-"

"I'm right there with you, my girl. Come on, cum on my cock. Show me how you fall apart because of me."

And I did. My orgasm crashes me like a freight train, screaming Spencer's name once and again until my throat goes dry. He keeps his pace, chasing his own end, and after three deep thrusts, he stills, and I feel him spilling inside of me, grunting as he does so. The feeling almost makes me cum again.

We stay in that position for a few moments, him inside me and trying to catch our breath. I feel like I'm out of this world, savoring the post-orgasmic euphoria of the best sex of my life.

Spencer pulls out, and I hiss at the loss of him. Carefully, he helps me turn over and lie down to rest my back on the mattress. I close my eyes, regulating my breathing, content and completely satisfied.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asks me, but I'm still lost in the haze of pleasure. I can barely acknowledge the moment he goes to the bathroom to bring a warm cloth to clean me up.

"Uh? Yeah. Amazing." My words escape before I can process them, but I'm not lying. And I can feel the tons of endorphins running in my brain right now.

"Are you sure?" Spencer checks again. And because I'm more alert now, I can see his worried eyes.

A tired smile forms on my lips as I turn to the side and bring a hand to his cheek.

This man just has fucked me senseless, and now he sees me with those panicked eyes as if he had broken me. And maybe he did, but in the best way possible.

"I'm fine, Spencer. I'm more than fine, actually. That was something else," I confess, caressing his jaw. He lets out a breath of relief, and his cheeks turn a shade of pink.

"So you liked it?"

"Liked it? Did you just forget how I was screaming your name just minutes ago?" A satisfied chuckle escapes Spencer's lips. "But I need to know something," I prompt, propping myself on one elbow to have a better view of Spencer's face.

"What is it?"

"Where did this idea come from? It's not like you woke up one day and said, 'Next time, I'm going to choke her and spank her,' right?"

"Well, yeah. It wasn't that kind of spontaneous idea, even though I have thought about it before," Spencer looks at me sheepishly.

"Yeah? Well, then?"

"I heard you. Talking with the girls the other day at the BAU's kitchen." I narrow my eyes, trying to pinpoint the exact moment, and when recognition washes over me, my entire face flushes.

"Oh, God."

"I know I did wrong. It wasn't a conversation for me to hear, but you were talking about your mystery man, and I - I don't know, curiosity got the best of me."

Spencer looks apologetic, and I feel kind of embarrassed right now. It's funny for two people that minutes ago were fucking like there is no tomorrow.

"Don't apologize. It's my fault for spilling those kind of things in the office kitchen." Wait a minute. "From what part you heard?" Spencer purses his lips in thought.

"The part when you admitted seeing someone."

"So you heard when I said I was happy with our sex life, right?" He nods. "Why did you feel compelled to try something different, then? I'm not complaining at all, but I don't want you to feel obligated to do something because of me."

Spencer shakes his head. "I don't feel obligated. I wanted to. But can I ask why you didn't tell me what you liked before?"

That's a valid question, and I don't want to make him feel like I don't trust him because it is not like that.

"It's just- I mean, I love what we have. And I'm falling for you even more each day. I don't want to lose that, and I thought maybe I would have made you uncomfortable saying those things. I didn't want that."

Spencer's eyes glisten with warm understanding. How could I have doubted that he would comprehend? One of his hands goes to push back a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"I love what we have, too. And you won't lose this or me if you share those things with me. I know I'm not the best example of a sharing person, but I'm learning to do that with you. And I want you to be happy and satisfied in this relationship."

"I really am. Seriously!" I quickly reply. God forbid Spencer from thinking I'm not happy and satisfied because it's far from the truth.

"And I'm happy to hear that. But there is no harm in experiencing new things, right?" He says, caressing my cheek.

"You really mean it?" Spencer nods and chuckles.

"It's not an altruistic offer, you know? I pretty much enjoyed what we did tonight." Only remembering what we did minutes ago brings a wide grin to my face.

"Sure you did. Okay. We can keep trying things. One condition, though."

"Name it," Spencer states, opening his arm for me to scoot closer to his side, which I happily do.

"I want you to choose the next kink to explore," I request, glancing up at him to gauge his reaction.

With narrowed eyes, Spencer is contemplating his answer. After a few seconds, his lips turn into a mischievous smirk, and he looks back at me.

"Have you heard about temperature play?" he asks, and I immediately bit my lower lip in excitement.

What can I say? This man is full of surprises, and I'm the lucky one who will experience all of them. I can't wait.

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

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

[captain-huggy-bear]

"Can- Can you come over please?" (I believe prompt list 1 number 80?) with whoever you're inspired for please 😊 thank you! - em

Em, it was giving soft boy Luke who's maybe feeling shitty after a bad game, so I hope you like it. First time writing Luke so I'm super sorry if it doesn't feel right for him (as we think of him because obvs we don't know him but still) Also I like how I was like let's write something short and then...just kept writing...😂 Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

You'd been friends with Luke Hughes for almost as long as he'd been in New Jersey, both of you new to the city at the time had stumbled into each other quite literally one wintery afternoon. Your coffee going all over his hoodie, his doughnut squishing chocolate icing over your sweater. You'd expected him to yell, instead you learnt that day how utterly sweet and kind Luke Hughes was. He replaced your coffee and refused to let you buy him a new doughnut, but did let you invite him over so you could put some stain remover on his hoodie.

You might be thinking, 'are you crazy? Inviting a strange man to your apartment?', but you can only explain your risk through two pieces of information: 1) You knew roughly who he was. You weren't a fan of his by any means but you followed Hockey and had heard about the newest addition to the Devils, so you at least knew he wasn't a criminal, 2) Luke Hughes had been wearing snoopy socks and something about that had screamed 'non-threatening'.

Looking back it was probably slightly insane on your part, but it bagged you a close friend who you may or may not have had a massive crush on, so you couldn't really say you regretted risking it.

It wasn't unusual for Luke to phone you after a game, more often than not you got a quick phone call or a few texts sent through while he was out celebrating or commisserating with the team, often being invited out even when he knew you weren't much for late nights out on the town.

It was unusual though for that phone call to come in at 1 in the morning while you were sleeping.

You're groggy and half awake, hand patting the bedside table until you grip your phone, Luke's ringtone blarring through the speakers only because he was one of your few exceptions. One of a handful of people who could call you after 11pm without being sent straight to voicemail, the others being your family.

"Lukey? It's..." You stop to squint at your alarm clock, "1:41 in the morning, what's wrong?" You knew the game had ended late, but Luke should have been in bed by now or he should have been out partying with Jack and the boys, definitely not phoning you. You half expected him to be drunk on the other end of the line, maybe having phoned you while out with the team.

Instead his breath is shaky on the other end of the line, voice raspy like he's been crying and that's what has you sitting upright and swinging your legs out of bed before he even finishes his question.

"Can- Can you come over please?" His voice is scratchy and strained, a rasp that sounds defeated. You don't even considering getting changed from your pajamas, you just throw a jacket on from your closet.

"Yeah, yeah, of course, what's wrong?"

"Just...just come over please, angel" You're quick timing it as you shove your feet in a pair of shoes and grab your keys off the side, locking your apartment door behind you. It didn't matter to you that it was nearly 2am or that you hadn't brushed your hair or that you were half-asleep, all that mattered was Luke and the way he sounded like the world might be just a little too much for him right now.

"Okay, okay, want me to stay on the line?"

"No, just...drive safe?" You pause in the hallway, heart hurting at his concern, that even now when he's begging for your help he cares that you're safe.

"Yeah, course, Lu, i'm leaving right now, sweetheart." He lets out a shuddering breath on the line, right before he hangs up and you're certain you might cry because God, Luke shouldn't sound like that, so utterly defeated, so fragile.

You do your best to honour his request on the drive to his and Jack's apartment, even as you want to break a hundred traffic laws just to get there sooner, but you don't. It doesn't take long, but ten minutes feels like one hundred when all you want is to be see Luke and make sure he's okay.

He's at the door from the first knock and you don't say anything, just take him in. His tall form hunched at the shoulders like he's trying to hide within his hoodie, hood pulled over his head and eyes red rimmed, blotchy. There are dark, deep circles beneath his eyes and his lip is bruised and split, a few neatly placed stitches holding it together.

You don't say anything, just step forward and wrap him in your arms as best you can, tiptoeing to press your chin to his shoulder, arms tight around him as if you can protect him from whatever is going on in his head.

He grasps as you like you're a lifeline, fingers digging into your jacket, face pressed so tight to the crook of your neck that you're certain he'll fuse there.

He doesn't protest when you pull him into his apartment, door slamming shut. Doesn't protest when you pull him to his room, asking where Jack is, only to get a short clipped reply of 'club'. Doesn't protest when you sit him on his bed and join him, shoes being kicked off. It's not until you try to pull away from him that he really seems to come to life, hands grasping you firmer, pulling you back, "Don't go, please don't go..."

"'m not going anywhere, Lu, it's okay..." You pull back just enough that you can pull his hood back, fingers carding through his brown curls gently like he might break. "What happened?"

"Just needed you..." His face presses back into your shoulder as your fingers work through his hair like it's a perfectly normal thing to say to your best friend, like he didn't call because he had a shit game, because he doesn't want to talk about it."

"Lu...talk to me, baby"

There's a stark silence, broken only by a shaky breathe that comes from Luke as if the idea of talking is enough to make him cry for the second time that night. "I'm...i'm not good enough for the team, did a shit job tonight and we lost...it's my fault. Played like shit."

"What did Jack say?" You're gentle with it, soft voice, soft fingers on the nape of his neck. It's silly, he knows he's being dramatic, he also knows that it's not a friend thing to do. Knows he wouldn't call any of his other friends at near 2am because he needs them, knows he wouldn't beg for their fingers in his hair to sooth him or feel better just by the smell of their laundry detergent and shampoo. Luke knows he called you because he loves you, pretty sure he loved you the moment you excitedly showed him you'd gotten the coffee stain out of his UMIC hoodie.

"I was being too hard on myself, that it wasn't the 'Luke Hughes show'." He immitates Jack's voice, a pouty sort of tone riding his voice because he knows his brother is right even if he refused to sit moping with him and went out drinking instead.

"He's right. Hockey is a team sport, Luke, you aren't even on the ice the entire time! You do not get to decide that you're the reason a game is won or lost, you don't get to shoulder that."

"But.." Your palms cup his face, pulling him up to look at you. Your face is dead serious brows furrowed, lips pursed.

"No, you're a good hockey player. They picked you to play for them because of what you bring to the table and maybe you didn't play your best tonight , but you deserve to be on the team. You can't always be at 100." Your thumbs brush his cheeks under his eyes, like you might be able to wipe away the dark bags there. He looks worn, exhausted, tears just welling in those green eyes of his.

You're not entirely sure he believes you, "If I said I wasn't good enough because I had a bad day at work, what would you say to me?"

"To shut up and stop being mean to yourself..." Luke frowns at you like you're insane for even suggesting something like that, and it's what makes you smile for the first time that night, as if to say I told you so.

"Exactly, so stop being mean to yourself, Lu. You're amazing, i'm always in awe of how you skate..." You brush a curl from his eyes and watch them flutter closed slightly, throat tightening a little because you know this isn't the way you're supposed to feel about your best friend.

"Really?"

"Really..." You watch him carefully, the way he just leans more into your hands like he trusts you entirely to hold him up, the deep swelling of his lip, the beauty marks across his cheeks. "What do you need from me, right now?"

He takes a moment, like the words are stuck on the tip of his tongue whether unsure of how to ask or worried to make things weird. Both of you always toeing the line between friends and something decidedly more romantic.

"Can...can you just hold me? Just stay the night?" He blinks up at you with such big sweet eyes that you're not sure anyone would be able to refuse him, so you don't.

"I can do that."

You treat him delicately, like he's not a nearly 200 pound hockey player that regularly gets body slammed against boards and ice, who's covered in bruises and currently sporting a split lip. You pull him to lie down with you, curling around him like a protective blanket, pulling his face back into the crook of your neck, legs twisting with his. It's definitely not what friends do, but it's what he needs, so he grips you back tight, presses his face firmly into your neck and pulls your leg over his hip to be as close as possible.

You don't move more than the brush of fingers through his hair or down his arm, across his back. Even when you can hear soft snores, the sign of him having fallen asleep, you don't move because as much as Luke said he need this, you kind of need this too.

[decentwinter]

And there's even more! In our days when we say cooking and cleaning we think of our current situation; buy groceries, get them from the fridge, cook something, keep the place tidy and that's it.

But no! Depending on which region you think of when you say "cook and clean", it means SO much more. It means taking care of the garden (which is a source of food: vegetables and fruits), of the cattle and animals. "Keeping the place clean" means washing the entire family's clothes by hand and patching up everything that was ripped, because there was no other option, it means making reparations on furniture by yourself. "Taking care of the children", depending on the century we're speaking of, was much more different from what we consider today. As long as the children were fed, had their head on the shoulders and body in one piece, it was fine. Those poor women didn't even have the time to spend "quality time" with their children besides during communal chores or maybe at bedtime. How lucky are we to have the luxury of focusing on parent-child quality time.

I agree with OP, we tend to associate fiberwork, making soap and candles, manufacturing, with men's work. But that's a view that has been poisoned and influenced by the western world, because you won't meet a Slavic child for example who hasn't been told stories (either by their parents or grandparents) about how the women in their family handled fiberwork, soap making, WOODWORK, animal care.

I will not be a hypocrite and say that women haven't been belittled or looked down upon, but we also must take into consideration the conditions our ancestors lived in. Many times, if you did not produce something, you wouldn't eat. Everyone had their own garden, entire fields, their own animals, their own responsibilities. Men would wake up early, go to work, and return only to go out in the field and work on their earth. Or on certain days, the entire family would gather— parents and their children too, no matter how young, and work in the gardens/fields.

The point is, we have it good. Households back then couldn't possibly function without someone staying home and handling SO much. Again, depending on the region and time period, things might vary greatly. But there were times where both a steady income and being self-sufficient was CRITICAL for survival. Who else to stay at home with those 3-5 children (or more, no one can negate that those numbers were not common) if not the mother? But she wasn't alone, she had her parents and community and friends. Things have changed since back then, and I'm not saying that many of the responsibilities placed upon women aren't dismissed nowadays.

Anyone who dares say that women always been weak is a fucking idiot. You know why? Not because I'm a feminist, but because I know one thing clearly. This world doesn't forgive, and we have it so good nowadays. No one was weak or useless or "only" doing some things because if they were they had a horrible life. Everyone had some sort of use and was appreciated in some way; it was a must, you either help yourself or hope your community sustains you.

a phrase that kinda bothers me when talking about women's historical roles in europe is "cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the children." you hear it so often, those exact words in the same order even. and once you learn a little more you realize that the massive gaping hole in that list is fiberwork. im not an expert and have no hard numbers, but i wouldnt be surprised if fiberwork took up nearly as much time as the other three tasks combined, so it's not a trivial omission.

it's not a hot take to say that the mass amnesia about fiberwork is linked to the belittlement of women's work in geneal, but i do think there's a special kind of illusion that is cast by "cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the children." you hear that and think "well i cook and clean and take care of children (or i know someone who does) and i have a sense of how much work that is" and you know of course that cooking and cleaning were more laborious before modern technology, but still, you have a ballpark estimate you think, when in fact you are drastically underestimating the work load.

i also think that this just micharacterizes the role of women's work in livelihoods? cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the children are all sisyphean tasks that have to be repeated the next day. these are important, but not the whole picture. when we include all kinds of fiberwork—and other things, such as making candles or soap—women's work looks much more like manufacturing, a sphere we now associate more with men's work. i feel like women's connection to making and craftsmanship is often elided.

[darlinluxx]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐞 𝐁𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐤 ౨ৎ

pairing : kang sae byeok x fem!reader

warnings : nsfw

warnings for sfw : tiniest mention of sickness

warnings for nsfw : dom!saebyeok, sub!reader, tiny mention of knife play, degradation, strap

a/n : just thought i’d start off with some headcannons <3 if you have requests, feel free to message me <3

- Saebyeok probably wouldn’t be the first one to say “i love you”

- when she did say those three words, she would feel relieved. after all, she has been holding it in since she laid eyes on you

- and she doesn’t say it much, instead, she shows her love through different ways

- like remembering the smallest details — like how you take your coffee (or if you don’t like coffee), which side of the bed you prefer, or your favorite movies

- she has a habit of “borrowing” things of yours and never returning them

- she absolutely loves seeing you in her clothes

- the first time Saebyeok fell asleep on the couch with your head on her chest, it’s a bigger milestone than your first kiss

- Saebyeok struggles with accepting help or care when she’s sick. she’s used to acting like she’s fine. the first time she calls you because she has a fever is a huge moment of trust

- gives you a spare key for her apartment

- she’s not big on pet names, but i think from time to time she would call you, “darling,” “baby,” or “princess”

- always saying things like “i missed you,” “did you eat?” or “are you warm enough?”

- she expresses worry more through actions since she’s not the most comfortable with saying things. she’ll fix the bow on the back of your hair when you’re walking ahead of her

- when she’s upset, she goes quiet rather than angry

- Saebyeok’s love language is 100% quality time

- i think we can call come to an agreement that she’s not a fan of pda

- she will hold hands with you while walking though

- in private, she would like physical contact though. she’s always finding small ways to touch you

- loves to give you hugs — her arms wrapped around you as she holds you in her embrace, resting her chin on your head as she murmurs sweet words to you

- her favorite form of physical affection is playing with your hair while you lay on her chest as you two watch movies

- we can also all come to an agreement that this woman is PROTECTIVE !!

- is always near you out in public like a personal bodyguard

- carries her pocket knife everywhere

- while walking together, Saebyeok always positions herself on the street side of the sidewalk

- and what if i said she memorizes your schedule (without meaning to) just to know you’re safe ??

- the first time you meet Cheol, she’s more nervous than either of you

- Saebyeok doesn’t even realize that she leaves things at your apartment

- the first time she calls your apartment “home,” she doesn’t even notice—it feels natural

- she has a specific spot on the couch in your living room that becomes “her spot”

- Saebyeok is always the first to wake up. she’ll make coffee for herself and attempt to make toast but burns it. so once you wake up you’ll have to help her with cooking

- she keeps track of important dates, she never needs a reminder for your anniversary or your birthday

- she’s surprisingly good at domestic tasks. years of self-reliance made her practical

- she stress cleans when anxious. you can tell when something’s bothering her

- she loves late night talks. whether it be sharing goals in life or random thoughts, she’ll always enjoy it

- Saebyeok’s protective but not possessive, having learned the difference between love and control

- has trouble accepting gifts but puts incredible thought into giving them. no matter how many people she has to pickpocket, she will get you something she knows you’ve been wanting for a long time

- never makes promises she’s not absolutely certain she can keep

- she always keeps her promises

- Saebyeok keeps a journal of things that make you smile (she won’t ever admit it)

- is secretly good at video games but pretends to be bad so you can “teach” her

- loves sharing airpods with you when you two are on the subway or walking

- has a (secret) playlist of songs that remind her of you

nsfw ౨ৎ

- she’s a top / dom !!! anyone who says different is a liar

- okay and what if i said she’s lowkey into knife play ?? then what

- Saebyeok really focuses on making you feel good. gets satisfaction on seeing you cum

- she’s usually more on the rougher side, but if you want her to be gentle, she will be no questions asked

- “don’t get all shy now. it’s just me.” when you’re getting shy or nervous with her

- mix of praise and degradation !! “you’re so dirty for me.” “you look so pretty cumming on my fingers.”

- could eat you out for the rest of her life

- loves when you wear dresses or skirts cause it gives her the opportunity to slide her hand closer and closer to where you need her. and she knows. but she can’t resist teasing you

- loves fucking you with a strap just because ?? especially in front of a mirror

- sweetest aftercare, so so gentle with you. as if you’re made out of glass

[russellsppttemplates]

Hi I was wondering if you could either do Franco or Carlos image where their partner is newly pregnant and a way she destresses is getting in like a hot tub or a really hot bath and bc she can’t do that anymore she’s having a hard time and the driver is super sweet with her?

Cw: reader is pregnant

Franco glanced over at you as you settled into your cozy living room, book and blanket in hand as you figured out the best spot. The soft glow of the fireplace flickered against the walls, but there was an unmistakable tension in the air - you were four months into your pregnancy and adjusting to the changes had been harder than either of you anticipated.

If there was one thing that would instantly calm you down was a bath. No matter the trouble or burden, you could always count on the bliss of being surrounded by comforting scents and hot water.

Yet, pregnancy had taken your favorite escape away. You had always found solace in the warmth of the water, the bubbles gently enveloping you as you'd sink into blissful tranquility. Now, with the safety of your growing family in mind, you were struggling to find new ways to destress.

"Mi amor", Franco called gently, kneeling beside the sofa where you had curled up with your blanket, "How about we do something special tonight?".

You turned youe gaze towards him, eyes softening at his idea, "like what?".

Franco grabbed a few essentials: lavender oil, a stack of fluffy towels, and a portable foot spa he had bought as a surprise after seeing how uncomfortable it was starting to get being your feet all day, "I thought we could create a mini spa experience at home. I’ll get the foot bath ready, and we can soak your feet. It’s not a hot bath, but it can still be relaxing!", Franco scratched the back of his neck, "or at least I hope so...".

You laughed lightly, appreciating the effort he was putting in, "you really are the sweetest, did you know that?”, closing the book after marking the page you last read and adjusting your position on the sofa.

As he poured warm water into the basin, he added a few drops of the lavender oil, the scent filling the air as he gently took your socks off, tickling you lightly before getting your feet into his hands, his touch tender and caring, "you deserve to be pampered", he said, looking up at you, "I know you miss the hot baths, but you're doing so much for our little one".

“It feels like so long ago" you replied, leaning back against the couch and closing your eyes, allowing yourself to enjoy the moment as he began to massage your feet.

Franco noticed the subtle smile on your face, and it brought a warmth to his heart, "Just think about all the wonderful things coming our way. Soon, we’ll have a little one to love. And I’ll make sure you have all the pampering you need", he promised.

“Even without the baths?”, you mused.

Franco was quick to offer you a grin, “especially without the baths! I’ll get creative, mi amor. Maybe a spa day where I take care of you like a queen?”.

You opened your eyes, the spark of joy lighting them up, "I’d love that, even if I feel like you give me that treatment every day. And maybe next time, you could join me in that foot spa?”.

“Deal", Franco replied, "But only if I can throw some bubbles in there!".

You both laughed, the sound echoing through your cosy home, filling it with warmth and love. In that moment, amidst the challenges of pregnancy, Franco’s sweetness reminded you that you were in this together, navigating the ups and downs hand in hand as you prepared for your new adventure.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[insidekatmind]

Time together~Levi Colwill

Wearning: +18,smut

A light summer breeze enveloped the hotel terrace, where the blue pool seemed to merge with the clear sky. The water reflected the rays of the late afternoon sun, creating plays of light on the calm surface. There was no one there, just the two of you. A moment of peace after weeks of hectic life.

You sat on one of the loungers, while Levi approached the pool, resting a hand on the edge. He was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, but his gaze was unmistakable: intense, protective, always attentive to your every move.

“I still can’t believe we’re here,” you said, smiling. “It feels so surreal, after everything that’s happened.”

Levi slowly turned to you, taking off his sunglasses. “It’s surreal because we never stop. We’re always in a rush. But now… we can finally breathe.” He leaned towards the water and dipped his hand in, running it over the surface. “This is what we needed.”

You stood up from the lounger and walked over to him. “You really need to relax, you know? You’ve been so tense lately.”

Levi sighed, looking at you. “It’s hard to turn your mind off, you know.” He walked over to you and took your hands, lacing his fingers through yours. “But… with you here… maybe I can.”

“Just maybe?” you smiled teasingly.

He raised an eyebrow, that gesture you loved. “Don’t make me make promises I can’t keep.”

You laughed, pulling him toward the pool. “Then let’s see if I can at least make you relax a little. Get in the water with me.”

Levi hesitated for a moment, then slowly took off his shirt, revealing his sculpted body and battle scars. His gray eyes locked with yours as he slipped into the water.

“Come on,” he said in that deep voice that made you shiver.

You dove in next to him, the cool water enveloping you. When you surfaced, Levi was inches away from you, his hands sliding down your sides.

"So," he murmured, with a hint of a smile, "what did you have in mind to make me relax?"

You laughed, resting your forehead against his. "I was thinking of something simple. Like… just staying here, not talking about anything. Just you and me."

Levi nodded slowly, his gaze softening. "You know, I don't mind at all. That's all I need, just this."

The two of you stayed like that, wrapped in silence, as the sun set and the shadows lengthened.

After a while, Levi spoke again. "Why Barcelona?"

You bit your lip, thoughtfully. "Because I wanted us to have a place that was just ours. A memory that belongs only to us. And then… I've always dreamed of getting lost with you in a city full of life."

Levi was silent for a moment, then pulled you close, holding you tightly. "Then losing you will be my priority."

He looked into your eyes, and in that moment the whole world seemed to fade away. "It doesn't matter where we go," he said softly. "As long as you're with me, anywhere is fine."

You stayed like that, floating in the water, with the Barcelona sky darkening above you and the distant sound of the waves rocking you.

It was perfect. It was yours.

"You look gorgeous, as always," he said, his voice low and slightly hoarse. His fingers traced the outline of your swimsuit, appreciating your curves. "This swimsuit really suits you."

You laugh and hug him kissing his jaw "I put it on for you" you say seductive

Levi closed his eyes as you kissed his jaw, feeling your soft lips against his skin. He pulled you close, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"Is that right?" he murmured, a grin on his lips. "You want to tempt me, huh?"

"yes love, all for you" you reply and kiss him

Levi growled low in his throat, your comment making him lose all restraint. He grabbed your waist and pulled you tight against him, claiming your mouth in a hard, hungary kiss.

"You know how to drive me crazy," he breathed against your skin, his hands gripping you possessively.

you smile and kiss his neck "you know love we had sex everywhere except in Barcelona in the pool" you say seductively

Levi's eyes darkened with desire as your words sent a shiver down his spine. He grabbed hold of you tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh.

"You're right, we haven't done that yet..." he murmured, his gaze burning into you. "And it's a shame, because that means we haven't marked the pool as ours yet…"

You smile "so why don't we fix it?"

Levi couldn't help but grin, his eyes flashing with a dangerous glint. "You're damn right we will," he growled, his hands roaming over your body. "We're going to make this pool ours."

He picked you up, holding you close, and walked to the edge of the pool, "You're getting cold, love. Let me warm you," he said, laying you down on a lounger nearby.

you smiled feeling levi's hands touching your thighs. you got off the edge and went back into the water lacing your hands on his neck as you lowered his swimsuit.

Levi's heart hammered in his chest as you came back to him, your hands encircling his neck. He groaned softly as you began to pull down his swimsuit, relishing the touch of your skin against his.

"You're impatient," he said with a cocky smirk, pulling you close.

"I can't resist you" you say and kiss his neck while you move your swimsuit a little to let his cock enter inside you

Levi's breath caught in his throat as you kissed his neck. He could feel your body rubbing against his, his self control hanging by a thread. "You tease," he growled, his hands running down your body, "always pushing my limits."

As he felt your skin against his, he groaned softly, his body instantly responding to yours. "You drive me crazy, you know that?""You're perfect," he murmured, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. "You're mine. All mine."

He moved faster, taking you harder, the water sloshing around you. "I need more... I need more " with every word he said his thrusts increased and your moans became louder and louder

Levi groaned lowly as your hips moved against him, your kisses igniting a fire within him. His hands gripped your body tightly, guiding you, his touch possessive and hungry.

"God, you feel so good," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "It's like you were made for me."

you moan and put your nails on his back "you always fill me up so good"

Levi groaned as you clawed at his back, your words driving him wild. "You're not the only one who's filled," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "With you… I can never get enough."

He moved his hips against you, pressing himself against you, his body burning with a primal need for you. "I can never… get enough of you," he repeated, his lips finding yours in a fevered kiss.

The sounds of the water moving and your moans filled the empty pool, drowning out any other noise. With the city of Barcelona spread out before you, the only thing that mattered was the two of you, lost in a passionate sex

Levi could feel himself nearing the edge, his body taut with need.

"You're perfect," he murmured, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. "You're mine. All mine."

He moved faster, taking you harder, the water sloshing around you. "I need more... I need more " with every word he said his thrusts increased and your moans became louder and louder.

Levi groaned as he heard your moans growing louder, knowing he was pushing you to the edge. He continued to move, his body responding to yours, his need for you driving him on.

"You're close," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "I can feel it. I can feel you "You're squeezing my dick" he started fucking you in the pool and you started screaming.

Levi groaned as he heard your moans growing louder, knowing he was pushing you to the edge. He continued to move, his body responding to yours, his need for you driving him on.

Your name came out of his mouth like a whispered prayer, the sound becoming more urgent and desperate as he drew closer to his own climax.

"Please," he groaned, his body tense as he tried to hold back, "please, love, I need you. I need to feel you come for me. I need to come inside you" he murmurs and moves your swimsuit top a little and kisses your nipple

"yes baby please" you'll cry soon because of how beautiful it was. Something snapped inside him as he heard your plea, your soft words sending him over the edge. He let out a guttural moan, the sound filling the empty and he started fucking you faster which made you come but he didn't stop with the movements and started thrusting faster coming inside you.

Levi laughed breathlessly, still holding you close, his body pressed against yours. "I think we left our mark here... and not just on the pool" he replied, with a smirk. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to catch his breath.

"You're going to tire me out, love" he teased, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead.

you giggle softly and stroke his hair "better if we fix ourselves otherwise if someone comes they will see us like this" you say amused

You smile and give him a kiss on the jaw once you've adjusted yourself.

Levi smiled as you kissed his jaw, appreciating the gentle gesture. He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze drifting over your form before he spoke.

"You know," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice, "there are a lot of other places in Barcelona where we can make our mark too."

"I can't wait to discover them" you say seductively

Levi's smirk deepened as your words stoked the fire within him. "Trust me, love, there are plenty of places left for us to explore," he murmured, his gaze darkening.

He stepped closer to you, his body so close that you could feel the heat radiating off him. "And I can't wait to show you every last one."

[bemusedlybespectacled]

The context you're missing is that the reason the person is immoral or corrupt is their genes. The word originally meant "someone who is worse than their ancestors" (so definitely still related to ancestry, even if they didn't know what DNA was). Essentially, the reason you're a bad person isn't because of your actions; it's because you were born that way, and nothing you can do can ever change it. And, conversely, being a good person is also genetic, and nothing you can do can ever change that, either.

Why is that a problem? Well, in the late 1800s/early 1900s, eugenics (the opposite of degeneration; "de" means down, "eu" means "good") became a popular "scientific" theory. It's the idea that every bad thing that happens to or is done by a person is actually a result of their genes. Not just actual genetic disorders, like Tay-Sachs disease, but also being poor or committing crimes. Literally, their thought process was, "We see that the children of poor families tend to also be poor. That must mean that poverty is genetic." (this was actually pretty well debunked in like 1911 but weirdly it kept being popular in/promoted by super racist people hmm I wonder why that would be)

If you were genetically perfect, then of course you'd be healthy, strong, intelligent, hardworking, wealthy, moral, and, most importantly, white; lacking any of those qualities meant that there was something wrong with your DNA somewhere. The best way to ensure that everyone was successful would be to just get rid of anything – that is, anyone – genetically bad, so that only the best people could breed with each other and have perfect children.

How do you do that? Well, for one, you make it illegal for anyone to marry outside of their race, and you make the requirements to be white incredibly difficult to prove (it wasn't based on skin color, but on any non-white heritage, no matter how white you actually looked) and draw the lines for everyone else very broadly (in the US South, it was literally "white" or "colored," with "colored" meaning anything from "just immigrated here from Africa" to "mostly white with a bit of Native American"), and require all of them to have some kind of identifying document or badge so that you can tell which is which. And you make it legal to sterilize undesirables: disabled people (both physical and mental), nonwhite people, and people of poor moral character (remember, being bad is genetic, and also in this era you think being gay is also a sign of poor moral character), just to ensure that there's absolutely no chance that someone might accidentally or deliberately sneak in.

(Eventually, you can also just kill them. Because that other stuff is taking too long.)

But remember! Evil is genetic! So of course there are always going to be nefarious actors deliberately trying to bring the whole race down and make it worse/weaker! And what's their evil plan? They'll encourage mixing good people with bad people with diabolical schemes like "making modern art" and "thinking it's okay for white people to listen to jazz" and "promoting civil rights for minorities." And what do we call "people who bring the whole race down"? Degenerates!

this was my thesis in college before i had a nervous breakdown so i know a lot about it. don't even get me started on how birth certificates are racist.

DNI lists on this website are fucking insane

[adamsrcnan]

honestly i think it's a little redundant to write any think pieces on what jean's endgame ship will be. it's going to be jerejean whether you like it or not. that's the story nora is writing. she said it herself when she announced it. this story is a love story but it's also a story about jean and his journey to recovery (and just because jeremy is the future love interest that doesn't diminish the importance kevin has on jean's life either. jean's feelings for kevin are very much still there but so is the betrayal and hurt of him leaving him in the nest. it's a very convoluted relationship of which we still don't know much about. only what jean has told us, so far. as the man who believes his feelings have not been reciprocated to the same degree, mind you. like, we still have two more books to go, one with more scenes with kevin in them where we will learn more.).

as for jeremy...lmao. have we not been talking about how little we know of him since the book dropped? and now all of a sudden people are claiming to know everything about him and decided he's no good? based on one book? and for some reason because he isn't handling his new traumatised teammate perfectly like a professional with a psychology degree he's somehow not right for jean? since when has anyone in this universe been perfect? or dealt with trauma professionally and perfectly?

do i think it's right that jeremy crossed some boundaries to get some answers about jean's past? no. do i think it's right that he overshared jean's truths to his friends without his permission? fuck no. but we're dealing with a whole different group of people here, most of which have not been traumatised to the level the foxes had been. who are not used to dealing with people like jean. jeremy has his own issues yet to be revealed, he clearly has problems standing up to his family (as seen with his sister), though he has no issue captaining his team (as seen with lucas) and it's suspect that he also doesn't think himself to be as great of a person as everyone else does given the sad look on his face when jean tells him he could never be anyone's villain. so idk why anyone thinks they know anything about him when he's so cagey in his own pov. and nowhere in that, may i add, has he ever implied he wants to "fix" jean. he wants to help him. he wants to give him reasons to enjoy his life now that he can i.e making him take that silly ceramics class for Fun. and given jean has had his whole life centred around exy (which he doesn't even enjoy anymore) i think it's actually very smart and helpful to get him doing things that "don't matter" so that he can learn from it and learn that he can actually live outside exy. that he can make mistakes and be imperfect at something and that's Okay.

at this moment in time in canon, kevin doesn't have that kind of mindset and it's probably because he was allowed the freedom to already pursue an interest outside of exy - his love of history. like are we missing the detail that he begged tetsuji to let him take that as his major and he actually allowed it? kevin, though still has a long way to go, still has something outside of exy he can hold onto and switch off from. jean doesn't have that and jeremy just so happens to come along and give him the option and for some reason that seems to get ignored. i think it's actually one of the most important things about their relationship so far. jeremy still makes all the accommodations jean needs - setting him up with class partners, taking him for a run when he needs to get out of his head, buying a bed to sleep in the room with him. but he also pushes back and insists jean try something to break him out of his unhealthy relationship with exy.

also, hello, jean literally admits to himself it's a Lie when he tells jeremy he doesn't want him to look if it's too much for him to deal with when jean is attacked by grayson. and jeremy refuses to look away. something everyone around jean has done since he was born, probably.

"Jeremy’s response was low but unhesitating: “I will not look away.” “I do not want you to look.” It frightened him how much it sounded like a lie, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it..."

jean appreciates when jeremy is so very obviously attracted to jean and openly staring, but doesn't press and removes himself from the situation if he thinks he may come on too strong.

"Threat assessment, he told himself, and it was almost the truth. He needed to see the easy way Jeremy ceded Jean’s space to him. Jean couldn’t remember the last time someone allowed him any boundaries, and the feeling was as novel as it was addicting."

hello???? that is literally jean himself telling us jeremy just allowed him a boundary. how does that get looked over?

also he's content enough with jeremy in his space that he feels safe enough to almost drift off

"In the quiet he could hear Jeremy breathing, and it was almost as comforting as the heat of another body this close to his. It thawed the parts of him the sun hadn’t reached despite soaking up its glare all day. Jean closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift far away. [...] This was the first time his room truly felt safe and right, and he was content to hold onto it for as long as he could."

mind you right after this jeremy presses that jean should have his own space and jean insists jeremy share with him and get his own bed. and let's not forget the obvious flirting that has jeremy immediately backtracking and telling jean to let him know if he ever makes him uncomfortable.

ALSO THIS

“Stop asking,” Jean said. “You only think you want these answers.”

jean may find it annoying and unfavourable that jeremy keeps pressing but idk i infer this to be more of jean not knowing how to handle someone actually giving a fuck about what was done to him when he was so used to everyone turning a blind eye.

finally (bc this is getting long) jeremy pushes himself into jean's space when he hugs him, and jean doesn't hug him back but he doesn't push him away either and jeremy is the one who has to wait for jean to let go of his shirt so he can move away.

"Jeremy heard the dismissal in it, but he waited for Jean to let go of his shirt before leaving the room."

i have made a post about this before but jean craves attention and affection, he wants to be loved and to be frank he fucking deserves it more than anyone else does.

i'll finish the post with one last line from jeremy's pov...

"...it wasn't his place to interfere with Jean's trauma or his healing."

jeremy isn't perfect, he's not meant to be.

[x--sinner--x]

I love the concept of coincidental rape. Like just imagine being neighbours, but we found each other on a dating app. We talk and flirt for days, and eventually we reach the point of exchanging selfies and other spicy pictures.

And then one day I noticed something. In one of the pics you sent me, I could see my own house in the reflection. You took one right by your window and that's how I realized it.

With this newfound information I had to act upon it. I eagerly knock on your door, and you don't disappoint as you answer the door quickly.

"Hey, we haven't really met but I am your neighbour," I introduce myself, "and this is my house behind me. Can I come in? I would like to get acquainted."

I didn't know such a bombshell was talking to me on a dating app while being my neighbour.

"Yeah, sure. Please come in." The funny part is, as I am walking into the hallway of your house, you are texting me on the dating app. "Sorry daddy, but I have a visitor. I'll talk to you later. 💋💋"

And my phone pings with the notification you just sent me. While I know the cause behind the ping, you have no idea as it's just a normal notification in your eyes.

"Thanks for letting me in. You have a gorgeous house." I pause for a moment to take in the view and proceed to talk again. "And here you go. I wanted to bring you a gift to introduce myself."

"Thank you for the compliment... and for the gift as well. What is it?" You ask curiously.

"It's a pretty rare vintage wine bottle. My dad had a wine cellar and was an avid wine collector. When I moved here, I brought some of his collections with me, and I thought you would enjoy it. Wanna drink with me?"

"Aw that's lovely. And yeah sure, we could have a drink." But little did you know, I had put in a little substance to knock you out in a matter of seconds.

We both make our way to your living room, where sofas are arranged around a small glass table with some glasses. You use a bottle opener and pour some for both of us. We take seats opposite each other and I take my glass of wine and bring it up to my mouth, but I don't drink it. I waited patiently until you took the first sip and it wasn't long before that happened.

"Do you live here alone? Seems pretty big for you." I ask you a simple question, just to break the ice until you fall unconscious.

"Well, this is my friend's house actually. She has moved abroad with her family, and I was searching for a house and she rented it to me a year back." You take another pause to take a few quick sips and then continue. "Damn, this wine really tastes good. Great choi---- huh.. what's happe--"

The wine glass shatters on the ground as you pass out on your side of the sofa. I placed my glass back on the table as I had accomplished what I was hoping for.

I carry your passed out body to your bedroom and place you down gently on the bed. I whip out my phone and take some pictures of you - for keepsake purposes.

I slowly proceed to take off your clothes and look at you in all of your glory. You look much more pretty than the pictures you keep sending me in a teasing way. I couldn't hold it in anymore and I come on top of you and mount my cock next to your entrance and start thrusting it inside you.

Your pussy feels so tight even as you are passed out. Your breasts flop up and down with each thrust and when I look up at you, you look just like a dainty little flower. People might always look at your cute and demure side of you, but what I'm seeing now is a whole another side of you.

Your glowing skin puts infectious thoughts into my brain, forcing me to act upon them. I give into my desires, violating your supple skin and leaving marks as I go. I smell the perfume on your hair and it only makes me all the more feral. Your breasts are so milky that my hands sink in with every squeeze.

I take your breasts into my mouth and suck on it like a baby and it feels so good. I was picking up the pace with which my cock was moving inside your pussy. I grab onto your hips as I thrust harder, reaching further parts of your pussy with subsequent thrusts.

I think I overestimated my own resistance to cum, because it didn't take me too long, combusting all that pent up cum straight up her womb. I pull my cock out and see some of it dripping out onto the sheets - and it made me only want to continue. I pushed my cock back in her hole - in every hole in fact, taking turns - until I unloaded my cum several times in each one of them - and watching my cum drip out of every hole was very satisfying to see.

I took some more photos of you in that state, and sent you those pictures in the dating app.

"No worries baby. Here are some souvenirs of our first encounter with each other. Thanks for the return present. It was really lovely. Hope you liked all of my presents.

- Your visitor. 💋💋💋"

[mandarinmoons]

omg i love ur account soo bad, i would rlly like to read about Spencer being jealous of Derek, for the reader to comfort him and try to help with his insecurities, lowk sad ik but pleaseee 🙇🏻‍♀️

Spencer sighed as he watched Derek from afar, talking to a group of women. Each of the girls seemed to be entranced with what the man in front of them was talking about, one of them playing with her hair while the other one kept biting her lip which turned into a not so subtle smirk over time.

Spencer hadn’t had the best luck with women, he had a few take interest in him over time, but it never grew into something serious. He blamed himself for not being the archetype of a man girls would usually want from what he saw and no matter how hard he would try to be more appealing, it just wasn’t him and he wouldn’t be able to keep up the facade for too long.

“What’s on your mind, boy wonder?”

Spencer blinked his eyes as you walked over to him and brought him out of his thoughts. Spencer wondered if he should tell you what’s on his mind or would it be something he would eventually get over after some time. It was hard to hide anything from you though, the sparkle in your eyes made Spencer crack and he’d always tell you whatever it was he was thinking of, you had never judged him for it as well, so he had his answer.

“Y/N, be honest, is there anything about me that’s… unattractive?”

“What do you mean? I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.”

“Really?”

You nodded as you took a seat next to Spencer, your hand reaching out and thumb running across the back of his hand. Spencer wasn’t one for physical touch, but whenever you showed it it put him at ease.

“Where is all of this coming from?”

“I look at Morgan at times, the way he talks to women, how he presents himself, the way he is basically and I don’t know I just… wish I could be that way.”

“I’ve always liked the way that you are. Men similar to Derek put me off at first, it makes me feel like they have other intentions, but when we first met only minutes in and you were talking about the differences between plant and human cells and I thought that it was really fascinating.”

Spencer chuckled as he remembered the day you both had met. He was scared that he had messed up his first interaction with you and that you would stay clear of him whenever you would come across in the bullpen, but you did the exact opposite. You’d always take time out of your day to go talk to Spencer, even if it was the most random subject someone could think of, but you never regretted it and kept coming back for more.

“There are people out there that adore people like you Spencer and I’m proud to say that I’m one of them. Plus, I think you’re cuter than Derek.”

Pressing a kiss to Spencer’s cheek, his eyes went wide as you waved goodbye and he watched you return to your desk, a slight bounce in your step as you strode across the room.

Spencer chuckled as his eyes met the floor, somehow your words set him at ease during times he needed it the most. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve someone like you in his life, but whatever it was he was sure he’d do it a thousand times again to have even one more conversation like this.

You can find my masterlist here!

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

[descendant-of-truth]

Interesting addendum to this that I wasn't expecting: in the English version of Days, whenever Roxas talks about Sora, he's always clearly framed as a person. "Who is Sora," "I don't even know a Sora," etc.

In Japanese, he initially asks about who Sora is, but then switches to asking what Sora is. And it seems to happen not too long after Xemnas describes Sora as "the connection" between him and Xion.

He proceeds to wonder to himself what Sora is, and who exactly that makes him, before going to ask Axel about it. And during that conversation with Axel, he doesn't say "I don't even know a Sora," he instead just repeats the question of "but what even is Sora?"

Which I think adds an extra nuance to the narrative that gets lost in the official translation. Roxas instinctively thinks of Sora as a person, because why wouldn't he, but none of the answers he gets about him frames him as such. So, perhaps subconsciously, he starts seeing Sora less as a person and more of a mystery, this obstacle to his and Xion's lives that he can't seem to get answers about.

And normally, you'd think Roxas wouldn't fall into this trap, right? He's always been the most adamant about defending Xion's personhood, shouting at people when she's referred to as a puppet or an "it." His whole storyline is about asserting himself in the face of nearly everyone he knows dehumanizing him and trying to take away his autonomy.

Plus, he has Sora's memories! If he remembers things that Sora's done, and things that Sora's felt, how could he not see him as a person?

But I think that's a testament to how insidious the Organization's manipulation is. Roxas and his best friend are discriminated against, they're "othered" in a way that's unfair and it makes him justifiably ticked off. But that's the thing: he knows Xion, he cares about her, and of course he knows himself. He remembers things about Sora, but he doesn't really understand him - we never see him processing the memories he has very well.

So it becomes very easy for Sora to be presented as the "other." He doesn't stand up for Sora's personhood because he hasn't seen it, and frankly, he has bigger things in his home life to care about than whether some random guy he knows random things about is being treated well. Sora, reportedly, is half the reason he has so many problems anyway, and at this point in his life he just wants someone to blame.

It doesn't matter that Sora wasn't personally responsible for anything that happened to Roxas. He doesn't know what Sora did or didn't do when it comes to him and Xion, but everyone's telling him he's responsible, he's the connection, he's the reason everything is happening to him. And so, Roxas's anger is directed at an innocent person, someone who's really not much more privileged than he is, instead of solely at his oppressors.

Honestly, the way Roxas views Sora over time deserves a post all on its own, because it's not even necessarily as straightforward as "and then he saw Sora exactly for who he is once they joined together for a while and he got over his resentment." It's more like, his resentment turned into genuine respect, and then into this weird, resigned hero-worship for a bit, before they seemed to get on equal terms towards the end of KH3.

But my point is, Roxas plays a very interesting role in this pattern of Sora being dehumanized, because he ends up contributing to it for completely different reasons than everyone else, and it's not even on purpose. DiZ and the Organization see Sora as a tool, Namine and especially Riku care more about waking him up than how he'd feel about their methods.

To Roxas, Sora is the reason he lost everything. Sora is "what it was all for," which starts as something he hates, and becomes something that gives him a certain degree of comfort.

Because Sora will be the one to figure it all out, right? He can depend on Sora, just like everybody else, because that's what Sora's here for. He's a good guy, he'll find a way to make things right again.

He ends up being correct, but man. At what cost

Anyone else find it fascinating that whenever we're shown Roxas's feelings through Sora, it's just kind of melancholic and wistful, but the reverse scenario always feels like you just walked into a psychological horror?

Seriously, the way it's presented, it's like we're meant to see Roxas as an old friend that we miss talking to, but Sora - our original "old friend" that we would have reasons to miss - is hardly even shown as a person. The contents of his memories feel less important than the effect they're having on Roxas, which is usually Extreme Distress and/or physical pain.

And it's insane to me because KH1 was so whimsical! The memories that Roxas and Xion are experiencing are literal Disney magic! But the way they're shown, with the fuzzy filters and the glitch effects, sort of removes the emotions you associate with them and makes them come across as eerie and unsettling.

Not to mention, Sora's memories rarely prompt any feelings of happiness, the way Roxas's might make Sora extra fond of the Twilight Town crew... which might say more about how KH1 affected Sora's mental health than anything.

(I personally stand by the idea that the story revisits it so much as an analogy for how repeating events in your head over and over can alter your perception of them)

But like. how wild is it that this series found a way to take its cheerful protagonist, and without changing anything about him, turned him into this constant, unnerving presence that haunts the lives of two other characters?

And I think another reason Roxas doesn't feel like he haunts Sora in the same way is because no one really... treats Sora like a person while he's asleep. He's either a tool or an object of affection, and regardless of which you pick, his feelings are seen as secondary to the goal of waking him up. As a result, the narrative focuses entirely on Roxas and Xion's personhood, and unlike Sora, they never stop being treated like people once they're made inaccessible due to the plot.

It's probably a bit late in the story to bring it up by now, but I still wonder if we'll ever see Sora be upset with Riku for sacrificing people in his name. Sure, it worked out in the end, and I'm not sure if Sora's even aware of what happened (how likely is it that he's properly sifted through all of Roxas's memories at this point?) but there's a list of things he could still conceivably be mad at Riku about that he hasn't processed, and I want this to be one of them

[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 21 - Sorry Go 'Round

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 10k words. OK so what now? Surly there are no more surprises right?

CW: +18 content MDNI. a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes, sex, oral (m receiving), fingering, PiV sex, nightmares, alcohol, mental health, mentions of miscarriage, angst.

AN: It feels good to be back.

Previous - masterlist - next

AO3

enjoy <3

She’s alive. It almost doesn’t feel real.

She stood there though, in the garden, and she was real. Your hand goes to your braid running it through your fingers. You moved on. You had let her go but now she’s here. You should be happy but instead there's nothing. Just guilt, and anger. You're angry at yourself for the way you acted, guilty that you punished John for so long. There’s a knock on the door.

“It’s me,” John says.

“Go away!” You shout. He doesn’t though. He comes into the room, closing the door behind him. You can hear him as he sits on the bed. You stay under the covers, sniffling and letting the tears run down leaving a wet patch on the bedding.

“I thought she was dead. I mourned for her. I punished you for her death,” you say between sobs. His hand lands on your back and he rubs it through the covers.

“It’s not your fault,” he says. You scoff and crawl out from under the covers looking at him. You can smell her, and it makes you feel sick.

“When did you find out?” you ask. Maybe he’s known for days, weeks. Maybe he always knew and he lied to you all this time.

“Last night. Kate called to tell me she was on her way,” he says. You believe him. He scoots closer to you in the bed reaching over to squeeze your thigh.

“You know what’s the worst part?” you ask him as he brushes your tears away. “I broke the bond I had with her. I let her go. I don’t think I want to repair it.” Guilt fills the air. John gets up, towering above you and cupping your face in his hands.

“You don’t have to, but whatever you want, we’ll be here. We’re a pack.” You nod looking up at him. You should be happy she’s back. She’s not dead after all.

“Can we just spend some time together? That’s all I wanted to do today.” You expect him to say no. He’s going to be busy with Piper. He leans over to kiss you.

“Let me talk to Simon,” he says, breaking from the kiss and stroking your cheek. You smile back at him. He leaves the room and you lay back on the bed. The room is pretty, lit up with shades of deep orange and red. You look up at the ceiling. It would be selfish of you to not reconnect the bond. She’s not in your pack, you don’t owe her anything.

Yes you do, she gave her life for yours. You owe her your life.

John comes back quicker than you expect. He lays in the bed next to you and you hear the car start. Your head turns to the window even though you can’t see anything.

“They’re going out shopping. They’ll be back in a few hours,” he says. You smile, turning your body and wrapping your arm across his chest. You hum letting his arm squeeze you as he pulls you further up his chest.

“Why is she here now?” you ask.

“She was injured. She needed to recover before she could come,” he says.

“What happened? I want to know how it happened.” You turn your head, looking over at him. He lets out a sigh for a second.

“Okay,” he says. He explains it as you run your hand over his stomach. They found her in the basement of Hale’s mansion. They were taking her out when they found their way into the security room. They could see Hale was on the property, Shadow Company was closing in, Hale had invited investors to the property.

He was making a new lab. Piper explained the ‘contingency’ plan as John calls it. It was a perfect opportunity to deal with Hale and cover their tracks. If the mansion was destroyed there would be nothing to invest in. If Piper was dead and Hale was dead, the DOD would wipe their hands with the matter. Then 141 could be free. They could take you and go, which is what they did.

“We always planned on getting her out, but she loved you so much. She knew what she was doing and why,” he finishes.

You let out a sigh. You don’t know if this has helped or not. You’ve moved on. You’ve moved on without her but deep down you still love her.

You will always look at her like the only stable parental figure in your life. She is the mother in your life, she’s who you think of when you think of your mother. You still love her; that will never change. She has always been there for you through thick and thin. But you have a pack now. Things are different. You don’t need her as much anymore.

“I don’t regret it, letting her go,” you say after a few minutes of silence. “I regret being mad at you. It just feels like time wasted.”

“It wasn’t your fault. We all thought she was gone, you had every right to be upset with me,” he says, kissing the top of your head.

“Still wasn’t fair though,” you say quietly. He sighs rubbing your arm. “Promise me you won’t do anything like that. No giving your life for mine. I couldn’t live with myself if any of you did that.”

He smiles at you, his hand coming to your chin, then he leans to kiss you. Your hand presses on his stomach as you let him run over your tongue with his. He’s gentle but firm, it's the kisses you’re used to feeling from him, the ones you’ve missed.

Your hand runs further down his stomach to the waist of his pants. He hums in your mouth, his hand running down from your shoulder to the small of your back. You press your body closer to him, and his kiss becomes quicker, needy.

“I’ve missed you,” you say, breaking from the kiss and pressing your nose next to his. His breath is warm on your face. There’s an ache in your body, a need to be with him. It’s been almost a month. You’ve missed his touch, his scent, everything about him. Your fingers slip below his waistband.

“We don’t have to rush anything,” he says.

“I want to, please.” You look up in his eyes, your hand slipping further into his pants. He kisses you, his arms wrapping round you and turning you so you’re off his chest laying flat on the bed. His hand rests on your stomach. His touch is warm as he grips the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up over your breasts.

It’s like he’s testing your reaction, making sure he’s not going too fast or making you uncomfortable. You relax for him, smiling as his thumb brushes over your nipple. You moan softly. His touch sends vibrations down your spine. He leans down to kiss your stomach.

His lips are soft but his beard tickles your skin. Your hands come down to pull your top off over your head. He moves up to your chest. His tongue runs up between your breasts before moving to one of your nipples. You close your eyes, tipping your head back. One of your hands runs through his hair, massaging his scalp. He likes that, his teeth nipping at your nipples, making you rub your legs together in an attempt to quell the throb.

His free hand easily slips past the waistband of your PJ shorts and into your underwear. You spread your legs for him, his fingers imminently finding your clit. The contact is brief before he presses down between your folds, his fingers gathering some of the slick that is building up.

He pulls his mouth off your nipple as his fingers go back to rubbing your clit.

“John,” you moan, opening your eyes so you can see him. His other hand comes around your back, propping you up slightly as his fingers are gentle, slow. He’s pressing just hard enough to make your whole body relax against him. Your breathing picks up, your hands gripping the bedding. You’re rocking your hips against his hand.

“That's it, c’mon, make yourself feel good,” he says, his voice low, rumbling. It makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck.

He hums into your neck, his fingers moving down to your entrance. He presses two fingers into you. The stretch feels good. You forgot how thick he is, even just his fingers. You moan out gripping the bedding tighter, his fingers immediately rubbing against the spongy spot inside you. He curls his fingers as he presses kisses on your face.

You clench around him, spreading your legs as far as you can, bending your knees. The scent of vanilla fills the air, and it makes saliva build up in your mouth. You lean over and kiss him pressing your tongue against his.

His arm supports you as he speeds up, his fingers pushing you closer to the peak. He breaks from the kiss pressing his forehead against yours. You still have a hand running through his hair. You grip it tighter, panting as you cum, pulsing around his fingers. He slows down his movements, riding you through the orgasm.

His lips come back to yours. This time, he kisses you deep. He moans in your mouth like he’s drinking you up. He breaks away, letting you breathe, then his arms leave you to pull his shirt over his head. You reach out just wanting to be able to touch him. You run your hand up to his pecs.

He reaches down, picking your hand up before kissing your fingers.

“Missed your alpha, huh?” he says. You blush nodding. He smiles quickly, kissing your fingers again. He swings himself off the bed reaching down to undo his belt and pull his pants off. You do the same, still laid on the bed, shimmying your pyjama bottoms and underwear off.

You fling them off the bottom of the bed before going up to look at John scooting his way back towards you. You put your hand out to stop him. He looks confused for a second. You can feel heat rushing to your cheeks.

“I want to try something,” you say. He raises an eyebrow.

“Okay,” he says somewhat skeptically.

“Lay down,” you say. He follows your instructions, laying back, his head resting on the pillows. You’re not really sure what you’re doing but you want to try what you learned from Johnny and Kyle. You kneel down next to him sitting back on your legs. His cock is already hard. He’s bigger than Johnny. All of the sudden you don’t know if you’ll be able to do this, but you want to try anyway.

You reach out for his cock rubbing your thumb over the swollen head. You remember what Kyle showed you yesterday, and you press your thumb on the underside, letting your hand work all the way down. He moans softly and you look over to see his head relaxed back on the pillows. Whatever it is you’re doing, you must be doing something right.

You bend over pressing your lips to the tip. Precum is spread across them before you thrust your mouth down him. He lets out a louder moan, his cock twitching in your mouth. You smile, you’re definitely doing something right. You keep going taking him as far as you can even if it’s uncomfortable. His hand cups the back of your neck, his thumb brushing his mark before his fingers lace through your hair.

You find yourself pushing your mouth further and further each time. You have to use both your hands when you pull back up to the top. You like making him feel good, that's your job as an omega, to make him feel good. The way his fingers brush your scalp, his little moans and twitches in your mouth let you know you’re doing a good job.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been doing it for when he shifts causing you to pull your mouth off him. His hand comes down from your head to rub your cheek.

“Did I do something wrong?” you ask, your cheeks going red. Maybe you’re not as good as you thought you were.

“Oh no, you did perfect. Christ, where'd you learn to do that?”

You smile at him. He tips his head before sitting up to give you a kiss. You let his arms come round you, pulling you against him and he moves you to lay you on your back. He makes sure you’re comfy on the pillows before leaning over you.

“Now it’s my turn to take care of my perfect omega.” He smiles as you part your legs, his hand runs up your thigh. It makes goosebumps rise on your body as he maneuvers himself between your legs.

You wrap your hands around his neck. Your thumb brushes over the sensitive skin at the base of his skull. He looks down at you, his eyes glossy in the evening sun. It’ll be dark soon. You almost miss his cock pressing against your entrance. A second later he presses into you. It’s like an instant relief: your mind goes blank, no more Piper, no more worries about the future. It’s just you and your alpha, the way it should be.

“I missed you,” you breathe.

He smiles down at you, his face inches from yours. You can feel his breaths picking up as he picks up his speed.

“I’ve missed you too,” he hums in your ear. You tip your head up, baring your neck for him. You project your scent in the air. Vanilla and strawberries fills your nose. It feels so right, your alpha being inside you, his lips on yours. It feels safe and right being in his arms. It’s different from being with Johnny and Kyle. You pant into his neck. He holds you tight. You don’t need to do anything, just lay there and enjoy yourself.

You run your hands down his arms resting them on his chest. You can feel each muscle tense under your fingers. You close your eyes, arching your back slightly. Now it feels like he’s hitting you deeper, your moans becoming more frequent. His breathing picks up too and he speeds his thrusts up to match.

You’re reaching the peak quicker than you expected, your fingers curling the hair on his chest. He’s missed this too, you can tell by the way he’s not quite focused, his usual calm and collected exterior melts for you. His breathing picks up as he adjusts his angle, his moans becoming sweeter, more breathy and desperate.

“John—” You clench around him trying to stop the orgasm rising in your core. He smiles at you picking up speed again as you start to squirm under him.

“It’s okay, C’mon, you don’t have to wait. You deserve to feel good,” he says, his voice low in your ears making a tingle travel down your spine. It’s enough to push you over the edge. He doesn’t stop as you throb around him, your back arching, each part of your body almost shaking. It doesn’t take long for him to cum too, his thrusts slowing and becoming longer.

Eventually, he slows panting into your neck before he comes up to kiss you. You go back to running your fingers through his hair. He looks down at you. You smile at him and he smiles back. You don’t know if it's the post orgasm haze or the evening night but you think it’s the most beautiful he has ever looked.

He pulls out, shifting his body to lay down next to you. You lay there looking up at the ceiling watching the shadows of the trees on the wall. When your breathing slows you turn over to him, running your hand over his chest. He wraps his arms around you pressing his lips to your forehead. He pulls you tighter and you nuzzle your face into his chest breathing him in. You lay there in silence listening to his heartbeat.

“C’mon, let's get cleaned up,” he says after a few minutes. You groan as he pulls away from you, getting up off the bed. He holds his hand out and you take it following him into the bathroom. You run the bath while he goes around getting towels and fresh clothes.

He comes back, gripping your waist as you’re reaching into the bath to test the water. He presses kisses across your neck and back as you lean up against him. When the bath is full you turn the taps off letting him get in first. You lay back against his chest letting the water warm you. His arms wrap round you and he nuzzles his face into your neck, his beard tickling your skin. You lean back further against him, letting the water come up over your shoulders.

“John, are things going to change?” There’s silence for a few seconds as he rests his chin on the top of your head.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“Well, when we leave here are things going to be different?”

“Maybe, but you don’t need to worry about it.” You don’t know what to say. Of course you have to worry about it.

“Piper is back. You can get a cure. You don—” He shuffles, causing you to turn against his chest.

“Hey, we’re not going anywhere. We’re a pack remember. Whatever happens, we’ll make it work okay?”

You sigh at his words. You want to believe him.

“Do you trust Piper?”

“I trust her.”

You smile dipping your hand under the water letting it run down his thigh.

“She survived. Maybe—” you suck in a breath not wanting to say it. “Do you think maybe Professor Hale survived too?”

“No,” he says immediately. You smile. “He’s dead, Laswell confirmed it.”

You relax. You thought it would feel different, you thought you might miss him. You don’t. It feels right; he’s dead in the ground where he belongs.

You pull your braid out as John starts to wash you, taking his time lathering you all over with soap. You turn round in the tub kneeling between his legs to wash him. He offers to braid your hair again but you decide not to. Maybe you’ll let Piper do it again now that she’s back.

When you hear the car pull up you get out of the bath putting on fresh pajamas. John leads you downstairs, his hand on your back. When you get to the kitchen you see Johnny opening some pizza boxes.

“Thought you might need something to fill you up after all that ‘strenuous exercise’,” Johnny chuckles, nudging Kyle.

“You’re a menace,” Simon says, tapping him over the back of the head. You feel yourself blushing as you go over to sit on one of the stools.

“Try this one, no mushrooms,” Kyle says, pushing a plate with a slice on for you. You smile at him taking a bite as John comes to sit next to you. Piper is standing at the other end of the island. She’s already half way through a slice. She smiles at you too.

You look away sighing. The pizza is good but for some reason it doesn’t sit right in your stomach. You’re not really that hungry. You really want to go to bed. You push the plate away with the half eaten slice.

“I’m tired, I think I’ll go to bed,” you say getting up.

“You sure?” John asks, raising an eyebrow. You nod. Maybe you’re not tired and you just want some alone time. You’re not sure. All you know is you’re not ready to talk to Piper yet, not after you’ve had such a good time with John.

When you make it upstairs you wonder where Piper is going to sleep. Maybe she’ll take your room. You don’t mind sleeping with John but you also like your own space. You go to your room cracking the door open. You don’t mind if she takes it. You head into John’s room and climb into the bed. You open one of the windows slightly so the lingering smell of vanilla will air out.

As soon as you lay down and can smell his scent on his pillows, you relax, closing your eyes and breathing it in. You’ll talk to her tomorrow, clear the air and move on. It’s what’s best for you, and what’s best for the pack.

…

You’re back in the bunker. Alarms are blaring. You can barely think. The place is dark only lit up by flashing emergency lights. You stumble out of your room. You make it into the lab and there are bodies everywhere. You can’t smell anything other than the sickly smell of fresh blood.

When you make it to the open corridor something stops you. You’ve never been far outside your room alone before. Now no one is stopping you. There are more bodies out here, you don’t recognise any of them.

A crash pulls your attention to the end of the hall. You see Piper stumbling out of a room forcing a door closed behind her. Even from this distance you can see her covered in blood, her white lab coat and blonde hair stained crimson.

She spots you and rushes towards you checking over her shoulder every now and then. You’re panicking, you can’t think, all you know is something is horribly wrong. When she reaches you, her cold hands grip your shoulders. There’s blood splashed across her face, and it’s all you can smell in the air, the smell of iron.

“Hale is coming,” she says in a panic, pressing something into your hand. You look down. It's a pistol sticky with blood. It feels heavy in your hands, and cold.

“You need to get out of here. Don’t let anyone stop you.” She’s forcing you to look at her as a bang down the hall makes you jump. The weapon feels heavy and foreign, but you don’t have time to worry about it. She grabs your arm tight, her nails digging into your skin as she drags you down the hall.

“We need to get out of here before he comes,” she says, but she’s dragging you away from the exit. You try to protest but before you get a chance to tell her, a door ahead of you crashes open. You see the Professor step out. Piper turns to look at you. He’s coming towards you. She moves out the way.

“Shoot him! You’ve got to shoot him or he’ll kill us!”

You bring the weapon up to your eye line. You’re shaking. You’re not sure what you’re doing. He steps towards you. It’s like he’s growling.

“How dare you!” he shouts, his voice ringing in your ears. Your finger moves to the trigger. You’re not even sure if you’re doing it right but you don’t care. You’re terrified and he’s coming towards you with anger in his eyes. He’s bigger than you remember, blood splashed across his face and clothes.

“Quick, if he gets to us he’ll kill us!” Piper yells in your ear. You don’t want to. Something is trying hard to stop you. A pit forms in your stomach as he speeds up his strides coming towards you. You back up but you just hit Piper. She’s screaming in your ear. You close your eyes and shoot.

…

There’s a noise louder than anything you’ve ever experienced before.

You don’t know what's happened but there’s someone pressing you hard up against a wall. It hurts and it feels like you can’t breathe. You try to cry out but you can’t. Someone is fighting with you, pulling something out of your hand.

A scream catches in your throat as you squeeze your eyes closed.

“You’re okay, hey, just breathe.” There are warm hands on your face. It’s John. You open your eyes blinking a few times looking at his face. His eyes wide; he looks worried. Whoever is holding you against the wall slowly lets you down and you stumble into his arms. He guides your body down to the floor as you bury your head in his neck. You’re not sure what happened but you’re not in the bedroom.

“What happened?” you ask, looking over his shoulder at Johnny and Kyle. Simon is the one behind you. He was the one who pinned you to the wall. You gasp seeing the pistol in Johnny's hand. Tears well up in your eyes and your stomach drops. You’ve done this before. You’ve been disoriented, shaken out of a sleep state covered in blood. Scalpel in your hand, bodies on the floor.

You break from the hug as you see Piper walking up the steps.

“Did I hurt anyone?” you ask, looking at John.

“No, you didn’t. It's okay,” he says, still holding your shoulders. Your lip quivers as you hang your head. You could have killed them. You were sleeping in the same bed as John, you could have killed him.

“I’m sorry.” You throw yourself back in his arms sobbing. He rubs your back, shushing you and telling you it’s okay. You hear footsteps, people going down the stairs. Another hand lands on your shoulder, and you assume it’s Simon. You don’t listen to what John says. Your ears are still ringing.

“C’mon, let's go back to bed,” he says after the last set of footsteps makes it downstairs. You nod, pulling your face off his chest as he helps you to your feet. He helps you into the bed then shuffles in behind you, pulling your back against his chest and locking his legs with yours.

“I could have killed you,” you say. He squeezes you tighter.

“You didn’t.”

You could have though. You could have hurt your pack.

John walks into the kitchen. Everyone is spread around, heads hung. He sighs. The air is thick with guilt. The sun is just peeking through the clouds. It took him longer than normal to get you to settle. He waited till you fell asleep, sniffling and apologising until you exhausted yourself. It was better than nothing.

“How is she?” Kyle asks.

“Sleeping,” he says. His eyes fall on Piper sitting at the dining room table.

“Should someone be with her?” Johnny asks.

“No, we need to talk. All of us,” John says, turning to Simon. He leans in and Simon tips his head towards him. “How was the trip out?”

“Interesting.”

John turns his head slightly to look over at Piper sitting at the table. He hums then looks back at Simon.

There’s something she’s not saying.

Simon moves to stand behind her next to the fireplace crossing his arms. A little bit of pressure should get her to talk.

“Have they been getting worse?” she asks as John turns to look at her.

“Better actually, this is the first time in a while,” John explains. Piper sighs looking down at her mug.

“First time she’s ever done anything this extreme,” Kyle says.

“Where did she get it from?” Johnny asks, looking at the pistol on the table.

“It was the one in the bedside table. I had no idea she even knew it was there,” John says walking over to the table where Piper is sitting.

“This has happened before in the bunker. She would sleepwalk and get into places we never thought she could get access too. She would find weapons and attack the staff,” Piper says solemnly. “It’s my fault. Sorry.”

She looks back up around the room. No one says anything. John studies her face. She was cagey during their talk, the long drive from the next town over to here. There’s something she’s holding back.

“Hale’s alive,” John says. He watches as the others take in what he just said. The only person who doesn’t react is Simon. He’s not wearing his mask right now but he might as well be.

“When did you find out?” she asks

“When Laswell called me,” John says, walking over to the table and sitting down.

“How did you manage to get out? We saw the building collapse on you,” Kyle says.

“I don’t know. Call it divine intervention if you want. I thought I was going to die.”

John hums. He doesn’t doubt that.

“How do you know Hale is alive?” Kyle asks, going to sit down at the table.

“He’s in Florida. Someone Kate knew got info for us.” She reaches down, taking a folder out of her bag. “She thought it would be better if I brought the papers in person.”

“Who was her contact?” Johnny asks.

“Keller,” John replies, opening the folder and skimming through it.

“It’s everything me and Kate managed to find on Hale and his movements,” she says. John closes the folder and puts it on the table.

“Why is he in Florida?” John asks. She presses her lips together looking round the room. That’s it. Something to do with Hale and Florida.

“Only Anderson and I knew about his house in Florida. Anderson is definitely dead,” she says. She's fidgeting. John sighs, leaning back. He keeps his eyes on her. Simon shifts standing up straight, increasing the pressure ever so slightly.

“I wasn’t completely open with you all. He’s in Florida because, that's where his daughter is buried.” She pauses to look around. John lets out a long breath. “She was the first omega. He needs omega DNA to make more of the formula. It was either dig Vanessa up or come after you.”

“Is that possible? How long has she been dead for?” Johnny asks.

“Almost 25 years,” Piper says. A somber look has fallen over her face as she grips onto the mug in her hands. “It is possible, well theoretically. Hale must have the means to do it or he would have fled the country.”

“What do you think he’s planning?” John asks. She shrugs.

“He’s still paying Shadow Company to protect him,” John says.

“They found us in Canada,” Kyle says.

“You think they could be in the UK?” Johnny asks.

“Don’t know. We have to assume the worst. Laswell is keeping an eye on things.”

“Kate had a theory. The reason Hale needs a copy of the formula is to give it to Commander Graves and the rest of Shadow Company.” Piper looks up at John to see his reaction.

“What makes her think that?”

“His assets are all tied up in real estate. He has a little bit of cash in offshore accounts but not enough to cover the cost of hiring them privately for the foreseeable future.”

“He’s building a personal army,” Kyle says. There’s a few seconds of silence.

“It would explain why he ran to Florida instead of fleeing the country. Shadow Company would have been able to get him over the border. He could have slipped under the radar. Would have taken us months to find him again,” John says. His eyes flick up to Simon.

“What if his ego is just that big he needs to have a copy of the formula? Make himself into an asset. As long as he has the formula, the US government still needs him,” Johnny says

“The US government thinks he's dead. I don’t think he cares enough about his ego to dig his daughter up. He loved her,” Piper says. There’s sadness in her voice.

“Did you know her?” John asks. She nods.

“What happened?” Kyle asked.

“The formula was unstable. Her body couldn’t handle the physical transformation. She died after a few months,” she says.

“How old was she?” John asks.

“17.” There’s silence in the room. Eventually someone sighs. Piper's head snaps up to Johnny who’s standing with his arms crossed. “That was when he disappeared for 2 years and came back with the omega.”

“And you still kept working for him?” Kyle scoffs. John can hear the spite in his voice. She just sighs, hanging her head again.

“He was trying to change the world. The formula has the potential to change the world. Do things we could only dream of seeing in our lifetime, cancer and genetic diseases eradicated, people healthy. The super soldiers were just the start. There was even research to support the potential for immortality,” Piper says, hostility in her voice. “The alpha, omega thing that’s just a side effect. That’s why he was trying to perfect the formula. It would have never been ready until he could get rid of that side effect.”

Simon scoffs, going back into the kitchen. She sighs looking back up at John.

“He wasn’t always a monster. It was after his daughter's death. Something snapped in him.”

“Sounds like you don’t disagree with him,” Kyle says.

“No. I don’t. I don’t disagree with his vision, that's why I stayed. I do disagree with his methods. What he did to the omega was wrong. She didn’t deserve everything she went through.”

This time Johnny lets out a sharp scoff.

“Okay, calm down. This isn’t helping anyone,” John says, sitting back up in his chair. “Both of you go check on her then get some rest,” he says waving Johnny and Kyle away. He hears their huffs and murmurs under their breath. He looks over at Simon, his arms crossed leaning up against the kitchen island, his eyes digging into Piper.

John sighs, leaning forward and pulling Piper's attention up to him.

“You always said you’re not one of the good guys,” he says. “I think that's the only time you’re honest with yourself.”

She keeps her gaze on him. He can see sadness in her eyes. He can smell her determination in the air.

“You don’t work for Hale anymore. What happened in the bunker is the past.”

“I know.”

“Our job is to keep the omega safe. Your job is to find a cure. We need to work together for her sake at least.”

“I won’t do anything to harm her, ever.”

“I know that.” There’s silence again, she looks down at her cup.

“I thought I was going to die. I should have died.” He can smell her guilt in the air.

“You said you had injuries that would never heal,” he says, trying to move the subject on. She nods, pulling the sleeve on her left arm up. Her whole arm is littered with uneven bumps and bright red skin. They look like burns but old ones from maybe a few months ago.

“My leg and stomach are the same. Burns can take years to heal, I don’t know how long these will take.” She pulls the sleeve back down then looks up at John pointing at her eye. “I don’t have any vision in my left eye. I don’t know if that will ever come back.”

“How about the Professor?” John asks.

“I don’t know.” John leans back in his chair.

“How much do we want to tell her? Are we going to tell her about the Professor, Vanessa?” Piper asks.

“She almost distressed at the hospital in Canada. We almost lost her,” John says, his voice low. “I don’t know what stopped her or what kept her here but I know I never want to see her like that again.”

“I understand but she will find out eventually,” Piper says. John looks up at Simon. His lips are pressed together.

“Let’s let her have some peace. It is almost Christmas after all. We can discuss it again in the new year.” He looks at Piper then over at Simon. He can tell she’s not too happy with the idea.

“Go get some rest, we’ll talk later,” John says. She nods at him and picks up her mug moving into the kitchen and putting it in the sink before heading out. Simon waits until the door is closed behind her before standing up and coming over to the table.

“What do you think?” John asks Simon as he sits down in Piper's seat.

“If Graves gets the formula, we’ve lost our advantage. Hale is preparing them to come after the omega. It could already be too late.”

“I’m not talking about that,” John sighs.

“A near death experience can change people. I don’t think she’s lying if that's what you’re asking.”

John sighs, flicking open the folder. He pulls out the top peice of paper pushing it over to Simon.

“How long do you think we’ll have before we have to move?” he asks.

John shakes his head. “Don't know. Laswell will let us know if they move.”

“She’s only one person. She could easily miss them,” Simon says. John sighs. He knows he’s right. They need to keep closer tabs on him. They need to know the second Hale or Graves make a move.

“I need to make some calls. We’re not safe here anymore.” John looks up at Simon, as he thinks of who he can ask for help. He’s going to need every contact he has. Simon reaches out, picking up the piece of paper.

“She’s right, you know. Eventually she will find out. She won’t be too happy knowing you kept it a secret.”

“I know.” He hangs his head sighing. “But I just got her back. I don’t want to lose her again.”

The next morning you decide you need to talk to Piper. Not here, though. You want to go away from the house. Away from your pack. You don’t know why, it just feels right. You walk into the living room. Everyone but Piper is in there.

“I want to go to the loch,” you say, stepping over to John. He nods, putting his mug down on the coffee table.

“Okay I’ll get changed—“

“No, I want to go alone. With Piper,” you say. Everyone looks up at you, Simon steps up next to you, his hand landing on the small of your back. You see John’s eyes flick up to him. You wait holding your breath hoping he will just let you take the time with Piper.

“Okay,” he says.

You take a step towards him. “Promise.”

“You can go,” he says. You look around the room. You’re not sure if you believe him but you have no other choice.

“Thank you,” you say, leaving the room.

…

“It’s nice here,” Piper says, as you make it around the treeline to the opening of the loch. You both walk over to the edge of the water, the snow covered stones crunching under your feet.

“I dream about this place. While you were gone I dreamt about you,” you say. She turns to look at you.

“Did you dream about me last night?” she asks. You nod, bending down to pick up a stone.

“You were trying to save me.” You throw the stone out into the water. “You handed me a gun and told me to shoot the Professor. It felt so real. They always feel so real.”

“Do you dream a lot about the bunker?” she asks, digging her toe into the stones.

“No. I dream about being a bad omega,” you say, reaching down to pick up another stone.

“Why do you think you're a bad omega?”

“Why does it matter?” you snap back at her. You’re mad. You just don’t want to talk about it. You turn the stone round in your hand.

“If you talk about it you might be able to move through some of the trauma you’re holding on to.”

“Stop analysing me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” you say, throwing the stone hard against the water. You’re frustrated and it feels like no one understands. It’s not like there’s another omega you can confide in. Piper talks like she understands but really she’s just like the Professor. She believes in the formula as much as he does.

“My job is to be bred, to have children. Satisfy my alpha and submit to him. I couldn’t even do that.”

You hear her sigh like you’ve just explained everything.

“That's what Hale wanted from you. He’s not here anymore. You get to do whatever you want to. You get to choose,” she says. You sigh, hanging your head, digging your toes into the stones. You don’t believe her. Besides, she’s the one always saying you can’t fight biology.

“I could have been a better omega,” you say, trying to hold the sob back. You haven’t spoken about what happened with anyone. You can’t talk to John; he's your alpha. You don’t want to talk to Kyle or Johnny about it. Simon well… You’re still not sure he even likes you. You failed the pack. You failed at one of the only things you need to do.

You’re not even ready to have kids. You know no one in your pack is ready to have kids, least of all with you. It’s still your job though. It’s what you were made for whether you like it or not. It’s a fundamental part of your biology, and you fucked it up.

“You weren't given a choice. What happened with you getting pregnant was out of your control. You don’t have to feel guilty about that at all.”

“I had a miscarriage. That's what they told me at the hospital.” It’s the first time you’ve said it out loud. The person you were carrying inside of you died because you were not good enough. No matter what Piper tells you, that's all you can think. That you were never good enough.

Her hand lands on your arm. “It's not your fault. Your body is not ready to carry a child to term. Professor Hale tried to force a child on you so he could have a pure omega.”

“Isn’t that my job?”

“You would have died. Your body only did what was natural. It did what it had to do to keep you alive,” she says. You look up at her. She brings her hand up to brush your tears away. Her fingers are cold, but it feels familiar, and her touch is gentle. You never thought you would see her again. You step back from her. It doesn’t feel the same. The guilt and disappointment turns to anger. You huff, balling your hands into fists.

“I mourned for you! For weeks I punished John because I thought he let you die,” you shout. Anger is strong in the air. She looks down at her feet for a second then back to you. It feels good, shouting at her, getting out the emotions you’ve bottled up for weeks.

“I know--”

“No! You don’t know. Fuck!” You turn away from her hugging your chest. You’re angry and upset. You should be happy she’s alive, that she’s here.

“I broke my bond with you. I let you go,” you sniffle, wiping the tears away. You hear her walking towards you. “You have no idea what it's like to do that!”

You’re sobbing now. You don’t care if she sees you cry. Her hand lands on your shoulder. You want to throw it off but you can’t bring yourself to do it. She comes around to stand in front of you.

“You promised you would never leave. You promised. I had to go through losing you twice!” Tingles raise up your arms. Your body is pumping with adrenaline. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”

“I thought I would never see you again. I thought I was going to die.” You can hear the sadness in her voice. You look up at her. You think you see tears in her eyes. Now you feel guilty. You should be happy she’s here, that she’s alive.

“Did it hurt?” you ask. Your dreams have been guilt-filled imagining her slowly dying, trapped under a building.

“No, I’m fine. Well mostly,” she says. She bends down so her head is level with yours. “Nothing that happened is your fault. If you want to blame anyone, blame Hale.”

“He’s dead.”

“Yes he is. Rotting in the ground where he deserves to be.”

You nod and throw yourself in her arms. He’s gone, he can't hurt you anymore and she’s alive. You are happy she’s alive. She wraps her arms around you and squeezes. Her scent fills your nose. You close your eyes, breathing her in. Lavender, it makes you relax against her chest.

“I thought it would feel different,” you say. She frowns at you. “When he died, I thought I would feel something, like sadness. It doesn't feel right.”

“You need closure,” she says as a matter of fact.

“How do I do that?”

“I’m not sure. We can figure something out though.”

You smile up at her. You turn back towards the lake and she steps to stand next to you.

“I like it here,” you say. Her hand comes up to rub the top of your back.

“Yeah, I thought you would.” She smiles. You stand there with her hand rubbing your back looking out over the lake until snow starts to fall.

“We should get back,” Piper says. You nod, turning away from the lake.

You’re excited when Johnny suggests going out to the pub for dinner. ‘Can’t come to the UK and not go out for some pub grub.’ He was giddy as soon as you got back, throwing his arm around your shoulders, dragging you into the living room

“I wouldn’t mind a pint,” Kyle says. Simon nods with him in agreement. After a few more minutes of convincing, John finally says yes. Piper decides to stay behind; she has work to do apparently. She waves you off though, stranding in the door as you leave.

When you make it to the town the lights strung up across the road are lit up as a sprinkling of snow starts to fall. You hold Kyle's hand as you walk through the street gawking at the flashy decorations. It’s early evening, but most places are still open and the street is still busy.

You stop at the bookstore looking at the books on display pointing out to Kyle which ones look interesting before he gently pulls you to catch up with the others. The pub is at the end of the street on the corner. It looks like it’s the oldest building in the town: massive curved windows, the door decorated with a mosaic of stained glass.

Johnny goes in first. The heat hits you straight away. The dim orange lights, dark walls and furniture make the whole place feel cozy. It reminds you of Johnny’s house, old, warm and inviting. The whole place smells of food, gravy, beef, other things you can smell but can’t name. It makes your stomach rumble.

“John!” a man calls coming over to you all. You watch as John hugs him. They slap each other on the back, then he looks round the group. Johnny introduces him as Archie, the landlord. The place is pretty busy. There are people chatting and laughing, and soft music is playing in the background. You smile looking up at Kyle who squeezes your hand.

“Didn’t think you were back till new years?” he asks, slapping Johnny on the shoulder.

“Got a little break, thought I should come home for once.”

“Good lad,” Archie says and leads you all over to a table in the far corner of the place. You scoot into the circle booth sitting between John and Kyle. Archie tries to pass menus round but Johnny stops him.

“Five steak and kidney pies with all the trimmings and extra gravy,” Johnny says. “And whatever you have on the tap, surprise us.”

Archie seems happy about that, smiling as he writes it down on a pad before nodding and leaving.

“So you spoke with Piper?” Kyle asks, turning to you. You nod, you’re not sure what to say.

“Yeah, I was mad at her. We talked about it, and I'm not mad at her anymore,” you say.

“That's good. I think it’s nice that she’s back.” You smile at him. You know deep down they’re just happy they can get a cure now. You look back at the table bringing your arms closer to you. You don’t want to spoil the night. Johnny at least seems pretty excited to be out here.

Someone brings a tray of drinks and places them round the table. John puts his hand on your thigh, and you smile, looking up at him. You want to lean up against him but you reach out for your drink instead.

“Cheers!” Johnny says, holding his glass up. Simon and Kyle tap their glasses against his before taking a drink. You look at them, confused. John clicks his glass with yours.

“Cheers,” he says before taking a drink. You follow him, taking a big gulp. It tastes good and you don’t mind the alcohol relaxing you. You listen to them talk. Johnny always seems so enthusiastic, talking about everything. He also seems to know almost everyone, with people coming up to the table to ask him why he’s back so early.

The place is warm and after a few sips of your drink you feel your senses dull out as you relax further into the soft booth. John’s hand stays on your thigh rubbing it or squeezing it under the table as he talks with the others. When you’re halfway through your drinks the food arrives. You sit up and your mouth waters when a plate is placed down in front of you.

There is a mini pie and the side of the plate is topped with mash and veggies smothered in a thick gravy. Your stomach rumbles as you enthusiastically dig into your plate.

“Good?” Johnny asks when you look up at him. You nod enthusiastically, your mouth still full with food. He chuckles going back to his plate. You manage to eat everything on your plate. Simon winds Johnny up, something about English vs Scottish cuisine which makes Kyle and John chuckle every now and then.

Your belly is full and the alcohol has made you feel relaxed. When you’re done you do end up leaning up against John who puts his arm around your shoulders. You’re watching the person behind the bar talking with people and pulling drinks for people. You’re not paying attention to what’s going on as John’s other hand strokes your thigh.

It’s been a good day. You’re happy Piper is back. You’re happy that they’re going to get a cure. Things feel better than they have been in a long while, in weeks. Your time in Washington feels like it was years ago, not weeks. It feels like a different world with different problems.

“Henry!” Johnny says getting up. You turn your head to the other side of the booth. It’s the same guy who you saw a few days ago, the one who greeted Johnny in the carpark.

“I’ve been looking fer ya,” he says. He's drunk but whatever it is he seems pretty insistent on talking to Johnny about it. You sit up, the hairs rising on the back of your neck.

“Some fuckin’ brass were looking, askin’ bout yous,” he slurs. You feel John tighten his grip on your thigh. “Yankies fuckin’ sticking their noses in.”

“They ain’t yankies. English, proper posh,” the bartender says as he clears the table of the empty glasses.

“What did they want?” Johnny asks the bartender.

“Wanted to know where ya place was,” he replies. Johnny turns to look at John. You can feel tension rise around the table.

“You didn’t tell them, did you?”

“Didn’t know you were in town. Thought they were renting the place and got lost.” The bartender shrugs walking away.

“Shit,” you hear Simon say under his breath. John’s hand leaves your thigh.

“I told ‘em to fuckin’ sling their hook,” Henry says, waving his hands in the air.

“‘Course ya did,” Johnny says, slapping Henry’s shoulder. He looks over at John who is sitting up. His eyes flick to Simon then back to Johnny. He shuffles his way out the booth, his hand leaving your thigh. You look over at Kyle who smiles at you.

“Go back to the car, we’ll pay and meet you out there,” Simon says, handing keys to Kyle. You’re already scooting out of the booth as soon as he finishes saying it. Kyle’s hand rests on the small of your back as he leads you through the cozy pub that seems to have got busier since you’ve been here.

When you make it outside the snow is heavier. You pull your coat around you tighter. Kyle keeps pressing you down the street to the car park. You can tell something’s wrong with the way they moved, the tension in the air.

“What’s happening?” you ask eventually.

“Nothing. It’s late, we should be getting home. John’ll pay the bill then we’ll be back home before you know it.”

You nod but you don’t believe him. Your mind turns to Piper. She's alone at the house. If people went there looking for you, they’ll find her. They could hurt her.

You feel like Kyle can smell your worry in the air as you make it to the car. He opens the door so you can get in the back. You start pulling the skin around your nails trying to keep calm. There’s no reason to be worried. Like Kyle said: it’s late, it’s dark. You watch as the snow falls on the ground melting away before it can set.

Kyle’s hand lands on yours. You look up at him and stop picking your skin. He smiles at you, and you smile back but you can feel your heart pick up, thumping in your chest. You just want to get home and see Piper. You have a gut feeling something is wrong.

You’re only waiting a few more minutes before Johnny, Simon and John pile into the car. There’s a heavy silence. No one says anything, they just share glances between each other. Simon drove the way here but now John is in the driver seat pulling out of the car park before Johnny has even got his seat belt on next to you.

The ride goes in silence. The small county roads have no lights, and all you can see is the snow hitting the window as John speeds as quickly as he dares back to the house. John stops the car further away from the house than normal.

The house is dark, no lights on inside or out. You grip Johnny's arm. John turns the car lights off. Now it’s pitch black. Goosebumps rise on the back of your neck.

“It’s quiet,” Kyle says.

“Maybe she’s asleep,” you say, trying to hide the fear building inside you. John’s eyes are still scanning the building.

“Ghost, Soap. Go round the back, through the kitchen--” John doesn’t get to finish his sentence before the front door opens and the outdoor lights come on.

“Captain Price, we’re not here to fight.”

“Not American,” Simon says. You move so you can get a better look. It’s not just one person, there are multiple people walking out. They’re all wearing suits, some with guns in their hands or bullet proof vests on.

“Where’s Piper?” you ask, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Stay here,” John says. You nod leaning back to sit in the seat. Everyone else gets out, Johnny, Kyle and Simon have weapons in their hands now. You look around the car confused—where the hell do they get this stuff from?

The strangers take a few tentative steps towards John. John stops and they do too.

“Major Williams, MI6.” He holds something up. He’s young, skinny with groomed thick black hair. “Your associate Kate Laswell, she said you were busy in Urzikstan. I told her ‘Urzikstan for Christmas must be rough.’” He chuckles before clearing his throat.

“What do you want?” John asks. Williams takes another step forward, but his entourage stays behind. John holds his ground. You can only see Simon and Johnny who have weapons trained on him.

“You’ve got yourself wrapped up in a bit of a mess from what I heard. Something about an omega project? Ring any bells?”

John doesn’t say anything.

“You’re hiding one of the lead scientists out here. I thought Dr. Montgomery was dead. Don’t tell me you have Professor Hale hidden here somewhere too,” he chuckles again. He seems nervous. Your stomach sinks. Where is she?

“God, don't look so worried. She’s fine, just took a hit to the head. Thought we were a threat I guess. Look, I'm not here to take her away from you or the omega you’ve got hiding somewhere. I’m here on official business from Her Majesty’s secret service. You know the drill. We’ve had our eyes on Professor Hale’s little project for a while now. So you must understand we were delighted to find out you had two of the most important pieces hidden up here.” The man kicks the snow at his feet.

“We want the omega project. With Professor Hale gone there is no one in the US to continue the project. MI6 is willing to fund and supervise the research of the formula.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. It’s never going to end.

There’s always going to be someone to take up Hale's position. There is always going to be someone after you. If it’s not the Americans, it's now the British. Who knows, next week the Russians could be after you. You just want to be free, but maybe you’ll never be free. You can’t let that eat you up now. You want to find Piper.

“We don’t work for you,” John says, pulling you out of your head.

“Technically you do. Put the weapons down, let's talk,” he says holding his hands up. “We can help you too, get General Shepherd off your case, bring in only people you trust. You run this show now. We’re just here to help.”

“Sounds like you want first dibs on the tech?” Johnny says.

“Naturally,” he says nodding.

John turns to look towards the car and everyone lowers their weapons. You open the door getting out the car. You don’t know what you’re doing, but you want to know what happened to Piper. They said she hit her head, was she injured?

Johnny and Kyle turn to look at you. You feel everyone's eyes on you. You walk over to Kyle grabbing his arm. You look down at the weapon in his hands. It sends a shiver up your spine. You look up at him and he smiles.

“Where’s Piper,” you ask, trying to be quiet but you know they can hear you.

“Dr. Montgomery?” John asks. Williams steps to the side gesturing to the house.

“Inside with an icepack on her head,” he says. John looks back at you quickly. You’re still holding onto Kyle’s arm.

John sighs and walks up to the man. Everyone else holds their ground. You can’t hear them talking. His voice is low and hushed. You try to lean forward to listen but you can’t hear anything. After a few seconds John turns around and walks over to you.

“Soap, Gaz take her in. Get Dr. Montgomery and keep them out the way,” John says. He doesn’t even acknowledge you. His fingers point at people, talking in a hushed voice. You watch him until Johnny and Kyle lead you back to the house. You look down the field past the tree line and see a helicopter parked a little down the hill.

“Great. That field’s fuckin’ runied now,” Johnny whispers under his breath, his eyes digging into the other people who came with Williams. They move out the way letting you pass. You’re still gripping onto Kyle like a vice as he leads up into the living room. You see Piper sat on the sofa holding a towel to her head. She stands up as soon as you come into the room.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t say anything. One of them has a mean swing,” she says, pulling the towel away. Johnny goes up to inspect it. You’re still digging your nails into Kyle as you look over at your nest. They haven't touched it. You let out a breath, breaking away to go to her.

“It’ll heal quickly,” she says sitting back down as you sit next to her wrapping your arms around her arm. She puts the towel down, her hand resting on yours.

“What’s going on?” she asks, her hand squeezing you.

“Not sure yet. Seems like the UK has taken an interest in continuing Hale’s work,” Kyle says. You look back over at your nest. It’s the only place you want to be right now. You want to curl up in it and forget what's happening. It’s like a bubble where nothing can hurt you. You’re not listening to Piper and Kyle talk. You focus on the fire cracking. It’s going to need another log or it will die out.

“—I don’t think we’ll be staying here much longer,” you hear Johnny say. Your head snaps up to him.

“No,” you say. Everyone turns to look at you.

“We’ll come back. Promise,” Johnny says. It doesn’t feel right. You look back over at your nest, unlooping your arm from Piper’s. You get up going over to it, bending down and running your fingers over the blue blanket that came with you all the way from Canada.

“You okay?” you hear Johnny ask. You nod your head. You ignore what’s going on around you, pulling your shoes off before crawling under the blanket. You press your feet up against the stone wall of the fireplace letting the warmth rise up your body.

You’re facing away from the living room. You don’t want to leave. You like it here. John and Johnny said you’d come back but for some reason you don't believe them. You pull the blanket further around you and close your eyes.

…

John walks into the living room almost 2 hours later. Johnny’s the only one left. Kyle and Piper went to bed about half an hour ago. There was no way Johnny was going to leave you alone until John and Simon were done with their meeting.

John hears the front door close behind him, a cold draft wafting in. He looks over at you. You’re curled up sleeping in your nest facing out into the room. John goes over to sit on the sofa next to Johnny.

“Go get some rest. I’ll stay with her,” John says.

“Piper said to leave her be. I don’t think she’s too happy we might be moving soon,” Johnny says looking over at you. “She won’t be comfy if she sleeps in her nest all night.”

“No, but it’s where she feels safe,” John sighs. Johnny gets up heading for the door.

“When do you think we’ll be leaving?” he asks.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” John says, pinching the bridge of his nose. Johnny takes the hint, nodding and leaving the room, closing the door behind him. He spent the last 2 hours navigating the finer details of this plan.

He already has a stack of paperwork to go through, NDA’s to sign, people to contact. He’d never worked with the secret service before, this would be new to him. The pay was good though and he was looking forward to getting Shepherd off his back. With the access MI6 could give them they could keep an even closer eye on Hale and Shadow Company. All he needs to do now is convince them to let Kate help.

They made a lot of promises he doesn’t think will ever happen but at least they’ll be safe. They can stay in the UK working out of a MI6 facility. John looks back over at you, your hand gripping one of the many pillows you’ve placed in your nest. It does look comfy.

He gets up going over to you. He sits down next to you leaning against the wall. His fingers brush hair behind your ear and he sighs. They’re going to have to move again but this time they’ll do it right. No rushing around, no more strangers they don’t trust. If everything goes according to plan it’s going to be their way.

“We’re going to keep you safe. I promise,” he says brushing your face. “It’s not going to be like last time. No more surprises.” He reaches down, picking up your hand and rubbing the back with his thumb. A few seconds later John hears the familiar noise of helicopter blades start up.

The noise gets louder as the helo lifts off the ground causing you to stir, gripping John's hand as you blink up at him sleepy.

“Did they leave?” you ask. He nods, smiling at you.

“Want to come to bed?” he asks. You shake your head. You want to stay in this perfect bubble. He tips his head slightly, his fingers brushing your face.

“It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

You smile up at him. Maybe he’s right. It might be different this time. You might even be able to stay here but you don’t count on it. He bends over kissing you on the top of your head and pulling the blanket over your shoulders.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he says getting up. You smile watching as he leaves the room, turning the standing light off as he does. The only light that comes in is the warm light from the fire. You yawn, closing your eyes and drifting back off to sleep.

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Beta reader and editor - rememberwren

Dividers by gild-ui & plum98