#or b. make breakfast instead

[alternative-snake]

the only thing stopping me from getting up and making garlic bread right now is the fact that its 6 am like if time didnt FUCKING betray me like this i would be looking for a good recipe right now

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

mewhen i

[master-gatherer]

Restaurants need to either stop putting so much caffeine in their coffee or give like a half caff option

B/c I stopped drinking this coffee two hours ago and I still have a splitting headache. AND it's only half empty

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 7 : Sweet Strawberry

Summary: You're not a soldier, you're just an omega. You shouldn't have to remind them of that, yet you find yourself needing to. Price makes it up to you in the best way possible.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, fluff, suggestive content, terrible flirting

A/N: Not entirely happy with it but it's done and I can move on from this one. I struggled so much with this chapter omg. Also, I just wanted to make it clear that I am not from the UK, I've never been to the UK, I'm simply going off of prior knowledge and what Google can tell me. So, if there's any inaccuracies, I am so sorry.

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You’re expecting the knock when it comes. You’d been standing in front of your door for almost five minutes, and you get it open almost before he’s finished, hand still raised. He gives no sign that betrays his surprise, if he feels any at all, instead he simply looks you over before turning on his heel and marching towards the door. 

You close your door behind you, slipping down the hallway after him. It’s raining again, though you had prepared for that, flipping the hood of your jacket up as you hurry after Ghost. He threatens to disappear in the darkness of morning, slipping between the street lamps like a specter. It’s not often you get to see the true danger in them, the threats that they pose, the things that make them good at their job. You can imagine how many on his opposing side have been caught unawares by the way he seems to flow with the darkness around him. 

You are significantly less graceful and quiet, feet slapping the wet pavement as you speed walk to keep up with the giant alpha. You can almost imagine the look on his face as you plod along behind him. If your lives depended on your silence at this moment, well, it wouldn’t entirely have been your fault. If he didn’t walk so fucking fast...

He’s at least courteous enough to hold the door open for you, though perhaps that was simply something that was deeply ingrained in him. Manners that become unconscious practice, even when you despise the person you’re with. He leads you down the hall towards the practice room again, unlocking it and flipping on the lights. He empties his pockets and removes his shoes and sweatshirt, before moving to one of the punching bags. 

You can already predict what your lesson today will entail. Your knuckles have almost completely healed since your little fit a week ago. You quickly strip off your jacket and toe off your wet shoes, moving to join him without having to be told. 

“Do you know how to wrap your hands?” He asks, holding out two rolls of hand wraps. 

“No.” You shake your head. It’s not entirely true. They had shown you once while you were with the CIA, but that had been weeks ago and you’re sure you’ve forgotten the right way to do it. Even if you tried, he’d likely sigh and do it himself anyway. 

He lets out a breath, pocketing one of the wraps before grabbing your right wrist. His hands are just as rough as you remember them being the day you punched Corporal Allen, calluses dragging against your skin as he meticulously wraps the fabric around your fingers. You watch him, trying to memorize how to do it in hopes that maybe, eventually, you’ll surprise him and manage it yourself. 

He finishes your hands quickly before wrapping his own. You flex your hands, trying to get used to the feeling of the wraps. They’re not too tight, shockingly. You had half expected him to choke your fingers until they’re purple just because. But, you also know Price will be looking for any mark or sign of injury as soon as he sees you at breakfast. The thought of him laying into Ghost for even a bruise as your stomach twisting, and not in a bad way. 

“Make a fist.” Ghost says, crossing his arms as he stands in front of you. 

You stare at his bulging muscles for a second too long, quickly curling your fingers as your face warms. 

He takes hold of your hand, inspecting your fist. “Not bad.” 

“I did grow up with brothers.” You murmur. 

“Did they ever hit you?” He asks as he turns you to face the boxing bag. 

“Only playfully.” You say, missing the subtle edge to his voice. “Dad would have caved their heads in if they ever tried.” 

You can’t see the way he’s staring at you as he stands slightly behind you, but you can feel his gaze as it lingers for just a second longer than you expected it to. You’re not sure if maybe he doesn’t believe you, or maybe he knows there’s more to the story. You’ve hardly spoken about your family since your arrival, but they seemed to accept the fact that they haven’t been your family for years now as a valid reason.

“Get into your fighting stance.” He finally says, moving around you as you take the stance you had perfected last training session. “Good.” He says, looking you over. “Now throw a punch at the bag.” 

You squeeze your fists, imagining Corporal Allen’s face on the bag before you throw a punch, barely managing to move the bag. 

“Punches like that are what will get you hurt.” Ghost says, extending your arm. “You can throw your weight, which is good. That’s why you were able to throw Allen off his feet. You’re asking for a broken arm, though. Keep your arm flat and facing downwards through the entire punch. Aim with the knuckles and twist your lower body for support.” 

He throws a punch at the bag, the sound of his fist hitting it loud, and you watch the bag swing back and forth violently. He could probably punch through you if he wanted to. Your pitiful punch wouldn’t even stun him. 

He stops the bag from swinging, having you throw repeated punches at it. He fixes your form and technique as you go, teaching you different kinds of punches. Your arms quickly get tired, and you know you’re going to be sore again. Maybe you should take up some weight lifting or something. You could ask Soap to help you. 

You go until your arms feel like they're going to fall off, your shoulders burning. “I can't anymore.” You whine, breathing heavily from the exertion of throwing punches for 30 minutes. 

“You have to learn to push through the pain.” He says, looming over you. “You think in a fight, everyone will just stop because your arms are tired? Or you're a little sore?”

He has a point. 

You take half a step back as he invades your space, leaning down close to you. “If they're out for blood, they won't even stop even as you're bleeding out in front of them.” His eyes are dark, biting into you, speaking volumes of his knowledge and experience. You wonder how many times he's been in that situation, how many times he's had to fight quite literally for his life. He steps away from you, moving towards the center of the mat. “Come on. I'll teach you some combinations.” 

You don't want to follow him. You want to curl up in a corner and nap for the next four hours. You don't doubt he'll find a way to force you, though, so you move to the center of the mat with a sigh. 

He teaches you different combinations, working through them over and over. You're sloppy, mixing up which punch is which, which move means what. It only gets worse as you get more and more tired, but Ghost is relentless. 

Finally after almost an hour and a half of training, he calls it. Your legs are shaking and you can barely lift your arms to unravel the wraps from around your hands. You sink onto the floor, laying out flat on the padding as you try to catch your breath. 

“Come on.” Ghost says, lacing up his shoes. “You'll have time to shower before breakfast if we get back now.”

“Wait. Just gimme a minute.” You breathe, not even sure you have the willpower to get up from the floor, much less the muscle power. 

He lets out a sigh before approaching you, bending down to slip his hands under your arms. “On your feet, soldier.”

He lifts you easily, far too easily. Your legs shake, nearly giving out as you're forced onto them. You pout, ignoring the ache in your bones as you're forced upright. 

“‘M not a soldier.” You murmur. 

“In here with me, you are. You want to learn to fight, you get treated just like everyone else I've taught.” He says, glowering down at you. “Now get your shoes on and let's go.”

Your brows pull into a frown, but you do as he says, slipping your shoes back on and your jacket. You had hoped perhaps he would have a little mercy, given your status and inexperience, but it seems you're not even being awarded that. You know part of it is his revenge for you invading his protective circle around Soap, for kissing Soap in front of him. 

The frown doesn't leave your face as you follow him back to the barracks, having to almost run to keep up with him. 

“You look tired.”

“I am. I had training with Ghost again this morning.” 

“How is that going?”

“It's hard.” You admit, sinking back in your chair. “He's hard on me. He sees me as a soldier, not an omega.”

“Have you brought this up to him?” Dr. Keller asks, crossing her feet as she relaxes on the couch across from you.

You nod. “Yeah. He said I have to push through it, because if I wind up in a real fight, they won't go easy on me.”

“Well, I can’t say he’s wrong about that. But, that’s still no excuse.” Dr. Keller tilts her head at you. “You could bring it up to Captain Price. He is your pack alpha, and he’s also Lieutenant Riley’s. I don’t doubt he’d bring it up to him on your behalf.” 

He would, but you don’t really want to stir the pot in that way. The last thing you need to do is become a tattle-tail. It’s quiet between you for a few moments, Dr. Keller shuffling her papers as you mark a clear end to that conversation. 

“How did you do on your assignment? I see you’re wearing a different sweatshirt this morning.” She says, eyeing you. 

You’re wearing Price’s sweatshirt, the one he gifted you. You’ve been wearing it almost every day, his scent still clinging to the fabric. Your face warms as she stares at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, but...I didn’t ask for this one. Price gave it to me after I told him about where my other one came from. I uh...I kissed Soap. And Gaz.” 

“Oh?” Her brows raise, and she writes something down on the paper. Your face warms even more as you watch her pen move with every letter. You can only imagine what she’s putting down. “Is that something you wanted? I know we talked briefly about it last time.” She says.

You nod. “Yes. I did want it. I...I also...kneeled...with Price...Did a couple times actually...” 

Dr. Keller’s mouth opens in surprise, her eyes shining as she looks at you. “You did? That’s huge! That’s an incredible development! Did you initiate, or did he?” 

“I did.” You say bashfully, sinking back further into the chair. “Both times.” 

Dr. Keller smiles at you, looking almost proud. “This is a big step in the right direction. How did it go? Were you able to relax?” 

You nod. “Yeah. It was nice. He was...gentle. He did it right.” 

“Good. How did you do coming down from it? I know it can be intense and difficult for some omegas.” She asks. 

You shrug. “Fine. I felt it a bit the morning after, but it wasn’t too bad. I fell asleep on him both times.” 

“Oh?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Did you stay with him?” 

You shake your head. “No, Gaz took me to my room both times.” 

“Good. That’s good practice, for when your heat comes. Shows how much trust they have in each other.”

You hadn’t really thought of that. There was a lot of trust involved in omega’s heats. Omegas have to trust their alphas to take care of them while they’re blind with insatiable need, but both alpha and omega have to trust a beta to keep them alive. Your heat will trigger Price’s rut and make him lose control for a while, and it will be up to Gaz to keep you both fed and hydrated. He’ll be the one to help you both afterwards as well.

“Have you started nesting yet?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You shake your head. “No. Don’t feel any drive to either.” 

Dr. Keller hums as she writes something down. “Well, it has only been two weeks. Though, perhaps if you can manage to ask for some things to make your space more comfortable, that might help ease you into it.” 

You chew on your lip, tugging at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You know she’s right. Until you’re comfortable and feel safe enough, you won’t feel the drive to nest. You’ll need to nest before your heat arrives. Otherwise, it’ll cause issues for both you and Price. 

“When...when should I be worried?” You ask. 

“Hmm...” Dr. Keller looks at her calendar. “If you’re not feeling any sort of drive to nest by our next appointment, then I’d say we may need to consider using some exercises to help jump start it.” 

“Exercises?” You ask warily. 

“All easy things.” She reassures you. “Things like scent introductions, tactile explorations, and some bonding exercises might be helpful as well.” She writes something down on a sticky note. “I’ll explain everything in detail and you’ll get to choose whether you want to do any of it or not. No one’s going to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, alright?” 

Tears prick your eyes at her words, and you furiously blink them back. It’s a little late for that kind of sentiment. Your presence here alone was thanks to a long line of people forcing you to do things you’re not comfortable with. It was easy to get lost in the excitement and the emotions of bonding with a pack, easy to forget that you would never have chosen this place had you ever been given the option to choose. 

You would have gone far from the military, far from this kind of life. It’s your duty to bond with an alpha, but what if you don’t want to? What if it’s all a front, and as soon as you’re claimed the curtains rise and suddenly everything is different? What if Price isn’t as kind as you’ve come to believe him? Just one squeeze too tightly around the back of your neck while you’re kneeling and everything would change. 

How easily he could take everything from you. 

“You want to talk about what’s going on in your head right now?” Dr. Keller asks, breaking the silence between you two.

You hadn’t even noticed you’d been staring off into space, lost in your thoughts. Of course she knows something’s changed. She’s spent years learning the ins and outs of omegas and all the secrets you can only imagine. She’s probably just as in tune with subtle changes as the four well trained soldiers that make up your new pack. Maybe even more in tune with them. 

You shake your head, keeping your gaze on the floor. 

“Remember nothing shared in this room leaves this room. It’ll always only be between us.” She says softly. 

You’re panicking. You can feel the pressure rising within you. You’re like a grenade and someone is about to pull the pin. You’re afraid you’ll spill everything to her, afraid you’ll let out things you’ve successfully kept buried for years and years. Things you’ve left behind, things you’ve had to move on from. Things you can’t afford to let out now. 

“I’d like to be done now.” You silently curse the way your voice shakes. 

Dr. Keller’s brows pull into a frown but she nods. “Okay.” She slips her papers into her notebook before standing. “Let me grab my keys.” 

You stand as she moves to her desk, grabbing her keys from the drawer. She leads you from her office, thankfully staying quiet as you walk through the rain towards the barracks. You’re still panicking, the turmoil inside you probably projecting the sour scent across the entire courtyard but you don’t care. You can’t. 

“Remember, if you ever need anything, I’m usually in my office.” Dr. Keller says as she drops you off at the door. 

You feel guilty as you hurry to your room, shoes squeaking on the tile. You feel bad for cutting the appointment off early, you feel bad for feeling the way you do. Later you’ll be grateful for Dr. Keller respecting your boundaries and not pushing, for following through with her promise and letting you be in control of the appointment. 

Right now you don’t care. Right now you can’t care. You’re too lost in your turmoil, the bitter scent of your distress seeping out from under the locked door. 

“...can ye talk tae me, hen? Let me know yer alright?” 

The soft voice coming through the closed door pulls you out from your burrow under the thin blanket. You blink blearily at your phone, trying to see the time. It’s just a little past the normal time you go to lunch with them. How long have they been knocking on the door? 

“Come on, lass.” Soap’s voice comes through the door again. “I dinnae want tae have tae kick in the door.” 

You force yourself out from under the blanket, pocketing your phone before quickly moving to your door. You throw it open, Soap’s eyes immediately scanning you as you rub tiredly at your eyes. You don’t doubt he’d kick in your door if he felt he had to. 

“Sorry,” You yawn. “I was asleep.” 

His eyebrows raise as he stares down at you. “Ye were asleep? Ye weren’t kidding about bein’ a heavy sleeper.” He leads you from the barracks, crossing the courtyard towards the mess.

“One time, when I was about two or three, my dad took us to some demonstration on base.” You say as you begin walking to the mess with him. “I fell asleep about halfway through and slept through a howitzer going off.” 

Soap lets out a laugh so loud it echoes in the courtyard. “Ye slept through a howitzer?” 

You nod. “Yup. My dad never let me live it down. I heard it all the time. ‘You’ll have to try hard to wake her, she slept through a howitzer once.’” 

Soap chuckles, leading you into the mess. “Ye are a deep sleeper.” 

You shrug. “I did say so. My phone will wake me up though. Alarms, calls.” 

“I’ll keep tha’ in mind.” He says as he guides you through the line, making your tray for you. 

You sit between Price and Gaz as usual, feeling a bit on edge still despite your nap after your appointment. You hadn’t gotten to sleep for very long, not nearly long enough to clear your head completely. You know they can tell, Gaz slowly shifting closer and closer to you, Price’s gaze flickering to you out of the corner of his eye every so often. Even Ghost’s eyes pass over you every so often as they sweep across the mess. 

You wonder if he feels responsible. 

You hope he does. 

Soap walks you back to the barracks after lunch and you spend the afternoon burrowed under your blanket again. You’re exhausted and sore after a long morning of training and your appointment. You wish you could sink back into sleep, let the emotions pass without you having to feel them, but you’re too awake now. Too aware of them as they prickle in the back of your mind. 

Dinner passes without incident, but you can’t ignore the feelings still stirring within you. You feel agitated and on edge, not even pacing your room helping you. You let out a breath before you put your slippers on, slipping out of your door. You make your way down the hallway, turning right instead of left like you would if you were heading for the rec room. The door is cracked open and you pause just before you reach it, suddenly feeling nervous. You shouldn’t really. There was no reason to be nervous, yet you can’t help the urge in the back of your mind to turn tail and race back down the hallway to the safety of your room. 

“You can come in, unless you’d prefer standing in the hallway all evening.” A voice calls from inside the office. 

Your face warms a bit at getting caught, but he could probably hear you coming down the hallway. He could probably smell you too. 

You push open the door, slipping inside before closing it behind you. Price stares at you from his desk as you stand there, shifting nervously on your feet. You feel agitated, on edge still. You’re worked up, and you don’t quite know why. 

“Everything alright?” Price asks, likely picking up on your nervous energy. 

Yes. You want to say, but then you’d have to come up with a reason as to why you sought him out, why you feel so worked up. You could just kneel for him. It’s what you should do, let yourself be eased into a peaceful state of mind. Let him take care of you. 

 “I don’t know.” 

The words are hardly more than a whisper, your voice trembling just as much as you are. Your chest feels tight, your breaths becoming shallow. You're not sure when he got up, when he even moved. His scent wraps around you, warmth encompassing your being as your face is pushed against his chest. 

“I need you to breathe for me.” Price says, pressing your ear against his chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart, the air flowing in and out of his lungs. 

You close your eyes, trying to match your breaths to his. It's hard, your body fighting your attempt to regulate it. You close your eyes, focusing on the soft fabric of Price's shirt against your cheek, the warmth of his hand on your head as he keeps you pinned against his chest. It's not constricting or suffocating. It's grounding, keeping you from drowning in your own thoughts. 

He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to as he holds you there, letting you calm down. You begin to slowly relax, your arms wrapping around his waist, fingers gripping the back of his shirt. 

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” He murmurs, lips brushing the top of your head. 

“I don’t know.” You whisper, still clinging to his shirt. “I’m just...I feel off. Ghost was being hard on me this morning and then I got upset during my appointment and I’ve just felt on edge all day and I can’t relax because I can’t get comfortable!” 

Price tightens his grip around you just slightly. “What do you mean?” 

You huff out a breath, squeezing your eyes closed so the tears don’t escape as the words leave you in a flood before you can stop them. “The blankets aren’t soft enough and the pillows are too thin and it’s too dark and I’m tired of smelling like bland soap!” 

Price hums quietly, squeezing you gently as a tear slides down your cheek. “Then we should do something to fix that.” 

“But I shouldn’t need it!” You cry, trying to push away from him, but he keeps you tight against his chest. “I’m supposed to be a good omega and adapt and learn to be comfortable where I am.” 

“That might be what you were taught,” He says, letting you push away from his chest, but he wraps his hands around your arms, keeping you in front of him. “But things don’t have to be that way. We should have taken care of something like this sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t even think of it. You shouldn’t have had to ask for it.” 

You blink up at him, genuinely surprised by his words. “I...what?” 

“We all have our own little comforts that we keep. Soap sleeps with a stuffed bear. Don’t tell him I told you that.” 

A small smile tugs at your lips at the mental image of Soap snuggling up with a teddy bear. 

“You deserve some comfort too.” He says, squeezing your arms.

“But, it’s not...regulation.” You say. 

“Doesn’t have to be.” He says. “You’re not a soldier. Even then, the only ones going in there are us. The only thing I can’t approve of is painting the walls. Unfortunately the prison grey has to stay.” 

You can’t help but laugh, wiping the tear from your cheek. “I suppose that’s alright. Just...as long as it’s not as dark and maybe a soft blanket or something. That’s really all I need.” 

He hums, staring down at you. You can’t quite figure out the look on his face, something shining in his eyes. “We’ll get it figured out.” He says, squeezing your arms again. 

“Get some shoes on. We’re going on a trip.” 

You look up from your book, staring at Price as he stands in the rec room. He’s dressed in civilian clothes, arms crossed as he stares down at you on the couch. You mark your place in your book, pushing yourself up to sit. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and unlike last week they had the day off, which means you do as well. 

“Are you going to make me hike through the woods for two hours again, sir?” You ask, pushing yourself up to stand. 

“No. We’re going into town.” He says. 

You blink at him. You haven’t been off base since you arrived, and you figured you probably wouldn’t be getting that opportunity any time soon. “Can I ask why, sir?” 

“We’ve got some shopping to do.” He says simply, turning and leaving the rec room. 

You stand there shocked for a moment before you’re following after him, slipping into your room to put comfortable shoes on and grab your phone and a jacket. You don’t even have a wallet to carry around to make yourself feel better. 

Price is waiting by the door for you, a car parked outside. You’re slow to approach him, suddenly feeling a mix of emotions. He’s doing this for you. He’d really taken your conversation last night to heart and now he’s going to go spend money on you that he doesn’t need to. 

“What’s that look for sweetheart?” He asks, standing in front of the door. 

“You don’t have to do this.” You say, staring up at him. He seems so tall like this, so...imposing. 

“Course I do.” He says, his gaze softening just slightly. “Should have done it sooner. You deserve to be comfortable too.” He says, turning to open the door. 

You follow him out, climbing into the car when he opens the door for you. He gets in the driver’s seat, the car rumbling to life. He drives to the front gate, passing off two ID cards to the guards. He passes one to you when the guard hands them back, the gate in front of you opening. 

“That’s your ID card. Gets you on and off base.” He explains as he drives away from the gate. “I doubt you’ll be leaving on your own, but just in case.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, slipping the card under your phone case for the time being. 

He glances at you, a small smile on his lips. “You can call me John, if you'd like. You don't need to be formal when we're in private.” 

“Yes, sir.” You make a face, biting your lip at your automatic response. “Sorry. Old habits.” 

“From the institute?” He asks. 

You shake your head. “My dad, actually. He was a firm believer in respecting authority figures. All ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ by the time we were old enough to know the difference.” 

“Sounds like my father.” He says, staring out at the road ahead. “Old grizzled military man.” 

“Do you still have contact with him?” You ask curiously. You don’t know much of anything about their families, their backgrounds.

“Not really. Beyond holidays, neither of us really make an effort to talk to the other. After mum passed, there wasn’t much to talk about.” He says. 

“She was the glue.” You say, watching the trees pass by the car. 

“Yeah.” He huffs out a laugh. “As betas usually are.”

“Do you have any siblings?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. You know next to nothing about them, while they likely know your entire life story. 

“No,” He shakes his head. “Just me. You have a lot of siblings.” 

You nod. “Seven at the time I left for the institute. Could be more now.” 

“They never tried to keep contact with you?” He asks. 

“Nope.” You turn to look out the window. “The institute didn’t really encourage it either, because we were being prepared to join new packs. That’s hard to do when you still have bonds with your old ones. I think they might have forcibly ended some. I know there were some omegas that tried to keep contact, but it became less and less until eventually it just stopped.” 

Price’s hands tighten around the steering wheel just slightly. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention. Silence settles in the car as he drives, farmlands passing until the houses start getting closer and closer together. You stare at the buildings as he drives through town, a blend of historical and modern. 

“It’s beautiful here.” You say, watching people and cars pass by. 

“I suppose so.” He says, glancing at you. “I grew up in this area.” 

You turn to look at him. “You did? I didn’t know that. Then again, I don’t know much about any of you.” 

“You can ask us, you know.” He says. “We don’t have to be that secretive with you. At least not about ourselves.” 

He pulls into a parking lot, opening your door for you and helping you out of the car. You slip your hand into his, holding it as you cross the parking lot. You stare up at the store. ASDA. You’ve never heard of it before, though you suppose the stores would be different here too. 

Price drops your hand to grab a cart, the store bustling with people. You hang onto the edge of the cart, staying close to Price’s side. “We’re here for you.” He says, guiding you through the aisles. “Get whatever you want.” 

He’s led you to the homegoods section, your eyes widening at the entire aisle of blankets and bedding in front of you. You try to take it all in, but you feel a bit overwhelmed. There’s so many choices, so many options. 

“Pick out as many as you want. Don’t worry about the price.” He says, before you can protest. “We get paid decently, but don’t have many chances to use it. Let me do this for you.” 

You stare up into his eyes, the sincerity in them, before you nod, turning back to the wall of blankets before you. You study them, running your hand along them to find the softest ones, doing as he says and ignoring the price tags. You settle on a couple soft ones, grabbing a throw blanket as well that you can pack around to the rec room if you want to. He takes you to the pillow aisle, and you settle on a pair of fluffy pillows, as well as a couple decorative ones as well. 

“Here.” He slips a big plush strawberry into your arms before you leave the aisle, your cheeks warming as you look at it. “Makes me think of you.” 

You preen at his words, holding onto the strawberry as you make for the lamps and nightlights, settling on a cat shaped one that will sit on your desk and changes colors. You pick up a few other items before heading for the toiletries, finally setting the strawberry in the cart as you zero in on the soaps and body washes. You smell all the strawberry scented ones, trying to find the perfect one. 

“Why strawberry?” Price asks as you put a strawberries and cream scented body wash in the cart. 

“Compliments my scent.” You explain as he leads you to the shampoo and conditioner. “We had a scent specialist come to the institute one time as an activity. We all figured out what our scents smell like and what notes compliment them the best.” 

An arm wraps around your waist before you can look at the shampoo, pulling you back against a broad chest. Price’s nose presses into your neck and he inhales deeply. He lets out a content hum, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. “I think you’re right.” 

Your face burns hot as he presses a gentle kiss against the side of your neck before releasing you. You stand there for a moment, trying to calm the heat rushing through your body and focus on the shampoo. You hear him chuckle as you shuffle forward, your face still burning as you smell the shampoo bottles. 

You settle on one, holding onto Price’s arm as you continue around the store, picking up a few other items and a couple for himself as well before heading to the checkout. 

You hold on to Price’s arm as you leave the store, sticking close to him as he loads the bags into the trunk. You can feel the slight tension in his body, the way his eyes scan the parking lot every few seconds. You can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for him to relax, especially out in public. How fast his mind has to be running, how alert he is to everyone and everything. A threat could come out of nowhere, could come from anyone. 

It must be exhausting. 

“Hungry, sweetheart?” He asks as he buckles his seatbelt. 

“Always.” You answer, leaning on the center console.

He smiles. “What are you in the mood for?” 

You blink at him. Most of the restaurants you know probably don’t exist in England. “Fish and chips?” You offer, pulling up the one British food you’re confident in naming. 

“Fish and chips it is.” He says, turning on the car. 

“I have yet to have real fish and chips.” You say, settling into the passenger seat. 

“Well, I know the perfect place.” He says, pulling out of the parking lot. 

You don’t have to go far before he’s parking on the street and helping you out of the car. His hand settles on your lower back, guiding you down the street to a fish and chips shop. 

It's too early for the dinner rush, the shop mostly empty and quiet. Price orders for you before guiding you to a table, and you let him sit facing the door and front window. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. They seem so relaxed on base, though you suppose that's the place they feel the most comfortable. You can't even imagine the kinds of things they've seen, the horrors they've been subjected to. 

You don't want to think about the things they've done. 

Your eyes snap downwards as Price's hand slides across the table, closing around yours. You don't want to think about the things he's done with those hands. The lives he's taken, the people he's tortured. Will he ever turn those hands on you? 

They've given you no reason to fear them yet. They've all been kind, polite. Even Ghost hasn't truly given you a reason to fear him, despite his obvious disapproval and hard exterior. 

You know nothing about them. 

You've known them for just over two weeks. You can't possibly have any understanding of who they are, how they express their emotions. What if they get upset? What happens when they get angry? What if you anger them?

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Any of it.” Price says, drawing you from your worried thoughts. “I know you were taught to expect this, perhaps not this exact situation, but something like this. Being sent off to some strange alpha to join their pack, bonding with complete strangers. None of us were expecting this either. It’s been an adjustment in a lot of ways, but I want you to know that we’ll take care of you. You need anything, you tell us. You want anything, we’ll do our best to make it happen. We’ll keep you safe.” He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I promise you that.” 

You want to believe him. You really do. They haven’t given you any reason to not believe it. 

It’s only been two weeks. 

You continue to talk with him as you eat, making light conversation, getting to know him a bit more. Despite the trickling uncertainty in the back of your mind, it feels good. It feels like a date, something you had dreamed of before you presented, something you had imagined happening when you finally got old enough to start looking for potential mates and packs. 

Of course, back then, you had thought you’d be an alpha. 

It had been expected of you. 

Price has his arm wrapped around you as you walk back to the car, his hand on your hip. It’s possessive almost, and it makes your stomach flutter. Price is the only one you haven’t kissed yet, well, besides Ghost, but you’re certain you’d wind up through a wall if you even thought of trying. It’s almost ironic that Price would be the last, considering he’s going to be the one claiming you, the one you spend your heat with. 

You stare out the window as the buildings fade into farmlands again. The sun is setting, painting the world in oranges and reds. You still feel a bit warm from Price’s possessive hold on you, his teasing in the store. You can still feel the tickle of his beard on your skin, his lips pressing against your neck. 

You jump when rough fingers trail down your arm, pulling it from where it had been resting in your lap. 

“You were right.” Price says as he lifts your hand to his face, pressing his nose against your wrist and inhaling for a moment. “Strawberries are the strongest note in your scent.” He lowers your hand again, lacing your fingers together. “What’s got you all worked up over there.” 

You stare at him, your face getting warm again. Of course he can smell it. You can smell the muskiness beginning to form around the edges of his scent. Desire. “You haven’t kissed me yet.” You say, moving his hand into your lap. “You're the only one that hasn't...well, besides Ghost.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh. “You sound disappointed.” 

You untangle your fingers with his, letting his hand rest on your thigh. “What if I am?”

His fingers flex against your leg, the muskiness of his scent strengthening. “Then maybe we should fix that.” 

The cocktail of scents in the car is intoxicating, and you feel bad for the poor beta soldier at the gate when Price rolls down the window to hand off your IDs. 

Price is out of the car as soon as it's parked, moving around to your side to open the door. He pins you against the side of the car as soon as you're out, caging you in with his arms. 

You stare up at him, head swimming with the musk laced in his scent. You can see his eyes shining in the light next to the door of the barracks. He looks like a hungry wolf, the back of your neck prickling with excitement. 

He leans down, breath fanning your face as he gets closer and closer to you. You press yourself against him, hands gripping his shoulders as he presses his lips to yours. His lips are surprisingly soft, his beard tickling your face. He growls quietly against your lips, pushing you harder against the side of the car. 

You let out a quiet sound in response, hands gripping his jacket. His hands slide from the car to your sides, sliding down to grip your hips. You can feel the muscle hidden beneath his jacket and shirt, the strength that he possesses. He may not be purebred like Ghost, but he’s still every inch an alpha. 

You let out another quiet sound as he pulls away, pressing a caste kiss to the corner of your lips. “Bloody hell, now I know what those boys were on about.” He breathes, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“They were talking about me?” You ask, pulling back slightly. 

“Only good things.” Price grins, leaning down to kiss you again. “Sweet as sugar.” He breathes, kissing you again. “And just as addicting.” He pulls away from you, his hands resting on your waist. “We should get your stuff inside so you can get it all set up. Want me to fetch one of the boys to help?” 

You bite your lip. “Or you could just do it.” 

He stares down at you, something flashing across his face but you can’t quite make it out in the low light. “You’re sure?” His voice is quiet, taking on that soft tone it often does when he speaks to you. 

“You’ll have to eventually.” You shrug. “Might as well start now.” 

He leans down, kissing you again before pulling away, opening up the trunk. He grabs most of the bags, only leaving the pillows for you to grab before he leads the way into the barracks. You open your door, stepping in first before he follows. You dump your pillows on the bed, and he sets the rest of the bags on your desk. 

“Blankets in the wash.” You say, digging them out of the bags, pulling the tags off. 

“I’ll take them.” He says, fishing out his stuff from the bags before taking the blankets from you. 

You switch out your pillows for the softer ones, organizing the decorative ones just the way you want. You squish the strawberry to your chest again, a smile forming on your face before you flop back onto the bed, sinking into the soft pillows. It’s almost perfect, you think. 

“Comfortable?” Price’s voice rumbles in the doorway, a smile on his face as he stares at you. 

“Much better.” You say, sitting up and placing the strawberry in its place. 

The two of you finish taking everything out of the bags, decorating the rest of your room. The posters on the walls, and the nightlight on your desk. It feels far more homey already, and you know you’re going to sleep well tonight once the blankets are out of the wash. 

“Thank you.” You say, looking up at Price. “This really means a lot.” 

“All in a day’s work, love.” He says, pulling you into his arms again. 

You lean against his chest, resting your head over his heart, listening to it beat steadily against your ear. 

You wake up suddenly, yet you’re not quite sure why. There’s no one in your room, your new nightlight easily showing you that. Your mouth is dry, but there’s a line of wetness down your chin. You reach across your nightstand, your phone illuminating the time. 

Just past one a.m. 

You smack your lips, feeling thirsty after the excitement of the day. You’d forgotten to grab water when you left the rec room and you huff out a sigh. You don’t want to get up, but now that you’re aware you’re thirsty, there’s no stopping those thoughts. 

You don’t even bother with slippers as you pad to the door, opening it up. You leave it cracked as you sleepily shuffle towards the rec room, the barracks almost dead quiet this late. You grab a bottle from the fridge, unscrewing the top before drinking a few gulps. It’s cold and tastes divine, soothing the dryness of your mouth. You screw the top back on, closing the fridge before heading back towards your room. 

You turn the corner, still half asleep, nearly yelping as you slam into a chest. You stumble back a couple steps, staring up at the covered face looming over you. You gulp, holding the bottle to your chest. 

“S-Sorry.” You stutter. 

“You’re out of bed.” He says quietly, voice rumbling in the silence. 

“Thirsty.” It’s all you can manage as you hold up the bottle. 

He stares at you for a long moment, eyes flickering all over your face. His chest is heaving, almost as if he had been running before you ran into him. His hands are closed into fists at his sides, knuckles almost white with how tense he is. You think for a moment he might be mad, but you can’t catch any whiff of ozone in the air. Your nose prickles at the scent, but it’s not anger. 

Your tired brain can’t make sense of it, yearning to sink back into the softness of your bed again. You slowly shuffle around him, taking cautious steps, waiting for him to reach out and stop you, but he doesn’t. He simply watches you go, standing there in the hallway as you slip back into your room, not moving until he hears the click of your lock slipping into place. 

NEXT ->

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[ellecdc]

How about a fic where Remus falls for reader who is Sirius’ sister? If Sirius freaks out with Regulus and James, just imagine how protective he would be with a sister! Specially if she is sweet and kind (totally opposite of him and Regulus)

will I ever make a sibling fic that isn't chaotic? no, likely not. also, I didn't exactly make her the opposite of Sirius and Regulus but it could be argued that she's better than them anyways. ALSO, I've always refrained from reader-inserts with Black!sister reader simply because I see her as Reggie's twin who looks the way he does, and also can't get beyond the fact that she would have a celestial name SO, in any Black!sister fics going forward, please note that her middle name will have been Soleil which is French for sun, and the boys call her Sunny as a nickname <3

Remus Lupin x Black!sister reader who he has fallen head over heels for [1.5k words]

CW: siblings, threats of murder

Most boys at some point in their lives will be asked the following question:

Are you a mummy’s boy, or a daddy’s boy?

If a boy wasn’t asked such a question, it was likely because the answer was painfully obvious.

“Little Lucius Malfoy is such a daddy’s boy.”

“That James Potter, such a mama’s boy”.

“Oh, sweet Peter Pettigrew, he has always been a mummy’s boy.”

Since the answer was so painfully obvious, neither Sirius Orion Black or Regulus Arcturus Black had ever been asked this question. For them, the answer was simple:

They were their sister’s boy’s.

It was this fact that made Remus Lupin’s current predicament so bloody difficult. 

“Where is she!?” Regulus barked as he stormed over to the Gryffindor table where Sirius was sitting beside James across from Remus and Peter.

“Goodmorning, Reggie.” Sirius offered instead of answering his brother.

“For Sala- hi, Sirius. Where is she?”

“Where is who?” 

“Your sister.” Regulus spat, causing Sirius’ brows to furrow as he chanced a look over his shoulder at his brother. 

“How is she my sister? She’s your twin.”

“Nevermind that, do you know where she is?” Regulus muttered.

Sirius sighed and stood from his seat to scan the Great Hall. 

“Nope.” He offered with a pop of the p before returning to his breakfast.

“I’m going to avada that meddling witch!” Regulus hissed as he stormed off; Remus, James, and Peter all watching after him as Sirius continued happily with his toast.

“Are….you not worried about her?” Peter asked cautiously then.

“Not really.” Sirius responded quickly. 

James let out a breath at that and shook his head in disbelief. “Siblings are weird, mate.”

“Thanks, Siri.” You chimed as your head popped up between James and Sirius; the former shrieking not unlike a displeased mandrake plant as he clutched at his chest. 

Neither you nor Sirius paid him any mind as Sirius nudged his plate closer to you so you could pick from it. 

“What’d you do now?” Sirius asked.

“I simply told one of Reg’s admirers that he was already seeing someone; I hardly see what all the fuss is about.” You offered simply, causing Sirius to look at you in bemusement and mutter “Reg is seeing someone?” at the same time James looked at you in horror and hissed “Reg has an admirer!?” 

You simply smirked and looked at Remus who was sitting across from you and shot him a wink.

He hoped to all get out that no one noticed the heat radiating in his cheeks as he smiled nervously down at his plate, though he was relatively certain he could feel a set of spectacled eyes burning a hole into the side of his head. 

“Wait, why do you look like that?” Sirius asked then, causing the table to look at him to see he was surveying your form.

“Like what?” You asked him slowly, looking down at your uniform as if to see what Sirius could possibly be talking about. 

“You look…like…nice.” Sirius muttered as if that was a particularly bad thing.

“I always look nice.” You argued then.

“That’s not true, you usually just look fine.”

“You’re such a git.” You spat, taking the piece of toast he had in his hand and taking a bite of it.

“Doesn’t she just usually only look fine?” Sirius asked then, and Remus was horrified to see he was looking at him. 

“Me?”

Sirius nodded impatiently as if saying “yeah? What about it?”

“Why are you asking me?” Remus asked somewhat shrilly. 

“You’re objective.”

“And Peter and James aren’t?”

Sirius huffed as he kicked Remus in the shin under the table. “Would you just answer the sodding question?”

“I…well,” and Remus looked at you - you, who always looked nothing short of lovely and radiant and dauntingly perfect in every way, and today had been no exception. But he couldn’t very well say that. “She…she looks fine, yeah.”

Sirius’ brows furrowed further as he turned back to look at you, and Remus tried to pretend he didn’t notice a brief look a hurt cross your features. “You do, though. Look lovely today, that is.” He added awkwardly, simply receiving a half-smile in response. 

“Sunny!” Regulus barked then; apparently having found his way back to the Great Hall in his search for you.

“Oh, Merlin and Morgana.” You grumbled as your head fell back in exasperation.

“What did you tell him?”

“Who?” Sirius and James parroted. 

“Sunny.” Regulus repeated, his gaze never moving from you as he sidled up behind you. “What did you tell him?”

“Oh, stop with the theatrics, Regulus; you’re embarrassing yourself.” You drawled, sounding like a true upper-classman as you refused to look at your twin. 

“What did you tell Fenwick?” He gritted out slowly in a way Remus was sure would make a lesser man cower, but you simply rolled your eyes at him. 

“I simply told him that he was grasping at billywigs because you were already seeing someone.” 

Regulus held your gaze as you raised your eyebrow at him. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” You hissed, completely unimpressed. 

“Who in the hells are you seeing?” Sirius asked then, causing the two of you to look over at him.

“Nevermind, Siri.” You responded in a bored tone around another bite of his toast.

“I will too mind, thank you very much! Who is my baby brother seeing!?”

“Oh relax, Sirius, there’s no need to call the DMLE; it’s not like Sunny’s seeing anyone.” He chuckled, causing Sirius to snort in laughter.

“That’s true.”

You made a disbelieving sound as you looked between your two brothers. “What in Merlin’s name is that supposed to mean?!”

“That means, my dear baby sister,” Sirius responded curtly as he yanked his toast back from you, “that you must never date, otherwise your big brother will end up in Azkaban.” 

“Oh give us a little credit, Sirius; we’d get away with it.” Regulus countered. 

“Why!?” You beseeched. 

“No one is good enough for you, obviously.” Sirius responded simply, as if you were quite ridiculous for even needing to ask. 

“And anyone who thinks otherwise will end up dead.” Regulus continued earnestly, causing James to bark a laugh.

“Don’t worry Moons, Pete and I will make sure your funeral is nice.” He said as he brought another spoon of cereal to his mouth.

Remus felt all blood drain from his face as everyone turned to look at him.

Regulus stared at him in a confused sort of horror, Peter looked at him with a sympathetically worried expression, Sirius didn’t look exactly horrified or disgusted as Remus had thought he would, but he definitely looked disturbed to some level, and you were looking at him with what he thought (and certainly hoped) was hopeful surprise.

James looked up at the silence to see everyone staring at Remus, whilst Remus just stared at him in betrayal.

“James!?” Remus whisper shouted; his voice having apparently run off along with his bollocks. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Regulus finally asked then, staring daggers at Remus as Sirius raised his hand slightly as if warning Regulus off of his best friend, though never removing his own scrutinising gaze from Remus. 

“James, what’d you mean by that?” Sirius asked James - eyes still glued to Remus.

“I, well, erm. I’m actually, not entirely sure? I just…well…”

“Do you fancy her, Moony?” Sirius whispered as if it was some horrid joke and so completely unfathomable that Remus could possibly find you as enchanting as he admittedly did. 

No, he wanted to say, of course not, Pads. That’s your baby sister, I’d never fall so head-over-heels for the sister of my best friend, that’s absurd. 

But that wouldn’t be true.

And he’d already been outed. 

His gaze moved to you and offered what he hoped was an apologetic smile before opening his mouth to respond. 

“Regulus is shagging James!” You blurted then, causing James to flinch so violently that his knees hit the bottom of the table top, and Regulus deflated severely from where he’d been staring down Remus like some well-trained guard-dragon. 

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Sirius shrieked then, turning to point his glare at someone other than Remus, finally.

Remus had been so caught up in the verbal volleying taking place between Sirius, Regulus, and James that he hadn’t noticed you had disappeared from your spot beside Sirius until you popped back up beside him and were encouraging him up by the sleeve of his uniform jumper.

And you looked so sweet and so lovely and so hopeful and so mischievous and Remus really was helpless in the pull you had on him, which saw him rushing out of the Great Hall with your hand in his as you dragged him away from your brothers and laughing all the while. 

So yeah, this made Remus Lupin’s current predicament incredibly bloody difficult.

Because if Sirius and Regulus were sister’s boys, you were your brothers’ girl.

And that made Remus Lupin a dead man walking.

[azrielstaylorsversion]

Unspoken fights

Azriel x reader | angst / fluff

Feyre wonders why Azriel and his mate aren't speaking to each other. Rhys explains about there unusual communication habits and she feels the need to fix it.

There were still two empty seats around the dinner table. Everyone had started eating already, not wanting to wait another half hour for Azriel and Y/N.

It didn't take much longer before they came walking in. Feyre quickly noticed them walking a few feet apart from each other. At least not as close as they usually were with each other.

Y/N walked in front of Azriel, her face showing no sign of emotion. She walked straight for Cassian's seat instead of the two empty ones on the other side of the table.

Azriel sighed softly and took a seat in one of the empty seats, immediately filling his plate with food. He didn't even acknowledge his family.

"Move." Y/N ordered Cassian, leaving no room for any argument. To Feyre's surprise, Cassian listened and moved over to the seat next to Azriel, leaving Y/N to sit next to Mor.

Cassian turned to face Azriel. His mouth opened to say something, but Azriel cut him off before he even got the chance to. "Don't even start." he said to his brother, not bothering to look at him.

Feyre watched the mated couple with concern. They never acted like this. At least not to her knowledge.

Feyre reached for Rhys mentally. 'What is going on with them?'

Rhys also watched the two and sighed, shaking his head. 'Probably a disagreement. This never lasts long. They will make up and talk about it tonight and tomorrow it is as it never happened.'

Y/N had now started eating as well, ignoring Cassians pointed look for claiming his seat. Azriel on the other hand had stopped eating and was just staring at the wall with a grumpy face.

'Does this happen often?' Feyre questioned.

'Not really. Maybe once a year.' Rhys answered. 'They have their disagreements and differences, but they always talk about it immediately. They never let it get as far as... whatever this is.'

After dinner everyone went their own way. Except for Y/N, who decided to stay in the dinning room even when Azriel had left.

Feyre had seen Azriel glance at his mate for a moment, hesitating to walk towards her before he continued to walk out.

It was well past midnight when Feyre decided to get something to drink from the kitchen. She noticed the lights in the dining hall still being turned on.

Feyre poked her head inside, finding Y/N still in the same place she had last seen her. She was staring at the wall in front of her, an empty glass of wine on the table.

"Y/N?" Feyre said softly.

She almost jumped from the sound of her voice. "Oh, Feyre. Sorry I didn't see you there."

Feyre stood in the doorway. "Are you okay?" she asked her friend.

Y/N stayed silent for a short moment, her face filling with emotion. "Yes. Everything is okay."

Feyre could tell that the answer wasn't true.

"I actually wondered if I could stay here for the night?" she asked.

The question shocked Feyre a bit. As far as she knew, Y/N had never voluntarily slept away from home. Away from her mate.

"Yes, of course. But are you sure you don't want to go home?" she still decided to ask.

Y/N stood from her seat, making her way towards the door Feyre was standing.

"I'm sure. If you don't mind, I'll be going to my old room." she said, giving Feyre a tight mouthed smile and walking past her.

She obviously meant her and Az's old room. She always called it that.

Feyre decided to leave it for the night and return to her own mate, who was waiting for her upstairs.

The next morning Y/N ate breakfast with her, Rhys and Nyx. Her mood was definitely off.

She normally wasn't much of a talker, but now she was just quiet. She also looked extremely tired, as if she hadn't slept at all last night.

'Shouldn't they be back to normal by now?' Feyre asked Rhys mentally.

'Honestly, the fact that she even chose to sleep here last night does worry me.' Rhys told me.

Feyre debated saying something about it, but Rhys warned her before she had the chance. 'They'll be back to normal by tonight.' Rhys told her promising, even when he didn't sound so sure herself.

Y/N had disappeared during the day. Probably off to her normal duties.

Feyre felt surprised when she entered the River House in the afternoon and found Y/N sitting in the living room, with no sign of Azriel.

She greeted Feyre with a soft smile before sitting down on a chair by the fire.

"So did you do anything fun today?" she suddenly asked.

"I took a walk with Nyx and helped Rhys with work. Nothing more." Feyre asked with a smile. "What about you?" she asked with hesitation.

Y/N sighed, staying silent after. Then she just shrugged. "Not really. I just feel.. I don't know."

Feyre suddenly understood why she started a conversation. Y/N wanted distraction.

"It's okay to miss him. Even it's been a day." Feyre decided to tell her. Y/N just avoided her eyes at that.

She stayed silent for a good ten seconds.

"It's just so stupid." she said.

"What is stupid?" Feyre questioned.

"This whole pointless fight. I mean I started it. I got mad about something that wasn't even his fault. And I just wanted to be right so bad." she started speaking quickly. "And I made him feel so bad and I didn't even mean it like that. I just felt jealous. And now I ruined everything and-"

"Calm down a second. You're just spitting out your words at this point." Feyre chuckled. "Why were you jealous?"

Y/N stared into the crackling fire, hiding her face from Feyre. "A Fae woman stopped Azriel on our way to dinner to ask him something. She touched his arm." she told me. "And he immediately pulled away. He was just being polite by answering her. But I still got so mad and it was just stupid."

Feyre did understand her jealousy. She had experienced it with Rhys countless of times before.

"Even after being mated for decades I still sometimes get periods where my instincts are worse than normal. Just before we entered the River House I decided to ignore him. And just to prove a point I stayed away from him last night. But now I feel so guilty. And he's probably mad at me at this point." she sounded disappointed with herself.

Feyre moved over to her friend. "Of course he's not mad at you." Feyre told her reassuring. "It's Azriel. He loves you too much to be mad at you over this."

Y/N slowly moved her eyes to look at Feyre. She nodded to herself. "Yes. Yes, I hope so." she said. "But I haven't acted this childish in years. So I can understand if he were mad at me."

"Trust me, I would've had the same reaction as you." Feyre told her with a small laugh. "Why don't we ask Azriel to come here so you can explain it to him? I'll be here if you need me."

She nodded. "Yes. That'll probably be a good idea." she answered. "I'll see if I can get to him through the bond."

It didn't take very long before the front door of the River House opened and closed. The sound of it was soft, like someone who usually came in with no sound.

Azriel definitely let his presence be known by his footsteps, which were heavier than usual.

When Azriel entered the room, Y/N immediately stood from her seat.

"Az, I'm sor-"

"I'm so s-"

They both cut each other off.

Y/N stared at Azriel. "What do you need to be sorry for? It was me who did it." she took a step closer to her mate.

"Yes, but I still have to apologize for even letting that woman get close to me, I shouldn't have."

"No, you don't need to apologize for being kind towards a woman. I could see you pull away. And she only placed a hand on you. I am the one who should be sorry."

Azriel went quiet for a few seconds. Y/N stared at him with emotion in her eyes.

Who knew that the two of them had arguments like this. I was just sitting in a chair, watching them.

"This is so stupid." Azriel said.

A small smile formed on Y/N lips. "It is." she told him. "But I understand if you're mad at me."

"Of course I'm not mad at you. I did the same thing at the start of our relationship, remember? And that was before we were even mated. So I understand." he told her. "Come here." he opened his arms for her to walk in to.

I could hear Y/N whisper some things to her mate, but I soon felt like I was invading their privacy.

Azriel noticed my awkward look and smiled. He placed a hand on the small of Y/N's back. "Let's go home." he told her softly.

She nodded and let him lead her out of the room.

She threw a quick look over her shoulder, mouthing thank you to Feyre.

[incorrectbatfam]

Retail steph with damian and Jon? :) i love retail steph so much

(featuring Billy Batson because he only adds chaos and I love him)

Previous: Margie | Batkids | Rogues | Justice League | Retail batkids | Retail Bruce | Young Justice | Black Friday | Valentine's Day

[grocery store]

Steph, working the bakery section: How can I help you boys today?

Jon: We're getting a cake for our friend's birthday. Chocolate with buttercream frosting, please. 

Steph: Do you want it to say anything? 

Jon: Yes. "Happy 14th B-day, Billy!"

Steph: What color?

Damian: Red. 

Steph: *starts writing on the cake*

Damian: Please also add: "Despite your shortcomings and lack of maturity, you are a valuable part of our team and as you get older, I expect you to gain greater wisdom that will aid us in our goals and prospects."

Steph: *struggling to fit it on the cake*

———————

[coffee shop]

Damian: Can we try the five-drink espresso flight?

Steph: You sure?

Billy, eyeing an unsuspecting Jon: Yes.

Steph: Alrighty.

*moments later*

Jon, after his fifth espresso: I'M KING OF THE UNIVERSE!

Jon: *shoots through the ceiling*

Damian: *grumbles and hands Billy ten bucks*

Steph, sighing: I'll get the broom.

———————

[clothing store]

Jon: *dancing in the dressing room with light-up shoes*

Damian: *T-posing in a trenchcoat*

Billy: *filming them*

Steph: What are you doing?

Billy: Making a TikTok. 

Steph: Well, you can't have cameras in the dressing rooms. I'm gonna have to ask you to stop. 

———————

[drive-thru]

Damian: One vegetarian Batburger, one regular Batburger, and one order of Night-Wings. And an extra-extra-extra large Ivy Salad.

Steph: Did you take the Batmobile again? 

Damian: No. 

Steph: Why don't you pull up to the window and prove it? 

Damian, Jon, and Billy: *ride up on Bat-Cow*

———————

[furniture store]

Jon: What's a warranty?

Damian: It's a court order to arrest someone. 

Steph: That's a warrant. A warranty covers the cost of something if it gets damaged within a certain amount of time. In our case, the store has a one-year warranty on all items. What are you looking to buy?

Billy: *enters pushing a Pinball machine*

Damian: ...It's for school.

———————

[restaurant]

Steph: What can I get you?

Damian: We'll split a pizza. 

Steph: Okay, anything else?

Billy, as Shazam: An alcohol.

Steph: "An alcohol?"

Billy: Yes, your finest alcohol. Sharing size, please.

Steph: I'll need to see some ID.

Billy, nervous: What's there to see? I'm clearly an adult. 

Steph: I need them for everyone at the table. 

Damian: *pulls out Jason's crime lord license*

Jon: *sticks on a fake mustache*

———————

[call center]

Steph, stifling a yawn: Wayne Enterprises account support, how can I help you? 

Damian: Why are you still working? It's midnight. 

Steph: Overnight shift. This is a 24-hour line. What do you need, Damian?

Damian: Nothing. We just wanted to annoy you. 

Steph: We?

Jon: Hiya!

Billy: 'Sup.

———————

[sleepover at the Manor]

Steph: Alfred told me to bring you some snacks.

Damian: Excellent. 

Steph: *leaves the room*

Steph, internally: What do kids these days even do at sleepovers? 

Steph: *presses her ear to the door*

Damian: Truth or Dare? 

Jon: Truth. 

Damian: Which one of my siblings do you like best?

Jon: Steph, all the way.

Billy: I agree, she's the coolest. Remember when she drove us to get midnight breakfast on my birthday?

Jon: And when she promised not to tell my parents when I broke the café ceiling.

Billy: Or when she took us for a walk and actually explained why we couldn't make TikToks in the store instead of going "because I said so" like other adults. 

Jon: Plus, she gave all the leftover salad to Bat-Cow and helped us set up the Pinball machine downstairs.

Billy: Ooh, and she's really good at making mocktails. 

Jon: Also, she extended our free trial of the Daily Planet for our social studies project. 

Damian: Hm... point taken.

Billy: And she's hot.

Damian: Say that again and I will smite you with your own powers.  

Steph: *smiles softly*

[byproducts-of-my-imagination]

Everyone Hates Todo Except You

The best part about Todo is that you don’t have to put yandere in front of him because his normal behavior already screams delusional and obsessive.   You cannot convince me that he doesn’t sniff all your things as soon as you’re not looking.  He’s just so intense.  I love this man, need to catch up on jjk.

~1k words. Thank you to whoever requested this and I hope you enjoy!

At the Kyoto branch, nobody really bothers sticking their nose in Todo’s business.  But when there’s an enormous mound of trash bags outside his room that just keeps getting bigger, concerning glances and eyebrow raises no longer cut it.  Normally his antics earn a side eye or two, but lately it’s been a little much, even for him.  At the breakfast table the next day, the girls decide to draw straws to see who has to tell him to move his shit.

“It’s not fair!  Why do I have to do it?”  Miwa groans, cursing her bad luck for the thousandth time.  

“It is fair, you just happened to draw the short straw now go deal with it!  We'll back you up.”  Mai grins, knowing full well she rigged it.

Kasumi Miwa would rather be doing literally anything else at this moment.  She timidly knocks on the door, and says, “Todo?  Could you move all this stuff please?  You’re starting to block the hallway.”

“Yeah I’ll get to it whenever I get the rest of this junk cleaned up.  Don’t worry there’s no food waste so there shouldn’t be any smell.”

“B-but Todo…. It's been almost a week now…”  The only response was the muted sound of shuffling.

Miwa looks back in defeat at her so-called “back up” as they peek from behind the corner.  Their best bet now is to get one of the boys to convince him.  And if they fail it’s straight to Utahime-sensei.  

Todo looks at his room, emptier than it’s ever been.  He knew this was the likeliest outcome.  Takada-chan was a beloved idol, and even if she liked him back (which he thought she might have at some point) there was no way she could be with him.  He knew, but it doesn't mean it hurt any less.  There were years of carefully collected merch, thousands of dollars being stuffed into trash bags to be thrown away.  But instead of the despair he carefully denied for years, he didn’t feel any loss throwing away all the autographed posters and pictures.  No, he had something much better now, someone who could actually be with him in this wretched, boring world.  He had his wonderful, gorgeous, beautiful, perfect in every way girlfriend.  And while you weren’t aware that you were destined to be with him yet, he would make sure you’d know soon.  As soon as he finished purging his space of Takada-chan (it wouldn’t do to have pictures of an old flame) he’d confess.  

A few days later he was tying up the last trash bag, ready to enact his plan.  He asked you to meet him under the largest tree in the forest on the edge of the training field.  Several hypothetical scenarios floated through his mind, and he focused on the one where you’d enthusiastically said you loved him back and then he married you and had many children.  As he neared the confession site, Todo felt yet another arrow go through his heart as you came into view.  I’ll never get tired of seeing her.

“Todo, is everything okay?  What’s up?”  A shiver ran down Todo’s spine, goosebumps rising.  God, even your voice was perfect.

“I love you.  Promise me, y/n.  That we’ll spend the rest of our lives together.”  He got down on one knee like a proposal, looking up at you like a devout follower.

“Todo… I don’t know about the rest of our lives but why don’t we start with a date?  I like you too.”  While you were a bit taken aback by his forwardness, you brush it off as Todo being Todo.  You never disliked his honesty and unabashedness.

“My girlfriend!! I knew you felt the same!”  A single tear ran down Todo’s face.   

Back to the dorms, it wasn’t long before everyone found out and congregated at your room to badger you with questions.  

“Ugh that gorilla?  You guys are dating now?”  Nishimiya asked, firmly believing Todo to be an improper and inadequate boyfriend.  

“I thought he only had eyes for that idol Takado or whatever,” Miwa chimes.

“It’s Takada,” Mai corrects, not able to make eye contact with Nishimiya’s suspicious glance in her direction. 

“We’re dating now!  He just asked me out, and he’s really good to me.” you reply, thinking of how Todo insisted on carrying you back to the dorms, gently setting you down before running off saying he needed to ‘prepare’.  

“You can do way better than Todo, trust us.” The girls all nod in agreement.  However, Todo is outside your room balancing a tray of perfectly cooked lunch and a cold pitcher of water.  

“What are you guys talking about?”  he knows already, but wants to hear them say it to his face.  

“How y/n is too good for the likes of you.”  Mai minces no words for Todo.  With the uncomfortable tension rising, the Kyoto girls hastily make an exit.  

“My love, I made lunch for us.  I know I am not handsome, or come from wealth and a good sorcerer family like some of our classmates.  But I will be devoted.  I will never stray from you, I’d die if you asked me to.”  he says, as he sets the meal on your small desk, pulling out utensils and napkins.  His normal confidence seems to waver a bit, and it seems that not even Todo is immune to worrying about what other people think of him.  

“Todo, don’t worry about what they say and please don’t say you’ll die for me.  I like you a lot, I wouldn’t have accepted your confession if I didn’t.  I also think you’re quite handsome.”  

“You love me back?”  he whispers, kneeling at the edge of your bed, looking up at you.  While it’s a bit too early to tell, Todo’s hopeful, reverent look has you obliging him. 

“I do love you back.”  He embraces you, and you can hear his heartbeat in his bare chest.  It feels good to be loved so wholeheartedly, and you’ll give him all the love you have to repay him.  

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Part Seven

“Hey Buddy, you got dressed.”

“Dessed,” Eddie plucks at the sleeve of the pullover, then rubs his arms, copying what Steve did to show what he meant by cold, Eddie even does a fair approximation of Steve's, ‘brrrrrr,’ sound. “Good?

Steve can see from here that the inside of his closet is a disaster; Eddie must have pulled things down while he was hunting for something to wear. Steve figures he can fix it later.

“Yeah, really good. Come on, lets make a grocery list.”

“Go-ser-eee list?”

“Yeah, all the things you like.”

Eddie follows Steve carefully down the stairs, and Steve is pretty sure he can say good bye to the sweater the second Eddie goes outside; at the very least the bottom part will be dragged along the floor everywhere Eddie goes.

Eddie pulls himself onto a seat at the breakfast nook while Steve gets a pad and a pen, “right. What would you like?”

Eddie leans forward so he can see better as Steve writes – Steve’s already listing stuff like milk and bread and coffee and cereal. “Celery. Cucumber. Peas. Apple. Grape. Pear. Many pear,” he’s watching closely, waiting while Steve writes out each word after Eddie says them.

Eddie leans an arm over the table, pointing at where Steve has just written, ‘pear’, “many,” he insists, “many pear.”

Steve crosses out ‘pear’ and writes ‘many pear’ instead, “that okay?” Steve’s sure Eddie can't read what hes writing, but he does understand the concept of ‘many pear’ being two words and not one, which means he’s grasping this whole thing really, really fast.

“Paper,” Eddie adds.

“Okay, got it. More paper.”

“Okay. Stee go out?”

“Yeah, I need to go to work, and I’ll bring the groceries home with me.”

“Go-ser-ee in work?”

“No...I have to go to work to earn money to buy groceries,” Eddie stares at Steve blankly, “wait here.” Steve comes back with his wallet, and fishes out a few dollar bills and puts them on the table, “So I go to work, and earn money,” Steve slides the dollars closer.

Eddie touches the corner of one of the notes, “one.”

“That’s right Buddy, that’s the number one. This is a one dollar bill.”

“One dollar bill.” Eddie repeats dutifully.

“So I take this,” Steve points to the bill, “to the store, and I can get an apple.”

Eddie frowns at the money, “one dollar bill in work Stee...one dollar bill in store...Stee apple?”

“Yeah, yeah buddy.”

Eddie nods, “Eddidie in work? Eddidie one dollar bill pear.”

Steve snorts a laugh at the thought of Eddie in a Family Video vest, probably shouting, ‘no,’ and, ‘bad,’ at customers who put the tapes back wrong. Steve’s pretty sure the general public could break even Eddie’s spirit.

“No buddy, you have to stay here, where it’s safe.”

“Safe,” Eddie points in the vague direction of down the hall; Steve understands what he means, Steve does the same thing to illustrate to Eddie that he’s going out, “not safe?”

“That’s right.”

“Stee not safe?” Eddie cocks his head, frowning spectacularly.

“Oh boy,” Steve sighs to himself. “Okay. Okay Buddy, out,” Steve points, “safe for me, not safe for you.”

“Why?”

And oh Steve is really starting to loath the ‘why?’

“Because...you’re different buddy,” Steve sticks a leg out and points to it, then points to Eddie’s tail where the end is curled on the floor.

Eddie frowns, but doesn’t push it any further.

Eddie’s inside when Steve gets home, and Steve’s kind of glad, it’s definitely chillier now than it was a couple of weeks ago. Eddie might have his tent, but Steve has no idea what kind of temperatures are tolerable for Eddie; he must be pretty fucking sturdy to live in the Upside Down, but still. Steve has no clue if Eddie’s just mimicking him, because Steve has told Eddie it’s cold. He doesn’t even know if Eddie feels temperature like a human. Still, he probably wouldn't be voluntarily wearing the sweater if it was making him too warm.

Eddie’s laid out on the lounge floor, his book open, surrounded by colored pencils. It looks like he’s making an attempt at drawing some sort of tree, surrounded by grass and sky. It’s not terrible; Steve can even tell pretty much what it’s supposed to be, at least.

Steve's got to tell Dustin that Eddie can definitely see color just fine.

“Hey Buddy, you want to help put your things away?”

“Eddidie help,” Eddie follows Steve into the kitchen, “idge door. Idge. Cold in idge. Pear in. Grape in. Celery in.” Eddie chatters the whole time he unpacks the paper grocery bag, narrating everything he’s doing. He eats a pear when he’s done.

“I got you more notebooks, too.”

“Paper?”

“Yeah Buddy, as much as you want.”

Steve dumps a can of spaghetti into a pot on the stove, then turns as he hears a loud scraping noise; Eddie pushing a chair across the kitchen.

“Hang on,” Steve gets it for him, moving it to the side of the stove. Eddie climbs up, sitting on his tail to make himself tall enough to watch Steve making toast and grating cheese.

“You want to try?” Steve offers the wooden spoon to Eddie.

Eddie frowns at it, “warm?”

“Many warm. Hot. Here,” Steve blows on the spoon for a moment.

Eddie leans forward and licks it. Eddie pulls an assessing face, and then finally volunteers, “good bad.”

“Yeah. I get you buddy.”

Eddie turns on the TV when they go into the lounge, Steve sits on the couch to eat, “I think the kids are coming over tomorrow. They’re coming over to watch movies.” Eddie tilts his head, “TV. The kids are coming to watch TV.”

“Max. El. Dust bin. Lu-cas. Mike. Will.”

“You got it buddy, the kids.”

“Kids. Mongrels.”

Steve laughs so hard his toast nearly slides off his plate.

Mike shoves a bag in Steve’s hands as he passes him in the doorway, “Nancy told me to bring this over for Eddie. It’s all Holly’s old stuff.”

Steve looks inside the bag and finds a couple of kids coloring books; neither of them used at all. A handwriting book, the kind where you trace the letters and numbers before doing it yourself. A very basic math book, probably for really little kids, but on the first page is a picture of four plus four, represented with two groups of four apples. Steve’s confident Eddie will like that. There’s a couple of other things, and Steve’s sure it’ll all be useful. It’s actually a great idea. One of the books has pictures of clocks, and the digital time; Steve really should teach Eddie to tell the time. Maybe he could get him a little battery clock for his tent.

“Thanks Mike.”

“Yeah whatever,” Mike grumbles, already making popcorn and generally just helping himself to Steve’s shit.

Steve sits in the middle of the couch, El to one side of him, deliberately keeping an empty space on the other. All the other kids are sprawled out on the floor, eating red vines and dipping into bowls of popcorn. Eddie’s watching from the kitchen doorway; he’s clearly still uncertain about the kids.

They’re all lying quiet though, engrossed in the film. It’s probably half way through when Eddie finally risks it; Steve pats the couch cushion to encourage Eddie up next to him. Eddie does.

Usually he sits like a person, the end of his tail laid on the floor like feet would be, but tonight he pulls it up and curls it under him, all protected.

El leans forward, whispering over Steve, “hi Eddie.”

Eddie nods, volunteers back an uncertain, “hi El,” and then promptly hides his face in Steve’s shoulder.

As Steve suspected, the front six inches of the yellow pull over are worn and filthy, marred with grass stains.

Steve leaves him there for a little while, and waits until curiosity gets the better of Eddie. Steve offers him some popcorn; it’s buttered and salty, and Steve’s a solid ninety percent sure Eddie won’t like it. He’s right. He watches Eddie chew with his mouth open, a look of absolute disgust on his face, for a solid thirty seconds before Eddie finally swallows.

Steve leaves El with the popcorn and goes and gets them a beer to share, it’s the least he can do.

Eddie’s interest in the film seems to waver, depending on what grabs his attention the most. He seems to be watching the kids for...well. Eddie probably thinks of them as loud and erratic; it wouldn’t surprise Steve if Eddie had interpreted them as danger. Even if Eddie’s getting braver, that feeling clearly hasn’t gone all the way away just yet.

Steve feels him twitch, on high alert, every time one of the kids shifts.

Steve offers him a red vine; Eddie sniffs it but crinkles his nose up in disgust.

They decide to put on another movie; when all the kids get up to forage and grab drinks and go for toilet breaks, Steve thinks for a moment that Eddie might make a break for it. He sinks down further into the couch cushions instead; pressing close to Steve.

He doesn’t leave though, and the kids, mercifully, practically ignore Eddie. Lucas says ‘hi’, and Eddie answers, which Steve takes as a massive win.

One of the kids drops something in the sink; it clatters loudly, Eddie sitting up straight, whole body on high alert and turned towards the doorway, one arm flung back protectively over Steve's chest.

“It’s alright buddy, don’t worry. It’s just the kids. They’re noisy sometimes,” Eddie does lower himself again at that, and when he finally looks at Steve, Steve offers his hand. Eddie takes it. The webbing stops their fingers linking together all the way, but the contact has the desired effect and seems to reassure Eddie that there’s no danger, and he’s more relaxed by the time all the kids come back in.

They start the next movie, Eddie nestled right up against Steve, their joined hands resting on his thigh.

Part Nine

[mrsriddlenott]

~ Caught ~

Mattheo Riddle x Fem!reader

masterlist

Warnings:Language, Fingering, Smut&Fluff, Choking, Thigh Riding, Praise Kink, Breeding Kink(kinda), Aggressive Sex

You, Mattheo, Theo, Draco, Blaise, and Lorenzo had been best friends since you first met each other on the Hogwarts Express seven years ago. It was so simple up until your fourth year when girls started hating you for how close you were with the pack of Slytherins. Every girl that wanted them seemed to think you did too, when in reality you just wanted the one.

Ever since you knew what it meant to like someone, you liked Mattheo Riddle. You just couldn’t explain it, where everyone else saw a rude and careless jerk, all you saw was a damaged and neglected boy who needed to be shown what it meant to be loved. You never expected him to like you back and you definitely never expected to be in an almost year long secret relationship with him.

You knew your friends, and girls Mattheo had never talked to nor thought of talking to, would react negatively and possessively. So when Mattheo finally admitted he had been developing feelings for you halfway into your sixth year, you came to a mutual agreement to keep it a secret.

Just until graduation.

You knew it wasn’t smart by any means but the late nights alone together at the top of the Astronomy Tower. And the walks around the Black Lake after curfew. And nights spent sneaking to the kitchen just for an excuse to spend more time together, were the nights you would remember most. You were meant for each other, and neither of you wanted your idiotic peers to ruin it before it could properly begin.

When Mattheo saw you walking his direction on the way to breakfast on a Saturday morning he gave you a subtle nod towards an empty classroom. You made sure it was clear, and excitedly entered after him. Almost as soon as you shut the door completely you were pressed against it with Mattheo’s hands on either side of your head, towering over you.

“I haven’t gotten enough time alone with you this past month,” He spoke, as though just accepting that fact hurt him, “So, I’ve told the boys I’m tutoring a third year and can’t make it to Hogsmeade with them. I expect you’ll find an excuse to stay behind before breakfast ends, right Princess?” He smiled at you as he brought his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Definitely.” You had been unable to spend more than an hour together ever since lessons and his Quidditch practice started picking up and you were eager to get a whole day with him.

“I want you to try something new for me Princess.” He smiled while you eyed him suspiciously, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, if you don’t like it we’ll never do it again.”

“…okayyy, are yo-“

“Great. Come to my dorm when you’re done eating.” You couldn’t get a question out as he placed a peck to your cheek and slipped out the door behind you.

You were straddling his lap as he sat against his headboard less than an hour later with you hands in his hair as his ran up and down your body and his lips explored your neck. Before long he readjusted your hips so you were now straddling his thigh instead of his lap.

“Alright, time for my request,” He watched your face contort into confusion with a smile and wiggle of his eyebrows, “I want you to ride my thigh Princess,” Your face lit up bright red as your hands gripped his shoulders.

“I- you what?” You were confused but there was no denying the wetness growing between your legs as he placed his hands firmly on your hips ready to guide you as he whispered in your ear slower this time, “I want you to ride my thigh,” He roughly bit at your neck making you instinctively buck forward, the rough fabric of his jeans against your clothed core making you shiver, “I want to watch you come all over my pants before I fuck you Princess,” Mattheo could feel the growing puddle in your now damp underwear as he licked up your neck with a groan before meeting your eyes.

“Come on Baby, for me?” He leaned his head back with a tiny pout and light tug on your hips. The feeling only the smallest movement gave you had you giving in and bucking forward on his leg in a matter of seconds. As you grind yourself on him you let your moans slip out of your mouth as Mattheo watches your face intently.

“Mm, you like that Baby? Oh fuck I thought you would.” He practically moans, looking at your movements on his thigh as he spoke. As you sped up your movements and knocked your head back one of his hands shot up to your jaw with a firm grip bringing your eyes to his.

“You’re gonna keep looking at me if you want to cum Princess. Understand?” You nodded as much as you could in his hand as he arched an eyebrow at you. His free hand snaked around you to your back, stopping your movements on his thigh, “Use that beautiful voice of yours, okay Baby?”

“Okay, I understand,” You whimpered as he moved his hand from your back to your hip, guiding your movements once more. “Good girl, I think you deserve a reward.” He was now holding your hips in his other hand as well as he guided you towards your orgasm. Before long you were a moaning mess on top of him, your back arching as you kept eye contact while coming undone above him. Almost as soon as you came he was flipping you over with his thigh still between your legs as he fumbled to remove your shirt, quickly becoming annoyed and ripping it apart allowing the buttons to scatter across his floor.

Your gasp and moans were suppressed as he pulled you up into a kiss and removed the remnants of your shirt. Your fingers fumbled with his belt as he leant back to watch you with a smile, he let you slightly struggle with the belt before you unfastened it and pulled it from it’s loops. “Good job Princess,”

His praises had you moving faster as you both removed each others clothes, throwing them in different directions while smashing your lips together and laying back on the bed as soon as you were both fully exposed.

Mattheo readjusted to watch your face as he slowly pushed himself inside you with a moan. You squirmed around him and shut your eyes before his actions stopped and his hand slithered up to your neck with a soft but dominant grip. “What did I say Princess?”

You quickly opened your eyes while mumbling his previous order back to him before he immediately began plowing inside of you, gripping the sides of your neck harder. His thrusts were rough and fast as he maintained eye contact with you, fucking you at a steady pace as you began to moan loudly.

He was practically driving you into the mattress as his speed pushed you slightly up towards the headboard before both his hands grabbed your hips and pulled them towards him as you yelped. He moaned while he positioned your legs along his chest fucking you faster still, hitting angles he hadn’t before. Your moans quickly became higher in pitch as your walls fluttered around him, back arching while you came on his dick.

His pace remained steady as he let you throw your head back and close your eyes as he fucked you through your orgasm. His actions slowed slightly, “Look at me Princess.” His voice was demanding and laced with lust, when your eyes met his again they were even darker from being disobeyed yet again.

Mattheo shoved your legs away as he pushed himself forward onto you, his hand gripped the back of your neck as he rested his forehead on yours, speeding up his movements to an unrelenting pace you’d never felt before. You were practically screaming his name as he chuckled and lightly smacked the side of your thigh that now tightly wrapped around his waist. He smashed his lips onto yours as his eyes shut, silently giving you permission to do the same while both your moans were drowned in the sloppy, sensual kiss you shared.

The kiss seemed to egg him on as Mattheo’s thrusts became irregular before he stilled, muscles twitching as he came inside of you. He immediately slid up and out of you as he shoved two of his fingers inside of you, moving them quickly against your g-spot pulling out your final orgasm.

Mattheo slowly pulled his fingers from you, chuckling at your whimper before bringing his fingers to your mouth for you to suck them clean. Mattheo then reached to his bedside table for a towel and cleaned his and your own cum from your thighs before kissing and licking at the many marks his lips and hands had made.

“You did so good for me Princess,” You smile at him while his lips work to pamper your body while repeatedly telling you how much he loves you. He then plops himself down next to you as you both turn to look at each other, “I really do love you, you know that right?”

“Yes,” you chuckled at him with a slight shake of your head, “and I love you too Mattheo,” He smiled at you slightly before looking away.

You both lay on your sides still out of breath and facing each other as Mattheo plays with your fingers before his eyes found yours, speaking again, “So, I was thinking that…maybe…if you’re okay with it…we could try and tell the others?” You smiled at him as you brought your hand up to cup his cheek, his eyes fluttered shut with a happy sigh at the contact, “Of course my love, I think it’s time.”

His smile grew so large that his dimples you love so much were popping out prominently as he lay with his eyes shut still, letting you graze your fingers up and down his cheek. “We should start getting dressed, they’ll be back soon.”

He let out a childish groan as he stretched his arms out to wrap you in a tight hug, “Just five more minutes Princess,” He sighed contentedly into your neck. But five minutes turned into ten, and ten into twenty, and eventually you had been talking and cuddling for almost an hour without noticing the time. Luckily you thought to glance at your watch before shoving Mattheo, who clearly hadn’t caught on yet, off your chest mid-sentence, “Dinner’s almost over, help me find our underwear before they walk in on us naked.”

“Fuck Princess they’re definitely back already,” Mattheo rambled as he rushed to find the clothes you two had thrown somewhere around the dorm in the the heat of the moment. “I bet they’re on the way down here right now, I don’t want them to find out like this, I had this whole thing I was gonna say and everything.” You smiled at that as you searched the side of the dorm you thought you saw your underwear thrown at.

“Here’s your bra Lovely,” Mattheo said as he tossed the black piece of lace over his shoulder. When you found your underwear you quickly covered yourself with the garments and grabbed Mattheos boxers from between the mattress and frame while he was too focused on finding your clothing to worry about his bare ass. Which was pointed at the now open door revealing your best friends.

“Mattheoooo, we got yo- WAIT!! Y/N IS THE MYSTERY GIRL YOU’VE BEEN HIDING FROM US AND SNEAKING AROUND WITH?!?!” Enzo yelled in pure shock as he pushed his way past the other three larger boys, who were frozen, open mouthed in the door frame. Mattheo rushed to cover your body with his as the three stayed standing at the door, eyes wide and pointed at you.

“Sorry sorry sorry,” Enzo turned, closing his eyes while attempting, and failing, to push the others away in order to close the door.

Mattheo held his hands cupped over what he could cover of himself as he nervously bounced back and forth in front of you. The three boys remained in the door with Enzo desperately trying to get them to listen while Draco unapologetically attempted to look past Mattheo, who suddenly lost all his nervousness upon noticing this.

“Get the fuck out and stop looking at my girlfriend’s body right now or you will fucking regret it.” Mattheo snapped in a calm but demanding voice that made you wish there was time for round two.

After the door was shut you held his boxers out in front of him, “So much for the thought out speech about me being your girlfriend.” You giggled from behind him as he covered himself and grabbed his button up from the floor. He began putting it over your arms and buttoning it himself as you gave him a quizzical look.

“Since I ripped yours Princess, now get your pretty legs under the covers and I’ll invite our friends in for a civil conversation.” You narrowed your eyes at him and crossed your arms over your chest. “Okay okay, civil as long as Draco never ever looks at you that way again,” He shrugged with a smirk.

~~~~

Caught ll

Caught lll

Caught IV

Caught V

Caught VI

~~~~

[cherienymphe]

Teenage Dirtbag VIII (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

~

“Rafe would never…”

Sarah’s loud huff reached your ears as you shrugged at her, making yourself some breakfast. The man in question was sleeping in, breathing evenly when you left his room. You’d been sleeping over at his house more as of late, and while Rafe was under the impression it was some attempt to show how bad you felt for ‘defending’ JJ at that party weeks ago…

Only you knew the truth.

JJ had kissed you.

…and you’d kissed him back.

His show of ‘taking it’ did not in fact make you feel better because you both knew it was a lie—a poor attempt to absolve you of responsibility. To lessen your role in it when in truth…you hadn’t even tried to fight back. Not really. You’d allowed it to happen, and you couldn’t decide if you regretted it or not. On one hand, the kiss was something you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for weeks, and on the other…

You’d cheated on your boyfriend.

The thought of what you did made you nauseous, and not because you didn’t want to hurt Rafe…but because you didn’t want him to hurt you. You thought about that day JJ had smiled at you in The Wreck, back when you barely even knew him, and you thought about how you’d smiled back—something so harmless. You would never forget the feel of that gun in your mouth. You would never forget the fear that weighed down on you.

Heavy enough to make you call the police.

You’d allowed something to happen that shouldn’t have, but that didn’t mean it needed to happen again. Hiding one kiss from Rafe was doable. Hiding anything more… You didn’t even want to let your mind wander into dangerous territory. There wasn’t going to be anything else to hide, and yet…even as you thought that…you couldn’t help but to entertain the thought.

You really really liked being around JJ, and to make matters worse, you liked kissing him even more. It had sparked something in you that you weren’t sure you liked. You recalled how on edge you’d been that night. So much so that when Rafe kissed you, you’d been eager to kiss him back. What kind of girlfriend were you to imagine someone else while having sex with your boyfriend?

It wasn’t right, and you couldn’t afford to make another mistake, and that’s why you weren’t keen on the conversation you were having with Sarah at the moment.

“Come on,” Sarah pleaded. “We’re literally going to be at Kie’s house instead of John B.’s because of you.”

You paused, eyeing her.

“I know that Rafe will never be convinced to let you go all the way to The Cut, so Kie offered up her place,” Sarah explained with a shrug. “Her parents are out of town, and they reluctantly approved having some friends over.”

You thought on that with a small frown.

“…and it’ll just be us girls.”

That eased your worry, and you sighed.

“Say the word, and I’ll talk to Rafe myself. He already knows I think he’s way too controlling with you,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll argue with him about this until I’m blue in the face.”

You eyed her again, chewing on your lip at the thought. You’d had a lot of fun the last time you hung out with them, and the knowledge that JJ wouldn’t be around did make you feel better. After that night in front of your pool house, you weren’t sure you trusted yourself around him. He made you feel things that reminded you too much of what it was like to be…happy.

It was an addicting feeling.

“…okay,” you reluctantly said to her, voice soft.

Sarah’s half smile was wicked, and you chuckled at her, watching her run upstairs with a shake of your head.

You didn’t quite understand why Sarah had taken it upon herself to pull you into her social life, but you didn’t think you were mad about it anymore. Rafe was your present and future, and as much as the thought depressed you, you imagined your future would be a lot bleaker if you weren’t at least friends with his sister. Wheezie was great too, but she was so much younger than you.

When Rafe finally came downstairs almost an hour later, you didn’t need to be a genius to know that Sarah had woken him up in order to plead her case. Your boyfriend didn’t look the most enthusiastic when your eyes met his, and you fixed him with a pleading look of your own.

“It’s just going to be the girls,” you quietly reassured him as he neared you. “…and we’re going to be at Kiara’s.”

“That’s reassuring,” he snorted, and the sarcasm was strong in his tone.

You resisted the urge to sigh.

“What do you think is going to happen with Sarah, Kiara, and Cleo?” you argued. “Worst case scenario we watch movies, get drunk, and you have to pick me up.”

You could see the thought process behind Rafe’s eyes, and when he eventually gripped your chin between his fingers, relief filled you. Rafe’s kiss was soft, lips gently touching yours, and like with many kisses in the weeks passed, you couldn’t help but to think about whose it wasn’t.

“I guess I can humor Sarah, so I won’t have to hear her bullshit,” he murmured, and you gave him a small smile. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear she was trying to steal you from me.”

Rafe’s tone was humorous, but you swore there was a glimmer of seriousness in his gaze. Despite that, you gave a nervous chuckle.

“No one can steal me from you, Rafe.”

He eyed you, tracing his gaze over your face, and you swallowed as Rafe tilted his head.

“I know that,” he said matter-of-factly. “…and you know that too.”

When he kissed you again, you kissed him back.

“What? Cleo, you have to come,” you told her. “I’ll invite you myself.”

You could hear Sarah and Kiara making some more drinks in the kitchen behind you. The girl before you made a face, and you laughed at the disgust there.

“Spending all night with a bunch of stuffy Kooks? No, thank you,” she said with a shake of her head.

You took another sip of your drink with a hum.

“It’s actually more fun than you think,” you reassured her. “…and plus you get to dress up like a princess.”

“You are an actual princess, so of course you’d say that.”

“Are you guys talking about Midsummers?” Sarah wondered, rejoining you two. “Y/N, give it up. You’ll never get Cleo to go in a million years.”

She handed you a new fruity drink.

“Kie is technically a Kook, and even she doesn’t like going.”

The girl in question sat down across from you, and you looked at her in wonder.

“Really? Why not?”

The brunette wasn’t the most talkative with you, but that didn’t stop you from trying. You recalled Sarah’s comment about Kiara’s distrust—something you didn’t blame her for—but you were relieved to see that she was loosening up around you. Even if it was only because of the alcohol.

“…because it’s classist and consumerist, and a gross display of the disparity in wealth on this island. I mean, it’s full of people discussing the pros and cons of a second home when other people on this island need a second job to get by,” she told you. “The whole thing disgusts me.”

Kiara said all of this evenly, like it was something that easily flew off of her tongue, and you found yourself gazing into your drink.

“I guess I never thought about it like that…”

…and you hadn’t. It was such a regular part of your life that you had never seen it in an even remotely negative way. You always loved going to Midsummers, dressing up and taking part in something you’d never thought to question. Kiara was right, you supposed. Outer Banks was the kind of place where you either had two jobs or two houses, and you found yourself thinking about a familiar blond.

JJ’s less fortunate circumstances had never been lost on you. After all, you recognized your privilege to have a pool house and offered it to him. However, you had never stopped to really think about the somewhat ridiculousness of that though. The fact that you even had an extra house—no matter how small—to offer him.

You took a sip of your drink.

“I promise I’m not trying to radicalize you or anything,” the other girl sighed. “I just hate all the grand tone deaf displays on this side of the island.”

You were just about to tell her that it was more than okay when Cleo perked up.

“Is someone outside?”

You frowned at her, but Sarah and Kiara turned towards the window, and Sarah’s groan made your heart sink for some reason.

“I told them it was just going to be us girls,” she complained, pushing herself to her feet.

She swayed a bit as she did, and you were reminded of how many drinks you’d had. You didn’t need to be a genius to know who she was talking about, and—out of nervousness or confusion on what to do with your hands—you downed the rest of your drink. You stood on unsteady feet, silently making your way to the kitchen just as you heard John B.’s voice.

“Plenty of times you’ve crashed guys night,” you heard him laugh. “Sucks, doesn’t it? Hey, whose car is that outside?”

You focused on making another drink as Sarah told him it was yours, and surprisingly, your heart wasn’t threatening to leap out of your chest. You blamed the alcohol for your calm demeanor because you knew that if you were sober, you would be a lot more panicked at the arrival of John B., Pope…and JJ.

You hadn’t seen the blond since that night, but you had seen the occasional light on in the pool house, so you knew that he was periodically sleeping there. You didn’t exactly know how you were going to act around him, now. After all, he’d kissed you and touched you in ways that a friend definitely shouldn’t. Doubly so since you had a boyfriend.

You paused to think about that, wondering if you could call JJ a friend. He couldn’t be your friend and trying to refer to him as one seemed so disingenuous for so many reasons. For starters, JJ made it very clear that he had no intention of being your friend, and all he’d done since that day was prove that to you. JJ couldn’t be your…anything.

When you reentered the living room with a fresh drink, he was standing by the couch where Kie sat. The brunette was talking to Cleo and Pope about something while the blonde’s eyes focused on you the moment you stepped into the room. You tried to ignore the way he straightened, and the way he eyed you, glancing away and taking a sip of your drink.

You were thinking to yourself that you should leave…but you weren’t exactly in any condition to drive and calling Rafe would only lead to trouble. You really didn’t want to fathom how he’d react to pulling into the yard and seeing John B.’s van. As if reading your mind, Sarah left her boyfriend and hurried over to you.

“I know they’re not supposed to be here,” she started.

“Yeah,” you slurred. “It’s literally the only reason Rafe let me come.”

Sarah pressed her lips together, and the sheepish look on her face let you know that you weren’t going to like what she said next.

“John B. wants us all to go back to The Chateau…”

“Sarah.”

You were drunk, but not too drunk to ignore what an incredibly bad idea that was for you. Your eyes were wide as you looked at her, and she reached for you.

“He’s going to bring us back later tonight,” she explained. “They’ll be gone, and you can call Rafe to come get you.”

“Why do I have to go? Why are we going, anyway?”

Sarah rolled her eyes.

“…because JJ rolled a few blunts, and Kie does not want her parents’ house smelling like weed. Which is valid, I guess…”

You sighed as she trailed off. Even if you weren’t several drinks into the night, you’d probably still be tempted to go. However, if you were sober, you knew that you’d turn the suggestion down without hesitation and stand firm in that. At the moment, though, you were incredibly interested. You didn’t want to ruin everyone else’s fun, and in truth, you enjoyed sitting around fire with Sarah’s friends. The plan sounded solid in theory, but you were unsure…

“I don’t know, Sarah…” you glanced away, ignoring JJ’s gaze. “If Rafe found out I went to the other side of the island with you…”

Just as Sarah was about to speak, the last person you wanted spoke instead.

“She can stay for a little bit, Sarah, and then I’ll drive her back.”

Your eyes met a familiar blue pair, and Sarah turned around with a smile. JJ’s hands were shoved into his pockets, and despite the fact that he’d said it to Sarah, his gaze was focused on you. He swiped his tongue between his lips as he waited for what you had to say, Sarah eventually joining as she turned to look at you again.

“My bike’s at John B.’s, so I can take you back whenever you want,” he said with a shrug.

It was odd. You recognized that JJ was the last person you should be around, and yet, all you wanted to do was take him up on his offer. Were you really about to risk fucking up so badly just to steal twenty minutes alone with JJ? You eyed him, and just then your phone vibrated, heart skipping a beat when you saw a text from Rafe. You stared at the words on the screen for a minute, reading them over and over again.

Rafe wanted to know what ‘you girls’ were up to…and with shaky fingers, you told him you were about to watch a movie, buying yourself two hours. Carefully placing your phone on the side table, you told the two blondes in front of you ‘okay’. Sarah beamed while you simply avoided JJ’s heated gaze.

You were nursing a beer while Sarah drunkenly told the story of how she lost her virginity to John B.—in a church of all places. Your gaze was focused on the dirt and grass beneath your shoes, not really a participant in the conversation. Cleo was to your left…while JJ was to your right, and the presence of the blond was getting harder and harder to ignore.

The ride over had been awkward for you and sitting around a fire with Sarah’s friends felt even less so. Already drunker than you would like to be, you’d declined Pope’s offer when he’d tried to pass you the blunt in the van on the way over. The last thing you needed was to become even more paranoid than you already were.

You’d left both your phone and your car at Kie’s, but you couldn’t stop worrying that something was going to go wrong. You’d told Rafe that you were about to watch a movie, hoping he’d get the hint not to reach out to you for at least two hours, but it would be just like him to call or swing by unannounced. You knew this was a bad idea, and now even more so because you couldn’t even relax enough to enjoy yourself.

“What about you?”

You didn’t get the hint that Kie was talking to you—not even when JJ tensed—until Sarah made a very loud noise of protest.

“No, no, absolutely not!” the blonde loudly said, waving her arms. “What did I say about asking Y/N sex questions?”

John B. snorted.

“First time stories barely count, to be honest. They’re almost always bad…and short,” he chuckled.

“I don’t care,” she cried, pressing her fingers to her eyes. “She’s dating my brother.”

“…yeah, but we’re talking about her first time. That…”

John B. trailed off at the look Sarah gave him, and you sheepishly shrugged when everyone slowly looked at you.

“Unfortunately, Sarah is correct in her assumption,” you admitted. “My first time does involve Rafe.”

There was a visceral and audible reaction at that, and Sarah looked vindicated.

“Yeah, move on to someone else,” she pleaded with a laugh.

The brief mention of Rafe had your heart sinking again, and as Cleo’s voice filled your ears, you were pulled from your thoughts by the feel of JJ’s fingers grazing yours. You flinched from shock, glancing up to meet his gaze as he reached for your beer. No one else was paying attention, too busy laughing at whatever Cleo said.

You didn’t look away from JJ as he took your drink, watching as he brought the bottle to his own lips. The sight reminded you of what it’d felt like to touch those lips, and you could feel yours parting, sharply inhaling as you tried to force yourself to look away. His blue eyes looked between yours, and JJ spoke when he lowered his hand.

“Whenever you’re ready to go…just let me know,” he whispered to you.

“I’m not,” you replied just as quietly, taking your beer back.

When Pope suggested firing up the hot tub—otherwise dubbed as The Cat’s Ass—you declined. JJ did too, and none of them gave it a second thought as Cleo asked Sarah if she had an extra bathing suit top lying around John B.’s place. You took the opportunity to stand, pausing as the world spun a bit, before making your way to the dock.

Even if his footsteps were quiet, you knew that JJ was following you, and trying to keep yourself from doing something you’d regret again, you continued the conversation from earlier.

“What was your first time like?” you wondered with a smile, passing him your beer.

JJ seemed to see right through you, respecting your decision to avoid the elephant in the room, and he chuckled. You sat down at the end of the dock, looking up at him as he stared out into the water. The blond made a face, and you chuckled.

“Uh, it pretty much goes how you would expect,” he lightly said. “Except for Sarah obviously…”

JJ sat down next to you.

“Some girl I was really into…we had a few beers at her place while her parents were gone and…it lasted all of three minutes,” he proudly said. “I was fifteen.”

You rested your chin on your knees.

“Was she pretty?”

JJ threw you a crooked smile.

“She was,” he told you. “Are you jealous?”

You rolled your eyes, looking out into the water.

“You’re not my boyfriend, JJ. Why would I be…”

He didn’t respond right away at that, and again, you wracked your brain as to how you would avoid talking about what happened the last time you saw him. You were torn between wanting to talk about it, wanting to kiss him again, and just plain running away. A conversation with JJ didn’t seem so harmless, now. Not after he’d kissed you and flat out told you that he didn’t respect your relationship nor your boyfriend.

“What about your first time?”

Somehow, you hadn’t expected that, and you tensed.

For a brief moment, you were back in the Cameron house, trying to back away from Rafe as he yelled at you about something so insignificant. Your chest clenched painfully as you recalled that day, and you blinked, clearing your throat.

“You don’t want to hear about that.”

“I know it was with Rafe, but…I can forget that for the sake of this conversation, I promise,” JJ teasingly said, a hand on his chest when you looked at him. “Scout’s honor that I won’t gag.”

You gave a light laugh, straightening and shaking your head.

“Trust me, JJ, it’s not really something you want to hear.”

There was a brief pause.

“What? Was…was it that bad? Are you telling me Rafe Cameron is bad in bed? Who would’ve thought,” he mockingly commented.

You looked at him, opening and closing your mouth before letting out a sigh.

“It wasn’t like that,” you slowly told him with a sad smile. “I just mean… It’s kind of a mood killer. Not exactly a nice story.”

You could recognize that all of the drinks in your system had you being less reserved with your words than usual, and you watched JJ blink. A slow frown formed over his features, and you watched him run his gaze over you.

“What does that mean?” JJ slowly asked. “Are you saying he hurt you or something…?”

“No,” you were quick to argue. “No, it’s not…”

You huffed, looking out at the water.

“That’s not what I mean,” you sighed. “I just mean it’s not a fun little campfire story.”

“…and I’m asking you what the hell does that mean?” he chuckled, but it didn’t sound humorous. “Like…you realize you’re scaring me a little, right?”

When you looked at JJ again, you could see how true that was, and your chest lowered as you exhaled through your nose. You turned away from him again, taking in the sight of the half moon’s reflection in the water. You could feel JJ’s gaze on you as you thought it over, realizing that he wasn’t going to drop it, and if you were just an okay liar when sober, you could only imagine how bad you were when you were drunk.

Taking back the beer, you quickly drank the rest of it, hating the way your words slurred a bit when you spoke.

“It was…maybe about a month after my nineteenth birthday,” you mumbled, staring at the water despite not really seeing it. “…and Rafe was…mad.”

You shook your head, remembering the venom in his voice and the way his nostrils flared and that plain old mean look in his eyes.

“It was so stupid…and I was so confused,” you said with a frown. “…and I just wanted to leave and talk about it in the morning.”

You scoffed, reminded of Rafe cornering you against the wall.

“…but Rafe wouldn’t let me. Every time I tried, he… He wanted a fight,” you shrugged. “…and then he grabbed me…”

You could see him shaking you as you stared out into the water. You could see it like it happened yesterday, and you could hear him screaming at you and sneering at you before shoving you so hard you fell against the counter. There hadn’t been any point in trying to get up…and then he was there—on you and tearing at your dress.

“…and,” you quietly dragged out. “He just didn’t care what I wanted.”

You forgot all about JJ as you watched yourself scream and push against your boyfriend. To this day, you didn’t know if the alcohol in your system that night helped or hindered you. You swore that it made the memory that much more vivid, but at the same time, maybe it dulled it much more than you knew. As you remembered Rafe’s panic when his family pulled up and the way he all but dragged you upstairs, you forgot that you were sitting on John B.’s dock all the way on the other side of the island.

For a moment you were back in that house on that day, crying on the floor of Rafe’s bedroom.

You forgot that you weren’t actually there…until JJ spoke.

“Are you joking?”

His question came out harsh, startling you, and when you looked at JJ again, there was a deep frown on his face. His brows were tightly drawn together, and his lips were parted, a mixture of confusion and disbelief and horror covering his features.

“You are joking, right?”

You licked your lips, trying to gather your thoughts.

“JJ…things were…really bad then-.”

“What does that mean? ‘Bad then’…what…?” JJ scoffed, pressing his head into his hands. “What does that mean? What does that even mean because what you just described…”

JJ gestured to you, wide eyes blinking.

“He raped you,” he stated in shock. “You just told me…that your boyfriend…raped you, and all you can say is that things were bad then?”

JJ’s voice was getting louder, and you looked towards the yard, relieved to hear the rest of them still laughing in the hot tub.

“I’m saying that that doesn’t really happen anymore and…”

You trailed off when JJ stood, following his lead, and you absolutely hated the way he was looking at you.

“This has happened more than once.”

He said it more like a statement than a question, but his tone indicated that he wanted an answer…or more specifically confirmation.

“I’m just saying that this isn’t as big of a deal as you’re trying to make it,” you breathed. “You know Rafe. You’ve met him, you’ve fought him, you know what he can be like!”

JJ just stared at you, not moving, and you nervously peeked towards the yard again. JJ noticed, and he blinked at you, a look on his face that you couldn’t place. Yes, what Rafe did was wrong, but you couldn’t exactly flat out say why you stayed with a man who raped you. You didn’t have much choice but to downplay it, attempting to get JJ to see it your way, but it turned out that your efforts were in vain.

“Does he hurt you?”

The question came out so quietly that you almost didn’t hear him, and once it registered, you froze. You could hear your heart thumping in your ears, and the rest of Sarah’s friends sounded so far away. Your vision swam for the briefest of moments, and you touched your temple. Your drunk brain was scrambling, and you answered too late.

“What?” you whispered.

JJ blinked a few times, lips parting, and you watched him reach up to run his hands through his hair.

“I feel like an idiot,” he whispered. “I feel so stupid.”

Your breath was shaky, and you shook your head.

“JJ, no, it’s not… It’s not like that,” you slowly tried to explain.

That seemed to make him angry, and the look JJ gave you made your blood run cold.

“No?” he wondered, nostrils flaring. “Alright, okay.”

He reached for his phone, turning from you.

“I don’t really feel sober enough to take you home, so hey. Why don’t I get Rafe’s number from Sarah, and since it’s not like that, he’ll only be a little mad-.”

He cut himself off at the feel of you yanking on his sleeve, forcing him to a stop. Your fingers were digging into his skin through the fabric when he turned to face you, and your lips were trembling, but you both knew it wasn’t from the cold. Your gaze was pleading when his eyes met yours again, and JJ’s jaw ticked at your silent—but obvious—answer to his question.

The blonde’s gaze softened as he stared at you, and you could see the reality of the answer to his question finally hitting him. He slowly fully faced you, pressing his lips together as he looked at you, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was going over every interaction in his mind.

“Please don’t tell Sarah,” you whispered, and JJ looked at you in disbelief.

“That…that’s what you’re worried about?” he gasped. “You don’t want me to tell Sarah? Fuck Sarah, I should be telling the police.”

“You don’t get it,” you choked out with a shake of your head, fighting back tears.

“Don’t get what? What am I not getting? Why are you still with…? How long has this been going on?”

You turned away from JJ, pressing the tips of your fingers to your forehead. JJ followed you down the dock, and you only realized you were crying when your face felt so much colder.

“Why-?”

“He will kill me!”

When you looked at JJ again, you were full on sobbing, now. You pressed your hands to your neck, staring at him through your tears as JJ just stood frozen. You glanced away, pressing one hand to your mouth while the other wrapped around your waist. You hadn’t meant to blurt that out, but once you did, it was like you couldn’t stop.

“You don’t think I’ve tried to leave? Huh?” you cried. “You don’t think that I’ve tried to break up with him? Tried to…fight back?”

“Hey,” JJ whispered, approaching you.

“He’ll kill me,” you sobbed. “…and this isn’t-this isn’t something I think, this is something I know. He’s tried to before.”

JJ paused at that, but it was brief, and he quickly pulled you into his arms. He tightened them around you as he held you, trying to shush you, but it was a futile attempt. You didn’t know if it was all the drinks you’d had—or simply the feeling of finally telling someone—but you couldn’t stop crying no matter how much you tried. In the back of your mind, you felt that you’d regret this in the morning.

However, a part of you—a part that resided in your chest—felt so relieved.

You pressed your face into JJ’s shoulder as he tried to quiet you, running his hands over your back. You could feel a headache coming on, probably from both the tears and the drinks, and the turn this night had taken only made you want to lie down. You didn’t even know how you were going to pull yourself together in time to go back home to Rafe.

You could feel JJ’s hand on the back of your neck, and when he turned his head—and turned yours—your lips met.

It took you by surprise, making your breath hitch, and if JJ minded the saltiness of the kiss, he didn’t speak on it. This kiss wasn’t like the first one, and even though you couldn’t tell how exactly, it just felt different. You could still hear Sarah and her friends talking and whatnot in the hot tub, none the wiser to what was taking place on the dark dock. JJ’s thumbs brushed your tears away as he moved his lips against yours, and you remembered that this was something you weren’t going to do again.

You tried to pull away, but JJ wouldn’t let you, humming into the kiss.

You didn’t want to stop, but you knew that you needed to. The night had not gone how you thought it would, and it was time to go home. Your mind was going a mile a minute with the knowledge that you’d told JJ the truth and the fact that he was kissing you again. The alcohol in your system had contributed to too many bad decisions tonight, and you literally feared what tomorrow would bring as you kept kissing JJ on the dock.

[novemberheart]

{overview} Simon makes an upsetting discovery

{warnings} fem reader, poly141, a/b/o dynamics, cursing, angry Simon, fighting

Chapter 13 <- Chapter 14 -> Chapter 15

You didn't see John the next day either. But the thumping and groans had stopped. You could only imagine how exhausted he must have been. Simon took you to his office with him. He could tell how antsy you were for a change of scenery. He didn't pay much attention to you but you entertained yourself by playing on your phone and making a card tower with a deck you had found. You had eaten a big lunch and Simon had dropped you back off at home. You were drifting in and out of sleep when the couch dipped right next to your head. No words were spoken and you were too comfortable to move your head.

A large hand rested against your back rubbing smooth circles. The smell of fog and campfire rolling over you.

“I missed you,” you mumbled. He shifted on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table, and resting his head on the same pillow as yours. His arm went under you, tugging you so you were curled up against his side. He breathed you in, the stiffness in his body already loosening.

“I missed you too.” he sighed contently.

“I dunno. Sounded like you were having fun in there.” you teased. He chuckled, his head resting against yours.

“Sorry, you had to listen to that.”

“I didn't mind.” you said a little too quickly. “I- you know what I mean.” you corrected with a huff. John chuckled again.

“I know what you mean, pretty,” he assured. “How have you been healin’ up?” he questioned, his fingers skimming the area right above your knee. You had almost completely healed since your altercation. Perks of being an omega. There was still a bit of scabbing and redness on your left leg, but everything else had healed in the first three days.

“Good.” you hummed, lifting your leg to show him. “Which is good because now I can focus on getting you better.” you hummed, finally rolling over to face him. Your fingers itched to tangle themselves in his beard but you stopped. Instead, you rested a hand against his firm chest. He grabbed your leg, throwing it over his hips, making you flush. “You can't tell me you're not sore.” you finished, peering up at him with playful eyes.

“You got me there.” he smiled softly. His lips pressed against your forehead before he rested his cheek against the top of your head. The thought of your injuries made the memory of what Anais had said to you a few days ago:

“Well you won't be seeing much of Connoway. He was attacked, his whole face was scratched up and two broken legs.” Anais explained. Your blood ran cold.

“Scratched face?” you questioned.

“And broken legs.” Anais reminded. “Their beta is missing too. No clue where he is.” you swallowed thickly.

You didn't know if you should say anything. You weren't sure what good would come from withholding you knew, but you also weren't sure what harm it would cause either. Yet you were curious. Curious about what your alpha would say to explain his behavior. Curious as to what happened to that beta. Not that it was unjustified. Who knows what those assholes would've done to you if they had succeeded.

“You alright?” John drawled from next to you. You jumped- forgetting he was there. You hummed in assurance, settling on burying your face in his neck. You would be safe with them. That's all you need to know for now.

It was your fault. You had left the paperwork right on the kitchen counter for everyone to see. Simon had come to collect you for breakfast- a bit early admittedly. He could hear music playing from your room, so you must be getting ready for the day.

On the counter, you had left the paperwork the Omega Standards Bureau had wanted you to fill out. Would it really be Simon's fault if he peaked at it? He was on high alert, waiting for the moment your bedroom door would fling open. It took him a second to decode your writing. You didn't refer to them by their names but by their initials. Your try at anonymity he assumed. It was a nice gesture. You weren't waving their lives around. It wasn't till the second line did he get a sour taste in his mouth.

Who are your alpha/s?

The question was straightforward, just trying to get clarification on the pack dynamics. It was your answer.

J.P.

J.P. For John Price. No hint of S.R. anywhere. In fact he was hardly mentioned at all- only when they asked you to list every member of your pack.

He growled lowly, digging in his pocket for a cigarette to calm down. That was bullshit. He had spent the most time with you than anybody. Yes, most of the time he spent pushing your buttons but he had sincerely asked about you. How you ended up in an omega house. He asked about your family. He took you on walks- even in the rain because he knows how much you enjoy it. He could understand if your feelings weren't as strong for him as the others- he's guarded. But to not even be mentioned was a knife to the back.

He was just as much of your alpha as John was.

His growl must've alerted you. You slowly crept open the door, relaxing when you realized it was him.

“Smoking inside? It’s not the 1950s old man.” your smirk slowly fell when something seemed off. “You alright?” you asked a bit nervously. He tapped the counter where you had accidentally left your papers. You gasped quietly. “Those aren't for you, Simon.” you sputtered, quickly working to collect them. You raced back into your bedroom, reappearing just as quickly.

“Breakfast,” he grunted, putting his cigarette out. It didn't do anything to soothe his rattled nerves. It had been a long time since he had been so caught off guard. He thought you two were doing well. He thought he was doing well. Especially considering he was in a coma when they made the decision to add you to the pack.

You wracked your brain for a reason he would be upset. It had been a while since you had updated your paperwork- you think the night before your attack. A familiar uneasiness spread over you. You felt shaky and sick. The thought of someone close to you being unhappy at you twisting your stomach.

“Simon?” you began softly.

“Leave it,” he growled. “Breakfast,” he repeated. You couldn't eat even if you wanted to.

“I haven't updated it for a while. If there was something in there that”-

“Enough.” His tone was borderline vicious. “Your alpha is waiting for you in the cafeteria.” He spat the words like they burned him. They had.

You didn't want to go with him. Your instincts charging through you telling you this was not safe. He was not safe. You shook your head, taking a few cautious steps back towards your door.

He said your name as a warning.

“No.” you had no idea where the force had come from. “Whatever you saw I can explain. Why are you upset?” you demanded.

“Just put your bloody shoes on”-

“No,” you repeated. He snarled, turning on his heels and slamming the front door shut behind him. “Fuck.” you whimpered to yourself. You were shaking at this point, globs of tears spilling over your eyes. You went back into your room looking over your paperwork.

Who is your alpha/s?

J.P.

It clicked.

“Oh no,” you mumbled, flopping down on your bed. Truth be told you didn't really have an explanation for that- and you felt horrible. Simon had been an alpha to you. He protected you. He had taken care of you. He had taken an interest in you. You had opened up to your family about him. And you couldn't even bother to write his initials down.

The only explanation you had was the limited amount of time you had spent on the paperwork. You had given one-sentence answers for every question and hadn't taken it seriously. It never occurred to you that someone from your pack would read it.

“You alright, Bon?” you jumped as Johnny’s knuckles grazed against your doorframe. You wiped your tears quickly, but it was useless.

“No,” you mumbled pitifully. He came to immediately, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you into his lap. “I upset Simon,” you uttered.

“Peaches, I do that every day, twice a day”-

“No,” you interjected. “In the paperwork Kate gave me to fill out it asked who my alphas were and I just put John- and Simon saw that,” you explained. You sniffled, pressing yourself deeper into the Scot's chest. He was quiet for a moment. A long moment.

“Well I'm going to be honest, hen. I would be steamin’ too.” The honesty hurt. You pulled yourself away, but he quickly pulled you back. “He won't be steamin’ for long, though. He just needs a moment to himself and then he’ll be ready to talk.” Johnny explained. You had no choice but to trust the beta. He had seen Simon upset before, he knew how his mind worked.

“Wondering when you'd get back,” Johnny spoke, pushing Simon's bedroom door closed. He grunted in response, tugging his balaclava off and throwing it in his hamper. The scot made himself at home in his bed, taking up most of it. “Wanna talk about it?” he hummed.

“Nothin’ to talk about,” Simon replied coldly. Johnny sighed, sitting up.

“We both know that's no”-

“It doesn't matter, Johnny,” Simon cut off. “Now I'm relieved from having to put any more effort into that”-

“Simon,” Johnny warned.

“It's true,” Simon continued. “She just wants one alpha- one alpha she’ll get.”

“Simon you know that not how she fee”-

“It is.” Simon spat. “And that's fine with me. I mean what good is she doing anyways? We’ve had to change our schedule, our lives, our home to fit her, and for what? So we can heal a bit faster. She's not worth the trouble we’re puttin’ in.”

“You’re out of your mind.” Johnny snarled back, growing more and more defensive over you. Johnny moved from the bed heading towards the door, bumping into it when he realized he hadn't closed it all the way. He quickly heard your door shut.

His heart fell into his stomach.

You had heard that, didn't you?

Ohhhhh Simon! What are we going to do with you? Guess you’ll find out in three days for Chapter 15!!!!

Thank you for interacting with this post! 🧡

Dividers are by @cafekitsune

[kinkandkreep]

♡︎ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

♡︎ 𝑪𝑾: 𝑰𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒅𝒖𝒃𝒄𝒐𝒏, 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒉𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎, 𝑴𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒃𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒑, 𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒐𝒖𝒕

♡︎ "__" 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞

♡︎ 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・ ✧ :-.・゜

You hadn’t heard from your cousin or friends in 2 weeks.

Normally, you kept in fairly regular contact, but for the past 14 days it had been radio silence. 

You were almost too afraid to think of what that could potentially mean. 

Two possibilities were most apparent to you.

A.) Miguel had made good on his word and-...harmed your friends

B.) Miguel had made good on his word and frightened your friends and cousin so badly they’d been successfully coerced into cutting off contact with you

Either way, you knew Miguel had something to do with it. 

It also probably didn’t help that after he’d kidnapped you, he forced you to begin using the bugged phone. Even if you had talked to your girls, you assumed that Miguel would just be listening in on the conversation. 

You sighed, brows turning downward in frustration. You were tempted to just throw the damn brick at the wall, but, as much as you were ashamed to admit it, you were a little terrified of how Miguel would react if you were to destroy his means of tracking you while he was away. 

He would probably see it as a means of rebellion and obstinance, and might use that as justification to hurt you. 

Your arms were still bruised from earlier, and though the bruising on your wrist had dissolved, the skin was still slightly tender to the touch, the bone creaky and sore. 

You cradled the appendage in your other hand, sighing deeply. 

You tried to be positive about the situation to the best of your ability. 

It wasn’t all bad being with Miguel. He took very good care of you, when he wasn’t hurting you. He bought you everything you wanted and more, though you didn’t really care about material things. You still had access to the internet and television, albeit very limited. He didn’t allow you to sleep in the guest room as you’d requested, saying that “husbands and wives should sleep together, it’s only natural,” but at least his bed was very comfortable, and he said he’d let you redecorate however you desired. 

You could eat pretty much whatever you wanted, though you could only order out when Miguel was home, so he could monitor the exchange between you and the delivery person. He made you breakfast every morning, and it was always delicious, but he rarely ever let you make yourself anything involving knives, for several obvious reasons. 

It wasn’t all terrible.

Except for the fact that you no longer had any real autonomy, and there was a chance your best friends and favorite cousin had been murdered, which was, admittedly, a  couple pretty major things. 

“__! I’m home!”

A few days after your incarceration, Miguel had begun insisting that you greet him when he returned home from work or other outings. 

“As a proper wife should,” he’d said, expression flat and chin tilted upward. 

At first, you completely disregarded him, not even answering when he would call out for you upon his return. 

After a little while though, Miguel’s patience ran out. 

One day, he neglected to announce his return, and instead barged into the bedroom where you were, red eyes blazing with anger. Not even giving you the chance to speak, he snatched you up from the bed, dragging you out into the living room and tossing you to the floor. 

A quiet “oomph” sounded from you as you landed on your knees, the skin covering them burning from the carpet. 

“Why is it so difficult for you to follow simple instructions, __? I only asked you to begin greeting me when I come home from working to continue providing for you. Is that so much to ask?”

You didn’t speak, unsure of what might come out of your mouth in the moment. 

Miguel had begun pacing, a signature sign of either his distress or agitation. 

He stopped suddenly, bending down to grab you tightly by the shoulders, forcing you to look up at him. 

“Well? ¡Contéstame!”

You held his stare for a moment more, before finally beginning to speak. 

“You are…delusional, Miguel. I don’t even want to be here, stuck in this house with you. You think I’d honestly begin happily rushing to the door to appease you, when you’ve hurt me, and presumably other people that are important to me?! Are you insane?!”

You shook out of his now loose grasp, scooting back til you were on the other side of the room. 

“You’re crazy, and I want nothing to do with you.”

The two of you sat in silence for quite a few moments, Miguel being oddly still, not meeting your eyes. 

“Is that so?” Miguel’s voice was low, his breathing having picked up. 

You watched with wide eyes as he quickly advanced on you, not even giving you time to move before he’d snatched you up again, a single hand wrapped tightly around your throat. 

Your feet kicked in a panic, hands clawing at Miguel’s wrist. 

You knew he was strong, though you’d never seen his strength in action like this. You weren’t the lightest person, and for him to be able to lift you almost a foot off the ground singlehandedly was alarming. 

His gaze burned into yours, and you could swear that beneath the dark spots slowly clouding your vision, there was a sick sort of satisfaction causing a dull glow to emanate from Miguel’s red irises. 

“If you don’t want anything to do with me,” he began, grip tightening further, “then perhaps I should just…make you go away.” His expression remained scarily flat, his tone even more so, though his words shook around the edges. 

You could feel the energy steadily seeping out of you, and for a moment, you were genuinely afraid that Miguel was going to kill you. 

After a few more torturous moments, your vision dimmed to almost completely black, and you felt your body go limp. 

At the same time, Miguel finally released you, and you weakly dropped to the floor, sprawled out and exhausted from your ordeal. 

The much larger man crouched down beside you, leaning forward til his lips nearly brushed yours. 

“Never forget, that the only reason you still have breath in your lungs is because I give it to you. And just as I give, I can take it all away. You don’t want anything to do with me? Without me, you’d be nothing.”

He stands, leveling you with the most dismissive, scathing look you’ve ever seen on his face. 

“I’m not crazy, __. You’re crazy for thinking you could ever leave me.”

Back in the present moment, you shivered at the memory, hand subconsciously coming up to massage your throat. 

Looking at the time, you noticed that Miguel would be returning soon. 

Begrudgingly, you stood, dragging your feet out into the living room where you took a seat on the couch. 

“Any minute now,” you spoke to no one in particular. 

You sat there waiting for just a bit longer, before you could hear the telltale beeping coming from the front door. After a second, Miguel entered, an expectant expression on his face. 

Even after the encounter from before, you hadn’t quite worked up the fortitude necessary to actually greet him at the door, but at least now you acknowledged him. 

Miguel recognized this as a small victory and decided to grant you mercy accordingly.

In the moment, he turned to you, brow raised. 

You rolled your eyes, looking away momentarily before looking back to him. “Welcome home, Mig-...”

“Ah ah, that’s not my name. Not to you anyway.”

You glared at him momentarily, though it seemed to have no effect on the man. 

“Welcome home, Gigi.”

Miguel grinned, beginning to walk into your bedroom. 

“Muy buena, __.” 

You watched him leave, huffing angrily. 

He was so…infuriating. 

He tried to be almost unbearably sweet and accommodating while at the same time being more than willing to toss you out of a window if you said anything similar to him being “crazy” or you not loving him. 

He was crazy, as you’d said before. And it drove you nearly insane that he couldn’t see that his actions were wrong. 

So caught up you were in your thoughts, that you almost didn’t hear Miguel calling your name. 

“__!”

Your head snapped up, and in a brief moment of panic, you wondered for how long he’d been calling you. Seeing as you hadn’t been doing anything and seemed annoyed when he left, he probably thought you were intentionally ignoring him. 

You both knew how much of a poor idea that was. 

Quickly, you stood, making your way into the bedroom. 

Miguel was in the middle of undress, and you were sure he’d called you on purpose, to see what you’d, since the beginning of your incarceration at least, been denying. 

So far, he hadn’t forced you, but you didn’t put it past him. 

The thought made you shiver. 

“Yes Mi-...Gigi?”

You quickly righted your mistake at the eye Miguel gave you. He relaxed after a moment, turning back to what he was doing. 

“I asked what you’d like for dinner.”

You paused, knowing it was too soon to ask to go out, but also not really being in the mood to eat anything he made.

“Uh…I was thinking we could order out.”

At that, Miguel paused, turning and giving you a critical glare. 

“You’ve been wanting to eat out a lot lately. And always from the same place.”

Miguel began approaching you, shirtless and clad in only a pair of black shorts. You kept your gaze on his face as he stopped in front of you, expression familiarly, terrifyingly flat.

“Come to think of it, that same little delivery boy seems to be quite fond of you. Would be a shame if he became unable to continue making deliveries because of you.”

“MIGUEL!” The word shot out of you before you could stop it. You were beyond appalled at the implication, and beyond sick of him harming others and/or threatening to do so indiscriminately. 

“You are supposed to be a hero! You cannot threaten to hurt people just because they speak to me! That boy is a child, Miguel. He’s done nothing wrong and he is not a threat, regardless of what you think.”

You were breathing harder now, feeling an anger you thought had been worn out of you speedily rising to the surface once more.

“You will leave him alone, you will leave the rest of my family and friends alone. Get a grip Miguel! I’m so sick of this insanity!”

You hadn’t realized you felt so strongly, and you certainly hadn’t considered saying anything like this to Miguel’s face. You knew that once the adrenaline wore down, you’d probably be in for a world of pain, but in the moment, you couldn’t care. 

All this time spent having to bend over backward and walk on eggshells just to placate the volatile man and keep his temper in check had worn you down, and you were just…tired. 

With this realization, you deflated, plopping down onto the bed and rubbing a hand down your face. Your skin was a little dry (you’d been somewhat neglecting to care for it like you normally would, what with all the stress you’d been under) and you could actually feel the puffiness beginning to form under your eyes. 

You felt like crying, but you refused to let Miguel see you in such a weakened state. 

So, you closed your eyes, and put aside your pride for just a moment to utter out an empty, “Sorry, Gigi. I don’t know where that came from.”

The silence that followed seemed to stretch on endlessly, and you took deep, even breaths, waiting for the outburst that you knew would inevitably come. 

…

Except, it never did. 

Instead, when you looked over at Miguel, you found him staring hungrily at you with lidded eyes, hands twitching with want by his sides. 

‘Oh no…’

“G-Gigi?”

He didn’t respond, hands still twitching. 

Finally, after several tense moments, he spoke. 

“Wow, __.” Miguel chuckled as he spoke, slowly beginning to stalk towards you. “I don’t know if I should be angry or turned on right now. You’ve never spoken to me with such authority, and for the fact that you no longer have any, it makes this little outburst all the more astonishing.”

You scream as Miguel pounces on you, sound muffled by his lips smashing into yours. You try to wiggle out of the unwanted kiss, but Miguel holds fast, boxing you in with his knees and arms. 

The kiss is loaded and sloppy, full of clashing teeth and tongues fighting for dominance. It’s so intense, that you can feel yourself becoming dizzy from both it and the lack of air. 

When Miguel finally decides to pull away, a thin string of saliva ties you both together, which Miguel quickly dips in to lick away before you can swat at him. A very satisfied grin plays on his lips, and as he leans back, one of his thick fingers begins trailing down the length of your torso, starting by drawing ticklish circles around where your larynx rests in your throat, down between the valley of your breasts, across the soft, cotton covered expanse of your stomach and eventually resting right atop the border of your panties. 

You hold your breath the entire time, afraid that even the slightest movement would upset the entranced Miguel.

“Muy valiente, pequeña mascota. Perhaps I should reward you.”

“Gi-...”

The word became caught in your throat when Miguel, with seemingly little effort, ripped your shirt down the middle, exposing your bra and underwear. You could see inside Miguel’s slightly agape mouth; his fangs had begun to drop, and you were very afraid in that moment that he would use them.

“Gigi, wait! Please stop. I don’t want this.” 

You couldn’t help it now, and tears had begun streaming down your cheeks. 

Miguel watched silently, his expression not really changing. 

“Oh cariño, there’s no need to shed tears. I promise to make you feel so good. And you’ll make me feel good too, right?”

“NO! I don’t want this Miguel!”

“Well you don’t have much of a choice, now do you __?!” Miguel's eyes had begun to blaze an even more vibrant crimson, his whole face pinched in anger. 

“I let you have your little moment, and now you will shut up and take responsibility for this! All this time I’ve spent being denied my urges because of your selfishness, well that comes to an end now. I’ve given you more than enough time to become comfortable, and now I will have what is mine.”

You watch, stunned as Miguel completes his spiel. 

What on Earth had happened to the man you used to love? Who was this cruel monster that now stood in his place? 

What if…what if, in reality, he’d always been this way, and just knew how to hide it well from others?

“What…what has come over you Miguel?” The words come out hiccupy and quiet, your watery, red eyes wide as you await the answer. 

“Love.” 

Miguel’s response is almost immediate, and somehow, his expression softens. 

“I love you, __. So much, you simply don’t understand. But that’s ok! Because I’m here to help you understand. And in time you will. It’s ok to go to extremes to protect the people you love, and I would kill for you, __. Again and again. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you see that my love for you is true, that anyone who would try to come between us is a pest, and that pests must be exterminated.”

Miguel leans forward, eyes lidded once more and lips nearly brushing yours. 

“Do you understand me, __?”

Unable to do much more beyond stare in shock and horror, you absentmindedly nod, barely registering Miguel’s pleased smile. 

“Buena ninita. Good girl, __. Now...,”

Miguel leans back, a smirk shaping his mouth. 

“Tell me you love me. And let me turn those tears of fear into tears of pleasure.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・ ✧ :-.・゜

Buy Me a Kofi?

[n0thingbutlov3]

need you now | 2 |

in which readers true feelings are revealed.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings/tags: angst again (whoops) miscommunication (it’s short dw) fluff, reader is hungover lol, spencer is handsomely disheveled (moans) mentions of blueberry muffins being readers favourite type of muffin (sorry for not being vague but also if you don’t like blueberry muffins??? why) some tears, some swearing, some kissing, suggestiveness at the end of you squint (WHOOPS *evil smirk*) no use of y/n!! wc: 2.1k a/n: call me slim shady because i am back!!! i procrastinated writing this because i was scared everyone was secretly judging my writing and actually hated it and a second part would be a stupid idea but THEN i realised that was a little bit silly so im here B) part one got over 1000 notes (INSANE) all the support has been so so lovely—every note, reblog, and comment means the world to me, thank you!! i hope this part is okayy, feedback is always appreciated :) i hope you enjoy it you choose to read!!! <3 p.s kissing scenes are so difficult to write, i think i done absolutely awful!!!so let’s ignore that…. if you haven’t already and you’d like to, you can read part one here!

Your eyelids twitched as the early morning sun filtered through your bedroom. What was usually a calming wake-up call now felt like being blinded.

You burrowed your face into your pillow, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to dull the throbbing in your head. This is why you didn’t drink often.

Asides from the obvious headache and nausea, you always seemed to wake up with a sense of dread; ‘hangxiety’—a friend had called it once. It was creeping up on you now, and even though you weren’t sure exactly what you had done, you knew it was bad. You flipped onto your back, fixing your gaze to the ceiling as if it could tell you what irreparable mistakes you had made last night.

It couldn’t, of course. The only thing you had realised is that you should probably coat it in a new layer of paint soon.

“How’re you feeling?”

You shot up, eyes widening at the sight of a man in your doorway. A man whose sleepy voice and disheveled hair threatened to make you melt, but a man who should not be in your doorway, nonetheless; Spencer.

Your brain was quick to supply you with information then, your memory coming back in hazy remnants. You were upset so you…called Spencer for the first time in months. Yikes. He didn’t answer so you turned to a bottle of high end whiskey instead—yikes, again—and passed out on your couch, only to wake up to your ex-boyfriend in your apartment. Cue more sobbing, a pathetic attempt at asking—no, more like begging—him to get back together with you, and that was it. Well, mostly. There was also the promise of discussing your breakdown in the morning. The morning, which was now.

What the fuck.

“Like I’ve been napalmed.” You weren’t sure you were just referring to your raging hangover.

That prompted a raspy kind of chuckle from him and Jesus Christ—you really shouldn’t have called, because it was going to be infinitely harder to watch him leave when he inevitably told you you were sad loser who needed to get a grip and move on—except, he’d be a lot nicer than that, wouldn’t he? Because even if things were over between you, he was still the sweetest person you had ever met and he’d never say anything to intentionally hurt you. Maybe things would be easier if he did. If he wasn’t so sickeningly perfect—if he just insulted you in the way you were certain you deserved, then maybe you’d get over him quicker.

“So, I-ah-uber’d breakfast—“

Your inner turmoil came to a screeching halt at those words.

“You uber’d? You?”

He scoffed, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

“The team’s been very into it lately and I always finish my paperwork first so it only makes sense that I—stop laughing! I can uber!”

“Sorry! I just can’t imagine the great Doctor Reid stooping to the levels of a fast food delivery app. Do you ever order to the wrong place?”

“No.” he said, unconvincingly. “Well, only once—“

You were laughing again.

He whined, turning on his heel.

“Just take your aspirin and hurry up!” He grumbled petulantly as he left the room, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

After a quick freshen up and taking the pills placed on your bedside table—as per his request—you padded through to the living room, joining Spencer on the couch.

You gasped delightedly as he pulled out muffins from a brown paper bag. To be more specific, blueberry muffins; your favourite.

“Did you know that blueberries are good for fighting hangovers? They’re rich in vitamin C, which helps break down and metabolise blood alcohol. Muffins too, they—what? Do I have something on my face—“

“No! No, sorry,” You had been caught staring—ogling, more like. “I just missed…that.”

“What? My incessant rambling?” He was joking, but you could hear the insecure twinge in his voice—the one that told him he was too much. Over the course of your relationship, you had showed him that he didn’t have to think like that around you—that he was never too much; he was perfect in your eyes. You hated that he doubted that now.

“Yes, actually.” You tried to keep your tone light, unserious. But there was nothing unserious about just how badly you had missed the man sitting beside you. How you could hear his voice in your mind when you drove late at night, giving you statistics on accidents. Or how on other late nights, you swore you could feel his hands ghosting over your skin—only to find out it was your imagination.

If he could see how truthful you were being, he didn’t acknowledge it, turning his attention back to the coffee table.

“I’ll, um, save you the facts on how beneficial coffee is for hangovers, anyway.” He smiled awkwardly, shuffling a paper coffee cup to where your muffin sat.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, “for the coffee, not the withholding of information—i’m a real fiend for coffee facts…especially when they’re related to curing hangovers!” You said a little too cheerily, trying to alleviate the awkward tension. Although, that only seemed to make it worse.

Spencer just huffed out a little laugh in response, taking the wrapper off of his muffin.

The rest of breakfast went by in silence. Not the comfortable silence you always seemed to have with Spencer—when you were together, you reminded yourself—but a strained one. The kind of silence that occurs when there’s something left unsaid, and you’re just waiting for someone to spit it out.

Spencer broke first.

“So we should probably talk…about last night.”

You finished the remainder of your coffee, setting the empty cup down before turning your whole body to Spencer, tucking your legs up underneath you.

“Right, yeah…”

A beat passed, Spencer’s eyes darting around your face—assessing you.

For someone who had imagined this conversation in your mind countless times, you certainly weren’t saying much.

“I—uh…was very drunk.”

Something in him shifted, like he was putting up imaginary walls.

“So you didn’t mean…any of it?” His brow furrowed, his nose twitching slightly.

“Well no, but I—“ You what? Meant every word you said and more? You couldn’t just say that. You had just got a small part of Spencer back and you didn’t want to ruin it by coming on too strong.

He waited for you to add something, anything, to show him that maybe, maybe there was a tiny part of you that still wanted him as badly as he wanted you. But you didn’t. You just sat there, playing with the fabric of your—his—t-shirt.

He couldn’t do it.

He was so tired of loving people only for them to leave like he had meant nothing to them. Was that all he was to you? Someone you could call when your inhibitions were lowered, looking for comfort? He would do anything to be back in your life again, but he couldn’t be a person of convenience; someone you only wanted when you were lonely.

He ran a hand through his hair, swallowing down the tightness in his throat.

“You were drunk and you got carried away, I get it. I think I better go though—“

“What? No, I—“ You bobbed your mouth like a fish, trying to find the words necessary to keep him here. There were too many of them and yet none at all. None except for three. Three words that you wished you had the courage to say months ago, or weeks ago, or last night. But you never claimed to be a courageous person, and you weren’t about to spill your heart out again only for it to end up in rejection.

Spencer stood, making his way to your bedroom to grab his shoes and coat. He didn’t care about his other clothes, he could buy more—he just needed out before he broke.

You sat dumbfounded on the couch, willing yourself to do something, say something. It was like you were frozen. And you stayed frozen. As Spencer shuffled around your bedroom, as he returned to the living room—completely avoiding your gaze—even as he searched for his keys. You hadn’t realised he had driven over here. He didn’t usually drive unless he had to get somewhere urgently. Were you someone worth seeing urgently to him?

He picked up his keys, heading for your door and only then did you realise how dire the situation was. If he left now you weren’t sure he would ever come back.

“No—wait, Spencer!” You stammered, lunging off the couch to try and stop him. He unlocked the door, moving to leave when you grabbed onto his jacket sleeve.

“Please don’t—I love you!”

“What?”

He turned to face you and you noticed just how wrecked he looked—not at all dissimilar from how you had for the last few months. Had he looked like that the whole time?

You must’ve been staring because when you came back to your senses he was calling your name exasperatedly.

“Do you mean it?”

You were fed up living like this; harbouring so much love for someone and not being able to express it. Even if he didn’t love you back, even if he was over you, you couldn’t go another moment without at least telling him how you felt.

“Yes,” you heaved, “I love you—I never stopped loving you, I was just…” You knitted your brows together, unsure how to phrase what you were feeling.

“I’ve never loved someone the way I love you and that’s…terrifying. I thought the way I felt was wrong, like—when you were on cases, I missed you so much, more than I thought humanely possible and—well, I never wanted to be the kind of girl to base her happiness on another person because that’s how you get hurt. So, I thought the only way to combat that was by…distancing myself. I thought if you weren’t in my life anymore then I’d be able to get a grip and become more independent—“ you huffed, trying to stop the wobble of your voice. “but it didn’t work, because then I was just missing you twice as much, except I couldn’t see you at all—“

“You could’ve answered my messages, we could’ve—“

“So you could return your key? Then things would actually be over. Why do you think I ignored your messages?”

“Why do you think I kept messaging? Angel, I was never going to return that key—at least not willingly—I just wanted to see you, to see if you were doing just as horribly without me as I was without you. You know, I couldn’t even focus on cases—Hotch even suggested I take some time off.”

You frowned, your voice impossibly small. “I’m sorry.”

He took a step toward you, cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“Don’t apologise, you were dealing with your emotions in the best way you knew how. I just wish…” he swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I wish I hadn’t let you go so easily.”

His eyes were shining and—God, you wished you could take it all back. All the pain you had caused him, caused yourself, just because you were too scared to talk about your feelings.

“I wish I hadn’t left.” You blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes. “Y’know, I read a book on astrophysics because it reminded me of you. I didn’t understand any of it but I couldn’t put it down. I still—“ you let out a watery chuckle. “still have it in my bedroom somewhere.”

Spencer smiled, swiping under your eye at a tear that must’ve escaped.

“Yeah? Maybe I can read it to you—help you understand it.”

“I’d like that.”

You didn't know much about celestial bodies or the ultimate fate of the universe, but you could've sworn you'd seen the stars pictured in that book in Spencer’s eyes when he looked at you.

“Say it again.” He mumbled, tilting his head down so that your faces were just inches apart.

“I love you.”

And then his lips were on yours, impossibly soft and everything you had been missing since you had broken up. He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed and all you could do was sigh into him because you knew the feeling.

He leaned back all too soon, resting his forehead against yours.

“Well, I should probably go—“ He smirked, but you cut him off before he could continue his teasing.

“You’re not funny.”

He narrowed his eyes, sucking his teeth.

“I don’t know, I—“

You pressed a firm hand on his chest, bunching the cotton of his t-shirt into a fist.

“Stop. Stay—we can have a pyjama day and maybe for dinner, you can show me just how tech savvy you’ve become and uber us some food—“

He rolled his eyes, kicking the door shut before pressing his lips to yours with more force this time.

“Stop talking.”

[rcmclachlan]

Return of the Mack

For @alchemistc. Hope you feel better soon!

At the fire academy, three things are beaten out of every trainee: fear, a normal sleep schedule, and the social influences that prevent one from intervening in the event of an emergency. Some have jokingly called the third one the Anti-Bystander Effect, because if someone needs assistance—whether it's to stop an assault, run into a burning building, or help a little old lady find a quarter she dropped—a firefighter will immediately rush in to save the day. It's a special brand of classical conditioning that instills an elevated sense of responsibility in every trainee, and it's paid in full by the state of California.

Which is why it's so odd for there to be three capable firefighters standing around doing nothing while there's an old man clearly in need of dire assistance. If the LAFD higher-ups knew they were actively choosing to watch the carnage unfold instead of lifting a finger to help, they'd all be shitcanned. 

Luckily, there's a fourth firefighter on the scene doing the absolute most. 

"I thought we made a pact to keep him from using his powers for evil," Eddie says, taking a dispassionate sip of his coffee. 

"Is it evil if he's actually using them in service of a greater good?" Hen's attention is half on what's going down and half on the Notes app on her phone, where she's typing out the week's grocery list. "You know, the enemy of my enemy is my friend?"

Draped over the railing like his bones have melted, Chimney gives a sage nod. "He's like a one-man Suicide Squad." 

In the apparatus bay, they watch as Vincent Gerrard uses the distraction of B Shift heading home to duck behind one of the engines, most likely to regroup after being thoroughly ambushed the second he stepped into the station five minutes ago. He slumps back and breathes. The moment of weakness costs him: a grinning demon rounds the corner and makes a bee-line for him as though he can taste blood in the air.

"So, which one of you said 'spreadsheet' three times in a mirror?" Ravi sidles up next to Chimney and unwraps a breakfast burrito from Delia's. 

Chimney gives him the stink-eye. "I hope you brought enough for the whole class."

"Nope," Ravi says, taking a cheerful bite.

"None of us summoned him," Eddie says. He leans down to try and catch the conversation being had, but he's too high up. For a second, he thinks he hears the words 'crack whore' but it's probably a trick of the bay's acoustics. "He's everywhere, always, just watching and waiting for you to slip up. Like God."

"Or the Devil," Hen says in agreement.

"Or Santa," Chimney adds.

Ravi chews thoughtfully. "I thought we threw out all the clipboards. Who gave him that one?"

"Tommy," Eddie, Hen, and Chimney say through a simultaneous, long-suffering sigh. 

It's not just any clipboard. It's the king of clipboards. It's the only clipboard that has ever fucked. The thing is a navy blue polycarbonate beast with "Buckley 118" embossed in fire engine red on the back, and the clip looks like it was forged in the fires of Staples HQ. 

At the bi-weekly Beer and Bitch Night last Friday at Golden Road Pub, Tommy had pulled it out of a bag and presented it on one knee like he was proposing, or bestowing a sword to a king. The entire brewery was then given front-row seats to an intense game of tonsil hockey that nearly went into overtime until Eddie threatened to call Athena because Bobby looked like he was seriously reconsidering sobriety.

"Does he know what he's unleashed?" Ravi sounds genuinely curious. 

As if on cue, Chimney's, Eddie's, and Hen's phones chime with three incoming messages. 

T.K. 07:26am: Has it started? T.K. 07:26am: Remember: you promised one of you would film it T.K. 07:27am: I'm offering 3 nights of free babysitting to the first person who delivers

That last one is followed by a gif of J. Jonah Jameson shouting "Bring me Spiderman!"

Hen frowns down at her phone. "Who the hell is that?"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Chimney mutters.

H.W. 07:28am: Why are you so desperate for video?  E.D. 07:28am: What 40-something year old still pinky swears? H.H. 07:28am: Clipboard Buck better not be a weird sex thing for you, Kinard

Tommy's typing indicator appears, then disappears. Then appears and disappears again. Then appears—

"Yeah, no." Chimney hastily pockets his phone. "Those two were made in a lab for each other, I swear to god."

Down in the bay, Gerrard has moved to stand almost directly underneath them. While they can't hear what Gerrard says to Melanie Wu, an electrician so talented she could probably take down the entire grid with her eyes closed, that puts such a dour expression on her face, they can hear it when Buck, popping up behind Gerrard like an insane Jack-in-the-box, says, "Don't worry, Melanie! This is something to bring up during Thursday's workplace conflict seminar."

"What seminar?!"

Buck isn't cowed. He taps his clipboard and says, "The one I scheduled with Chief Alonso. You know, the mandatory one we all need to do in order to keep our certification—well, we'll keep it as long as nothing comes up during the seminar that might call into question our ability to do the job."

There's a charged moment where it almost looks like Gerrard might take a swing at Buck, but then he notices the audience hanging above him like a Greek chorus and shouts, "Someone'd better top off the fuel and DEF or—"

"Already done, Cap." Buck makes a show of turning to the second page on his clipboard and lists off, "All fuel, DEF, oil, and coolant are set. Tires have been aired up. Hoses have been drained and cleaned, and re-rolled. Engines were all waxed yesterday, all medical supplies have been inventoried and stocked, and I've made a list of the harnesses and cutting torches that need replacing. Just need you to sign off on everything. Sir."

The ingratiating smile on Buck's face would fool even the wiliest of senior officers, and Gerrard himself looks like even he's not sure if what just happened was disrespectful, but they know better. 

"Diabolical," Ravi whispers, awed. 

Hissing through his teeth, Gerrard spins on his heel and storms away in the direction of the little office in the administrative section of the firehouse where he's taken to holing up like a miserable groundhog until they get a call that forces him back out. If he sees his shadow on the firehouse wall, it's six more hours of bullshit.

As soon as he's gone, all the firefighters that had stopped to watch the show burst into laughter and applause, and Buck cracks up, taking sweeping bows and blowing kisses to his adoring fans. 

Chimney rolls his eyes and looks to see what Hen's expression is doing, because no one gives good face like she does, but she's holding her phone in a way that clearly means—

"You're filming this?" Chimney demands, betrayed.

She gives an unrepentant shrug. "Three nights of free babysitting? I'm not proud."

"You do know this means Buck's going to get laid and be absolutely insufferable about it, right?"

"Three nights," Hen bites out through very audible regret.

Buck looks up, flashes a grin, and the second he clocks the phone he salutes it with the clipboard. Then he struts after Gerrard, calling almost lazily, "Cap, wait up! I wanted to talk about setting up a mock exam for everyone who's planning on taking the TCFP D/O!"

They all watch him go. Silently, Hen sends off the video with the air of someone about to make a drug drop. 

"So, when does Taylor Kelly's exposé come out again?" Eddie makes a dubious face in the direction of the administrative offices. "Because I don't know that Gerrard won't off himself before it does."

"We win either way," Chimney points out. 

"It comes out next Monday," Hen says, slipping her phone into her pocket and elbowing Chimney in the arm on her way to the stairs. "Karen and I are hosting a watch party that night and you're all invited."

Ravi beams. "Thanks, Hen. I'll definitely be there."

"And you'll be bringing dinner from Taco Azteca—for everybody. Make sure you get enough carne," Chimney calls over his shoulder as he follows Hen. 

"I'm not a probie anymore," Ravi whines. "You can't haze me like this."

Snickering, Eddie pats him on the shoulder and says, "You do this and I'll make sure you're not sitting anywhere near Buck and Tommy when Taylor drops the bomb about Gerrard and Ortiz."

"Extra al pastor and buche it is!"

[auspicioustidings]

So there are only certain places you can do boat training hence the hotels around these places tend to be packed full of military on occasion. Imagining running a ramshackle, barely hanging on b&b. You inherited it and can't bear the thought of selling up the pride and joy of someone you loved.

It's by the sea in an absolute dead town, you are the youngest resident who isn't a child and every eligible bachelor is always in the bar of the b&b for a drink so they can have a go at drunkenly asking you out. It's endearing you suppose.

When the nearest boat training down in the city closes for refurb, that leaves the absolute abysmal old school training in this place actually picking up big contracts and you cry when your little b&b gets fully booked out with all the groups needing somewhere close by to stay for the 4 days it takes for the training to run. That's money from beds, money from board, if you're lucky money from pints in the evening.

You worry yourself sick preparing. What breakfast would be best? Will they notice the maintenance issues if you try to cover them up? Should you try to dress nice? Maybe you should bake cookies so the place smells nice and you can give them some when they arrive to endear them to the place. You need people to keep coming here even when the training in the city gets back up and running and honestly so does the training place here, so you hope the old man running it does a bang up job.

The place is sparkling clean but nothing will ever make it tidy, it's too cluttered for tidy, full of a lifetime of knick-knacks and oddities. You try your best to make it all work, to lean into the cosiness of it. You can't afford to fix everything, but you do what you can.

You're not sure if you look silly in your nice outfit with your warm plate of cookies at the bar waiting for the group to come check in, but you plaster on a welcoming smile and fidget until you hear the door.

The man in the mask ignores you and instead points out a leak in the corner that you had done your damn best to cover. You think you might cry until the one in charge smiles at you and chucks your chin.

"What Ghost means to say is that he's pretty handy with roofing, has a little business back home for something to do when he's not deployed."

"Aye and he does work for bonnie things for free."

"Oh fuck, these are delicious."

The one who has just stuffed a cookie into his mouth gets smacked upside the head by what you assume is their commanding officer.

"Sorry luv, I swear they're house trained better than this."

Their course doesn't start until Monday and they've checked in on Saturday so you have the odd pleasure of spending a Sunday blustering around insisting as guests they should not be fixing up the place.

It's when they get back from their first day of training and are exhausted, irritated and looking to blow off some steam that things really get interesting :)