#or night and everyone else has a good day/night/evening!!!

[dearru]

i miss you, come here ! | t.oikawa

-> pairing: ts!oikawa tooru x gn!reader | sfw | cw: headcanons, suggestive content under the cut, reader is in university, long distance, manga spoilers ig, bittersweet ending | mlist 

-> rq: boyfriend headcanons with oikawa tooru

boyfriend!oikawa who started dating you in high school. you were heartbroken when he told you he was going abroad post-graduation, but he assured you that long distance would work.

boyfriend!oikawa who has never failed to text you “good morning” and “goodnight” despite the time difference between you guys. the messages are also always accompanied by a selfie of him. he says it’s to prevent you from “ forgetting about his pretty face,”  but that’s nearly impossible to do considering images of him are plastered on every magazine you read and news channel you turn on. it’s nice to have pictures of him that are solely for you, though. 

boyfriend!oikawa who brags to everyone he meets in argentina about how lucky he is to have you as his partner. his teammates feel like they’re the ones dating you from how often he rambles about how much he loves you. he could drone on for hours about how smart you are for going to university, or how cute you are when you scrunch your nose at him. he’s obsessed with you and makes it everybody else’s problem. 

boyfriend!oikawa who gets offended when his PR team suggests marketing him as an available bachelor to increase his popularity. he reassures you that he’d never sacrifice the integrity of your guys’ relationship to get a little ahead in his career. he express-ships a big bouquet of flowers to your door as a way to apologize even though he did nothing wrong. (he calls it “proactive damage control”) 

boyfriend!oikawa who unfollows everybody except for you on his social media accounts to prove his devotion. this causes quite a stir and results in your classmates staring at you when you walk into your lectures. you’re known around campus as “oikawa tooru’s significant other,” but you and him agree that there are worse things to be known as. 

boyfriend!oikawa who notices how stressed you get from being a university student, so he surprises you with a round-trip business class ticket to argentina. he squeezes you so tight when he sees you for the first time that you think you may suffocate. as he holds you, you can feel the wetness of his tears against the back of your shirt, but you decide not to tease him about it. you missed him too.

boyfriend!oikawa who’s excited to show you the life he’s built for himself. he shows you his favorite beaches, introduces you to his teammates (who you apologize to in broken spanish about how annoying your boyfriend is), and takes you to the best restaurants in town. when you two go out for food, he orders for you in perfect spanish, and the dishes he recommends for you to try are always better than what you would’ve ordered for yourself. it reminds you how well he knows you.

boyfriend!oikawa who’s shocked when you admit one night during dinner that you’re afraid that he doesn’t need you anymore because of how well he’s assimilated to argentina without you. he takes your hand and fervently reassures you that despite moving here, you’ll always be his home.

boyfriend!oikawa who won’t let go of your hand the entire time you’re walking on the beach afterward. “people are staring, tooru.” “let them stare.”

boyfriend!oikawa who takes you to the airport when you eventually have to leave. he impulsively buys a ticket for the flight solely to wait with you at your gate for as long as possible. when it’s finally time to board, he watches with teary eyes as you walk away. it takes all his willpower not to get on the plane with you.

boyfriend!oikawa who loves you more than life itself and is counting the days until he can be with you again. 

extras ! (cw: suggestive :3)

boyfriend!oikawa who’s loved kissing you since the beginning of your relationship, but now that you’re long distance, there’s a little more desperation in his touch. during nights spent together, he makes a habit of littering you with kisses. his lips start at the top of your head, make their way down to your stomach, and if he’s feeling lucky he goes a little further.

boyfriend!oikawa who unwinds after practice by hand-feeding you food. it’s cute at first, but sometimes it goes overboard and makes you wonder what his true motivations are.  “try this one. this one too!” “tooru, you’re gonna make me choke” “im just getting you prepped!” “FOR WHAT.” 

boyfriend!oikawa who almost convinces you to extend your trip simply by how well he knows how to make you tick. when you kiss for the last time, his hand snakes down your waist and pulls you closer in a way that leaves you breathless. he laughs at your blissed-out expression and tells you, “you’ll have to visit your lonely boyfriend again to get another one of those.”  you roll your eyes and whisper in his ear to inquire about other things you’ll get when you visit him again, and he goes red in the face.

��a/n: me making oikawa content on this blog is the equivalent of walking into your kitchen and seeing a fish cooking pasta.

[lexirosewrites]

Steve ends up boding with Nancy that first night they sleep together and Barb disappears. He's so in love with her and they're having sex for the first time and he's never slept with someone he loved before and he ends up sinking his teeth into her mating glad without even realizing it.

Nancy is not happy about it. She likes Steve a lot but she promised herself that she would never be someone who mates before they graduate high school and become just like her parents. She wants to chase her dreams and make it as a female Alpha in journalism, but she also feels honor bound to Steve. She ends up biting him back to spare him the hurt of an unfulfilled bond.

Her parents are a little concerned they're both so young but they ultimately approve and Steve's parents are just happy to know he won't continue to be a burden after he turns 18 and graduates and it will legally be his Alpha's job to take care of him. With no access to one of the fancy bond removal specialists in New York or Chicago, Nancy resigns herself to the bond and taking Steve with her into her future.

Steve, on the other hand, is ecstatic. He loves his Alpha and can't wait for them to move out and start a family of their own. Nancy makes sure to treat him gently, even if sometimes it feels like she sees him as a stereotypical airheaded Omega. Even when he can feel the little pull of tension in their bond.

He's happy right up until it becomes clear that Nancy would rather be with Beta Johnathan Byers than him. He can feel it, see it, but refuses to accept it. When she comes to him after their first encounter with the Demagorgan and asks if he would be open to adding a beta to their bond, he's so relieved that she isn't just leaving him to say anything but yes, even if it's not really what he wants.

Again, they are both very sweet to him but it feels more like he's their pet than their partner. They hold him and cuddle him but they don't talk to him about anything of substance or make him feel important. He feels like a third wheel in his own relationship. But he has no one else to turn to with his old friends and parents out of the picture.

By the time the events of season two start to play out everyone in school has noticed that Nancy spends more time with Johnathan in the dark room than with Steve. Rumors start flying around about Nancy and Johnathan trying to push him out of the bond and Steve's social position falls even further. He's trying to be a good Omega, but it feels like every time he reaches out he's turned away.

That night at Tina's party Nancy and Steve fight. They were all three supposed to come together but Johnathan ended up going with Will instead. Nancy tried to insist that none of them go, but Steve insisted that they could have fun together and meet up with Johnathan afterward.

Nancy ends up drinking way too much and lays into Steve when he tries to help her. She goes on about them killing Barb and pretending nothing happened as well as how she never wanted to bond with Steve in the first place. Goes on about how he's ruining her life.

Steve goes near catatonic after that, rejection sickness setting in quickly. He gets in his car and drives, finds himself parked outside the Wheeler house where he spends most of his nights. He can't go back to his parents' house, doesn't have anywhere else to go, so he just curls up in the back seat of his car and passes out.

That's how Dustin finds him the next day. Nancy clearly didn't look for him, which hurts, but the smell of puppy distress coming off of Dustin is enough to pull him out of his distress long enough to help. His Alpha may not love him, but Steve loves kids and won't let anything happen to one under his watch.

After El closes the gate, it's like the three of them (John, Nancy, and Steve) all agree to pretend none of it happened. Nancy doesn't apologize, John doesn't explain, and Steve doesn't ask, but he also doesn't forget. His new pack bond with the kids is enough to keep him stable, but he knows now that his Alpha doesn't want him and spends almost every moment with them disassociating. They must feel it through their links (Steve to Nancy, Nancy to John) but they chose not to acknowledge it. They let Steve float because it's easier for them to pretend this thing between them isn't broken.

When summer hits Steve starts applying for jobs just to get out of the house. The three of them moved into a small apartment, a gift from Ted Wheeler, during Spring Break and Steve needs an excuse to get out of there. He hasn't even bothered to make a nest in their new bed. He doesn't think Nancy has even noticed, but John gives him pitying looks that he blatantly ignores.

With Scoops comes Robin. Steve instantly likes her, even if she bullies him relentlessly. At least she sees him. At least she can look him in the eye and tell him she thinks Nikes are lame and commiserate about the terrible sailor music on blast 24/7.

When they get sucked into Russian plots and drugged within an inch of their lives, they spill their guts both figuratively and literally. She tells him about being an Alpha who only likes other female Alphas and Betas and he tells her all about his failed bond. Tells her how trapped he feels.

When all is said and done, Ronin refuses to let him go back to Nancy and Johnathan. She bundles him up in one of those dumb tinfoil blankets the paramedics give them and bares her teeth at anyone who comes too close. She takes him home with her and when Nancy comes asking questions like she actually cares what happens to Steve she tells her to fuck off, and when that doesn't work she grabs her dad to force her off the property.

Once Steve recovers physically from the torture, Robin tells her she knows someone who might be able to help. Someone who could break the bond.

It's illegal in the state of Indiana to break a bond, but Eddie Munson isn't exactly a God-fearing, law-abiding Alpha.

------

Aaaaaaand that's where I'll leave it. Ran out of steam a little but rest assured that Steve and Eddie will fall deeply in love almost immediately and have a million babies after Eddie helps Steve get rid of his bond.

Sorry this is so Nancy negative. I love her so much but with Omegaverse dynamics she always turns so evil. To be fair, she is very young and was trying to do the right thing, at first. I could never hate you Nancy Wheeler!

i will give you one million dollars for a full fic of this😵‍💫

[sugarplum217]

Essence Of Loyalty (Pt.1)

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black Plus Size Female Reader

Warnings: MDNI (18+) contains sexual explicit content, heavy smut, spit play, oral sex, A VERY HEAVY USE OF “daddy” and “mama”, unprotected sex, cursing, major dirty talk, creampie, mentions of murder, lots of heavy sexual flirtation, detailed sexual acts , fluff

AuthorsNote: Please excuse any mistakes or grammatical errors. I hope you enjoy the story and remember to be kind and if you want to be tagged in the next part let me know.

Summary: Everyone and their mama has been trying to either set you up on a date with someone or continuously remind you that your clock is ticking away. That you weren’t getting any younger and your looks would eventually fade. What they didn’t know is that you already had your special someone. In fact you’ve had him a while. You know how that saying goes, “Good things come to those who wait” and for you in this instance. It was nothing but the waiting game for your special someone to finally walk into your life. The question is .. would it be acceptable for everyone else?

You never expected to fall in love with a man behind bars. It started as nothing more than a random click—some late-night curiosity fueled by boredom and an ad that popped up between Facebook posts. Find love where you least expect it. Meet single men looking for companionship. You damn near scrolled past it, but something made you stop. Maybe it was the way the words “love” and “companionship” stood out, teasing something you didn’t realize you were craving. Maybe it was just the boredom, the same mundane routine of work, home, sleep, repeat, stretching on like a treadmill you couldn’t step off. Either way, you clicked. Scrolling through the profiles felt like flipping through a catalog you had no business browsing. Men of all ages and backgrounds, some looking for friendship, others for love. But none of them caught your attention. That is—until you saw him. Inmate 07541, Terrance Richmond. Baby, that mugshot stopped you cold. Rich buttery light caramel skin, sharp jawline, and full lips that looked like they could whisper secrets straight into your soul. His nose was strong, his features chiseled, but it was those damn piercing uniquely colored eyes that did it. Deep-set, hooded, with a stare so intense you could feel it through the screen. Something about them made your heart stutter—like he was looking at you, past you, into you. There was no forced smile, no tough-guy posturing. Just that stare. You hesitated, hovering over the message button. What the hell were you doing? Messaging a man serving time? A man who, according to his bio, had been locked up since he was 18? Still, curiosity won. You typed out a casual introduction—something light, something safe—and hit send. Then you pushed it to the back of your mind, fully expecting no response, but he wrote back. And not just some half-assed, one-line reply. He wrote you back.

That first message turned into another. And another. Emails became long letters, paragraphs bleeding into pages, until you found yourself rushing home from work just to see his name in your inbox. You learned everything about him—the way he used to play football before his life changed, the music he listened to, the books he read to escape the four walls of his cell. He told you about his past, the pain, the betrayal, the night everything changed. And you told him about yours—how life felt like it was happening at you instead of for you. How you wanted more, but you didn’t know what more even looked like. Then came the sweet video calls. The first time you saw him move, saw that sharp jaw flex when he smiled, heard that deep, velvety voice rumble straight through the screen—you were done. Hooked. Gone. Two years later, here you were. In a relationship—a real one, even if nobody knew. And in a few days, he’d be free. And that? That scared you more than anything.

“You always got an excuse, girl. What is tea?”Sonya’s voice snapped you back to the present, and you blinked, realizing your fork had been hovering over your plate for way too long. It was lunchtime at Taste Of The South Cafe, your usual Friday spot with the girls. The table was cluttered with half-empty margarita glasses, plates of fried catfish and mac and cheese, and the scent of honey butter croissants floating in the air. Normally, this was your escape from the monotony of work. But today? You were ready to go.

“I just wanna relax,” You half way lied, pushing your food around. Sonya wasn’t buying it. Neither was Deja.

“Girl, please,” Deja scoffed. “Every time we plan a girls’ night, your ass come up with something. What’s up? You sneakin’ around with somebody?”

“Ain’t nobody sneakin’.” You forced a laugh, shaking your head. 

“Then why you always rushin’ home like you got a man waitin’ on you?” Sonya arched a brow, swirling her margarita.

“Because I do.” You thought to yourself. But you didn’t say that. Instead, you shrugged, hoping they’d let it go. They didn’t.

“You sure it ain’t that new dude in accounting?” Deja pressed. “The one with the Audi and the beard? Girl, he is fine.”

“Not my type,” You said quickly.

Sonya snorted. “And what is your type? Because last time I checked, you were single as hell.”

You just smiled, keeping your real thoughts locked up tight. Because your type wasn’t something you could explain to them. Your type wasn’t sitting in an office, making six figures, and posting gym selfies on Instagram. Your type was locked behind bars. A man who had spent more of his life inside than out. A man whose voice alone made your thighs clench, whose absence felt like a missing limb. But they wouldn’t get that. So you just laughed it off, switched the subject, and counted down the hours until you could talk to him. The day dragged. By the time you made it to your car, your feet were aching, your patience was shot, and you were tired. But none of that mattered. Because in just a few minutes, he’d be calling. The drive home was full of bumper-to-bumper traffic and the usual call from your mama.

“Hey ma” You greeted, honking the car in front of you to move their ass. 

“Hey my baby. You comin’ to dinner this weekend?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” You make a face, thanking god she can’t see you.

“Good. Your sister’s bringing her fiancé.” She said, her tone laced with excitement. Of course, she was. Your older sister had the picture-perfect life—a man, a ring, a timeline that fit neatly into the family’s expectations.

“And he’s bringing his brother,” You mother added casually.

You sighed. “Ma—”

“Just be open-minded! You’re a beautiful girl, and you ain’t gettin’ any younger.” She reminded for the hundredth time. You gritted your teeth, gripping the steering wheel. If only she knew. But you decided to let it go. 

“I’ll see you Saturday.” You shook your head, hanging up.By the time you got home, it was 6:59pm. You barely had time to drop your purse before your phone lit up with that Incoming Call from your ‘Big Daddy’. You squealed, feeling your heart flip. 

You snatched it up, answering with a smile. “Hey, baby.”

“Damn, I needed to hear your voice.” A low chuckle rumbled through the speaker, deep enough to send heat pooling between your thighs. 

You melted instantly. “Long day?”

“Long as hell,” He sighed. “But I knew I’d be hearin’ from you, so I got through it.”

Your chest tightened. “I missed you.”

“Yeah? I missed you more baby” He smirked. You could hear it in his voice. “Tell me about your day, baby.”

So you did. You told him everything—lunch with your nosy-ass friends, your mama trying to set you up. And he listened quietly like always when it came to your day and what crazy ass story you had ready for him. That was one of the many things you loved about Terry, how he could just listen and never get tired of you talking. 

“Don’t sweat that shit, baby. You got a man.” He chuckled, low and smooth. That possessiveness made your toes curl.

“Yeah?” you teased. “I got a man?”

“Hell yeah,” He murmured. “And in a few days, you gon’ have me in every way possible.”

Your breath hitched and your body got hot. Because in just a few days, Terry Richmond would be free. And you would finally be his.  You adjusted the phone against your ear, stretching out on the couch, letting his voice roll over you like thick honey.

“You talkin’ real reckless, Mr. Terrance,” you teased, biting your lip. “What makes you think you gettin’ all this good good so easy?”

A deep, knowing chuckle rumbled through the receiver, sending shivers down your spine. “Baby,” He drawled, voice rich and slow like he was savoring every syllable. “Don’t play wit’ me. You and I both know the second I touch down, I’ma have you laid out for me, just how I like it.”

“Oh yeah?” Your thighs pressed together at the promise in his tone.

“Hell yeah. First thing I’m doin’ is spreadin’ them thighs, makin’ up for lost time. You know I been starvin’ for you. Ain’t had a taste of sweet pussy in years. I need my plate, ma.” He stated, making your breath hitch and heat coil in your lower belly. 

“Terry…” You breathed, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Say my name just like that when I’m between them legs,” He murmured. “Matter fact, scream it. I’ma put my mouth on every inch of you. Them thighs? Mine. Them hips? Mine. That spot you say makes you weak right under your belly button? I’m kissin’ it first. And you already know where I’m endin’ up.”

Your body responded to his words instantly, your nipples tightening against the fabric of your blouse. The ache between your thighs grew unbearable. You were so tempted to rub on your clit as he talked to you, but you knew big daddy’s rules. You weren’t allowed to touch yourself at all unless he gave the permission and could listen to you without any interruptions. 

“You talkin’ crazy,” You whispered, your voice thick with need.

“Nah, baby, I’m talkin’ facts. You gon’ see. Soon as I get out, you ain’t leavin’ that bed for at least three days.” He chuckled. 

“Oh, so I’m just gonna be held hostage?” You let out a shaky laugh, your fingers toying with the hem of your skirt.

“Damn right,” He said without hesitation. “Ain’t no way I been locked up this long just to finally get my hands on you and let you go. Shit, you gon’ be beggin’ me to let you breathe.”

Your stomach flipped. You wanted that. Needed that. But then, reality settled back in. The system didn’t make things easy.

“Speaking of that…What did your lawyer say about your release date? Will you be out on my birthday like we want?” You exhaled, shifting the phone closer to your ear. It was silence for a moment. The weight of it pressed heavy between you, thick and uncertain. You held your breath preparing for the worst case scenario possible. 

“They still pushin’ for my original release date, but you know how this shit go. Paperwork, red tape, all that. My lawyer confident, though. He say if everything lines up, I should be out right on time. Maybe even a couple days before.” Terry let out a slow breath.

“For real?” Your chest tightened with cautious hope. 

“For real, baby. But…” He hesitated. “You know they been tryin’ to trip me up in here. COs, some of these jealous-ass inmates. They know I’m close to freedom, and they hate that shit. I gotta keep my head low, stay out the way, but it’s hard sometimes. Real hard.”

“They still on that bullshit?” Your jaw clenched.

“Yeah,” He muttered. “They hate a nigga like me gettin’ a second chance. And these lame ass inmates tryna set me up don’t help either.”

“Terry, I swear to God if they—”You closed your eyes, frustration bubbling inside you.

“Relax, mama,” He said, voice dropping into that deep, soothing register that always made you weak. “Ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ me from comin’ home to you. I promise you that. I done made it through too much to let these motherfuckers take my freedom again.”

“Baby, please promise me you won’t do nothin’ to mess this up. I need you here. I need you home.” You frowned, Terry remained silent allowing you to vent because he knew this was becoming harder everyday for you to cope with. You swallowed hard, throat tight.

“I just…” You hesitated, then admitted softly, “I just need you here. I don’t want anything messin’ this up. My 28th birthday… Terry, all I want is you.”

“I know, ma. Trust me, I know.” His voice softened, turning serious. “You the only thing keepin’ me sane in here. The only thing keepin’ me goin’. I promise you, I ain’t lettin’ nothin’ get in the way of me comin’ home to you.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “I trust you.” You inhaled deeply, letting his words settle over you. 

“You got me for life baby,” He said assuring you, voice thick with emotion. “I swear to you, baby. If I gotta fight every damn day until that judge signs my release, I’ma do it. ‘Cause you worth it. We worth it.”

“You better mean that,” You whispered. Tears pricked your eyes, but you blinked them away.

“I do. And when I’m finally out, when I got you in my arms, I’ma make sure you never question that again.”

“I love you so much.” You exhaled shakily.

“I love you more, baby.” He bit his lip, feeling his heart speed up. 

“You swear you gonna come home to me, Terry?” You exhaled, stretching your legs out on the couch, your free hand absently trailing over your bare thigh. 

“Baby, listen to me.” His voice came through the receiver, deep and unwavering. “I need you to hear me when I say this. Ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ me from comin’ home to you. I done wasted enough years locked up, dreamin’ about what it feel like to be free, to wake up next to a woman who actually give a damn about me. I ain’t lettin’ no CO, no hating-ass inmate, no system take that from me.”

You closed your eyes, soaking in his words. A small tear escaped your eyes as you just let him talk and calm all of your fears. 

“And you really think I’m about to let you be out here spendin’ another birthday without me? Nah, ma. That ain’t happenin’.” He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through your chest. “Matter fact, you should start gettin’ ready now, ‘cause soon as I step through that door, I’m givin’ you somethin’ to celebrate.”

“Oh yeah? What you givin’ me, Terry?” A slow smile spread across your lips. 

“Ain’t it obvious? My last name, first of all.” He stated matter of factly. 

“Boy, stop playin’.” Your breath caught in your throat.

“Who playin’?” He challenged. “You really think I been doin’ all this talkin’, dreamin’ about you, makin’ plans, just to be out here on some casual shit? Nah, baby. You my woman. And when I get home, I’m puttin’ a ring on that pretty lil’ finger. You ain’t gon’ be nobody else’s but mine.”

Heat spread through your chest, settling deep in your belly. He always had a way of making you feel claimed, but this? This was different. This felt all too real and that he was promising you the moon and the stars and would actually reach up in the damn sky and get it for you. 

“Terry…” You purred slightly. 

“Say it again,” He murmured, voice dropping to that low, dangerous octave that always did something to you. “Say my name just like that.”

“Terry.” Your lips parted, slowing your words down for him. 

“Mmm,” He groaned. “That’s what I wanna hear every morning, every night. That’s what I wanna hear when I’m makin’ love to you, when I’m in it so deep you forget how to say anything else.”

“You tryna kill me, huh?” You sucked in a breath, your thighs pressing together instinctively. 

“Nah, ma. Just tryna remind you who you belong to.” He smirked, licking his lips. 

You chewed your lip, heart pounding against your ribs. The thought of him finally being here, of feeling him, touching him, owning him in the flesh—it was almost too much.

“Terry…” You started, voice soft, hesitant.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He adjusted the phone on his ear, eyebrows furrowing. You hesitated a moment afraid to tell him what’s really been on your mind. Afraid he wouldn’t understand but truth was Terry was more than understanding when it came to you. 

“I just… I keep thinking about what’s gonna happen once you’re really here. Like, when it’s not just phone calls and emails. When it’s real. When it’s us.” You honestly confessed, sighing. You heard a brief pause making your stomach tighten out of angst. You held your breath afraid he’d be upset but after a few seconds, he then spoke gently. 

”That’s what you scared of?” He asked, voice soft. 

You swallowed. “Not scared, just… it’s gonna be different. You been inside since you were 18, Terry. That’s—” You did the math in your head, stomach twisting. “Seventeen years. That’s a long time.”

“I know,” He said simply. “You think I don’t know that? Every damn day, I been countin’ down to this moment. I know it’s gon’ be an adjustment. I ain’t naive to that, baby. But what I do know is that I want this. You. I ain’t spent two years fallin’ in love with you for nothin’. And I damn sure ain’t finna let somethin’ as small as a transition period shake me.”

You exhaled, nodding even though he couldn’t see you. “I just want you to be happy, Terry.”

“I am happy, ma. You make me happy.” He professed from his heart, making your heart squeeze and stomach flutter. 

“Now,” He continued, voice laced with that familiar hunger. “Can we get back to what I was sayin’? ‘Cause I still got a whole list of things I plan to do to you soon as I get out.”

“Oh yeah? Go ‘head then, baby. I’m listenin’.” Your stomach flipped.

Terry exhaled through the receiver, the sound slow and deliberate. “Aight, so… First thing I’m doin’ soon as I step through that door? I’m droppin’ my bag, pullin’ you close, and kissin’ you like I been starvin’ for it.”

“Mmmm.” You bit your lip, already picturing the scene.

“Ain’t gon’ be no soft, sweet shit neither. Nah,” He rumbled. “I’m talkin’ about deep, wet, tongue all in your mouth, my hands locked around that waist, pullin’ you so tight you feel my dick pressin’ up against you.”

“Damn, Big Daddy. Can I at least take my heels off first?” You let out a breathy laugh.

“Hell nah,” He said smoothly. “Matter fact, leave ‘em on. I want you just like that. Fresh off work, tight lil’ skirt ridin’ up, them pretty ass legs wrapped ‘round my waist while I pin you up against the door.”

“Oh shit..” Your entire body heated at the image. You had to fan yourself, and cross your legs to avoid any wetness seeping out. 

“You know how long I been dreamin’ about that, baby?” His voice dropped an octave, turning into something dark, possessive. “Seventeen years. Seventeen years I been locked in this hellhole, surrounded by nothin’ but concrete and steel, knowin’ I ain’t got a real woman to touch, to taste, to claim. And then you came along…”

“B-Baby..” A soft gasp slipped from your lips. You squeezed your thighs shut tighter, already soaking your panties. 

“And now all I can think about is how you gon’ feel underneath me. How soft your skin is. How good you smell. How sweet you taste.” He growled lowly in your ear. 

“Shit.” You cursed, shifting on the couch, thighs pressing together.

“Mmm,” He hummed knowingly. “You wet for me, ain’t you?”

“Terry—” You swallowed.

“Nah, don’t try to play it off now,” He interrupted. “I know you, ma. I know you sittin’ there, grippin’ that phone tight, breathin’ all heavy, body heatin’ up just listenin’ to me talk. I don’t even need to be there to know how bad you want me.”

“You lucky you locked up.” You let out a shaky breath, tilting your head back against the couch. 

“Lucky? Nah, baby. Unlucky. ‘Cause if I was home right now, I’d have you laid out, ass up, back arched, moanin’ my name so loud the neighbors call the cops.”He chuckled, voice dripping with amusement.

“Boy, stop!” You laughed, shaking your head. “You talk all that shit, I hope you got the stamina to back it up.”

Terry clicked his tongue. “Oh, you doubtin’ me? That’s crazy. Lemme find out my baby think I ain’t gon’ put in work.”

“I mean, it has been a long time, Big Papa,” You teased.

“Aight,” He drawled, tone dangerous. “Keep playin’ with me. You gon’ be beggin’ me to let you breathe when I’m done with you.”

Your stomach flipped at the way he said it, so smooth and confident like he had zero doubt in his ability to back up every single word. The next few hours passed in a blur, the two of you tangled in conversation like it was your own little world. Terry told you about the meals he was craving—real food, not that processed mess they served on metal trays. He wanted collard greens, mac and cheese, cornbread, fried chicken, all made by you. “I need a home-cooked meal, baby. Something made with love,” He said, his voice full of longing. You laughed and promised to have a whole spread waiting for him. Then the conversation shifted to the small things—how he couldn’t wait to sleep in a real bed, how he wanted to go outside at night just to feel the wind on his face without fences in the way, how he wanted to sit on the couch with you and watch a movie with your legs draped over his lap. “Shit like that, ma,” He murmured. “The simple stuff. That’s what I miss the most.”

And you listened, hanging onto his every word, feeling your heart swell with each confession. The world had taken so much from him, stripped him of so many years, but somehow, he still had softness in him. He still had love to give. You found yourself telling him about all the things you wanted to do together, too—how you wanted to take him out to eat at a real restaurant, go on a drive late at night just because, lay up with him on a Sunday morning while the smell of breakfast filled the apartment. The more you talked, the more the reality of him coming home settled deep inside you. “You really gon’ take care of me, huh?” he asked, his voice low and full of something tender. “You damn right,” you whispered. “Somebody gotta make up for all that time you lost.”

If someone had told you years ago that you’d fall in love with a man behind bars, you would’ve laughed in their face. You always wanted love, prayed for it even, but you never imagined it would come in the form of Terry Richmond—a man with a past heavier than most, a man who had seen the worst parts of life and still found a way to hold onto his soul. He was the most fascinating, most alluring man you’d ever known, and you had never been more open with anyone in your life. You craved him in ways that scared you sometimes. You wanted to be the one to feed him, to run him a hot bath and wash years of struggle off his skin. You wanted to rub his shoulders, his chest, his back, to remind him that he was human, that he was home. And the way he talked to you, the way he poured into you, made you feel like you were already his sanctuary.

After you finally got off the phone, you moved into your nighttime routine, taking your time washing your face, patting your skin dry, smoothing your serums in like a ritual. You stared at yourself in the mirror, thinking about how your life was about to change. In just a few days, he’d be here, in your space, in your bed, in your life outside of those prison walls. As you reached for your bonnet and wrapped it securely around your head, your phone buzzed on the counter. FaceTime. Mama. You sighed, knowing she’d scold you if you didn’t answer, so you slid your thumb across the screen and propped the phone up.

“Hey, Mama,” You greeted, already bracing yourself.

“Hey, baby,” She said, peering at you through the screen. “Just callin’ to say goodnight and check on you before you went to bed.”  

“I’m alright , Mama. Just gettin’ ready for bed. Doing my usual routine.” You smiled. 

“Mm-hmm,” She hummed, then her face lit up. “Oh! Guess who I ran into today? You remember Kiana Perkins from high school?”

You frowned, digging through your memory. “Kiana Perkins… oh yeah, the one who used to run track?”

“Yes, her! Baby, she married now, got two babies, livin’ all happy with her husband. She showed me pictures and everything. And I just… I don’t know, baby, it got me thinkin’.” She started in on you. 

“Mama—” You groaned internally.

She held up a hand. “I know what you ‘bout to say, but hear me out. You not gettin’ any younger, baby. I just want you to have somebody. You always been my dumplin’, my soft-hearted baby, and I just—” She sighed. “I just want you to be loved, baby. I want somebody to take care of you for once.”

You bit your lip, heart squeezing at her words, but she didn’t know. She didn’t know that you did have somebody. That you had Terry. That soon, you wouldn’t be coming home to an empty bed anymore. You leaned back against the bathroom counter, swallowing the lump in your throat as your mother continued, her voice full of concern. 

“You know, I just don’t want you to end up like me, raising a family all on your own. You’ve got so much to offer, baby, don’t let it go to waste.” She paused, waiting for you to respond, but you were caught in a whirlwind of emotions. You wanted to tell her the truth, but you couldn’t—not yet. Terry was still behind those walls, and the world wasn’t ready for your truth. Not yet.

“I hear you, Mama,” You said softly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “But I’m good. I’m happy with how things are right now.”

She eyed you, her brow furrowing, but she didn’t push it. “Alright,” she finally said, her tone softening. “Just don’t wait too long, baby. Time don’t wait for nobody.”

“I won’t, Mama. Promise,” You replied, though you knew the promise wasn’t to her. It was to yourself. You weren’t going to waste any more time. The conversation moved on, and you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for not telling her about Terry. She didn’t know that every night, you fell asleep with thoughts of him, that his voice had become the lullaby you never knew you needed. You thought about his touch, his words, the way he made you feel like you were the only woman in the world. But for now, it was a secret. Your secret. You wrapped up the call with your mother, promising to be at Sunday dinner over the weekend, and hung up. The air felt thick now, like the weight of your own desires had settled in your chest. You finished getting ready for bed, your mind racing with thoughts of Terry, wondering if he was thinking about you too, wondering how much longer you’d have to wait before he was finally home. As you slipped under the

covers, your mind drifted to your happy place and that was Terry. Eventually after saying a quick silent prayer for him and his safety like you did every night, you finally went to sleep. 

The morning light seeped through the blinds, casting long golden streaks across your bedroom. You lay there for a moment, tangled in your silk sheets, staring at the ceiling with a heavy mind. The anticipation sat on your chest like a weight. Today could be the day you got answers—real answers—about Terry’s release. No more guesswork, no more waiting in limbo. Either he’d be home in time for your birthday, or he wouldn’t. And if it was up to you, there wouldn’t be a wouldn’t. Your phone vibrated on the nightstand, shaking you from your thoughts. The number was unfamiliar, but you knew who it had to be before you even swiped to answer.

“Hello?” Your voice was groggy, thick with sleep, but there was an urgency beneath it.

“Good morning, this is Michael Walker, Terry Richmond’s attorney.” The voice on the other end was smooth, professional, but you caught that slight edge—like he was bracing himself for a conversation you might not want to have. “I wanted to give you an update on his case. Do you have a moment?”

“Of course. What’s the update?” You pushed yourself upright, resting your back against the headboard.

Michael exhaled. “So here’s where we are. We’re still waiting on the judge’s final decision regarding his release. As you know, we’ve been pushing hard for full release instead of parole, but the system moves at its own pace. Right now, it’s looking like one of two things will happen—either the judge will sign off on his release, and he’ll be free to come home, or he’ll be granted parole with conditions.”

Your stomach twisted at the word “conditions.” That could mean anything. A curfew. Mandatory check-ins. Restrictions on where he could go, what he could do. You wanted Terry free—not still tangled in the system’s web.

“Is there a chance he’ll be home by my birthday?” You asked, your voice smaller than you intended.

Michael hesitated. That damn hesitation. You hated it. “That’s what we’re aiming for,” He said finally. “But it’s all in the judge’s hands. We’re doing everything we can to make it happen, but we need to be realistic.”

Your fingers tightened around the phone. “I just… I need him home.” The words left you before you could stop them, more vulnerable than you wanted to sound.

“I get it,” Michael said, and for the first time, there was something softer in his tone. “But here’s the thing—you need to make sure Terry understands how important it is for him to stay in line right now. He’s close. So damn close. But if he gets into it with the COs, if he so much as breathes wrong in there, it could delay everything. Or worse.”

A lump formed in your throat. Terry had been through hell in that prison. You knew how hard it was for him to bite his tongue, to play the game when the guards disrespected him just for breathing. You also knew how much some of those inmates hated to see another Black man about to touch freedom. Envy was a dangerous thing.

“I’ll talk to him,” You said firmly. “I’ll make sure he knows.”

“Good,” Michael replied. “I’ll keep you posted on any updates. Until then, just keep him focused on what’s waiting for him on the outside.”

And that’s exactly what you planned to do. Because he was coming home. To you. To the life y’all had spent two years dreaming up. And you weren’t about to let anything or anyone take that away. The weight of everything that needed to be done before Terry came home sat on your shoulders like a mix of excitement and pressure. There was so much to prepare, so much to buy, so much to perfect before your man walked through that door and took his rightful place in your life. Clothes, toiletries, shoes, cologne—he was stepping into a world he hadn’t been a part of since he was barely legal, and you were determined to make sure he had everything he needed to start fresh. And then there was you. Your own upkeep was just as important. You wanted to look good good for him. A fresh Brazilian wax so your skin was baby smooth, eyebrows snatched, lashes full and fluttery, and your hair? Oh, that had to be flawless—not just for your birthday but because you already knew he was going to have it all over the place by the end of the night. You could already hear the headboard knocking, already feel his breath on your skin, already picture the way he’d grip you like he was making up for lost time. The thought alone made your stomach tighten with anticipation.

But beyond all the surface-level preparation, there was a deeper feeling swirling inside you. Letting a man you’d only seen through a screen and heard through a receiver move into your home was a huge step. Some would call it crazy. Hell, a part of you knew it was risky, but love had never been about playing it safe. And with Terry? It had never felt like a risk. It felt right. He was your soulmate—plain and simple. The man you wanted to

wake up to, fall asleep with, build a family with. You’d spent two years loving him from a distance, and now, you were stepping into a reality where he was yours in every way. You weren’t naive to the adjustments that would come with it, but you also weren’t afraid. He was worth it.

With a stretch and a soft sigh, you finally pulled yourself out of bed, the silk of your nightgown clinging to your curves as you padded across your bedroom. It barely covered your ass, the hem rising with each step, and you lazily reached for your robe, wrapping it around you before making your way into the kitchen. The house was still, quiet, but soon, it would be filled with his presence. Him walking around shirtless, his deep voice filling up every room, his scent lingering on the furniture. You couldn’t wait. As you reached for the fridge, your eyes landed on the Polaroid photo of him taped to the door—one of the few glimpses of him outside of a call or a video chat. He had sent it during one of the rare inmate photo days, his expression serious but his eyes still burning with something that made your stomach flip. Damn, you fine. You ran a finger over the image, smiling to yourself before pulling out the eggs and milk.

The one thing people probably wouldn’t understand was why you had never visited him in prison. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. God knew you had begged to. But Terry? Terry was territorial to his core. It had taken months of back-and-forth, of pleading and arguing, before you finally accepted that he wasn’t going to let you step foot in that visiting room. He didn’t want no prison guards or inmates looking at his woman—studying you, lusting after you, imagining things about you that only he was allowed to. You belonged to him, and the thought of other men—especially those locked up with him—laying their eyes on you sent him into a rage he didn’t even try to hide. It wasn’t just possessiveness; it was protection. He had seen too many things go left in that place, and the last thing he wanted was for you to be a part of any of it. So, you let it go, trusting that the day would come when you wouldn’t have to love him from a distance. That day was almost here.

You were in the middle of whisking the batter for your waffles when your phone vibrated on the counter. Without hesitation, you snatched it up, already knowing who it was.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Terry’s deep, raspy voice sent a warmth down your spine. His morning voice was dangerous.

“Mmm, good morning, baby,” You hummed, tucking the phone between your ear and shoulder as you continued mixing. “How’d you sleep?”

“Would’ve slept better with you underneath me,” He murmured, the smirk in his tone evident. “What my baby got planned for today?”

You bit your lip, smiling. “Just a quick Target and BJ’s run to stock the house up for you, then I gotta get my nails done. Oh, and I gotta swing by the post office to pick up my bundles that came in.”

He chuckled, low and knowing. “Mmm, you tryna get fine for Big Daddy?”

“Mmhmm.” You giggled, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see you.

“Damn, girl…” His voice dropped a little lower, and you could almost see him licking his lips on the other end. “Ima eat that pussy like crazy, baby girl.”

Your breath hitched, a heat sparking between your thighs. “Terry!” You squealed, laughing. “Stop being nasty!”

“Nah, I’m deadass serious.” His tone was dark, full of hunger. “You don’t even know what you got coming.”

You took a steadying breath, trying to shake off the goosebumps crawling up your skin. “Listen, nasty man, we need to talk.” Your tone shifted, getting serious. “Your attorney called me this morning. We need to discuss what he told me.”

“What he say?” There was a pause before he answered with a serious tone. 

You exhaled. “Baby…” You gripped the phone tighter, staring at the batter as if it had the answers. “It’s about your release.”

Terry was silent for a moment, and you could feel the shift in his energy through the phone. That easy, teasing tone from before was gone, replaced by something heavier—something cautious.

“What about it?” His voice was lower now, tight with restraint.

You sighed, setting the whisk down and gripping the edge of the counter. “He said they’re still waiting on the judge to sign off, and it could go either way. Either parole or full release.” You paused, running your tongue over your lips. “I asked if you’d be home by my birthday, and he said that’s what they’re pushing for, but the judge has to approve it first and it appears the judge is taking their sweet ass time. Same shit you told me last night.” 

“Man… I been waiting years for this moment. If they try to stall this shit…” Terry sucked his teeth, exhaling sharply through his nose.

“Baby, don’t even put that energy in the air,” You cut in quickly, gripping the phone. “It’s gonna happen. You just gotta hold tight.”

“I’m tryna hold tight, ma, but you don’t understand. I been locked down since I was eighteen. Half my life. I done played by they rules, kept my nose clean, did everything I was supposed to do. And now, when it’s finally my time to touch down, they wanna drag they feet?” His frustration was raw, and you didn’t blame him one bit.

“That’s why we gotta be smart about this,” You soothed, lowering your voice. “Your attorney said you need to walk a fine line, Terry. These COs and some of them inmates? They don’t want to see you win, baby. You getting out means they lose power over you. And if you let ‘em get under your skin, if you give them any reason to stall this—”

“I know, baby,” He gritted, cutting you off. “I ain’t stupid.”

“I never said you were,” You softened, biting your lip. “But you know they’ll do anything to keep a black man locked up. You know that. You can’t afford to slip.”

Another deep sigh. “I just wanna be with you, ma,” He admitted, his voice quieter now, the vulnerability cutting through all the frustration. “That’s all I been holding on to. You. Us. The life we ‘bout to have.”

“And you will be with me, Terry. Soon. I promise.” Your heart clenched, and you closed your eyes for a second.

“You the only thing keeping me sane right now, baby,” He muttered. “You really are.”

“And you the only man I want. Ain’t nothing gon’ change that.” You swallowed hard, that warmth creeping back into your chest.

He went quiet for a beat, then, “Damn, you really love me, huh?”

“Boy, you already know.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Say it,” He murmured.

“I love you, Terrance Richmond.” You bit your lip, smiling. 

A deep exhale came through the line, like those words alone were enough to ground him. “I love you too, ma. More than you even know.”

“You better love me with your fine self.” You giggled, continuing to whisk the batter. He chuckled lowly, the sound making your ears perk up at the nostalgic sound.

“You know I want a baby soon as possible, right? Just like we talked about.” Terry’s voice dipped even lower, that familiar edge of possession curling around his words. 

“I know, baby.” You bit your lip, warmth spreading through your belly at the certainty in his tone.

“Nah,” He pressed. “I mean, soon as I get home, I’m filling you up. I ain’t playing.”

A giggle bubbled out of you. “Well, that’s good to know,”  You teased, twisting a strand of hair between your fingers. “Because I already got off my birth control, and I’m ovulating real soon.”

Silence. Then a sharp inhale from Terry. “You serious?”

“Mmhmm.” A smirk played on your lips 

“Good,” He growled. “‘Cause I ain’t pulling out. I want you pregnant, mama. You carrying my son or my baby girl. I already see it.”

A deep shudder rolled through you at the sheer conviction in his voice. There was no hesitation, no doubt—he wanted this, just like you did. Now you knew having a baby before a ring wasn’t the most conventional thing. You were raised better than that, taught that marriage first was the way to go, that being someone’s “baby mama” wasn’t the move. But Terry? He wasn’t that type of man. This wasn’t some half-thought-out, heat-of-the-moment decision. You knew exactly what you were signing up for. From the moment you told him you wanted his baby, he made it crystal clear—both you and that child would have his last name. There would be no question, no hesitation. You weren’t about to be just someone’s BM. You were his woman, his future wife.

The plan was already in motion—soon as he got out, y’all were hitting the courthouse and making it official. No long engagement, no drawn-out wedding planning stress. He wanted to be your husband immediately. And once he was settled, once he was back on his feet, working and bringing in real money, then he’d give you that big wedding, the

one with the flowers, the dress, the family all gathered to watch you walk down the aisle. But for now? The paper, the commitment, you—that’s what mattered most to him.

It wasn’t like you weren’t set up already. You made damn good money, and your degree in business administration had you sitting pretty in a high-paying corporate consulting job, helping multi-million-dollar firms streamline their operations. Your salary was more than enough to hold things down while Terry got back on his feet, and you’d already mapped out a business plan to help him reintegrate. Finding a job after doing seventeen years inside wasn’t easy, but you had resources, connections, a plan. You weren’t just bringing him home—you were making sure he stayed home. You were building a life with this man, and every step of it felt right.

“You think your family gon’ like me?” Terry exhaled through the phone, his deep voice softening just a little. Your smile, bright and easy just seconds ago, slowly faded. It was a fair question. A real one. But it wasn’t an easy one to answer. You knew your mama. Sweet, nurturing, and warm when she wanted to be, but judgmental as hell. A devout Christian woman—saved, sanctified, and filled with the Holy Ghost. She wasn’t fond of anything remotely sinful, and Terry… well, Terry was the walking definition of sinful.

There was no denying he was a fine-ass man. That wasn’t the issue. Standing tall at 6’3”, with those piercing hazel eyes that seemed to shift between ocean-gray and a stormy blue-green depending on the light. Rich, light caramel skin that deepened into a golden bronze in the summer but softened into a fairer hue in the colder months. A strong, chiseled jawline that made him look both dangerous and regal. His lips? Plump, full, always looking like they were ready to be kissed—or used for something far nastier. His short-cropped curly fro was just long enough to grab, and those thick, corded muscles? Yeah. His time behind bars didn’t just sculpt his body—it turned him into a damn statue, cut from flesh instead of marble. His tattoos, inked along his thick arms, added to his edge. Especially that sleeve—his latest one, a masterpiece he got done while inside.

He was the kind of man that turned heads when he walked into a room. The kind that made women cross their legs and bite their lip. But he wasn’t the “good, God-fearing man” your mother had envisioned for you. Terry was the complete opposite. And yet, his heart was the purest thing about him. Despite his past, despite the anger and the hurt buried deep in his soul, he was a good man. A gentle soul trapped in an exterior so hard, so intimidating, most people never got to see the real him.

You inhaled sharply, trying to find the right words. “Baby, I gotta be honest with you.”

“Mmhmm?” His voice was calm. 

You sighed. “I don’t know. My mama… she can be a bit much. And the fact that I’ve been hiding this—hiding us—for the past two years? Oh, she gon’ have a fit. And my sister? Whew, she gon’ have a mouth full too. You’d probably have better luck with my aunties than my own mama.”

Terry chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made your stomach flutter. “I get it, baby. I do.” His voice was soft, understanding. “But I ain’t going nowhere. She can side-eye me, throw oil on me, pray over me ‘til she blue in the face—I’m still gon’ be here. And I’ma do whatever I can to make her love me. To make her see I ain’t some monster. ‘Cause I want this, ma. I want us. I want your family to be my family, too.”

That made you smile. A big one. The kind that deepened your dimples and warmed you from the inside out. But there was something else weighing on you. Something heavy. Something you knew Terry wouldn’t want to talk about, but you had to ask.

You hesitated before carefully pushing forward. “Baby… you gon’ reach out to your mama once you’re free?”

“Nah, Y/N. I’m not.” He answered, his voice, tight and clipped. 

You swallowed. “Baby—”

“Ain’t like she gave a fuck about me in the first place,” he cut you off, his voice colder now. “I’m in here ‘cause of her. You know that.”

“I know. I do. But, baby… you gotta forgive. Not for her. For you. You need peace, Terry. You deserve that.” You exhaled slowly. His breathing was heavier now, like he was trying to keep himself from slipping into that dark place. You hated when he went there. When the bitterness and resentment started to eat away at him.

“I got peace, baby. I got you.” His voice softened just a little, but you could still hear the hurt beneath it. “That’s all I need.”

“I hear you baby.” You softly replied. You decided to respect his wishes and let the conversation about his mother rest. He had been through enough, and you weren’t about to push him into something he wasn’t ready for. Instead, you brightened up, shifting the energy as you let out a little squeal.

“Oh! Baby, my birthday dress came!” You announced excitedly, twirling a loose curl around your finger. “I can’t wait for you to see me in it.”

Terry’s smirk was damn near audible through the phone. “Oh yeah?” His voice dropped an octave, turning rich and smooth like warm honey. “That’s cool, baby… ‘cause I can’t wait to take that shit off you.”

“It is literally nine in the morning, and you already on go.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Because I got this pretty, brown-eyed woman waiting on me,” He murmured. “And I can’t stop staring at her picture, picturing our life together beyond these walls. I just need my woman bad.” He let out a breath, voice thick with longing. “I wanna turn your body inside out, have you laid up exhausted, and then make you breakfast in the morning while you recover, boo.”

“Leave the cooking to me, Richmond. Don’t need you burning our house up.” You smirked, scratching your head. You hadn’t even realized you said it like that—our house—until the words left your lips. But Terry caught it instantly. His heart swelled, warmth spreading through his chest like wildfire.

“Our,” He repeated, grinning through the phone. “I like the sound of that. And don’t worry, baby. I could never destroy anything of ours.” His words settled over you like a warm embrace, making your stomach flutter.

Terry cleared his throat after a beat. “So, your girls still takin’ you out for your birthday?”

“Mmhmm,” You confirmed, stretching lazily. “We’re hitting this grown and sexy lounge. Got a section, a table, should be real nice. I just wanted something low-key. Nothing too crazy.”

Terry hummed in approval. “That’s what’s up. You think your girls gon’ accept me?”

You snorted. “They’re gonna love you. Especially Deja. Sonya, though… she might take a minute. She’s Miss Fake Bougie, swearing she a real housewife of Atlanta. But deep down, she’s chill. Just real protective of me.”

Terry let out a low chuckle. “Aight, sounds like a plan, baby girl. Long as they ain’t plotting to run me off, we cool.”

“Never that.” You smiled, resting your chin in your hand, leaning on the countertop.

“Mm. Aight, tell me this, then—what’s the first meal I’m getting when I come home?” He inquired, with a devious smirk. 

“Well, I was thinking… me.” Your voice became real seductive, tilting your head. 

Terry’s laughter rumbled through the phone, low and sinful. “Ain’t no thinking, that’s a guarantee. But just to be safe, cook us something for after, ‘cause we gon’ need the strength.”

“Terry, you so damn silly.” You burst out laughing, shaking your head at him.

“You love it,” He teased, and he wasn’t wrong. Because behind all that reserved, stoic energy, Terry Richmond was a damn goofball at heart. And he was your goofball. The conversation between you and Terry continued, the two of you just vibing, killing time before you had to finally pull yourself away and get in the shower. He told you about a wild dream he had last night—some crazy mix of old memories and future fantasies of the two of you together.

“Man, I swear, I had the realest dream, baby,” He said, voice lazy and deep. “We was laid up in this big-ass house, had the baby in the crib next to us… you was wearin’ my T-shirt, lookin’ all sexy with your lil’ bonnet on, and I just kept pullin’ you closer, not even tryna let you sleep.”

“So you gon’ keep me up even in your dreams?” You laughed, rolling onto your side, twirling the bedsheets between your fingers. 

“Hell yeah,” He said without hesitation. “I been starvin’, baby. Soon as I touch down, I’m eatin’ you up, kissin’ on you, makin’ love to you every chance I get. You gon’ be sick of me.”

“Never that daddy,” You murmured, feeling warmth spread through your body at just the thought of how it would feel to finally have him home.

“Bet,” He chuckled, then let out a deep sigh. “I just be sittin’ in this cell picturing it, picturing us—you in the tub, all soaped up, candles lit, slow jams playin’… me right behind you, holdin’ you close, runnin’ my hands all over that soft ass skin, kissing up your neck… licking on your nipples..”

Your breath hitched, already envisioning the exact same thing. You had put together a playlist for his arrival—nothing but the smoothest 90s and early 2000s R&B, songs that made you wanna melt into somebody’s arms.

“You wanna know what I was thinking about?” You asked, biting your lip.

“What, baby?”  He feigned innocence.

“How you gon’ be sneakin’ into the shower while I’m tryna get ready for work,” you giggled. “Talkin’ about, ‘lemme wake you up the right way’—like I don’t have places to be!”

Terry laughed but then hummed in approval. “Shit, I am waking you up the right way. Gon’ have you walkin’ into work with a smile so big, they gon’ know somebody put it there.”

Your stomach flipped at the thought, heat rising to your cheeks. You were so gone for this man. “You just wait, Richmond,”You teased, sighing dramatically. “You about to be a full-time distraction.”

“That’s my plan, baby.” He grinned through the phone. 

After a few more minutes of sweet talk, you finally sighed. “Alright, I need to get in the shower before I lay here and talk to you all day.”

“I ain’t stoppin’ you,” Terry teased. “I just wanna hear the water runnin’. Let me close my eyes and imagine it.”

“Boy, bye!” You laughed, shaking your head before reluctantly hanging up.

—

The hot water cascaded over your skin as you leaned against the shower wall, letting the warmth soak into your muscles. Your mind was racing with all the intimate moments you’d been daydreaming about since Terry’s release date became a real possibility. Late nights soaking in the tub together, his strong arms wrapped around you, his lips trailing along your shoulder. Waking up to him pulling you into his body, whispering in your ear before making love to you first thing in the morning. The idea of sharing a home, a bed, a life with him made your stomach flip with anticipation. You had been living alone for so long, moving on your own schedule, answering to no one. But now, there would be him. His things mixed with yours, his scent lingering in your sheets, his presence filling the empty spaces. And you couldn’t wait.

Once you finished luxuriating, you stepped out, wrapping yourself in a plush towel. You took your time getting dressed—pulling on a pair of black leggings that hugged your curves and a Nike sports bra, slipping into your most comfortable sneakers. You tied your hair into a sleek bun, then grabbed a baseball cap to shield your eyes from the Georgia sun. After grabbing your Louis Vuitton Speedy 30, you were just about to head out the door when your phone rang and you saw it was Sonya.

You sighed before answering, already bracing yourself. “What’s up, girl?”

“Mm, what you got going on today?” She asked, her tone full of suspicion, like she knew you were up to something.

“Just about to make a quick Target and BJ’s run,” You said casually, hoping she’d just let it go.

“Oh, perfect! I need to hit Target anyway! I’ll meet you there.” She stated. You internally cringed. Sonya didn’t know about Terry yet. And you definitely didn’t need her up in your cart asking a hundred questions about all the men’s products you were grabbing.

“Girl, I’m moving quick today,” You abruptly said, trying to throw her off. “Gotta be in and out, no time for browsing.”

“Please, you never just ‘run in’ anywhere,” Sonya scoffed. “I’ll keep up.”

“Sonya…” You huffed, rubbing your temple. 

“What?” She laughed. “Why you sound so stressed? You tryna move funny or somethin’?”

“You know I move funny, that ain’t new.”You let out a dry laugh. 

“Mhm, and that’s exactly why I’m coming.” She snickered. 

You sighed dramatically, knowing there was no way out of this now. “Fine, I’ll see you there,” You relented, already planning how you were going to strategically avoid letting her see all the things you were picking up for Terry. You hurried up and grabbed your car keys and your Stanley cup from your kitchen counter before heading right out the door to your car. You hit the unlock button on your key fob and heard the chirp. Sliding into the plush leather seat of your Mercedes-Benz, you place your Stanley cup in the cupholder before pressing the push-to-start button. The engine purrs to life, and before you can even adjust the air, the CarPlay screen lights up, immediately blasting the smooth, honeyed vocals of Maxwell’s “Fortunate” through the speakers.

Your heart leaps in excitement. “SING IT, MAXWELL!” You squeal, gripping the steering wheel and swaying your shoulders as if you’re right there on stage with him. 

This is your song. Terry’s song. The one he always sings to you over the phone—completely off-key but with so much passion, like he’s pouring every piece of himself into it. You can still hear him now—“I never sang a song with all my might…”—his deep, rough voice twisting the lyrics into something that sounds nothing like Maxwell, but you never cared. It was him. It was you. It was love. You pull out of the driveway, easing onto the streets of Atlanta, the sun gleaming against the hood of your Benz. The beat of the song wraps around you, filling every inch of the car with warmth. With one hand on the wheel and the other tapping rhythmically against your thigh, you let the city move around you, the skyline stretching high above as you feel the music, feel the love behind every lyric. Terry is coming home. Soon. And as Maxwell’s voice croons through the speakers, you let yourself dream—of slow dances in the living room, of his arms pulling you close as you sway to this very song, of him pressing soft kisses along your shoulder while mumbling the lyrics into your ear.You exhale, your lips curling into a soft, knowing smile. It’s only a matter of time.

Pulling into the Target parking lot, you let out a long, heavy sigh, gripping the wheel as you mentally prepared yourself for Sonya. You loved your girl—no doubt about it. Sonya was one of those ride-or-die friends who would cut up with you on a Saturday night and pray with you on Sunday morning. But she was also the kind of woman who didn’t know the meaning of boundaries. She always had to be up in the mix, tasting the flavor, giving unsolicited advice even when it wasn’t needed. And it wasn’t that you didn’t want to share Terry with your girls—because you did. He was your man, and you were proud of him.

But you wanted to make sure this was real. That this was happening. That he was actually going to be home before you started bragging and boasting about him to your family and friends. You couldn’t count how many times you’d gotten excited about a brotha, only for him to turn out to be a disappointment. And every time, you had to do the walk of shame, explaining to everyone that it didn’t work out. You hated the look of disappointment on your mother’s face, the I told you so smirk on your sister’s lips, and God forbid Sonya’s infamous, “I knew that nigga wasn’t shit.” speeches. And then there was Deja, who always chimed in with, “Girl, want me to get my cousin to kill him?”

You loved your girls, but the last two years had been a sacred kind of peace. You had cultivated this private, intense, deeply intimate relationship with Terry while he was behind bars, and there was something pure about keeping it just between the two of you. You knew that sometimes, outside influence could ruin a good thing, and you weren’t ready to share your world just yet. But if things aligned perfectly—if the odds were in your favor, if the judge signed off, and if God was looking out for you—then they would meet him the night of your birthday outing. You just hoped everything would fall into place. You hopped out of the car, grabbing your Louis Vuitton Speedy 30 from the passenger seat and slinging it over your arm. Just as you shut the door, you spotted Sonya standing near the entrance, her arms crossed, her stance already radiating irritation. You took a deep inhale, bracing yourself, then walked over, greeting her with a quick hug.

“Girl, what’s wrong with you?” You asked, noticing her sour expression.

“Chile, my damn hairstylist just sent me that infamous ‘Hey boo’ text, and I just know it’s about to be some bullshit.” Sonya sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes.

“That’s why I told you to stop going to her, Sonya. She’s unprofessional as hell and always canceling on you at the last minute.” You snorted and shook your head. 

“I know, I know,” She whined dramatically, throwing her hands up. “But girl, she know how to lay my damn wigs. She makes that lace look like scalp! I do not wanna go to nobody else!”

You laughed, grabbing a cart and rolling into the store with her. You weren’t even five steps inside before you gave her a knowing look and smirked. “I don’t even know why you waste your time getting them wigs laid, knowing Omar gon’ pull that shit right off your head and have your lace looking crazy by the end of the night.”

“You ain’t lying, girl. You really ain’t lying.” Sonya stuck her tongue out at you before giggling, clearly thinking about how wild her and her man got. 

You shook your head, laughing as you made your way toward the laundry aisle, grabbing detergent, fabric softener, and some cleaning products. You wanted the house to be

perfect for Terry’s homecoming—fresh sheets, the scent of lavender and vanilla in the air, everything spotless for his arrival.

As you reached for a bottle of Febreze, Sonya nudged you. “So… you excited for your birthday?”

“Yeah… I really am.” You smiled, biting your lip as you nodded. Truth be told you were more excited for Terry’s arrival than your own birthday. For as long as you could remember you weren’t the most excited to celebrate your birthday. To you, it was just another day and another reminder that you were leaving your glorious twenties and getting closer to hitting your dirty thirties. That is until Terry came into your life and shifted your perspective on life itself. He taught you that every birthday should be celebrated and that life is too short to not celebrate the breath in your lungs and waking up everyday. Especially with his circumstances and how his life got snatched from him because he chose to do the right thing and defend his mother’s honor against her abuser, but in the end it wasn’t so honorable and his dreams and young life got cut short with the snap of a finger. So this year you chose to have a better outlook on your birthday, thanks to your baby Terry. 

 You continued to move swiftly through Target, pushing your cart with concentration, mentally checking off everything Terry will need once he’s home. You start with the Dove Men+Care bar soap, grabbing a few packs because you know the fresh, clean scent will suit him. Next is the Old Spice body wash—the deep, rich, masculine fragrance makes you weak in the knees, so you know it’ll be perfect for him. You toss it in the cart, followed by men’s deodorant, mouthwash, and toothpaste—because even though you’ve never stood close enough to breathe him in, you already decided that your man will smell fresh, clean, and irresistible.

You head down the haircare aisle, running your fingers over the different bottles before settling on a moisturizing shampoo and conditioner. You know prison air is dry as hell, and you’re not about to have your man coming home with his hair brittle and neglected. A large jar of Palmer’s whipped cocoa butter goes into the cart next—you love how smooth and rich it feels against your skin, and you can already picture yourself rubbing it into his arms, his shoulders, his hands… making sure he’s soft and well taken care of. Just as you’re reaching for a pack of Dude Wipes, Sonya turns from the next aisle, glancing over at your cart. She tilts her head, her perfectly arched brows raising as she takes in all the men’s products sitting inside.

“Uh-uh. Who’s all this for?” She asks, crossing her arms. Your heart skips a beat.

“Oh!” You force out a laugh, thinking quick. “My sister’s in town with her fiancé, and they’re staying at my mom’s house. She needed some stuff to keep there for him.”

Sonya narrows her eyes for a second, then shrugs. “Oh okay, that makes sense. I was about to say, girl, you got a whole grown man’s starter kit in there.”

You laugh nervously, nodding as you grip the handle of your cart, pushing forward. Just when you think you’re in the clear, your phone buzzes in your purse. You glance down and see the caller ID: Terry’s lawyer. Your stomach instantly tightens. He already called earlier—so why is he calling again?

“Hey, hold on,” You tell Sonya, trying to keep your voice light. “I gotta take this real quick.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you at checkout.” Sonya waves you off, already distracted by something on the next shelf. Stepping out of the aisle, you answer, pressing the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You answer, voice low. 

“We’ve got a problem,” His lawyer says, his voice urgent.Your body stiffens.

“What? What happened?” You held your breath. 

“There’s been an incident in the prison yard. Terry was involved.” He deeply sighs. Your heart  plummets straight to your ass because you told this nigga—.

“WHAT?!” You shout, loud enough that people around you turn their heads. You clamp a hand over your mouth, forcing yourself to breathe, to stay calm.

“I’m still gathering details,” His lawyer continues, “ But from what I’m hearing, there was some kind of altercation. If the judge catches wind of this, his release could be revoked… or at the very least, stalled.”

The words ring in your ears, drowning out the noise of the store. Revoked?! Stalled?!Your hands start to tremble on the cart handle, your vision blurring with tears. Just when you thought you were so close to having him home—just when everything was falling into place—here comes some bullshit.

“Please… just tell me he’s okay,” you whisper, your voice cracking. You swallow hard, gripping the phone tighter.

“I really don’t know. I’m working on it. I’ll call you back when I know more.” He sighed again, sounding defeated. Then the line goes dead, making you tear up. You stood frozen in the middle of Target, your world spinning, your stomach in knots. And just like that, everything you had been dreaming of, praying for, feels like it’s slipping right through your fingers.

This couldn't be happening right now, not right now....

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[rhiannonsknife]

I’ve never seen someone write Jackie and Rhiannon like you do! They’re such complex characters and you do an amazing job capturing that, even in just a one shot. Just wanted to tell you that I love your blog!

If you’re still taking requests, would you mind writing a Jackie one where her and the reader come out as a couple at Doomcoming like Tai and Van did? Maybe they’ve been together for awhile but Jackie wasn’t ready to come out until then? I think a plane crash would really put things into perspective lol!

-🦈

── MEET ME IN THE WOODS TONIGHT

— summary: doomcoming with jackie taylor.

— warnings: fluff. implied internalized homophobia. secret relationship. fem!reader. nsfw content. mdni.

the makeshift decorations sway in the breeze, the clearing glows with warm lantern light and, despite everything, despite the crash, the wilderness, and the gnawing hunger, there’s laughter.

for the first time in weeks, the mood is light, almost joyful in a way that’s more genuine than anything any of you have experienced since the plane went down.

you stand near jackie, your shoulder brushing hers just so as you watch the others dance. she looks beautiful tonight, as she always does: her crown of wildflowers slightly askew, her cheeks flushed from the drinks misty’s been passing around. she’s smiling, but you know her too well to think she’s as carefree as she looks: jackie has always been good at pretending.

you’ve been together for months now, sneaking touches and stealing kisses when no one is looking your way. she had made one thing clear from the start: no one could know. she’d framed it as self-preservation. “it’s not that i don’t care about you,” jackie had said one night, her voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire. “i just…i don’t want to make things harder for us out here”

so, you learned to love the mask she wears just as much as the girl jackie is beneath all her pretense.

you’d understood, or tried to; her fears weren’t all baseless. she was used to control, to the certainty of her old world where she’d been whs’ golden girl, the one everyone admired. out here, though, her carefully constructed image had been crumbling from the start. the others had turned on her in subtle ways; side glances, muttered comments, the slow loss of respect. she couldn’t risk giving them more fuel.

now, as you’re watching taissa and van kiss in front of everyone, something seems to shift.

it’s not a grand declaration; they just kiss, laughing against each other’s lips like they’re the only two people in the world. the group doesn’t stop them. some cheer, but no one judges. it’s all…normal. contrary to the events of the past weeks, but normal.

you glance sideways at jackie, expecting her to look away or maybe make a comment to cover her discomfort. but she’s watching them, just as everyone else is, her eyes wide, her expression both soft and unreadable. there’s no jealousy there, either, no scorn. just a quiet longing that makes your chest ache.

“jackie?” you ask gently, leaning closer so only she can hear.

she blinks, pulling herself back to reality, and gives you a shaky smile. “it’s nothing,” she assures quickly.

“are you sure?” you press, keeping your voice soft. “you can talk to me, you know?”

jackie’s smile falters. for a split second, she looks like she might say something. but then she shakes her head, looking away. “come on! let’s dance!”

you follow her to the makeshift dance floor, letting her spin you around with surprising enthusiasm. the two of you laugh, swaying surrounded by the other girls. for this short while, it’s easy to forget everything that comes with the looming uncertainty these days. but then jackie slows, her movements faltering as her gaze locks on yours.

“what?” you ask, unable to brush it off this time.

she hesitates, her hand tightening around yours. “i just…” she glances over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the crowd. no one’s looking at you, their attention scattered all across the clearing. jackie takes a shaky breath. “i don’t want to hide anymore,”

“jackie, you don’t have to-“

she cuts you off by cupping your face and pressing her lips to yours, as easy as it would only ever come to her behind closed doors and the comfort of knowing you’re unseen. the kiss starts tentative, like the very first time jackie had kissed you, with her hands trembling against your cheeks. when you don’t pull away, when you lean into her, your own hands finding her waist, she deepens it. it’s soft and warm and open, jackie’s lips moving with a kind of desperation that you feel all the way to your core.

the entire world around you fades, you don’t hear the murmured conversations and laughter that surround you. all you can feel is jackie, her hands moving to your shoulders, her thumbs brushing your jawline. when she finally pulls back, her cheeks are tinted in the softest shade of pink.

“jackie,” you whisper, breathless, your forehead resting against hers still, hesitant to withdraw.

“i mean it,” she murmurs, the side of her nose nudging yours. “i don’t want to hide anymore. not with you!”

her gaze flickers shyly to the other yellowjackets around you.

there’s a moment of quiet as the others catch on, realizing what they’ve just seen. it’s van’s loud whoop that breaks the silence. when jackie looks back at you, there’s something new in her eyes. relief, maybe, or pride.

you smile at her, your fingers squeezing her waist through the fabric of her dress. “i guess the plane crash really did put things into perspective, huh?”

jackie laughs softly. “yeah. something like that.”

she doesn’t step back. if anything, she moves closer, her hands sliding down to rest on your hips as you rest your chin atop her head and pull her into your embrace.

“come with me,” she murmurs eventually.

your heart skips. “where?”

jackie’s smile turns coy. she doesn’t answer, instead she takes your hand and leads you away from the group. the warmth of the fire gives way to the cool darkness of the woods, and then, once you reach it, the cabin door creaks behind you.

inside, the room is dim, for once completely empty with the team still celebrating outside. jackie turns to face you, her eyes catching yours in the low light. she doesn’t say anything, but the way she steps closer, her free hand reaching for the back of your neck, speaks volumes.

when her mouth finds yours this time, it’s slower, deeper, her movements no longer tentative. it’s not just about showing something to the others now. it’s about you, and her, and everything that had been unspoken until now.

jackie steps closer then, backing you up until you hit the wall. her hands move to your neck, fingers sliding into your hair. the full length of her body presses against yours, caging you in as the kiss deepens.

for months, she had to hide her desire for you. now that it’s all out in the open, it’s like a dam has broken. jackie kisses you desperately, all the pent-up longing of the last poured into the collision of your mouths.

you can’t help but gasp, struggling to keep up with the demanding motion of jackie‘s lips. they trail from your mouth, down the side of your neck, nipping and kissing hungrily as her hands tug impatiently on the fabric of your clothes.

“jackie” you pant with your head tossed back against the wall. “we- we’re still-”

she pins you harder to the door, one of her legs slipping between yours. for a moment you allow yourself to get lost in the friction against your center, your hips rutting back and forth instinctively.

then, finally, you repeat, “jackie!”, breathless when she breaks away from you. her hazel eyes are dark, her chest heaving with the force of breath.

“did i do something wrong?” she asks, her voice quieter now, a hint of insecurity threading through the haze that’s come over you both. “i’m sorry, we don’t have to-“

you cut her off before jackie can overthink it.

your hand finds hers, squeezing just enough to ground her. the others could come in at any second, loud and stumbling, forcing you back to your new ‘normality’. you don’t want to forget this, don’t want to let the moment pass.

“attic. now”

you’re on top of her. chest to chest with a bare body that arches up against yours to meet you halfway.

jackie’s arms are draped over your neck, her ankles locked around your waist, pulling you in close. impossibly close, because you don’t think it’s possible to be any nearer unless you merged into her completely, lost yourself in the press of her skin, the curves of her body against yours. maybe that’s exactly what she wants. maybe that’s what you both need.

to forget where one ends and the other begins.

your clothes are scattered all around the makeshift bed you’re sharing. her dress, neat and beautiful, crumpled up on the dusty attic floor alongside your own.

it’s the most intimate you’ve ever been together: in all the months you’ve spent dating in secrecy, you never got jackie like this. you’ve imagined it, sure, pictured her at the absolute crack of dawn after making sure the other girls were definitely asleep, with a hand shoved down your pants. but even your poor attempts at masturbation in this absolute hellscape could never compare to having her underneath you.

you know, from the occasional stories she’d tell you -secrets, exchanged in hushed whispers- that jeff hasn’t either. that she was never quite ready to go all the way with him, never felt comfortable enough to.

with you, that has changed. jackie seems very comfortable now. she’s reassured you at every shy check-in between layers of clothing slipping away: “are you sure?” you’d asked when your fingers pushed up the hem of her dress. “is this still okay?” as you struggled with the clasps of her bra.

now, with the restrictive clothes gone, her lips are everywhere; against your own, the side of your neck, wandering as low as they’ll go in your current position, never getting past the swell of your breasts. jackie pulls you in absentmindedly and traces soft lines up your naked spine as her lips move down your throat. one of her hands finds yours, threading your fingers together.

this is different from all the stolen moments and careful touches you’ve shared so far. there’s no fear of being heard, no risk of being interrupted. jackie is different, every soft sound raw in a way she’s never been capable of before.

her hands roam with purpose, memorizing every single inch of your skin. her mouth traces a path from your collarbones to your shoulder as she whispers “i need you” with both her eyes closed. you can’t stop your hips from grinding into her all over again, bare skin sliding together.

you break away, blinking down at where jackie is sprawled out. “are you sure?” you manage. she bites her lip, but nods determinedly.

for months, she’s been so focused on what she should need -the validation, the approval, the status- that she’s almost forgotten how the simple act of being wanted feels like.

“okay...okay”

jackie strokes over your bare shoulders, her thumbs digging into the skin there. “can i-“ she begins, blushing under your attentive gaze. “can i touch you?”

when you nod, she brings both of her hands up to your chest. you exhale shakily. this is all so new, so sweet, even in the mess that you’re in. it’s a blur of shy touches and breathy murmurs of approval, and, for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re happy. truly, undeniably happy. happy that it’s jackie. happy that she’s the one you get to share this with.

her thumb brushes over your nipple and you arch your back forward, a quiet moan drawn from your lips. the floorboard creaks under the weight shift and you laugh into each other’s mouths.

“you like that?”

your eyes flutter shut and you manage another nod. as if to test it, jackie repeats the motion, applying just the right amount of pressure.

“oh-“ you gasp, your full body shuddering.

jackie smiles, satisfied. she leans up again, her hips jerking against your leg as she moves to press kisses to the hollow of your throat while simultaneously playing with your nipples. only when she lets out a soft noise of her own, do you realize that your thigh is pressing right between hers with the way your bodies have moved together.

momentarily caught off guard, you breathe out and jackie opens her eyes to look up at you. eager to get a similar reaction out of her, you experimentally flex the muscles against jackie’s cunt, grinding carefully. her hands grasp the thin sheets beneath her body instantly, her fingers curling up in the fabric tightly. her head falls back as she gasps: “oh my god”

“does that feel good?” you drop one hand to hold her hip.

jackie nods, her jaw slack when she gives her hips a couple of gentle rolls, dragging her wetness over the length of your leg. you watch in awe when the first actual moans spill from her lips, her voice unusually high-pitched.

you press your forehead against jackie's again, anchoring yourself to her like you're afraid of losing this moment the second there's space between you. her breath is warm but uneven, ghosting over your lips as she tilts her head, her fingers threading through your hair to pull you closer.

her open mouth brushes yours, barely, just enough to make you dizzy and press your lips to hers.

the temperature around you is rising steadily as jackie moves against your body, your breathing tangling together.

this is better than anything you’ve ever imagined already, but it is not enough.

“jackie,” you whisper. immediately, she stops the movements altogether, her brows raising in concern.

“are you okay?”

her attentiveness makes you smile. “more than okay, i just-“ you bite your lip. “i want more,”

“oh”

“is that okay?”

jackie smiles in response, shifting backwards and maneuvering you both into a new position. after some more rustling movement on the blankets, you find yourself kneeling face to face with her. the way jackie’s eyes fall to your bare chest doesn’t go unnoticed: they widen as if she’s still struggling to believe that any of this is really happening.

she takes your hand in hers, gently pressing it against the valley between l own breasts so you feel the racing of her heart against your palm.

“touch me,” jackie instructs. “and let me touch you too?”

suddenly, your position makes a lot more sense. you don’t have to be told twice. instead, you bite your lip and nod. “please”

both of you reposition your knees so your legs are spread wider, and jackie’s delicate fingers trace down your front. when they reach the hemline of your underwear, you watch her, catch the way her mouth falls open as her fingers brush over the wet patch on the fabric.

“you’re so wet” jackie murmurs in awe.

hearing those words from her is enough to set you into motion too. first, your jaw drops and you feel yourself clenching around nothing, painfully aware of the emptiness where you want to feel jackie the most. then, after a soft cry of “touch me,” you drop a hand between her thighs. jackie’s arousal is damp, soaking through the lace of her panties as you cup her carefully.

she moans your name, and her head falls against your shoulder while she simultaneously fumbles with your underwear and pushes it aside. you copy jackie’s motions, panting as you look down the little space that’s left between your bodies.

you don’t even have it in you to feel embarrassed about the moan that falls from your lips when she finds your clit and starts circling it with her index finger.

“god, jackie-“

“it’s okay,” jackie promises, her free hand cradling the back of your head. “you- oh!”

whatever she was going to say is cut short when you press your fingertips against her clit, rubbing it the same way you know you like. judging by the sharp intake of breath through her nose, it seems to be working for jackie too.

she’s the one to pick up the pace first, rubbing quicker circles. you can feel your thighs trembling already, struggling to support the weight of your body as you try to focus on touching jackie too. her wetness glides against your fingertips, practically dripping from her. occasionally, you dip lower, where her arousal pools, so you can gather it and bring it up to jackie’s stiff clit.

when she feels you there, she leans back, her pupils dilated as she looks at you in the dim light of the attic. her fingers press against your entrance. “can i?” she breathes, sounding surprisingly pleading for someone who’s just asking to touch rather than be touched. in response, you do the same for her: a singular finger toying at her throbbing hole.

when jackie pushes two of her own into you, you immediately follow suit, shuddering as she slides in with ease. your moans mingle together in the thick air, only half aware that, if any of the others come back inside now, they will definitely hear you through the floorboards.

“more,” you whine.

jackie pulls her fingers out slowly at your request, until only their tips are still inside, then pushes them back as far as they’ll go, tearing a soft cry from the back of your throat. “oh, jackie!”

her own walls throb around your still finger -which you have almost forgotten about until you feel her squeeze it. weakly, you curl it forward against jackie’s g-spot, trying to make up for your lack of movement. her eyes roll back in her head instantly.

"oh-“ she whines softly. “oh my god-“

you manage some gentle thrusts into her before you slide in a second one. jackie easily takes it.

regardless of your efforts, she doesn’t stop moving and her thrusts don’t falter. jackie, unlike you, keeps up with ease, her fingers reaching deeper than your own ever did. when she curls them in a come hither motion, you reach for her and jackie pulls you in closer, pressing her lips against yours to stifle your sounds.

it doesn’t take long at all until you feel a knot forming in your abdomen, tightening with every press and thrust.

when you part from her to catch her eyes, there's a string of spit connecting your mouths. the sight, the sensations, the knowledge that you’re hers in a way not even the wilderness can undo is all so much, and enough to have you on the edge of the first orgasm in months.

you know exactly what it’ll take for her to finally make you cum. and, even though her touch feels too good for you to string together coherent sentences, you manage a quiet: “jackie, god, i’m close!”

jackie, bless her, seems to understand: she finds your clit with her thumb while still pumping her other two fingers into you, and rubs it just like she did before, studying your face for a reaction.

"right there!“ your head lulls back, each breath coming high-pitched and every muscle tense. your hips rock against her hand and she starts circling your clit faster, adding just the right amount of pressure.

that, and her other hand sneaking up your body to roll your nipple between two of her fingers, is all it takes.

“jackie-“ you never get to finish what you were going to say. instead, you feel your orgasm washing over you in pulsing waves. a breathless moan dies in your throat when the world around you shifts out of focus and your thighs shake violently around her wrist.

just like that, you come, coating her fingers in your release as your legs give out beneath you. somewhere through the sensations, you hear jackie’s whine when your fingers slip from her, but you’re still too caught in the pleasure to really care.

finally, when it fades, you open your eyes to look up at her. jackie is panting and removes her hand from between your legs. she’s still kneeling over you but is quick to settle down in your lap now that you’re no longer holding your weight on your knees.

“here,” she pants, wrapping one arm around your shoulders as the other guides you back between her thighs. you know what to do without any more instructions: you give yourself to her, letting her use your fingers to get herself off too.

jackie slides down onto you, jaw going slack as you slip into her with ease. you hold her by the waist to support the gentle rocking motions that make the floorboards creak.

her nails dig into your skin, leaving half-moon shapes on your shoulder blades, and she cries out quietly. you watch the scene through heavy-lidded eyes while jackie rides your fingers, getting closer and closer to the sounds of skin slapping against skin. she picks up her pace until she’s practically bouncing on top of you, her chest heaving erratically.

jackie is beautiful, you knew this about her already, but -as you watch her cum- you doubt anything else could ever compare to this sight: she pulls you closer so that her mouth is right by your ear and her face is buried in the crook of your neck, repeating your name like a prayer, not stopping even as her body tenses.

her fingers clutch at you desperately, as if you're the only thing that's keeping her grounded, but she doesn't stop. doesn't let up until she's all spent and collapses into your arms. you hold jackie through it, pressing your lips to her temple, your hands steady where she needs them most.

it takes long until you’ve both fully recovered. neither of you recalls how you ended up lying in the messy sheets, with jackie’s head resting on your chest and your fingers combing through her hair. she has her arm draped over your waist, gently stroking across your side. you don’t speak.

eventually, she shifts, pressing her face further into your chest. “we should probably go back down,” jackie murmurs, though she makes no effort to move.

you hum. “do you want to?”

she’s quiet for a moment before shaking her head. “not yet,”

you smile, letting your hand settle on her back. “then we won’t,”

[creeksandsocks]

The door (drabble)

Eddie Munson x Reader, Established Relationship

Tags: Mature 18+, not proofread [550 words].

After the upside down… you and Eddie have to keep your bedroom door open if he'd like to stay in your room.

One month after the events of season 4, everyone's bustling around your house. It’s become the home base after everything. Once Eddie was stable enough to leave the hospital, you campaigned hard for him to sleep in your room. Wayne wasn’t against it, he trusted you two to be smart about his current condition and he knows his nephew, and knows you. You’re newly in love with kids with good heads on your shoulders, and didn't want to deprive his previously chronically single nephew of time with his new girl. 

Hopper, your own father figure, however, was very against it. He didn’t even want to accept that you’re dating Eddie. While Hopper does have a soft spot for Eddie, he didn’t yet trust him enough to be your boyfriend. But, you argued that your bed would be big enough for both of you instead of having his recovery stunted by tossing and turning all night on your lumpy couch, and the trek up the stairs could be good for him, exercise to aid his recovery.

Through your unlamenting campaigning and eddies pain-killer-high mumbles he gave in. But, that wouldn't prevent him from enforcing a strict ‘the door stays 5 inches open at all times' policy, you two were too happy to argue.

You and Eddie have spent the past few days in bliss, a stark contrast from hell being released outside the halls of your bedroom. You giggle yourselves to sleep every night like your at a sleepover and wake up snuggled in eachothers arms and body heat. After his near death, Eddie has a hard time being calm without you in his eyeline, his instinctual urges to ensure your safety cause him to essentially wrap his entire body around yours as you sleep.

Sometimes, when everyone else in the house is asleep, and it's just you two awake in bed you sneak your bedroom door shut and make up (more make out)  for all the lost time you two could have been kissing. He’s still weak, most of his abdominal wounds are still tightly bandaged so he’s can’t climb over you and cage your body in with his as he kisses you, depraved and spitty no matter how much hed like too. Though you've done it enough times that you can count it on one hand, you normally opt to hover over his body, or face each other on your sides, embracing each other and kissing like you’ll never get the chance to again. Things are staying pretty tame between you two no matter how much you'd like to grind your throbbing sexes until the pressure is relieved, he's more than happy to just kiss you, if all he could ever do was look at you he’d be happy.

One time, after you left each other spit covered and covered in hickeys you'd fallen asleep without reopening the door. As Wayne was the earliest riser out of everyone in the house, he was the first to know. Thankfully, he’s on your side so he gently knocks on the door just in case you two are currently up to… unsupervised activities… when he hears no response he gently pries the door open and sticks his head into your bedroom. He's met with a fathers pride when he finds you two wrapped in eachother's arms under the covers. He leaves the door open a crack before he heads downstairs.

[coffeeprincessstuff]

A casual date ft. Gojo Satoru

The first time Gojo Satoru walked into the café you work at, you didn’t think much of him.

Sure, he was tall. And ridiculously good-looking. And way too confident for someone ordering the sweetest, most sugar-loaded drink on the menu.

But beyond that? He was just another customer.

Then he kept coming back.

Every few days, like clockwork, he strolled in—always in dark sunglasses, always with that smug grin, always ordering something absurdly sweet. At first, you thought he just really liked the drinks. But then you started noticing things.

Like how he always showed up when your shift started.

Or how he lingered at the counter, trying to make conversation with you when the café was empty.

Or how he never seemed in a rush to leave, even when he had his order in hand.

“You know, for someone who supposedly has the most important “secret” job ever, you have way too much free time,” you remarked one evening, sliding his usual drink across the counter.

Gojo grinned, tapping the side of his cup. “You don’t know that. Maybe I’m incredibly busy, but I make time for the things that matter.”

“Right, and that ‘thing’ just happens to be overpriced matcha lattes full of whipped cream?”

“Exactly,” he said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hold back a small smile.

Gojo watched you for a beat, then suddenly said, “Hey, you free tonight?”

You paused and turned back to him, narrowing your eyes at him. “Why?”

“Wow, so suspicious! If you’re free, lets go out.” he said.

Your brows furrowed in confusion and said, “Wait. Are you asking me on a date?”

Gojo smirked, not even missing a beat. “I mean, can’t I ask my favorite barista out on a date?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m your only barista here. You literally ignore everyone else who tries to take your order.”

“That’s because they don’t make my drinks with the same love,” he said, smirking.

You gave him a flat look. “Love? Babe, I don’t even know you that well.”

“Tragic. But I can change that. One date. Just humor me.”

You sighed, staring at him for a long moment. “Fine. But only because I’m tired of you hitting on me at my work.”

Gojo beamed, grabbing his drink. “Oh, this is gonna be so fun. I know just the place. Meet me after your shift.”

—————————————————————————

You should’ve known Gojo’s idea of “just the place” wouldn’t be a normal restaurant.

Instead, he took you to a quiet little food stall in an alleyway—a small, cozy spot lit by dim lanterns, with rickety stools and the scent of freshly grilled food filling the air.

Honestly? You kind of loved it.

“Didn’t expect this, huh?” Gojo grinned as he plopped down across from you.

“Not at all. I thought you’d drag me somewhere flashy.”

“Please. That’d be too predictable,” he said, leaning back. “Besides, Yakitori here’s amazing.”

And he wasn’t wrong.

The two of you ordered a ridiculous amount of food, and Gojo—unsurprisingly—had zero shame about eating half of it in record time.

“You eat like you’re in a competition,” you remarked, watching as he popped another skewer into his mouth.

He grinned. “What! can’t handle a guy with a big appetite?”

You smirked. “I can handle a lot of things.”

Gojo paused, then let out a low whistle. “Oh? Now that’s interesting.”

You rolled your eyes. “You know, I don’t think you actually care about dating.”

Gojo blinked, then tilted his head, amusement flickering in his expression. “What makes you say that?”

“You’re good at this. Too good. But I don’t think you’re actually trying.”

For a second—just a second—the teasing glint in his eyes dimmed.

Then, he laughed, shaking his head. “Ouch. And here I thought I was being charming.”

“You are charming,” you admitted, meeting his gaze. “But I don’t think you let people get too close to you.”

Gojo exhaled dramatically, resting his chin on one hand. “And here I thought this was a date, not a therapy session.”

You didn’t say anything. Just waited. And maybe that was what caught him off guard.

Because for the first time all night, his smile wasn’t cocky. It wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t the usual performance he put on for the world.

It was just there. Small, thoughtful. And real.

“You might be more fun than I expected,” he said, eyes glinting with something unreadable.

You chuckled and said, “I’m a complete package if you just removed your sunglasses and looked a little bit closer.”

Gojo smirked and said, “Careful, or I might actually start liking you.”

You smirked. “You say that like you haven’t already.”

Gojo chuckled, “Damn. You are good.”

And for the first time in a while you felt like it has been a nice date night.

[sillygoofyqueer]

So, originally Crowyuan occured when Bingge was already Demon Emperor, then came the idea of him becoming known as the Corvid King while Binghe was still a little disciple. What if he transmigrates and becomes known as the Corvid King before Binghe is even born? What if he finds this poor abused slave boy and decides This Is Mine Now before realising Oops! He's taken the scum villain under his wing, metaphorically and possibly physically too. Too bad, that's his son/little brother now. Oh but what if he transmigrates a little earlier and it goes the same except it's with both Shen Jiu AND Yue Qi? Or with all the other slave children too because he feels bad just saving two, even if those two are the only ones relevant to the original plot?

Wow....the Original™ Crowyuan timeline........back in the good old days where I didn't have so many different AUs to think about.....(/silly I love them all) ANYWAY. Corvid King crowyuan would definitely stumble across the street kids - he gains B-points n shit through answering prayers and gaining followers, so of course he's going to listen to the prayers of some poor little street children with nowhere else to go. It's not like he doesn't have the means to look after them, whether that be giving them to couples who badly want a child but can't have one for whatever reason, or placing them into orphanages that he funds himself (note: they don't know that he's funding it, they just believe there's a generous rich person donating whenever they need the money). However, when he's dealing with this new band of street kids, there is one child who just....does not want to let go of him. He scorns Crowyuan's existence when the deity first finds them in the alleys, offering gentle words of reassurance despite the late hour and leading the children along (yes, "Come Little Children" style, what kind of animal do you take me for?). Unlike the other naïve idiots, Shen Jiu and Yue Qi have seen this played out before. A stranger comes in the night, promising food and a home and love, and those who follow are found not long after. Dead. Crowyuan watches on in...a mixture of respect and worry as one of the children tries to explain the danger of following strangers in the night to the others, and another stands back and watches it happen, scorn clear upon his face. These children should not know the harsh dangers of life, not so young, but it is good that at least two of them are smart enough to not trust strangers, even if that isn't necessary in this instance. So, he offers proof of who he is. He sits down and tells them who he is, and he makes them pray, so he can listen to what they want. The snappy, unimpressed child doesn't, he just glares and scoffs when his friend drops his head down, but then shifts as if to protect him if necessary. When he respond's to this friend's prayer aloud - "Xiao-Jiu would be happy and safe in a bed, I think" - everyone seems to startle. (Of course, he has to repeat this exercise many times until this snappish child, this 'Xiao-Jiu', finally relents). He finally is able to lead these children to a nearby orphanage, ran by people who could do so much good with just the right amount of gold, and he drops them off there along with a pouch filled with gold. However, when he turns to leave, Xiao-Jiu clings to him. He stares up at him with a sort of fury in his eyes, demanding to know who he thinks he is, ditching them after dumping them off with these random people. A street child who speaks to a god, whose fear of being left by his saviour outweighs his fear of the power this creature wields, and does not hesitate to cling to this deity's robes with his dirty hands.

[red-garden]

Imagine a Peak Lord sleep over. They all get stuck in a room for 24 hours on their way to some Huan Hua Palace party and end up getting trapped instead.

For the entire time Shen Jiu is just feeling completely unsafe

YQY is happy he gets to spend a night with his Xiao Jiu

SQH is panicking because he was supposed to gather Intel at the party in Huan Hua.

Everyone else would probably be fine since they'd probably enjoy camping.

Like Liu Qingge would be assigned to hunt down food for the peak lords

The others would start cooking and seasoning the meet with local herbs. (And for someone like SJ whose meals come from MF it's really good food)

But I want to specifically focus on the angst part of SJ feeling unsafe especially when he has to go to sleep the following night because the majority of the people surrounding him are men.

So nervously in the middle of the night without realizing it he cuddles up to YQY for safety because it's muscle memory

Setup: endangered beasts is migrating on the path they need to take. They can’t disturb the beasts, so they’re just stuck in the middle of nowhere, during a storm.

This was not supposed to be a long trek- 3 days at most, which any cultivator at their level could handle without stopping. They didn’t bring tents or any other supplies for the road. Shen Jiu was completely miserable. He was wet, he was cold, he was hungry, and he was surrounded by his least favorite people on earth; his male coworkers.

Wei Qingwei and Mu Qingfang set about constructing shelter. The lord of Wan Jian was familiar with weaving from leather work and was able to pull together a water tight roof over a moderately sized wigwam of broken branches and vines. The size was not ideal. It was too short, too stuffy, and too small for a party of 7.

The Bai Zhan brute came back with edible berries and fruits- edible being the operative word. They were small, bitter, and full of stones. Shen Jiu wanted to vomit. The berries weren’t helping his nausea at sharing such a small space with so many men. Qi Qingqi wouldn’t help, there wasn’t a safe, gentle bone in her body.

Wei Qingwei, Mu Qingfang, and Qi Qingqi had fallen asleep in a rough pile, seemingly no care for propriety. Shang Qinghua, the rodent, was still fidgeting with nervous energy. He wouldn’t stop moving, didn’t get tired. Why did he have to stay awake? Why did he have to be aware?

The brute had posted himself outside the door. Apparently the elements didn’t bother him. He said it was to guard, but all Shen Jiu could think was that he was blocked in. He couldn’t get out of this too small place.

Yue Qi was meditating. Of course he was, too good to sleep and leave himself vulnerable in the presence of a snake like Shen Jiu. He was furthest from the sleepers and the rat, and Shen Jiu found himself edging closer and closer to him.

He jumped when a large, warm hand touched his shoulder. He pivoted, smacking Yue Qi away, glaring. Yue Qi gave him an apologetic look, unwilling to disturb the others’ sleep.

Yue Qi lifted the arm at his side, beckoning. Shen Jiu rolled his eyes. They weren’t children.

Yue Qi arched a brow. Shen Jiu…. Alright, maybe he was shivering. A lot. He didn’t like the cold, and he hated being wet even more. Even when they were young Yue Qi had run impossibly hot, his own personal furnace in the winter. Suddenly the spot under his arm was looking much more attractive.

Shen Jiu shot him another look. This doesn’t mean anything. Nevertheless, he scooted forward. Carefully leaving a centimeter of space between their bodies, he could still feel heat radiating. The smile Yue Qi gave him was something an overeager dog might when it was trying so hard not to jump.

He was too cold and too tired to meditate. In the morning, he was still under that arm. During the night he had slouched against Yue Qi’s body, held in place by unmoving posture and a plush bicep propping him up. Yue Qi still ran warm, like a guard dog, like a hearth, like a bed covered in quilts and furs in a house no one knew about. And If Shen Jiu pretended to sleep for a little longer, no one needed to know.

[lieslab]

Enjoy the ride and let loose

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Vampire Chan X gn reader

Summary: A lonely vampire has been searching high and low for a new pet.

Genre: Alternate reality

Word Count: 2.1K

Trigger warning: Graphic details of blood, broken bones, brief mentions of a bar, drugs, alcohol, urine, vomit, blood, more blood, mainly blood.

A/N: Someone asked for a Chan request based off the Railway music video. So um... you know what? I have nothing to say for this. This was a written sin. My heart is fluttering and I don't even swing that way. I need to go to bed. Tomorrow, we can all touch grass together

_ _ _

Empty promises and eternal salvation from a man cannot save you. The last moments of your life speckled few and far between. Grimy memories faded between who you were and who you’ve become. The dim alleyway sparse with orange light, it wasn’t the best way to get home. 

Another night working your ass off at the bar. Overtime meant more money. Customers blended together. Drinks poured. Shot glasses chimed. Rims lined with lime and salt. Beers overflowing with foam. Spirits that quite literally possessed and inebriated everyone that consumed them. 

Not the best life, but the pay was too great to give up. So you went home when the blanket of night covered the sky. You poured, sloshed, wiped, scooped, and slipped your nights away as the keeper of spirits. Keeping tabs, shutting them, and opening another. You didn’t know what downtime was, but you knew about exhaustion. 

Four twelve hour days were kicking your ass. Days blended together. You barely remembered anything. Taking the alleyway home, collapsing on the worn floral couch, waking up soaked in the scent of someone else’s alcohol. 

The dingy bar, tough crowd, scent of tobacco and skunk. When white lines appeared, when the needles came out, you kept your head low. Just as your boss instructed you to. The less you saw, the better. 

Morally, your skin soaked with sin, but what else could you do? Life didn’t throw you the greatest hand of cards. You did what you could to get by. If that meant working your ass off, nearly collapsing in the middle of that alley on the way home, so be it. 

You picked yourself up by the bootstraps because nobody else was beside you. One more day. One more conversation from intoxicated customers. One more day of dodging empty beer bottles, dealing with screams from angry customers you cut off, and the pesky reminder from your boss. Keep your head down, stay quiet, if the cops show up, you’re just the bartender. Nothing ever happens there. 

The needles poking out the women’s bathroom trash said different. Puddles of half-digested fried greasy food littered the floor, only twice, on a good day. The men’s bathroom? You begged your boss to close it. No matter how good the drunken aim, urine missed the urinal and soaked the speckled underbelly of the flushable device. 

No matter how strong the disinfectant cleaner, the gloves provided little relief from the disgusting feeling of urine soaking your hands. It dripped off the gloves. Murky ammonia scented puddles haunted your dreams. If you weren’t consumed by the scent of booze, it was the ammonia and sweat. It never got old. 

Day five happened to be the day you met the devil. Half-asleep and stumbling in the alleyway, you narrowly dodged the dumpster behind a factory. Late at night, all the workers left hours ago. In a sleepy haze, the world spiraled out of control. 

You tipped left and over-corrected right. Your legs stumbled, your head jerked back, and a soft groan of annoyance filled the air. “Why does my goddamn house have to be so far away?” 

“It doesn’t have to be.” 

There was no time to spin around. Your eyes opened wider, just in time to find the silhouette of a hand shooting out to grab the bottom of your chin. Your eyes widened, your hand jerked upright to stop them, they grabbed your shoulder and then- 

Blinding pain. 

A sickening crunch. 

The morbid realization that your own neck could snap so easily. 

Your legs collapsed. 

An unknown laughter echoed in your ears. 

The night swallowed you whole and sucked you into its vortex. 

You didn’t make it to the sixth night of your shift alive. 

_ _ _ 

When you woke up, you were sure you were dead. An icy numbness harnessed your bones. It curdled your marrow, tucked away everything, and it stole your breath. The usual comforting stum of your heartbeat against your own chest disappeared. 

You scrambled to your feet, pushing out your hands to investigate your surroundings. Way up above, high window panels let in pale lighting, but other than that, darkness settled. It barely illuminated what you could make out to be some sort of cell. Iron bars, a heavy duty padlock wrapped around the door, and more darkness. 

Beneath your feet, a soft squishy material. Perhaps, a rubber mat? You brushed your shoe against it, trying to understand. Your sneaker scraped and then fell silent. You grabbed the bars and shook them, to no avail. 

“Easy there. You can’t get out of there if you try. Iron bars reinforced with iron, iron, and more iron.” A snicker laced an unknown’s voice. “Besides, you’re starving, aren’t you?” 

Step. Step. Step. Step. 

Chains rattled against one another. You searched around the area, not daring to push yourself too far against the bars, for fear of the unknown outside. A large white metal frame rusted away, coated with a thin layer of dust, it stretched in two different directions. Heavy footsteps wandered closer and closer until- 

Thunk. 

You didn’t recognize the man standing before you. You tried to comprehend everything about him all at once. The way his dark hair parted and framed his face. The single white eye and the other nearly dark as the night you fell victim to.

A large black leather bag dressed in small silver chains and a pair of handcuffs. He scrunched his shoulders up, relaxed, sucked in a deep breath, and smiled. “You must be starving, hm?” 

“Who are you?” 

“Who am I?” His lips tugged into a smirk. “Who am I? Who am I?” He chuckled, glanced over his shoulder, and grinned. “They want to know who I am. Should I tell them?” 

You took another step to the weathered bars. Across the way, similar cells sat, but they were a little different. The iron bars across your cell tucked you inside. On the opposite side of the hall, half-wooden stall bottoms were lined with thinner bars. 

Something shrieked and a pale hand jutted out. First one, then another, and then another. More and more lunged from the depths of darkness. Corpse-like fingers wiggled and grabbed air. Detailed veins coated the outside of their hands. Something groaned. Another soft shriek caused the man’s mood to sour. “Shut it! I didn’t ask if you were hungry!” 

“How many people are you keeping here?” 

He paused at your question and began to crane his head back towards you. “People?” You nodded, which led to another amused grin on his end. “Tell me, do you think your heart still beats with life?” 

“It has to be.” 

“And if it wasn’t?” 

Your head shook. Confused by the question and annoyed that you couldn’t get a proper response, you changed the question. “What’s your name?” 

“You can call me Christopher. As for you, my new little pet, I bet you’re starving. The new ones are always starving. Not many make it to this point. You’ve already beaten roughly ninety percent of those who have come before you.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

He didn’t respond. Instead, he squatted, ripped open the zipper, and pulled out a dark pouch. With ease, he pushed it between two bars and tossed it towards you. It landed with a soft plot at your feet. 

Nausea filled your body at the sight. You could only describe it as a pouch full of blood. His eyes didn’t leave your body. Like a predator watching a prey, he observed your every move. “Better drink up while it’s still warm.” 

“Is this a sick joke?” You whispered. Confusion filled your eyes. You glanced at him, but from the look he carried, something in you knew this was something much darker than the anger of a drunk customer. 

“Drink up.” 

Behind him, another screech. He scowled, spun around, and grabbed the closest outstretched arm. Olive skin smeared with purple bruises in the faint sunlight. He snagged their wrist and began to squeeze it. 

“How many times do I have to mend your behavior? A new pet means being on your best behavior. You know what happens to those who don’t listen to me?” 

The hands began to retreat back into the darkness. When the only hand left was the one he held, his eyebrow furrowed. “Do not. Test me. Again.” He jerked the arm up and swung the wrist in a circle. 

Another sickening crunch caused you to gag. A faceless entity shrieked and jerked its hand free. The man glared for a few moments until he sighed and spun around. Another smirk appeared on his face as he sauntered back to your cell. 

“Where were we? Ah, yes. The blood. Drink up, you’re dehydrated.” 

“What’s wrong with you? Where am I? Please,” you uttered desperately, “I just want to go home.” 

“Home? In this state?” He laughed and shook his head. “This is your home for now. Monsters get lonely, you know? Every monster deserves a pet.” 

“Please,” you whispered desperately. You stepped closer and grabbed the bars. Not caring about the filth, you pressed your face against them. “I have a job and a life. That’s all I want. I won’t tell anyone.” 

“You won’t tell anyone I kidnapped you?” He whispered, thoughtfully. 

“Never.” 

Heterochromia eyes stared at yours. His face softened for a moment and he leaned closer. The scent of metallic blood hit your nose, but it didn’t stop you from trying to sway the stranger. 

“Promise?” He asked. 

He stopped your nod by grabbing your chin. “Interesting.” You stayed still, allowing him to run a thumb across your bottom lip. Nerves bombed your stomach and then dived back up like military helicopters. 

You didn’t pull away and you didn’t breathe. The soft pad of his thumb traced your lips again. “You know, I’ve always dreamed of someone like this. To have something, a pet, to share companionship.” 

You kept quiet, hoping it’d work out in your favor. Too busy studying his eyes and focusing on his face, you didn’t catch his second hand drifting towards the leather pouch. His sharp nail punctured another warm pouch. 

“Even monsters can get lonely.” 

For whatever reason, you clung to every word; a pastor preaching a convicting sermon, a sinner and a saint, a monster and a pet. Something pulled you to him, but you couldn’t explain it. Otherworldly and unnatural, it oddly felt comforting. 

“Open.” His thumb tapped your bottom lip. Your lips parted and his eyes lit up. “So obedient, just the way I like them. Stay like that for me.” His thumb went up and began to brush along the side of your cheek. “There you go. I won’t hurt you.” 

Before you could understand it, plastic filled your mouth. His other hand wrapped around your chin. You tried to jerk away, but you couldn’t. In an iron grip, he squeezed the bag of blood. The metallic taste filled your mouth and your face scrunched. 

“Shh. Just swallow. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt you. I know it’s weird at first, but trust me. This is for your own good. Come on, swallow for me. Come on, sweetheart.” An index finger slipped down your throat, trying to coax you into submission. 

You hesitated, but followed his instructions. “Ah, there you go. Not too bad, hmm?” 

When your eyes pulled away to look over his shoulder, he gently squeezed your chin again. Your eyes met his and your legs felt weak. “Don’t look at them. Look at me.” 

He squeezed the plastic bag more. Sticky liquid pulsed into your parted lips. Too much, some dripped down the corner of your mouth. It fell down your cheek, slid beneath your chin, and drifted towards your shirt. 

“Such a messy little pet. How cute.” His thumb stretched out before you could stop him. He caught the end of the trail, hooked his thumb between his lips, and sucked.

You should have stepped back. He let go of your chin. You should have pulled away, but instead, you didn’t move. You watched in awe. Those feelings of fear drifted away. You swallowed without being instructed. 

The fresh blood rushed through your brain and awakened something in your soul. Something ignited and that sleepy haze disappeared. The man’s dimpled smile stretched once more.  “I think we’re going to do great things together, little pet.” 

Staring back at him, you couldn’t respond. Caught in his trance, the moans of pain and shrieks of horror from the unknown bodies behind him, none of it mattered. It didn’t matter that you were sipping someone’s blood. 

You died in that alleyway, but in the middle of this abandoned prison, something deadly; and far more intoxicating than alcohol, bloomed in your bones.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @danihwang882 @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

[yourabsolutemother]

At sundown Chapter 3

!!MDNI!!

Previous Chapter Here

Poly!141 x reader (omegaverse)

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A/N: I know this took so long guys, I'm sorry lol. I busted out the rest of chapter two in one night, it was kinda crazy. It was also way longer than I had originally planned, but who's complaining? Let me know if Johnny’s accent is too hard to read, sometimes this translator does some crazy things. This one’s kinda all over the place but it’s kinda for a reason. Last thing! Let me know if you like the beginning of this, I kinda really hate it but I didn’t know what else to do

CW: Military inaccuracy, accent inaccuracy, possible lore inaccuracy, kitchen working inaccuracy, typical a/b/o sexism and classism, cursing, slightly suggestive, reader is referred to as they/them but is afab, but reader is referred to as a woman sometimes (I try my best to make it gender neutral but I’m not the brightest), everyone is kinda being unfaithful, cursing, Simon is mean ya know, slight stalking, a man being a creep, yelling/arguing, reader kinda has a panic attack, yelling

Chapter overview: Soap does some questionable things at the grocery store. Ghost and Price are grumpy

WC: 11.3k

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Another new day in this hellhole you call a job. They have you running around like you’re the only one who knows what's going on. Sometimes you feel like you are the only one who knows what they’re doing, only to have some random person that’s never bothered to introduce themselves to you mansplain how to use a garbage can. Your boss even went as far as to make you drive an hour out of town to buy bulk ingredients, stating they needed too many things to be open. Of course you were the one they sent, instead of the person who’s literal job description is just that. And of course when you got back, it was your fault that the restaurant didn’t have enough servers. ‘Shouldn’t have taken so long’ was their excuse when you pointed out it was in fact their fault, not yours. You can wrap your brain around how people can be so ignorant and selfish. It feels like there are way more bad people in the world than there are good. It makes you wonder how much more the world could take.

By the end of the day, you’ve been cursed out by three tables, crayons thrown into your lower cut shirt by gross 11 year old boys whose moms have never taught them anything valuable a day in their life, belittled and more. You have serviced enough tables to make at least $300, but you’ve only made $150. Nobody is on your side today, the universe isn’t on your side today. But when is it ever? You’ve disappeared into the freezer to cry your eyes out too many times today to count. You know your manager will go through the cameras at the end of the day, which he does just to point things out about you, and you are going to get a call when you get home. Which you have told them repeatedly not to do, you don’t want to be bothered by work when you aren’t even there. Of course, they ignore this and constantly call and text you. One time, they threatened to fire you if you didn’t answer their calls, after one night when they couldn't find something and they deemed you the only person who knew where it was. You didn’t even know where it was.

Right now, you are putting the ticket in for your last table when a new coworker of yours comes over and leans against the beam that is near the computer. “Saw you running around like crazy today.” Is all that he says, his arms crossed over his chest as his eyes scan your body up and down, finally landing on your face. His eyes had lingered at your tits for a bit longer than you’d like and you remind yourself to never wear a shirt like this to work again. His British voice echos in your head like it is empty, your brain trying to find the right words to say. What would agitate him the least. He is met with your downturned eyes as you turn your head towards him. The scent of an alpha hits you immediately and you’re left frozen for a moment. You can’t just ignore an alpha.

Your hands start to shake as you pull the customer receipt out of the printer, grabbing a checkbook from the box right next to you. You let out an awkward laugh as you nod your head, sliding the receipt into the pocket on the inside. “Yeah, Jared needed some things done ASAP and I was the only one available.” You explain, looking at the small passage between this random coworker and where you need to go. “My name is Tyler by the woy.” He says, his tone sounding rather thirsty. You aren’t stupid, you know what he wants from you and you want nothing to do with it. Especially from an alpha.

You stiffly nod and start to move towards the small gap next to him, watching as he unfolds his arms. Your heart clenches in your chest as he reaches for you and firmly grips your shoulders, it's obvious he didn’t mean to grab you so hard from the way he loosens his grip and kinda pats where he grabbed. “You can’t just walk away without telling me your name.” He points out, trying to hide his aggression under a facade of a ‘nice guy’. You can see through his fake smile, through the facade he puts on. You know his ploy all too well and you aren’t about to fall for it. Be nice to the girl, make her fall for them, then reveal what a heart crushing, soul changing piece of shit they are. Not on your watch, at least as much as you could help it.

Despite how confident you are in your own head, on the outside you look like a mess. You are hunched over with your checkbook in hand, trying hard not to look at the alpha who is way too close for comfort. “Come on, Hun. Such a pretty little omega like ye must have a beautiful name.” He presses further, ignoring the quiet whimper that manages to escape your mouth. He can feel the fear radiating off of you and it intrigues him, his pupils dilate with interest.

“Omega!” Jared shouts from his office at the very back of the kitchen, right next to the back door. He loves to slip in and out of the building without telling anybody what's going on. It doesn’t matter too much when he’s coming in without notice, all we can do is accept the rest of the shift is going to be shit and get on with our lives. But when he leaves without telling anyone that he’s leaving, it can majorly fuck the place up and it has multiple times in the past. On one occasion, he knew someone from corporate was coming in to pose as a customer, but assumed at six o’clock that he ‘wasn't going to show up’. He left and the guy he was supposed to be waiting on showed up in the last hour our dinner courses were served in. We went to go find him only to find out that he wasn’t even there anymore. Corporate was pissed and took points off of whatever tracking list they have for their franchisee owners. It doesn’t stop him from continuing to do it.

You have never felt more relieved to hear Jared’s voice in your life. Your head perks up, looking over the shoulder of your new coworker in the direction of Jared's office. You nervously glance between there and the alpha that is looking at you expectantly while stammering. “I gotta go.” Quickly squeezing between him and the wall to get to Jared, checkbooks still in hand. You can feel the kitchen workers and Tyler's eyes on you as you scurry hurriedly to the back of the restaurant. “Yes, sir! I’m coming.” You can feel the anger coming from behind you, coming from the alpha that you’ve caught the attention of unknowingly.

Jared’s office is tiny, not meant for someone to be in there for very long enough. It looks like a big closet with a desk to the right of the door, three filing cabinets completely lining the back wall. Outside of the office, if you’re standing facing the office, the door to the back of the restaurant is to the left. Jared is a very large, very intimidating alpha. He is the only one that you ever really talk to, since you have to. You kinda just switch off your brain when you are talking to him, retreating into your mind to a time when you were forced to be around them for hours on end.

“Now tell me why in the hell you are spending all this time in the kitchen fucking checking out tickets, lollygagging around while these people are waiting!?” Jared’s loud and booming voice invades your ears and makes you wince, your head immediately lowering in a sign of submission. The feeling of relief you felt only moments ago from being pulled away from Tyler was quickly sucked from your body. “What- no of course not, sir.” You stammer out. It’s like a flip gets switched when you’re in arguments, you can’t seem to formulate the correct words to help your case. It is very rare that you are able to get them to start to believe you, but you also fold when they start to interrogate you. It just makes you so nervous that you can’t think straight and your brain gets all scrambled.

“Then why have you been back here for three minutes doing one thing!? Huh!?” He screams at you as you start to take sharp intakes of air. You are trying not to burst out into tears as he stands up and steps towards the edge of his desk. You are used to crying in front of him, embarrassingly so. Everyone here tends to make jokes about it ‘behind your back’ while literally right behind your back. “It’s a privilege for you to work here.” He reminds you, stalking toward you. Your brain goes empty and all you can think about is keeping yourself safe from the angry looking alpha that is coming right towards you. “Look around!” He barks, speaking rhetorically. “There isn' a single omega tha' works for me, you are the only one. You are so easily replaceable I won' even thinky twice abou' i'.” He growls as he towers over your shaking form.

You are holding the checkbook close to your chest, the checkbook you have yet to bring to the customer, looking up at as tears start to roll down your cheeks You are terrified that he is going to lunge at you and hurt you, but you know that you’re hopefully somewhat safe since there is a camera pointing right at the doorway you’re standing in. All you can do is nod, your wide eyes staring up at Jared as he continues to belittle you. Talking about how quickly he could fire you and all the things you have already done that he almost fired you for. He doesn’t hold back on his insults either, he cuts deep and on purpose too. He never once acknowledges the fact that you did things that aren’t on your job description for free today and on most days, but you aren’t about to bring that up to an alpha that is screaming in your face.

“now qui' your fuckin’ crying and ge' back ou' there!” He shouts, pointing over your shoulder towards the dining room. “And if i ge' a single complain' tha' you are crying, you’re fired!” He shouts again as you turn and scurry away from his office. You struggle to keep your emotions in check as you wipe your face of tears and prepare yourself for the trip to your table. You speed walk to the doors of the kitchen, with your head low so the kitchen staff can’t see the tears that they know are running down your cheeks. You take a deep breath once you are there and push through the door, your face immediately brightening up.

You spend the next three hours doing the most random tasks that you could ever think of, at Jared’s request of course. He didn’t stop the hosts from sitting people in your section while you are doing these things, in fact it feels like he told them to give you more. When you look around you can see that there are empty tables in other sections for way longer than they should be open. While in your section, a table would leave and it was like the busboy was waiting for them to leave, then a host would fill the table not even a minute later. You are in a constant battle between greeting customers and giving their checks, making your brain scramble from the switching. On top of that you have the weird ass requests that Jared is assigning you one after another.

Instead of hanging out in the kitchen like you normally would have when you have some downtime, you go to your jacket and get the emergency stash of cigarettes that you save specially for days like this one. Where you can’t see an end to your suffering. You grab your lighter as well and make your way to the back door, hoping Jared isn’t in his office so that he wouldn’t see you. It’s not like he is going to stop you from going on a smoke break. You hope. Thankfully you are able to get past the office and out the backdoor without any commotion from Jared, the cold air biting at your cheeks. It is cold outside, but you don't want to bother putting on a jacket when you are only going to be out here for a few moments. Hopefully the cold air will refresh your brain and the rest of your shift won't be as miserable. Unlikely. You put the cigarette in your mouth and hold the lighter up to the stick, watching and inhaling as the paper starts to burn. You’re able to put the lighter back in your pocket and take a drag before you hear the door open and a voice speak to you.

“Pretty omega like you shouldn’t be smoking, gonna ruin your pretty body.” The creep Tyler speaks out, his breath fogging in the air. You stop yourself from scoffing and just shrug, not even bothering to look at him. Your brain is far too overworked to even pretend to like someone right now. Shock fills your body when you feel Tylers fingers grasp the cigarette and take it from between your lips. You slowly turn your head to look at him, your hand still up like you are holding the cigarette and your eyes filled with a fiery anger. Tyler doesn’t seem to notice the anger, or maybe doesn’t care, he just smirks at you. Your eyes follow the cigarette as he drops it to the ground and snuffs it with his foot. “Just lookin’ out for you, hun. I’m sure you understand, it's my place as an alpha. Just like it's your place as an omega to obey and do as you're told.” He mansplains away while you play with the lighter in your pocket, wishing you could do something to him. He continues to talk to you, but you aren’t listening. You’re looking at his face, almost through your eyelashes, with the most uninterested look on your face.

“Look, babe.” The nickname slipped off his lips like nails on a chalkboard, making you want to immediately want to sock him in the face. “I know that you are mad at me for putting out your cig, but you gotta understand-” You cut him off with a hand to the face as he tries to reach for a piece of your hair. “I completely understand, there is no reason to speak to me like I am a child. Thank you very much.” You tell him, walking in front of him to go back inside when he grabs your wrist. “I don’t think that’s any way that you should be talking to an alpha, Hun.” He says through clenched teeth, trying to keep a charming smile on his face so that you don’t see him for who he actually is. “I mean, some of these alphas will seriously reprimand you for something like tha’.” He tells you as his grip slightly loosens up when he realizes how aggressive the grab may have seemed. He has to make sure he holds up this fake personality so he can lure you in, he doesn’t know you know. You can tell that when he says ‘some alphas’ he really means himself.

You don’t know what comes through you, the way that he has treated you, the first time ever meeting this man, and he has the audacity to act this way. It has you seeing red. You rip your arm out of his grip and walk away back inside. You’d rather not have a smoke break then be around this douche. “I have a pack.” You lie over your shoulder, glaring at him as the door opens and you step inside. The anger is deep in your chest, threatening to bubble out like it is a volcano waiting to erupt. You have to take deep breaths so that you don’t flip out.

As soon as the door closes behind you, the confidence stays outside apparently, because you can feel your chest tightening. You cover your mouth with a shaky hand and hold the spot he grabbed with your other. It was the first time in a long time that an alpha put their hands on you. You felt the aggression in his grab and then the way that his fingers loosened once he realized he was going to give himself away. Your moment is cut short by a noise coming from Jared’s office and not wanting anymore trouble with any alpha’s today, you are quick to scurry to the handwashing sinks. You wash your hands and make your way to your purse so you can spray yourself with perfume. You don’t want to go back to the dining room smelling like smoke. Luckily the spot they make you put your stuff is far enough away from the kitchen that you don’t have to worry about contamination. They probably planned it that way.

You take a moment to breathe before you are forced back into the muskiness of the restaurant. Even when alpha’s wore scent blockers, there was still this mucky scent. You find it repulsive and have to hold back your gags sometimes with how bad it is. You force a fake smile on your face and exit the kitchen, walking around your large section to see if anyone needs anything, to catch up on the lost time during your smoke break.

While you’re at one of the tables, a pack omega looks at your arm and nudges her beta, whispering something into their ear while motioning to your arm. You don’t notice the way the beta’s eyes become worried upon seeing the light redness that is forming on your arm from where Tyler grabbed you. “Hey, darling.” The beta greets you, cutting you off from a conversation with their alpha. Your eyes go to the beta’s, filling with dread as someone cuts off an alpha. “You’re not being..hurt at home, right?” They ask, their fingers brushing over the newly formed patch on your arm that is obviously someone else's doing. You are a little confused why they are so concerned over such a small injury, if you can even call it that, but grateful they were looking out for people. Your eyes go back to the alpha and he’s looking at you like he is waiting for an answer as well, not even bringing up the fact that his beta just interrupted us. It only serves to confuse you more.

The alpha raises his eyebrows as if to say ‘spit it out’, but for once from an alpha, it doesn’t feel mean. The worried look he tries to bury in his eyes is obvious to you, you aren’t used to it from people like him. You stutter for a moment before you take a deep breath and sigh, trying to collect your thoughts. “I ran into one of the shelves in the kitchen and I bruise easily, is all..”  You tell them nervously, not liking the feeling of all three of their eyes on you. It feels like they can see right through your lie. Your eyes cast down, but you can tell they are scanning your face to try and find any reason to not believe you. They stare at you for what felt like two minutes, it is closer to 10 seconds in reality, before the beta sucks on their teeth. “I believe them.” They tell their alpha, sitting back in their seat and taking a sip of their to-go cup you just gave them.

You feel like your face is lighter, like 10,000 pounds had been lifted from your chest as the alpha nods in agreement with his beta. “Okay, we believe you..” He says skeptically, his eyes squinting at you to try and get you to break. But you stay strong and smile warily at him, feeling uncomfortable under an alphas gaze. Your eyes widen when the alpha grunts and rubs his shin, his gaze shooting towards his omega across from him. “'eave her alone , you're scarin' the poor thin’.” Her Geordie accent slipping off her tongue like butter. You can hardly understand her, but her pack seems to have no trouble. The alpha almost pouts and huffs at her. “Just making sure they’re alright.” He grumbles, you can tell he kicks her under the table but much softer.

The beta rolls their eyes at their pack's antics and pulls their card out of their wallet, handing it to you in between two fingers. “Don’t be scared of Jessy.” The beta tells you kindly, their smile radiating as you take their card. “He’s a big teddy bear.” They continue, their eyes going to their alpha who is still ‘arguing’ with the pack omega in a hushed tone. You take that as your cue to leave and weave your way back through the crowd to the kitchen. You pray that Tyler isn’t in there, waiting for you like a creep

Once back in the kitchen, you are lucky to see that Tyler isn’t currently in there. You glance around a few times, as if trying to scope him out like he is hiding somewhere. You aren’t going to take any chances with a guy like him, he gives you the weirdest vibes on top of just being a garbage person. You don’t waste anymore time and check the table out, you feel like you’re moving faster than you ever have before when checking out a table. The idea that Tyler can come in here at any moment and try something with you again, and no one would care or stop him, is plaguing your mind. You can’t stop thinking about all the different ways that things can go wrong with a guy like him. He can end up doing horrible things to you and there is nothing you can do to stop him.

You scramble out of the kitchen as soon as you are done, booking it to the table, whose card and check you have. You have to angle your body to the side to fit through a few gaps between people, holding the checkbook close to your chest so no one can try to take it from you. Which has happened in the past, their whole meal came out of your paycheck along with the fee for having to get a new card. But luckily you get to their table without any problems. Setting the book down on the table you smile, a little warrily, at the alpha at the table. “I hope that you and the rest of your pack have a good day.” You say softly, hoping the others don’t take it as you trying to flirt with their alpha. That is the last thing you want from them.

The alpha looks at the check and then back at you with a confused look on his face, making your chest tighten for the hundredth time today. “Who gave you their card?” He asks, his face dropping into a more serious look, his voice dropping as well. You freeze, your mouth opening and closing almost like a fish as you try to fight through the fear that came along with seeing the sudden change in his demeanor. “Um, your beta did, sir..” You reply, your voice meek. You’re scared that the alpha is going to lash out in front of you, start yelling at his beta for paying for the meal without his knowledge. Jessy’s eyes shift to his beta, his eyebrows furrowed in displeasure. He just stares at him like that for a few seconds, glaring into his soul before his face lifts a little. “How many times have I told you, Malakia. I pay for everything and you guys just sit back and be pretty.” He complains, reaching over and flicking his beta on the arm. “How do you even have money in your card?” He asks, his eyes squinting in suspicion.

You take a sharp breath in and force a smile on your face as you try and calm your nerves. “Well, I hope you three have a great rest of your day.” You say, lacing your fingers together in front of you as you bid them farewell with a small nod of your head. You turn and walk briskly through the crowd, not wanting to intrude in their conversation about their finances. It was always the worst when couples or packs would talk about personal things in front of you. It happens why more than you were comfortable with. People even go as far as to talk about their sex life in front of you. Sometimes it feels like they're doing it just to make you uncomfortable.

You push through the swinging doors of the kitchen and are met by Tyler grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, darlin’” He greets you, stepping out of your way only to redirect his path to follow you. Your head lowers a little bit and you side eye him a bit, trying to put off the most uninterested vibe you can muster. You are wearing scent blockers so he can’t smell the souring of your scent, but you can feel it. Your chest always feels tighter and it feels like you are breathing smoke, thick air that makes your throat burn somehow. “It’s the end of my shift and I don’t have any more tables, I can’t stay to help you with anything if that's what you’re wondering.” You dismiss him entirely, your eyes watching in front of you now as you make your way to the lockers. “Actually, Jared wanted me to let you know that you need to stay for a double.” He says, his tone sounding overly remorseful, like he is actually mocking you. You can’t see his face, but you know that he has a dumb smirk on his face, watching as the horror dawns on your face.

Your head snaps towards him and you make eye contact before you have to look away, you ignore how you caught a glimpse of his smirk falling when you looked at him. “I already worked my double this week.” You explain to Tyler, your voice sounding a little frustrated. “I’m already working overtime, I don’t want any more hours.” You sigh out, your shoulders slouching in defeat. “Well, someone had to go home because they had a headache. We need someone to cover their spot.” He tells you, not budging on the subject. You don’t understand how someone who was so new already had so much more power and authority over you. “Who left?” You ask quickly, already knowing Jared screwed you over on purpose. You are his least paid employee, he loves sending people home and making you stay later so he doesn’t have to pay as much. “Ace.” He tells you. “It had to have been going on for an hour, he had to go home.”

You have to hold back a laugh of disbelief, nodding your head. Ace is a beta, of course he is allowed to go home like that. They would have killed you if it had been you that asked to go home because of a headache. “Whatever.” You mumble out as you turn on your heel and head to the host station to figure out what section is yours now. Tyler is left smirking at your displeasure, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. It is like it is burning holes in your skin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You're practically in tears by the time that you get to your car, your shoulders are raised and your head is lowered so you can warm your cheeks with your jacket and scarf. You are quick to unlock your car because you had rushed out of the building to avoid Tyler being able to follow you. He unfortunately was also working a double tonight so I couldn’t get away from him, he was basically your shadow the whole night, following you around like a lost puppy at any chance he had. Expect it wasn’t cute and he was being so passively rude the entire time. You wanted to strangle him by the end of the shift, but that would get you fired and also arrested, so you resisted. As you’re getting in your car, you hear his grating voice from across the parking lot. He is just coming out of the building and he was quick to find you. “Hey! I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye! You ran off before I could say anything!” He is shouting from across the parking lot.

You’re glad that you had hair over your ears so later you can blame you ignoring him on the fact that you had earbuds in and couldn’t hear him. You quickly get in your car and sling your bag into the passenger seat of your car before you back out of the parking spot. He’s only halfway to your car before you start driving towards the exit, you’re glad because you wouldn’t put it past him to jump in front of your car to stop you from leaving. Luckily he doesn't have the space and just stands there staring at your car as you drive away, an almost shocked look on his face. You laugh at him and turn onto the road, driving towards home.

You’re almost relaxed as you’re driving home, as relaxed as an unmated omega could be in a world where they can hardly survive. But the feeling quickly leaves when your eyes spot the sign for the grocery store that you pass everyday. You groan out and hit your back on the seat a couple times before you change lanes to get into the turning lane for the grocery store. You totally forgot that you need to buy some things and you can’t put them off any longer, so you reluctantly find a parking spot and park your car.

You’re parked next to a car that has someone in it still, so you keep your eyes down as you get out of your car and walk in front of it since it's been backed into the parking spot. You can tell that the person inside the car looks up at you and watches you pass in front of their car, but you don’t think much of it. You would have done the same thing if someone had walked in front of your car. You don’t look up from the ground until you are inside of the store, in the cart lobby. It’s still cold in here despite the hot air that you can feel blowing from the vents. You always wondered how the workers that got them from the parking lot got them into the building. With how long they make the cart trains, it seems impossible.

You don’t realize that the person in the car you just passed was actually your neighbor, and he was now following you. Soap’s eyes are on you as he gets out of his car, walking a little far behind you so that you don’t think that someones following you. He’s not following you, he’s just… making sure you’re safe, making sure that you’re taken care of. He doesn’t want anything to happen to an unattended omega, he’d do it for anyone. He wouldn’t and he knows that, but he doesn’t want to feel like a freak as he watches you set your bag in the small cart you grab and make your way inside. Soap enters the lobby not too long after you did, you’re now inside of the store, and he completely ignores the cart that he needs to grab. He’s supposed to be getting groceries for the pack for the week and he’s not doing a very good job so far at doing that.

He follows you into the produce section, which is where you enter the grocery store. He watches you as you go over to the fruit section and start looking at the veggies on the shelves. You have to stand on your toes to look at the top shelves on the produce section, as it is just out of your eye sight. He pretends to look at the lettuce on the opposite side of the small section of the produce, angling his body so that he can easily see you without looking like he is actually looking at you. He wishes that he can go up to you, take your cart and do all the shopping for you. So that you wouldn’t have to lift a finger when you are so obviously tired.

Soap’s eyes soften as he watches you bow your head and quiver as a yawn rips through you, forcing its way out of your body. He usually thinks that people are unattractive when they yawn, but you look so cute when you do it. The way that you face scrunches up and the way that you can’t stop your body from shaking because of your yawn. He has to force himself to look away before someone, or you, catches him staring so intensely. He shakes his head and walks around to the middle isles, of course picking the one that is closest to where you are standing.

Soap can’t help but feel guilty as he goes through the store, following you from a distance so that you don’t get suspicious that he is following you. He watches as your hair slides down your shoulder, your arm reaching up to grab a bell pepper on the shelves. The way that your hand wrapped around the pepper. Because you are an omega, you are smaller than him and it shocks him to see the difference. He zones out while daydreaming about laying in bed, holding you close while he compares hand sizes with you.

He quickly snaps out of it and shakes his head, a cringe creeping onto his face. He can’t remember the last time he thought about something so sappy before. He looks back at where you just were, only to be met with some random man in your place. He freaks out for a moment before he gets a grip on reality. You probably just moved onto another section while he was distracted. After a quick glance around the store that he can see, he sees you at the bakery looking at some of the breads that they had left. This grocery store isn’t the best about freshness, they are too focused on having cheap prices to worry about the freshness of their produce and baked goods. That being known, the store is never really short on bakery items because getting the processed kind is cheaper and it lasts way longer. It just makes you feel special and you get the ‘fancy’ kind sometimes.

Soap walks over to the bakery and looks at the cheese that is on a display across from where you are standing. He stands on the other side so that he can look over the top of the display to look at you, and he can pretend he is looking at the cheese pretty easily. He holds a random piece of cheese in hand so that he isn’t caught following you around the store with nothing in his hands. He doesn’t know what kind of cheese he is holding, like it matters. All that matters to him at this moment is making sure that no alpha would put their filthy hands on what he has subconsciously decided he is going to protect. He can’t help it, your scent has helped him through nights when he is being stubborn and not sleeping with the pack over something silly that is bothering him. You may not know it, but he owes you.

You pick up a loaf of bread, looking at it for a moment before grabbing a bigger loaf. His gaze hardens at the thought of you having a pack. Having someone that won’t be able to protect you as well as can. All Soap can think about is how much better he can take care of you. To him, it seems like the people who he assumes are your packmates don’t take care of you. Anytime that he sees your roommate or Jasmine, he can’t help but scowl. He despises them for what he believes they have done to you. You deserve to be treated like you’re the last omega in the world, like the ground that you walk on is sacred. He’d make you feel like you are everything. Because you are.

He follows you around to the back of the store where the seafood is, and down one of the aisles that's across from the seafood counter. There are long freezers in the middle of the main aisle at the back of the store, Soap stands at the end cap of the one across from the aisle you are on. You’re looking at the chips, looking over the brands on tortilla chips. One hand is twirling a piece of your hair between a few of your fingers, your wrist twisting as you exchange the hair between your fingers. Your lips are formed into a pout as you try to figure out which brand is the best for you to buy.

Soap is ripped from his thoughts by his phone ringing in his pocket, which he ignores. He doesn’t want to look away from you, it is like he is in a trance. You tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear and slightly bend over to grab a bag of chips, putting it in the cart before moving down the aisle. You walk slowly down, your eyes scanning the shelves for anything that might catch your eye. You tend to forget things if you don’t write them down, but you can never really remember all that you need in order to write it down. Most of the time, you just end up walking through the store and hoping you get everything that you need. It almost always ends with not having half the things you went for, and having tons of things that you’ll use or eat. It is why Jasmine always does the shopping. That and she has more money than you do.

You hear a groan coming from the other end of the aisle, you turn your head and see a familiar face. Your neighbor. But this time, you don’t feel as panicked as before when you’ve noticed him from your driveway. Being this close to him, you can tell that he’s a beta, not an alpha like you had expected. It surprises you, since he is so tall and had the muscles that he did. Most beta’s are like a mid size, not as small as omegas but not as big as alphas. Your neighbor broke this standard way further than you have seen anyone do before. He is a sight to see. You can help but feel an appreciation for betas his size, you hoped he’d make a wonderful beta to a woman alpha. You always love to see it, two people who are not the norm find normalcy in each other's weirdness. That is love to you, it's what it is all about.

On the other end of the aisle, Soap pulls out his ringing phone and looks at the caller I.D. seeing the words ‘captain’ on his screen. He swipes his thumb over the green answer button, bringing the phone up to his ear. “I'm shopping, John. What's botherin ye?” He grumbles into the phone, looking at the chips in front of him before turning his attention back on you. He is annoyed that John is interrupting him when he is so engrossed in watching you. He just needs to make sure that your shopping trip isn’t ruined by anyone, he wants you to have a nice peaceful time. He wants to be there for you, because he cares. “Did you hear me, Johnny?” A gruff voice echoes from the other side of the phone, breaking him away from you once more.

All John gets back from Soap is a distracted sounding “Aye.” followed by the sound of shuffling and a muffled “Excuse me.” of Soap squeezing by an older lady on a motorized shopping cart that almost blocked his path to follow you. Luckily he quickly turned his body and made it through. He keeps his eyes on you, drilling into the back of your head as you make a right turn to go up the next aisle. “Johnny!” John barks from the other side of the phone, annoyance evident in his voice. “Wha' the hell are you doing? Are you even listening to me?” He asks, his tone accusatory towards Soap.

Soap huffs and backs off of you for a moment, remembering quickly that his mate is more important than the omega next door at this moment. He can make sure you’re safe once he is done talking to his alpha. Who is not only the reason he has a job, but is the reason he keeps it. John has single handedly saved Soaps careers more times than he can count at this point. It is honestly laughable. “I’m sorry, i'm here. Whit were ye saying?” He asks, taking a moment to look at the kitchen tools that are at the end of this aisle. He knows Gaz would appreciate new cookware, he always does “Ghos' needs you to come home soon, he doesn' seem very happy with you. Something abou' no' keeping your promises.” John explains to Soap sounding a bit frustrated with him, rightfully so. Soap lets out a long sigh and nods his head, which John obviously isn’t even able to see. “Bastard niver forgets anythin’.” He grumbles under his breath, which John heard and responded to with a low warning growl.

The last few days, John and Ghost have been way stricter than they had ever been. Soap and Gaz are hardly allowed to touch each other without their approval. It bothers the two betas because they know that it isn’t normal behavior for their alphas, but they don’t know what to do to help. They’ve tried everything they can think of at this point, they are out of ideas. Soap tried acting more submissive, but they got upset that he wasn’t acting like himself. Ghost complained that if he wanted someone submissive, he would’ve chosen someone smaller. He feels like submission did Soap's physique wrong, didn’t show off his body the way that Ghost liked, the way that Ghost knows Soap deserves to be seen. Gaz had tried sparring with them, that ended with his face smushed against the floor for an hour while the alphas had their way with him, consensually of course. They didn’t feel any better after any of these attempts, it usually only fueled them to make them more agitated than before. It makes the betas feel as though they aren’t good enough at their roles, that they aren’t worthy mates and aren’t worthy of their title of beta.

“I'm sorry, cap. I'll be home soon. The store is crowdit today.” Soap fixes his tone quickly, making a mental note that he’ll deal with those consequences when they arrive in front of him. “That’s better. Be safe.” John dismisses him, not even waiting for a response before hanging up the phone. Soap is left standing in the kitchenware and baking aisle, looking at stuff that he doesn’t even know what half is. He clears his throat to keep his emotions in check, swallowing a few times to control his tears. He doesn’t feel like he should be so emotional over something like this, he knows they’ll be okay, they always are. But they all know the risks of having a pack with more than one alpha that also doesn’t have an omega. They know that their relationship is fragile and that they have to be careful, they have been careful. Soap just needs things to be better again.

He sighs and makes his way to the opposite side of the aisle, at the back of the store. He grabs a bag of gummy bears off the shelf while he makes his way to find you. While he’s walking, he can’t help but realize how weird he is acting. He kept looking down the aisles like he is looking for someone he knows, someone who actually knows he exists. He remembers the times that you have scurried away from him, looking all scared and panicky. But his heart really clenches when he thinks about his pack. His pack is struggling and here he is getting so distracted by some random omega that he can’t even shop for his family. He groans and shoves the bag of gummy bears on the shelf before booking it out of the store. His pack needs him right now, more than you need his protection. You've done it countless times before, you can do it again.

He serves through the crowd, shoulder checking a few people on the way to the entrance of the store. He can hear the people scoffing and confronting him about running into them. He doesn’t give them the time of day as he books it through the door and towards his car. He practically tore his car out of that parking lot, he wouldn't be surprised if there are black tire marks on the asphalt where he had driven. The whole ride home, he can’t stop wondering if he is a bad mate, oogling over someone that isn’t in his pack and lying about it straight to his mates faces. Someone who he hasn’t even had a conversation with yet. He had spent well over half an hour stalking you through a grocery store under the guise that he was protecting you. While his actions were commendable, they aren’t when you don’t even know the person, especially when that person has run to hide from Soap in the past. He wasn’t painting a pretty picture for himself, but he can’t seem to bring himself to let go of you. The thought alone of leaving you to your own devices and not knowing if you are safe and cared for sent a shiver of unease down his spine, making him cringe and grumble.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your hands are numb by the time that you pull into your driveway, having to go to the grocery store by yourself and then having to drive home took a toll on you. You had almost cried on your way home but had to stop yourself so that you could actually see the road. Jasmine wasn’t able to go grocery shopping for the two of you because she was busy, and your roommate buys his own food. You usually go with Jasmine and have her to lean on, but she couldn’t so you were forced to go by yourself  this time. But after a few deep breaths, you are able to calm yourself enough to get out of the car, making sure to pop the trunk before you close the door.

When you’re rounding the corner to the back of your car, you make eye contact with the man from the store, your neighbor. Since you were able to catch his scent in the store, you knew that he isn’t an alpha. And while this does lower your anxiety around him, he is still a stranger. His eyes look a little tired, glistening around the edges as his eyes scan your face. You can tell that something is bothering him, but it’s not your place and again, he's a stranger. But his tired face turns excited at the sight of your eyes meeting his, starting to make his way over to you. He walks like he doesn’t have a care in the world, like he hadn’t just been sulking before he saw you.

You return his smile with a cautious wave, holding onto your bag that is slung over your shoulder. “Hi, neighbor!” He greets you cheerfully, stepping a bit into your personal space while he juts his hand out for a handshake. You start to smell freshly cut grass and are confused, no one had cut their grass today, it had been too cold in the past few weeks to even consider it. You’re confused for a moment before you realize that it’s your neighbor. You are closer than you had been in the store and now you are able to get a good read on what he truly smells like. His scent is so comforting due to him being a beta, that your hands start to gain feeling again. You look at his hand and then back at him, like you don’t know what to do, but quickly take his hand for a handshake. “Hello.” Your voice is soft and meek, like you are too afraid to speak too loudly at him.

Soap can’t stop beaming, his smile is bright and goofy. He’s just so excited to be able to formally meet you after spending so much time daydreaming about what you’re like. And after he stalked you through the store. He wasn’t expecting you to be so shy once he’d put himself out there for you, but he finds it adorable. He finds everything about you adorable. From the way you slightly rock on your heels, to the way that your eyes shine in the sunlight when you look at him. He can’t stop staring at your face and memorizing every detail.

 He gets snapped out of his thoughts by you clearing your voice, your eyes shifting to the ground as he reels back into reality. “Neit help wi thae bags?” He asks, already reaching out to grab a bag from your open trunk. You try to protest, but he’s already taking bags into his hands. “You really don’t have to do that.” You tell him, your voice coming out a little rushed as you watch the beta get all of the groceries out of your car. “Really, I can do it.” You rush out as you try and slide your smaller fingers under his fingers to grab the bags from him. He only shushes you and steps back to walk away. You quickly close your trunk and follow him with quick footsteps so you can keep up.

When your fingers touch his, he swears he feels his pupils widen. Your skin is so soft and warm against his calloused skin; your touch is so light despite the fact that you are trying to snatch your grocery bags out of his hand. He tries to compose himself as he brushes past you and towards your front door, he can feel the heat in his body threatening to raise to his skin to make him blush. You’re trailing behind him, a worried look on your face as you try and convince him that you don’t need his help. He doesn’t listen though, he ignores you as he stops in front of your door, waiting for you to open it.

You look worried as you shakily get your house keys out, sliding the key into the slot. Through your worried thoughts on how you are going to get him to not come into your home, he spoke up. “I’m no comin i, stop worryin. A can smell it on ye.” And you can feel your body relax as you open up the door. You’re usually not so quick to trust, but there is something about this beta that is different. He just feels so welcoming and warm, you can’t help but want to get to know him more. But you know that he comes from a unique pack, and you know that his alphas would not be happy if he comes home smelling like the omega next door.

Soap sets the bags just inside the door and watches as you step inside as well. He can tell that your movements are very calculated around him, like you are making room for him instead of making room for the both of you. He can tell that you are fragile, he doesn’t blame you. He can only imagine how hard it must be to live in a world that is rooted against you. You are considered the lowest of the low in society, but not in his eyes. In his eyes, you are perfect. He can tell that you aren’t comfortable in your own skin, but he thinks you were sculpted by the gods, inside and out.

You grab the door and swing it closed a bit, standing just at the opening to say goodbye to your helpful and handsome neighbor. You’d rather close the door in his face and go hide in a closet for two hours, but you have things to do and that would be rude. So you muster up the courage to actually speak to him again. “Thank you for helping me, you really didn’t have to do that.” You tell him softly, having a hard time looking at him in the eyes. You feel your eyes widen as his fingers go under your chin and tilt your head up to look at him. “Come on now, ye don’t have tae hide from me.” He reassures you as he retracts his hand, a soft and crooked smile on his face. “An it wis na problem, an omega like ye shouldn’t be doin things like thon.” He tells you, and you can tell that he doesn’t mean it in a mean way. He means it in a supportive way.

Soap glances over his shoulder and lets out a little huff, his fists clenching a bit at his sides before he looks back at you. “e let me know gin ye iver neit help. Okay, little ane?” His voice is serious, like he would be offended if you didn’t come over and get him the next time you need something. You nod and start to close the door, giving him a polite wave before slowly closing the door. Once the door was closed, you turned and pressed your back against the wood, your eyes scanning the house before you. Your roommate isn't in his normal spot anymore and you can hear Jasmine’s footsteps making her way down the stairs to help you unload the groceries.

“I heard a voice.” She states as she steps onto the hardwood with her sock covered feet, padding over to you at the door. “Sounded like a man.” She adds, wiggling her eyebrows at you. Your face immediately erupts into a blush, shaking your head dismissively as you stutter over your words. You don’t know what you can say that will be able to save you here. “It was the neighbor, he wanted to help me carry the groceries in.” You tell her, your voice shaking a bit more than you are comfortable with. You quickly bend over and gather a few bags into your hands and carry them to the kitchen, hoping that you can get away from Jasmine’s interrogation. Jasmine follows you with the rest of the bags and continues to pester you about it. You should’ve known better, she never gives up.

“Come on, you never talk to anyone and I heard you speak more than two words.” She exclaims just loud enough for you to hear, not wanting the mysterious roommate to hear your private life. You purse your lips and start to unload a bag. “We saw each other in the store, he’s a beta.” You tell her with a shrug, your voice quiet. You are caught off guard when she takes the cans you have in your hands into hers and pushes them to the side. “Spill.” She demands, her eyes squinting at you as a blush forms on your face.

“I don’t know, Jas. I felt comfortable around him..” You tell her, rocking slightly back and forth on your heels. “..I guess he’s cute, but he has a pack already.” You explain, continuing your train of thought. “He has two alphas. It would never work out anyways.” You say dismissively, shrugging her hands off of your shoulders. She has a smirk on her face, feeling victorious finally getting the information out of you. “You never know, hun. Things could turn around in the end.” She tries to perk you up, not wanting this to discourage you from going after you want. This is the first time that you’ve shown interest in someone other than people from the tv shows that you watch. She hopes that if things end up not working, that it won’t stop you from forming a bond with someone in the future. She knows how hard it can be to not get what you want so badly, and being so close to having it too.

The room is silent, other than the sound of bags rustling and things being put away, as you clear the room from the grocery bags. It doesn’t take the two of you long to unload the groceries since you didn’t get too much. Being inside of crowded stores by yourself makes it feel like your head is full of water, everything becomes overwhelming so you can’t stay long enough to get a lot. “Thank you for getting the groceries.” Jasmine says as she wraps her arms around you, squeezing tight to give you some compression. She can tell that you had a rough day, and then having to go to the store on top of that made it that much worse. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t go, work went on later than I thought it would.” She apologies, her voice muffled by your head as she presses her relaxed lips against your head.

You can feel the tension from the day start to leave your body as you are comforted by a familiar beta. You can tell that she is projecting her scent to help you calm down, her enhanced cinnamon scent almost burning your nose. While Soap helped you calm down after the store, he wasn’t able to wipe that discomfort from your body like Jasmine can. You are forever grateful for having her in your life, she has become your rock in the last years, helping you become the best version of yourself while supporting you when you mess up along the way. She is the best friend that everyone wishes they had, it felt like a miracle that your two paths crossed and intertwined. “It’s the least I could do, you are so helpful to me all the time..” You mumble as you tuck yourself against her as she holds you tight. It feels like she is squeezing all the worries out of you.

The two of you stand like that for a long while, only pulling away when a loud shout is heard through the wall. It is the booming voice of an alpha, it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up and your eyes widen. Jasmine covers your ears quickly and smiles reassuringly at you as she waits for the alpha next door to stop. Your hands go to cover her hands with yours, pressing harder on her hands to block out the sound further. It takes a few minutes, but they eventually calm down and Jasmine uncovers your ears, brushing some hair out of your face. “You’re okay.” She reassures you. “Sounds like he was upset that his beta wasn’t spending time with him.” She explains, pulling away and stretching her arms a bit.

You start to feel guilty, knowing that you had taken up some of this beta’s time, this beta that has an alpha. You look at the ground and you can tell that your scent sours again when Jasmine cups your face. “It isn’t your fault.” She tells you firmly. “He shouldn’t have helped you if he knew it would upset his alpha. That isn’t your fault.” She states, pinching your cheek to get you to perk up. You grumble at that and swat away her hand. “What have I told you about pinching my cheeks?“ You huff as you push her hands away further. Jasmine just smiles, relieved that she was able to help you calm down so easily. You cock an eyebrow at her as she just continues to smile at you, making her throw her hands up in surrender.

Jasmine feels bad that the only person that you seem to show an interest in has two alphas. She knows how hard it is for you to function when there is an alpha around, having two in the same household with you seems impossible. She’s tried her best in the past years that you two have known each other to get you to open up around alphas. But, your past with alphas is hard to forget and there seems to be nothing that Jasmine can do to make you feel better. She gave up eventually, and ended up just accepting the quirk that you have. You are able to make it through life without it being too inconvenient for you, while it is hard and sometimes frustrating when an alpha doesn’t get the hint.

You can feel your ears perk up slightly when the roommate comes out of his room and comes to sit in his normal spot. You squint your eyes and then give Jasmine the side eye as if to ask ‘what’s with him?’ She shrugs her shoulders and rolls her eyes and motions for you to come closer. You’re standing near him, and the roommate, who you still don't know the name of, has given Jasmine no reason to trust him. You are quick to listen to Jasmine, not questioning her for a second. You step towards his and grab her hand for comfort.

He’s never once tried to help in any of the house responsibilities or tried to help either of the two of you with emotional needs, which isn’t quite normal for a beta that is in such close quarters with other people. Most betas and omegas take on the responsibility to help in these kinds of situations, even if they are not in a pack together. The place that you live in will be peaceful if you take care of the things inside of it. The only exception to this unspoken rule you can think of would be if he is in a rival pack, but he lives with two random strangers and doesn’t have any marks on his neck so he’s not in a pack. Nothing about this man makes sense to you or Jasmine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Soap watches as you turn slightly and the door closes softly, he can’t help the smile that covers his face. He can tell that he makes you a little nervous, but he can’t help himself from teasing someone as cute as you are, even just a little bit. He turns on his heels and walks with a newfound energy towards their side of the conjoined building. He walks across the top of the driveway, having to squeeze his muscular body between the garage door and car that was parked there. It was probably Gaz's, the man never drove his own car, he either had the others drive him, or borrowed one of their cars for the day. It was frustrating, but the three of them can’t resist that slight pout that comes to his pretty lips when they get upset at him.

Soap reaches the door and pushes it open, smiling as he enters the house, stepping into the small entryway that has only a table and a mirror. The boys were never too keen on decorating, only doing what they needed. He closes the door behind him and he doesn’t even make it five five steps into the kitchen before he feels a hard chest against his back and an angry puffing breath against his ear. From the vanilla and mahogany scent turned moldy, Soap could tell that it is Ghost that is angrily making himself known. “Care to explain why you smell like an omega?” Ghost growls out, his hands going to grip Soaps elbows tightly. “Why..” He takes a deep breath. “It’s recen’.” He growls lowly.

Soap feels panic rising in his chest, feeling as though he’d been caught. If it were normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be so nervous that Ghost was mad. But he’s been flirting with you, trying to touch you when he shouldn’t even really be talking to you with how worked up the boys have been recently. “Um.., yeah.” Soap hesitated, his voice coming out a little squeaky at first. “She wis takin the groceries inside aw bi herself.” He explains, trying to move his arms so that he can reassure Ghost with his touch. Ghost doesn’t budge, he only lets out a warning growl to let Soap know that he is exactly where he wants him to be.

Ghost can feel his anger growing and swelling inside of his chest, he feels like he can’t control himself. He huffs and puffs for a moment, his grip tightening on Soap’s elbows. “Are you fucking kidding me, Johnny?” Ghost asks, making Soap’s heartbeat pick up. He knows that Ghost would never hurt him, but after seeing what he’s like when torturing someone for information and on top of his guilt behind the situation, Soap can’t help but get nervous around him when he’s this angry. “You barely fricking greeted me when came home from training the other day because you had to take care of price. Which is fucking peachy. Bu' then you go on a date with him so he can ‘make i' up to you’! meanwhile, i’m over here pulling my damned hair ou' because i can’' ge' a single piece of attention from either of my betas!” Ghost rants, his voice increasingly getting louder the longer he talks.

His grip on Soap’s arm is tightening with every second that passes, starting to become painful. “Ow, Simon..” Soap quietly complains, trying to softly tug his arms out of Ghost’s grip. Ghost immediately lets go and starts to pace around, his hands going to his hair. Soap turns around to face him with a worried look on his face. It isn’t normal for Ghost to act like this. “Then you go to the store to buy food from the store, your alpha even called you while you were quite! no' only did you hardly pay attention to him while he was quite talking, you came home empty handed!” He shouts, stopping to point a finger at him accusingly. “And then you come home smelling like the omega nex' door! because she needed help!” He mocks. “She has a pack literally inside her house!” Ghost reminds Soap

All soap can do is stand there with a guilty look on his face, nodding along with Ghost’s yelling. “You better hurry your sorry arse  to Price's office.” Ghost growled, his voice low. “You better be thankful he’s dealing with you, i wouldn’ have gone so easy.” He tells Soap, glaring at him as he slithers around him and scurries up the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @Horny-bish @Wizzdot @the-loneyest

Please put your age in your bio if you want to be added :)

A/N: really sorry about the wait this time guys. I had this all planned out and was working on it nonstop just for my dog to stop walking. It was crazy. She’s doing a lot better now, she’s pretty wobbly on her feet but we don’t have to help her walk anymore.

[softpascalito]

Dulcissima I Marcus Acacius x Vestal!Reader I Chapter XI - Bona Noctem

Summary: Set before and during Gladiator II. General Acacius finds himself entranced by a highly valued priestess of Rome – A Vestal Virgin. But you both have taken vows that make sure your paths may never cross. Until they do.

Aka a fix-it fanfic where Acacius survives the Colosseum.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Vestal Virgin Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 31k+ Tags: Secret Relationship, Vestal Virgins, Religious Guilt, Gladiator fights, Gladiator II compliant (more or less), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Ancient Rome, Age Difference, Slow Burn (ish), Injury, Kissing, Historical Inaccuracy, (Attempted) Sexual Harassment, Smut, First Time, Oral Sex (f receiving), Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Slight Breeding Kink, Semi-Public Sex, More tags to be added

AO3 // Series Masterlist // Masterlist // Fic Playlist // Ko-Fi

notes: a smooch to everyone who commented on the last chapter and an extra big smooch to my lovely @alwayslurkinginthebackground for beta-ing the last few chapters and always being here to talk about our roman husband ♡

thermopolium - a snack bar (but ancient) thermae - public bath caldarium - room with hot water bona noctem - good night

Chapter XI - Bona Noctem

The sounds of the cicadas follow him all the way through the deserted streets. Acacius can still feel the adrenaline in his body, having stayed in his study and the atrium for the remainder of the evening, silently hoping that Lucilla would simply go to sleep before he came to join her. He’ll be back beside her when the sun comes up. Like he was never gone.

A few people rush past him on the streets, one or two drunks stumbling in the shadows when he passes one of the thermopolium, where cold and hot food are served–preferably with wine or beer. No one pays him much attention, partly because he has dressed down, ditching the red cloak that usually flaunts his wealth and standing, and partly because he keeps his head low. He would do well not to be seen with you, at least not at this hour of the night.

“Stupid. It was a stupid idea.” Acacius mutters to himself as he passes below the high walls of the colosseum and turns onto the street that leads to the public baths. It’s a cloudless night and it almost feels like the moon is taunting him, threatening to expose his secrets. The entrance is abandoned, large columns framing either side of the heavy door.

As soon as he steps inside, a light steam hangs in the air, the scent of honey and herbals reaching his nose. Acacius treads lightly, heading to the right. He finds the small changing room empty. Carefully, he rids himself of his cloak and his shoes, leaving him barefeet and only in his toga.

The steady sounds of water dripping and fire cackling below drift to his ears, the otherwise ruling silence only broken by the taps of his feet on the stone floor. He pauses for a moment, trying to figure out where he is supposed to find you. He cannot go into the women’s section, even though that’s where you’ll most likely be. Has he misunderstood your message? Did you mean to meet somewhere else? Or maybe outside the baths?

He is still trying to answer his own questions when he steps into the largest of the rooms the thermae holds. The caldarium, offering hot water to relax aching muscles in, the large pool lined with columns all around. And on the steps that descend into the water is a familiar figure.

Your head is bowed, your gaze focused on the almost completely still water, your feet arched into it just up to your ankles. Steam drifts over the surface, disturbed only by your miniscule movements and the occasional gust of wind blowing through the room. It’s much darker in here now than it is during the day, the columns and statues throwing long shadows onto the walls around you, flames burning low in the braziers.

He wishes he wouldn’t have to speak. He allows himself a few moments of just watching you, imagining that you are merely a painting on canvas, the same way he did when you were framed by his door and the moonlight behind you on the night of Bona Dea. He briefly entertains a fantasy where, if he did not speak, you would always continue to sit, always continue to wait for him. That he could come back here every night and just stare and it would be enough.

But you wouldn't. And he wouldn't. And he has to say the things that are waiting in his throat. He knows they're there because he feels how hard it is to breathe.

“Dulcissima.” His voice is low and he casts an anxious look over his shoulder, still worried that the two of you may not be entirely alone. When he turns back to you, he finds that you’ve raised your head and are looking up at him, a small smile decorating your face.

Acacius slowly walks around the room, making his way to join you. The stone steps are comfortably warm below his bare feet as he stands next to you, a small sigh leaving his lips as his hand hovers above your head. You have not taken off your veil, only lifted your stola enough to avoid it getting wet.

“So you understood my message?” You hum, your eyes trailing up his body until they find his.

Acacius nods quietly. “We are lucky no one else did.” He pauses for a moment, not wanting to sound too harsh. “It was too dangerous.”

Your smile drops as soon as the words are out of his mouth and his throat only becomes tighter. He doesn’t want you to look at him like that. He wants a smile on your face. And he wants to be the one to put it there.

He wants to say what he came here to say. But you are making it so impossibly hard for him.

Acacius doesn’t move as you stand up, already way too close. “How did you even get into the men’s thermae?”

“I walked through the door?” You ask quietly, stepping into his embrace, allowing your stola to fall freely around your feet.

He sighs but it sounds more like a growl and he feels you pressing yourself further into his space in response. The smells of the baths are replaced by those of you and he gathers you into his arms without further thought, tucking your head below his, the fabric of your veil scratching against his nose. “Dulcissima.” He whispers again. “We cannot continue this.”

“I came during the day. It would have been fine, everyone knows I am coming along to the south so–”

“That is not what I meant.” He can feel you tense up in his arms, your muscles going rigid at his revelation. 

“Acacius.” You whisper, your voice muffled against his toga. “Nothing has changed. We can keep it secret–”

“It does not matter.” He thought getting the words out would allow his throat to relax. But somehow they do the opposite. “If anyone finds out, if we are caught–” He shakes his head. “If any man was to walk into this thermae right now, you would be condemned by morning. And they–”

“I will not feel the touch of another man for a decade. Until I finish my services and are allowed to be rid of my veil.” He can hear your voice shaking slightly. “At least allow me your touch one last time.”

He should say no. But when you raise your head, soft eyes looking up at him, begging him to give in–He finds that he has no say in the matter.

“Come here,” he whispers and then finds that you don’t need him to tell you what to do anymore. Instead, you carefully begin to push his toga up and he bows obediently, allowing you to undress him. Before he has a chance to return the favor, you have wrapped your hand around his and are guiding him down the stairs and into the steaming water. Merely feeling your fingers curled around his has his cock twitching and he suddenly feels so exposed next to you. The fine dark curls that trail down from his naval and frame his length are not nearly enough to hide his excitement and he inwardly lets out a sigh of relief when the water finally allows him an illusion of cover.

His eyes fly to the way your stola trails behind you, the fabric gently gliding over the surface, sending small ripples through the entire pool. The warm color of the flames dancing in the braziers around the room reflect in the water, making it look like the two of you are bathing in gold rather than water.

The statues look on from their alcoves, stone eyes watching your dance. His hands smooth over your sides, eventually settling on your hips, gathering the fabric in his fists. “You look like a goddess.” He whispers and watches with satisfaction as a faint blush appears on your cheeks.

Your shoulders drop ever so slightly under the growing weight of the soaked fabric and Acacius doesn’t even think, he simply pulls you into him, nudging your legs until you willingly spread them and wrap them around his middle. “Have you ever … done this in the water?” You whisper and he chuckles.

“I have, actually. Though it was not nearly as comfortable and sanitary as the thermae.” At your raised brows, he continues, understanding the silent inquiry. He brushes his thumb through the fabric floating below the surface. “It was in the Tiber. I was to leave for my first campaign with the army. And she was kind enough to give me a going-away present.”

He feels you hum in response, shifting against him. It should feel wrong to speak about his past lovers with your middle so close to his but it doesn’t. He longs to be known by you. To be something different than the glorious General that he knows people see when they look at him. They don’t see the dead or the failures. They see a golden wreath of leaves that feels far too heavy on his head.

“You’re not here.” Your voice is only a whisper. But it still penetrates the thoughts swirling around his head and he watches as your face comes into focus again, a smile on your lips that almost seems sad. “Be here with me. Please.” He nods solemnly. “Be inside of me.”

His length twitches against your thigh and he has to stifle a moan at the feel. It seems like his body knows its place, craving to feel your walls around him again. “Your stola is too heavy. Let me help you.” 

It takes a few moments until he manages to rid you of the thick layers of fabric and one hand leaves your body to heave the stola over to the side of the pool and onto the lowest stair. One of your hands is wrapped around his arm to keep yourself up, the other already undoing the white pieces of cloth that cover your most intimate areas.

Acacius lets out a soft groan at the sight, his hands coming to rest on your back as he steps into slightly deeper water again, the surface right below your breasts. “So beautiful,” he whispers and for the first time in days, his lips find your skin.

His mouth fits perfectly around your areola and he swirls his tongue around it in circular motions, occasionally adding some pressure by sucking on the sensitive skin. Small sounds begin to rise from your throat and he practically laps them up. “Acacius, please.” Your whimpers fill the steamy room, your voice weaving its way in between columns and statues. “Please come inside.”

And gods, it sounds like you’re inviting him into your home, like this is a sweet conversation at your front door rather than an illicit meeting in the middle of the night.

“Alright, of course. Of course.” He mumbles back as he withdraws his lips from your nipples, instead nudging your elbows. “Put your hands on my shoulders. Hold on, yeah? You can squeeze, you won’t hurt me.”

Acacius can see your eyes trace the scars there, receipts of his battles fought. Your touch is gentle, like you're afraid he'll crack open along the faded lines. “But–”

“Anaticula. Hey.” He squeezes down on you, making you look at him. “You could never hurt me. You just hold on and let me do the rest. Tell me if anything hurts. Yes?”

“Yes,” you whisper back and he nods reassuringly before reaching down to line himself up with your heat. Ripples travel over the golden surface of the water as you shudder at the feeling and Acacius can feel your hands tightening on his shoulders. Then, he follows your invitation.

Sinking into you feels out of this world. Your muscles clench around him, welcoming him in, pulling him deeper like your body knows what it craves. “Gods–” He curses quietly, listening closely for any sign of pain in your soft moans. “Take a breath,” Acacius whispers, peppering small kisses all over your jaw and cheek, the tip of his nose pressing into your skin. “It can be more difficult in the water.”

“It feels good. So good.” You whimper in between inaudible noises and Acacius is dimly aware of the strained feeling in his throat finally lessening as he watches you losing yourself in your pleasure. He moves very gently at first, making sure not to push you too hard. But before long, you're squeezing down on his shoulders, demanding for more and more and more.

And again, he has no choice but to give you what you want when you ask so prettily. The room is filled with the noises of the water sloshing around you, giving way to his movements as he buries himself inside of you again and again. One of your hands finds his hairs, pulling on his curls as your mouth chases his, swallowing the moans he draws from your body. His own grip tightens as well and you throw your head back, your movements becoming more erratic. Several strands of hair frame your face, the put-together look you usually carry slowly melting away.

“Dulcissima, I am close, I should–”

“Stay inside,” you whimper, now fully abandoning the concept of being quiet. “Please–” It's hard to tell which one of you is more surprised by your orgasm arriving as fast and hard as it does. Your words turn to a choked sob as your body trembles around him and he cradles you in his arms, giving a few more thrusts as you fall apart between his fingers.

He curses under his breath, only barely managing to pull you off him in time to not spill his seed inside of you. Acacius maneuvers you onto his hip instead, emptying himself into the water. He grunts as he feels his length twitch a few more times, scraping his teeth over your collarbone and placing a few kisses there blindly, his eyes squeezed shut.

When he opens them again, a large piece of white is floating away behind you. You don’t even seem to be aware, still all soft and wrung-out in his embrace. But over your shoulder, he sees the future unfold. Your veil drifting away across the water.

***

It feels like youre waking up from a dream that's too good to be true. One that you may have had earlier today, when you were in Aquila’s shop. Of a future with Acacius, who would always do as asked. Or so you thought.

You begged him to stay inside and he didn’t. You felt his release, felt a part of it brushing your thigh and disappearing into the water. An odd sort of jealousy is set alight in your chest. The idea that come morning, others will get to swim in this water and unknowingly be with a part of Acacius that should be only yours.

He moves below you, keeping one strong arm wrapped around your back as he leads you back toward the stone steps, shifting you onto them. “Are you alright?”

In the span of half an hour, he has gone from being mad over your note to worried. You can feel his eyes on you and you shiver slightly, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Fine.” You won’t give him the satisfaction of disappointment on your face. Not if you can help it. Because you know what is about to happen, merely by the way he holds himself.

“We should not linger.” He mutters, turning his head to each side to survey the quiet room. “And we should not take any other risks.”

You only look at him for a split moment. But it's enough to see the pain in his eyes.

“I'm sorry I ever put you into this position,” he whispers, brushing his palm over his beard. “I knew it was a mistake to talk to you in the temple–”

“I was a mistake?” You breathe out, feeling your body begin to tremble with something that is not the cold.

“No. Gods, no. You are wonderful and talented and–” He sucks in a small breath. “And you feel incredible around me.” You nod even though you barely register his words.

“But?”

“But it was a mistake to talk to you.” He says quietly, driving his point home and you feel like you wanna sink into the depths of the pool and never resurface again. He may be able to forget, to move on. But you know that Vesta won’t. And you have no doubt that you will be punished for laying with him. Your goddess is not one of forgiveness.

“I will pray for your safety.” You say quietly, forcing yourself to stand despite your legs feeling like they are not there. “Bona noctem, Acacius.”

You hear his footsteps behind you, water dripping from his still naked body and you have to force yourself not to look. “Dulcissima, please. Your clothes are all wet.”

Gods. He has a point. You just assumed that your illicit meeting would last longer, that you’d have time to wait for them to dry. You wonder if the girl he did it in the Tiber with had time to.

“Wait.” Acacius commands with a voice that reminds you why he is a General and you listen to his bare feet tap away–and back. You can hear him wring out your clothes, placing them beside you and then you feel a comfortably warm fabric settling on your shoulders and wrapping around your form.

His dark cloak is too big on you but it is in no way less comfortable. Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes and you wonder if he knows, despite not seeing your face.

“Be safe,” he whispers and you think you hear his voice crack slightly before you finally force your body to move, grabbing your shoes from the spot where you left them, your wet clothes tucked under your arm as you step out into the city of stone. The moon shines brightly all the way back home.

[dasiesanddarkness]

still getting people that tell me this is good and i am desperate for validation/scared of writing Kaz so how's this:

Kaz didn’t say anything, so Jesper took it upon himself to break the silence. “I’d love to participate in whatever job you’ve got lined up, Kaz, but if I leave this bed Inej, Wylan, and Nina will all try to kill me and I have no intention of dying this young so I’ll tell them it’s because you told me too, and then they’ll all try to kill you to, and it’ll just be very messy. Better for both of us that I stay right here.”

“I have no intention of making you get off that bed any time soon,” Kaz said. There was something different in his face, and Jesper wished he knew him well enough to tell what it meant.

He could feel the threat of silence looming again. “Good, good. Would you mind telling me what exactly happened? Everyone else has been so vague, and it’s boring. Please, give me all the gorey details.”

“You got shot.” Kaz informed him. The corner of his mouth was lifted slightly, which meant that he was being intentionally difficult.

Jesper rolled his eyes. “You’re a terrible conversationalist. This is why no one likes you, you know. You don’t talk enough.”

“Better than being disliked because I talk too much,” Kaz quipped. A part of Jesper was hurt. He shoved that part into a box and sat on it.

“If only I could relate. However, no one dislikes me. I’m loved by everyone, Kaz. Even you.” Stupid, he thought. But his mouth was moving, and it had no intention of stopping. “I’ve finally melted your cold heart, admit it.” He knew what was coming- the rejection, the “You wish.” He knew he’d be thinking about it for days, regretting saying it and wishing that Kaz had just said yes and hating himself for putting him in the position to say no. It would keep him up at night, playing on a loop in his head while he tried to think about anything else.

“How are you feeling?”

Jesper blinked. Kaz showed no change in emotion, so he did his best to catch up. “Fine. Nina insists that I need to stay here to “heal” but I'm pretty sure she and Inej are just sick of me and using it as an opportunity to get a break.”

fic where jesper gets hurt and Kaz freaks out?

Inej’s voice was soft when she spoke. “He was really scared, Jes.”

“Wylan? Trust me, I know. He’s yelled at me at least three times since-”

“No.” Inej was looking at him intently. She was being serious, the one thing Jesper had been avoiding since he woke up. “Kaz.”

Jesper blinked. “Kaz? Inej, don’t tease. I’m still of weak constitution.”

[malk1ns]

february 8 @ flyers, 3-2 loss

we managed to skid into the two-week break without anyone else getting hurt in this game yay yippee! let's hope everyone gets healthy now because good grief.

exists in a world where the penguins still had their super bowl party at sid's on sunday the 9th instead of sid flying to montreal for four nations and geno flying to...wherever the fuck he was watching from. let's pretend that the first day of four nations practice was pushed to tuesday.

my honest reaction to the prospect of two full weeks with absolutely no sign of geno at all:

Zhenya has to begrudgingly admit that the visitor’s facilities in Philadelphia aren’t that bad.

They aren’t that good either, nothing compared to some of the newer places—Zhenya’s particularly fond of Seattle—but especially compared to places like Carolina, Philly is perfectly adequate. The locker room isn’t too cramped, the carpet doesn’t stink, the hot water works, and there’s a couch in the lounge that actually faces the TV and can fit more than one grown adult comfortably.

The couch is especially important, because the Penguins stopped requiring its scratches to watch games from the press box a few years ago and Zhenya’s never been back. Given the choice between wearing a suit and having to keep a neutral face while watching his team play without him and getting to kick back in sweatpants and swear as much and as loudly as he’d like, he’s picking the latter every time when he’s injured.

Sid, like the suck-up he is, stuck it out up above the ice for a few games, but pretty soon even he was changing out of his suit the second the cameras were gone for the game and sprawling out over whatever furniture was available, running his mouth at whoever’s stuck out with him about what’s going on in-game.

The season after Zhenya got his second knee surgery was some of the most fun he’d had while out injured, at least while Sid was doing rehab too. They spent a ton of time together, hanging around during each other’s PT times and making side bets on the games.

So, when Sid told him he’d be sitting the last two games before the break, to make sure his arm was back to 100%, Zhenya was excited. Sure, they’d be away instead of at home, but they’d be able to shit-talk the Rangers and Flyers together, and Zhenya wouldn’t have to haunt the bowels of the arenas like a ghost alone. Even better, he’d have a chance to actually spend time with Sid, who’s been acting off for months and annoyingly good at avoiding talking about it.

The Rangers game was a blast. Troy snuck them down some beers from the dad’s suite and Zhenya managed to goad Sid into some truly vicious shit-talking about New York’s entire roster. The win was the perfect cap to the day, and by the time they made it to Philly, Zhenya was ready to pass out in his hotel room with a smile on his face.

Sid was sour on Saturday, though, distracted and frowning at his phone during team breakfast and abandoning Zhenya to face the athletic trainers alone when they head to the arena for morning skate. Zhenya finally tracked him down on the ice, one of the last guys out there like always, shooting pucks at the net all alone viciously hard, with way too much force for someone who’s babying his arm in the hopes of representing his country in less than a week.

Eventually the coaches herded him off the ice. Sid was sullen on the bus back to the hotel.

“One of the caterers canceled,” he finally volunteered as they stepped off the bus and slipped into the hotel lobby. “For tomorrow, the Super Bowl,” he elaborated when Zhenya looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “They emailed me late last night and I’ve been trying to track down a replacement.”

Zhenya sighed loudly. “This why you’re such bitch?” he said, exaggerating his tone to try and eke a smile from Sid. It kind of worked. “Jesus, it’s not so serious, who cares?”

“It’s the wings guy,” Sid said grimly, and Zhenya groaned in empathy. The Pittsburgh Penguins take their chicken wings very seriously. “I think I got a lead, though. I just gotta make one more call and hopefully this gets wrapped up so I can nap.”

They’d knocked on wood at the reception desk, then gone their separate ways.

Sid hadn’t been ready for the early bus, but Zhenya went over anyway, eager to get his PT torture session over with so he could change and relax, and by the time Sid blows into the lounge Zhenya’s installed on the perfectly adequate couch, sucking down a protein shake and flicking through the channels as he waits for puck drop.

“New wings?” he asks, and Sid sneers at him. Zhenya purses his lips and shrugs, tracking Sid through the lounge as he slams open the refrigerator and digs for a snack.

“Other guy didn’t work out,” Sid says through a mouthful of granola as he drops heavily onto the couch. “Keep that on silent, I need to make a call.”

“You’re nap?” Zhenya asks, and Sid shakes his head sharply, jabbing at his phone. That explains a lot.

Sid’s on his phone through most of the first period, putting on his best aw-shucks voice as he tries to convince someone in a fifty-mile radius of Pittsburgh to whip up a couple hundred buffalo wings in under 24 hours. Zhenya half-listens, sending random Instagram reels in the Team Russia group chat and keeping an eye on the game playing out silently on the big screen across the room.

At one point, Sid gets up and paces in tight circles, and Zhenya puts his phone down to watch—Sid on the verge of a hosting-related breakdown is far more interesting than whatever jokes Kirya’s trying to make. Poor kid, he’s been out this season even longer than Zhenya has. Eventually, though, Sid drops his phone into his lap and sighs.

“All good?” Zhenya asks, passing the remote over before Sid can snatch it from his lap. 

Sid shrugs. “I found someone,” he says, but he still sounds pissy. “It was pretty far down my list, but the reviews are okay…hopefully it works out.”

“Bummer for not get usual, I’m like best,” Zheya says, stretching his legs forward and cringing when his left knee pops.

“Yeah, well, sorry about the letdown for your last ever Super Bowl party,” Sid mutters, and Zhenya whips his head around. Sid’s staring at the television with a surly look on his face.

The pieces are starting to come together. Sid’s avoidance, his odd caginess when Zhenya tries to talk about summer plans…

Over the summer, Sid and Zhenya talked a lot. Sid had been waffling about his contract extension, first wanting six years, then one, and Zhenya spent a lot of time listening as Sid talked himself into, then out of, and then back into the terms he was going to ask Pat to send to the team.

At some point, he’d tried to lighten the mood with a joke. He doesn’t remember exactly what he said, but it was something like, why not just ask for max term and if he feels like he wants to be done sooner than it expires he can just retire—Zhenya’s thinking of doing the same after this upcoming season, after all.

It hadn’t been serious. He’d thought about it; he’s still thinking about it. But he still doesn’t quite feel ready to be done with the Penguins as a player, so it’s really nothing more than a fancy, an idea he revisits when his knees ache so badly they wake him up in the middle of the night. The comment to Sid was nothing, less than a throwaway.

Sid had gone quiet, and that conversation had ended quickly. Zhenya didn’t hear from Sid for a few days. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time; they’re both busy, and Zhenya loses track of how long it’s been between travel, charity tournaments, and arguing with Anya through their lawyers.

When they got back to Pittsburgh, though, Sid was still acting off. He’s lightened up as the season’s worn on, but Zhenya still catches Sid watching him with a strange intensity sometimes. He clams up when Zhenya asks what’s wrong, neatly avoids all efforts at a serious conversation before Zhenya even realizes he’s changed the subject.

Now, though, it’s making sense.

“Sid,” Zhenya says, reaching out and trying to touch Sid’s shoulder. Sid flinches away from him. “You’re mad I make joke that maybe I retire this year? It’s not serious, like, okay I think about, but I’m still here, you know, I’m still do my best to play.”

“Whatever,” Sid snaps. He’s turning the remote over in his hands, and Zhenya wants to reach over and take it away from him. “I don’t care what you do. Go back to Russia now if you want, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything.”

“Change what?” Zhenya demands, lost. Sid’s getting worked up, angry in a way that Zhenya hasn’t seen since they were much younger and Sid was less in control of his emotions. “Who’s say I go back to Russia? Maybe I move to Miami with Nikita. Maybe I stay in Pittsburgh! Jesus, Sid, what’s your problem?”

Sid snorts, turning to glare at Zhenya. “Come on,” he says, scornful. “Everyone knows you’re going to go back to Russia. You’ll move home and play for Metallurg, and once you’re back in Russia you and Anna will figure it out and get back together, and you’ll stay there until your Hall induction, and by then I won’t—” He snaps his mouth shut.

Zhenya feels like he’s scrambling to keep up with a video game he’s never played before. “Sid, I tell you, Anya and I, like, it’s done for real. We’re figure out how to be friends for Nikita, maybe, but we’re not together. Why you’re say all this? You won’t what?”

Sid presses his mouth into a flat line. His eyes flicker over Zhenya’s face, and he squares his shoulders. For a wild moment, Zhenya wonders if Sid’s going to hit him. “I won’t be able to tell you how I feel about you. I’ll have run out of time,” he says.

His words land like bricks in the quiet room. 

“Feel about…” Zhenya knows what Sid means, though, and his entire world tilts on its axis.

The entire twenty years rearrange themselves. Pieces move into place, events take on new meaning.

Sid watches him steadily. Zhenya looks back helplessly. Neither of them say another word.

[hurtspideyparker]

Not sure if you're still aking the asks but I don't think I've seen any of your Blackhill HCs before :D

Natasha is not a morning person. So much so that it's the only time her guard is down enough that Maria can sneak some candid photos. She has a beautiful collection that she keeps hidden from her girlfriend; of her sleeping with her mouth open, drool on the pillowcase, her hair in a messy bun. Her tank top twisted nearly backwards from rolling around in her sleep, of her little nose peeking out from the blanket on cold nights. Unfortunately, Natasha finds out somehow and manages to delete all the photos, including the backups. (Maria still refers to it as the burning of Alexandria)

When men hit on them they don't reject them by saying they're gay or in a relationship. They just say the man is too ugly. If the guy gets pissy then it's even more fun, punching creeps is their favourite pastime

Natasha cannot make a decision on what to eat ever. Maria forgets about food until it's placed in front of her. Neither cook. Food is their worst enemy and the cause of most fights ("I don't want to decide again, just pick something!" "I'm NOT HUNGRY, you choose." "We've been over this—")

Neither are the cuddly type. They like to lean against the other, or rest a hand on their leg or arm, very domestic. In bed they might hold each other but once they say goodnight neither wants to be touched as they sleep

Maria always takes care of Natasha's hair. If she hears her using the hair brush Maria will rush into the bathroom and ask why Nat didn't ask her do it. Natasha likes the way she's conditioned to the sound and does it to tease her; she loves Maria touching her hair and would never take the opportunity away from her. Don't tell her but Natasha grew it out so Maria could try braiding

They sit next to each other on dates instead of across, because neither like to have their back to the door. One day Natasha sits across from Maria when the waiter pulls the chair out for her and doesn't even realize till they're halfway through dinner. She tells Maria she loves her for the first time on the ride home, because trust was the last thing she needed to be sure.

They share clothes a lot, especially big frumpy sweaters a long-sleeves that really hold each other's scent. Deodorant, shampoo, perfume on the collar, sweat from sleep. They don't really know what belongs to who anymore

Maria sometimes calls Natasha 'Natalia' when they're home alone, whispered and soft. Natasha likes it a lot more than she thought she would

They love a good friendly competition, especially in the gym. One turns the speed up on the treadmill, the other goes up two levels. When stretching they give subtle looks at the other to stretch just a bit further than them. Crunches, planks, squats... stopping first is the same as losing. The winner gets a massage because they'll definitely need it after all that...

Natasha likes to hide bruises/hickeys on Maria so that she doesn't notice them but everyone else sure will. The back of her neck, behind her ear, on her chest so you only notice when she bends over and her shirt falls open. It has put her in some very awkward positions in very professional settings, and Nat is always smirking when Maria confronts her

Every single time Natasha wears bold lipstick she just has to give a big smooch to Maria's cheek. She even waits till Maria is nearby for her smudge resistant formulas because she needs to kiss her before it dries. One time this cumulated into their entire living room being turned upside down because Maria was trying to run away and Nat was extremely determined to hunt her down (yes she did finally tackle her and give her the kiss. In heels too)

They don't baby each other or get overprotective on missions. They have extreme trust and faith in one another's abilities. They do, however, have a promise to always be honest about injuries, and treat each other with impossible gentleness. They are very much silent communicators

[amie-777]

continuation of this

MDNI

TW: none (please tell me if there is), terrible attempt at accents

A food container is shoved in front of you. "Yer favorite." "Thank you." You watch them whilst eating.

Everyone except Johnny, you've stared at him plenty you know how he looks.

The dim light from the hallway shines onto their faces. Occasionally it blinks out of service, before turning on again. You turn down at the warm food container, it has been a few days since you ate this much.

Only their proportions are visible. On your left, the man with the gentle warm hand sits, a bear of a man. He has a beard, big nose and small eyes. He gives you a small smile when you stare, one you return. There is food in his beard, but you don't comment on it.

On your right is the one that has his thigh pressed against yours. Only by that you determine the sheer size of him. He is hunched in his chair, one that has a pillow on top of it, does he have back pain?

Opposite of you is someone particularly interesting. Not because of how the light makes him more attractive fascinating, but because of how he sits. Someone with an elegant face structure. Lips poised and eating upright, like he had disciplinary lessons as a kid.

"Ea' dove." The man on your right, with his pointer he pushes the container near you. You only nod, and shove more food in your mouth. Whilst watching Johnny. He is hunched, shovelling the food in his open mouth. Someone that wasn't used to having his own plate

You eat slow, with a lowered head, but all four of them in your vision.

Like you're a gazelle drinking at a waterhole with lions around.

After you and everyone else is done with eating John slides a small folder in front of you. "We want to offer you something." You figured so you nod.

"We need someone to do our customs, it's a timey job to wait around without papers." You nod again. Eyes cast on the folder. "I need you up here, swee'heart." He smiles gently, with his big hand he reaches to touch your temple again. That makes your eyes flick to his once more. Don't get lost.

"It's a job contract. To work at our firm. But don't feel pressured, you don't want it don't take it." He assures. You don't really feel assured.

The giant on your right reaches a hand and opens the contract. His big pointer presses right above the sign line. "You sign here and you get the job."

Clever girl you are. Reading the contract. Each and every line. Kyle thinks and his eyes flick to every one of his lovers. Kyle musters a smile at Simons agitated look. Impatient bastard he has to fuck it out of him tonight.

"okay..I'm in." You reach out your hand after you've signed your name. "Names John, that's Kyle and Simon." A warm, beefy hand elopes yours. "And me." You chuckle. A surprise to all of them, even yourself. "I know you, Johnny." He preens at that.

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

This is not edited at all. I wrote this down and just posted it. I wanted to post something but I have a lot on my plate.

So hugs to everyone and have a good rest of your day or night <33

[wolvndmouth]

okay ya’ll hear me out

x-24

and this wade

x-24!logan is rescued by worst!logan and wade (laura was extremely convincing). it’s early enough in the timeline that x-24 isn’t the animal we’ve seen before

worst!logan and wade have no idea what to do with him (neither of them thought that far ahead tbh); he’s not 100% a danger to others, but he’s not 100% safe to be around. he is still mute, still quick to anger, but has not yet been broken into the rageful, feral weapon rice trains him to be in the future

he’s more like an angry dog who doesn’t know why they bite; all they know is that they can and will

wade, logan and al also can’t manage one more person in the apartment, much less someone like x-24, who can not only NOT pay rent/bills, but is still pretty volatile at the absence of a proper handler. it’s too fucked up of a thing to ask worst!logan or laura to take the role, and wade is just not the person for this job

but wade knows the exact person for this (and has them on speed dial just in case his logan ever wants to save a horse by riding a cowboy). western!wade knows what it’s like to live life on the run. the tva know x-24 is missing, and sending him to live with this version of wade in his timeline can buy more time

it started off as a favor and short-term shelter. this wade takes him home to his acreage in montana, and even though everyone else sees x-24 as a more of a mutt than a man, wade has a fully furnished guest room for him.

western!wade has broken his fair share of stallions, but this one is by far his toughest challenge. but western!wade is just as stubborn as x-24 and the dog keeps him on his feet, and soon enough, he’s got a bit of a soft spot for the fella

wade doesn’t necessarily handle him like an animal, but he knows how to get his way when it comes to beasts. and x-24 feels safe knowing that. the training involved is satisfying to the both of them, and they’ve both come to an unspoken agreement about how they’ll be living their life together. x-24’s guest room is no longer for guests; it’s now his own. in exchange for room and board, x-24 helps with the farm work

x becomes pretty docile. still mute, still stoic, but has been taught past his purpose of violence to feel, think, and choose. western!wade becomes more patient. still talkative, still wild, but more open to being gentle than wrenching his way. they eat dinner together every night. wade plays old westerns and silent movies one night and hears x laugh for the first time. and they both suddenly have a thought that maybe they’re the best things to happen to each other in a long time

however, the first time x-24 hears western!wade call him a “good boy”, it’s something he never wants to live without hearing again. it doesn’t fix the monster he feels he is, but for a small moment, he feels like he doesn’t have to hurt himself or others to be seen

that same day, while the pair are handling their usual farm work, the tva come for x to bring him back to his proper timeline, but wade just can’t let that happen. wade comes out guns blazing, taking down every agent that’s come without a single thought. x-24 doesn’t even have time to react; wade handles it all. x figures the least he can do is to help to wade bury the bodies and after that night, x-24 doesn’t sleep in the guest room anymore. he sleeps in a chair just outside of wade’s room, and he will not be convinced otherwise. this goes on for weeks, x-24 staying as a watch dog and wade with pistols under his pillow, the both of them ready at moment’s notice to fight for their home

it takes time, but x-24’s place moves from just outside the door, to a chair in the corner of the bedroom, to the floor at the foot of the bed. eventually, he’s sleeping on the bed; still at the foot but with the way things are going, probably for not much longer

x is getting all the horses to sleep in the barn. wade watches him from the other barn door, x petting each one as he locks up each door. every wade has their logan, but to him it almost seems wrong to want this one the way he does. after everything x has been through, it feels like he’s taking advantage. but wade has never noticed the way x looks at him from a far. he doesn’t notice that x never falls asleep first. he doesn’t see x lay awake at night, contemplating his feelings, nor does he see his dreams of their life together, but with more love and less violence. he’s never considered the loyalty that man’s grown for him as anything else but gratitude

tonight though, it’s apparent. wade’s so lost in thought, he doesn’t notice that x has left the barn. he only realizes when he feels eyes stare into him like daggers from behind. he turns around and wade swears the man in front of him looks like he wants to rip him to shreds; the feral look in his eyes could easily be confused with the desire to tear into him

but western!wade has grown to know x-24 in ways no one has ever bothered to. and he also knows what a man’s eyes look like when they look like they want to devour you in other ways. x-24 can smell the way wade’s understanding feels. they stand staring at each other, neither making a move, almost in fear of what coming together might actually mean for them

quietly and without a word, they both make their way to the house, neither one following the other, but neither one lagging behind. they make their way to the room, x closing the door behind him as wade undresses for bed. normally x would wait till wade gets into bed before taking his place at the foot. tonight, he watches as wade makes his way to him. wade looks into x’s eyes as he reaches for the hem of his shirt, asking in the only way he can bring himself to, and is still as a statue until x gives him a nod of his head in approval

both men are down to their boxers, wade taking note of every scar, stitch, and ridge left behind from x’s time in the lab. x had always taken note of how different wade smells bare skin, without all the leather and just the sweat of the day clothing him, but it’s different tonight, knowing how close they’ll finally be. wade takes him by the hand and leads him to the bed, walking him past the foot and to the other side of the mattress instead. it’s a side of the bed that’s been empty for a long time; it doesn’t smell like vanessa or cable anymore. it no longer smells like death, and in more ways than one. wade looks into x’s eyes, one last time before they craw into bed together as if to really ask him if this is okay. x smiles and nods his head, climbing in and taking his spot next to the other man beneath the covers. and as they fall asleep entwined together, they both dream of blue skies, open fields, and of a life they never knew could belong to them