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opheliawhodrowned · 1 day ago

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Daughters with Soft Underbellies [Chapter 1]

[Outlaw/Cowboy!John Price x Preachers Daughter!fem!Reader] Masterlist | AO3 | early access | navigation

there's someone new in town

cw: western time setting, archaic punishments/abuse, religious trauma, religious imagery, bad father/daughter relationship, minor wound mention, archaic standards of women, reader is Christian, probably inaccurate Christianity, more tags on ao3

wc: 2.7k

He has you kneeling on rice again.

Unforgiving grains burrow deep into your skin as their wickedly sharp ends pierce straight through your knees. Eyes trained on the scuffed wooden floor below you, you do not look at your father. Leather boots skirt your vision as he paces beside you, slow and with consideration. You swallow and the aftertaste of that morning’s communion dances on your tongue. Sweet wine pairs oddly with your father’s brutality, but it is the only flavor you’ve ever known.

Bloodied fingers coil around the back of the pew in front of you as he raps your knuckles with a wooden stick no larger than the circumference of his thumb. Searing pain cuts through you with the consideration of an untrained blade, but you are good at willing your tears away. He reminds you that this is your fault, and that this is a terrible waste. A waste of time, a waste of food—everything that concerns you is pure prodigality. Gluttony in its most concentrated form. You can consume nothing—not resource nor time—without it being a sin.

Crack!

“Again,” he demands.

Biting back the acrimony boiling in the depths of your throat, you shift. Rice scatters, bouncing along the floor as it spreads, and you grimace. There is only the slightest amount of comfort to be found in your movement, but it is met by swift punishment. You are not supposed to find solace while in the midst of one of your father’s demanding lessons.

Crack!

“Then, they spit on Him. They took the stick from His hands-”

Crack!

“Wrong. Again,” he demands.

Your mind reels as it attempts to recall the sermon your father gave that morning. His words spoken with utmost faith, the ones you are always made to recall as a lesson at the end of each morning, and yet you can’t. It’s patchy. Like the frayed ends of poorly woven textiles. No matter how often you blink, it won’t fix itself. You can only stumble and pray you pull on the right string to unravel it all.

“Then, they spit on Him. They took the stick from Him, and beat Him with it,” you attempt.

Once more, you are punished. It’s difficult to hold back the tears now as the skin on your knuckles parts like dried clay in a forgotten riverbed. They’re wide, deep crevices. Broken skin is good. It serves a purpose. It allows you to soak up your father’s lessons directly from the source.

“Do you not listen at all? Does your mind wander during my sermons? What better things do you have to think about than His word? Again,” he demands.

“Then, they spit on Him. They took the stick from Him, and beat Him on the head with it.”

There is a gentle lull that succeeds your recitation. Anxious pacing ceases as your father stares down at your kneeling form, gaze burning into the back of your head. When he hums, content with your answer, you feel every muscle in your body melt. Proud, you look up at him, ready to revel in accolades, but his lips are pressed firmly together. It is the only way he is able to restrain the acidulous words he would otherwise spew at you.

“Good,” he mutters, though it is flat. There is no pride to be found anywhere within him.

He strikes the stick against your knuckles five more times on each hand. With each impact, he reminds you this is for your own good. This is what a loving father does—a man of God—he teaches his daughter right from wrong.

As usual, you are made to clean up the mess that remains after your lesson. Rice is swept up by broom and stowed away into the pockets of your apron like treasured pebbles found on a walk, and what little blood that remains on the pew is wiped clean. Your hands ache. They pulse and throb, and the apex of your knuckles sting as if you’ve rubbed salt in the broken skin. You might as well have done as much with the brine that seeps into the wounds each time you rub at your eyes.

When all is clean, and your transgressions are swept aside, momentarily forgotten, you pray. Your father always says forgiveness is God’s duty. God is the quintessence of love and mercy while your father has proved many times he is not. A devout worshiper and priest, his love and respect is saved for his savior—never his daughter. So you kneel in the pews and bow your head before the cross strung up on the wall above you, and you beg. You apologize for the simple sin of your existence. You pray that God might bless you with the tools to be a better daughter.

Amen.

You rise. The church is stilly, and you are alone. You are left to ruminate about your failures in this divine building until it is spotless. There is always more cleaning to be done. Breadcrumbs left from communion, wine that stains the wooden floors nearly as bad as your own blood does, muck from work boots; you are on your hands and knees more often than your own two feet. Perpetually in prayer. Reciting scriptures. Cleaning this house of God until not a speck of sin remains.

When you are finished with your duties at the church, your father sends you into town to fetch wine. It’s foolish of you to believe he would allow you to sit at the dining table with him and partake in lunch. To enjoy a mouthwatering meal of boiled potatoes and ham. He always sends you out when you look like this—disheveled from cleaning and still trying to stunt the bleeding of your hands. It’s the acme of his lesson: ignominy. Shame digs in deeper, settles in nicer, when there’s an audience to witness it.

Mr. Beckett’s chickens are roaming the town again. You notice a few stragglers as you come to the end of the path that slowly morphs into the main road. Colorful hens cluck and bob their heads as you weave between them. They feast on small beetles with iridescent exoskeletons that flutter and click between sparse strands of grass, but when they take note of you, they stare expectantly. You try not to wince as your knuckles scrape against the fabric of your apron, hands diving into your pockets to retrieve uncooked rice. They flock as you toss the grains on the ground for them to peck and gorge themselves, putting your punishment to good use.

Sheep bleat at you just as you turn the corner into town. The flock has grown steady this spring with several new additions of playful lambs that trot after their mothers. They curiously line the fence as you pass by, and cry pitifully as your figure grows smaller in the distance. Townsfolk flutter in and out of steady wood buildings with their pockets full of money, both earned and spent. Your own fingers brush against the cash your father gave you for your task—you keep in mind his words of warning:

I’ll be counting that change when you return, girl.

The saloon isn’t busy this early in the afternoon, yet Mr. Beckett is perched at his bar wiping down glistening glasses. Empty tables adorn scratched wooden floors, and the tops are sparkling clean. The summer sun seeps through cracked windows, though the building still seems darker than it should be. A group of four men lurk in the far corner of the bar, each talking lowly and looking at you with shifting eyes, yet you avert your gaze as you approach the bar.

“Afternoon, Mr. Beckett,” you greet. You muster your best smile as you wipe a hand beneath your eyes, worried tear stains are still visible on your cheeks. “Your chickens are out again.”

Chuckling, Mr. Beckett pushes the empty glasses to the side to give you his full attention. Wrinkles settle in his face as crows feet wink by his eyes, and they only deepen as he smiles at you. There’s a cheeky twinkle that lurks in his grey eyes, and a rosy color that fills his cheeks.

“I’m sure that broke your heart having to see those critters running amuck along the trail,” he teases. “What can I do for you, kid?”

“My father sent me to get some wine for next week’s service,” you say.

“Ah, I should’ve known. Three?” he asks.

“Yes, please.”

Mr. Beckett holds up a finger as if to tell you to stay put before he wanders off to fetch your order. Sighing, you look down at your knuckles while you wait. They’ve stopped bleeding, but the blood crusts on your skin like boulders on a mountain. Your father didn’t even give you time to clean the scabs from your hands before sending you off to do his bidding. It’s almost as much of an eyesore as it is a literal sore.

But—as it is with all wounds—your blood seems to have attracted the dogs.

Their gazes burn your flesh, and you are suddenly well aware of the men at your back. You had done your best to ignore them upon your arrival, but curiosity gnaws at you with dull, aching teeth. Casting a cautious glance over your shoulder, you soak up swift looks at each of the men. You catch sight of a masked man too large for his own good, a handsome fellow with deep brown skin and kind eyes, a stranger with an even stranger haircut, and a man with a low sitting hat. The brim nearly covers his eyes, but you’re still able to catch the blaze of his cobalt gaze as he stares at you.

You shiver.

“Alright, here we are,” Mr. Beckett hums as he returns behind the bar. Glad to have someone else to focus on, you find a smile on your face as he begins to unload the bottles in his arms onto the counter. “Three bottles of red wine. Should be plenty for everyone, I hope.”

“I appreciate it, Mr. Beckett,” you chuckle. When digging into your apron pocket, you can’t help but wince as your knuckles once again scrape against the unyielding fabric. You play it off with a cough as you present the cash to him. “This ought to be enough.”

At the same time as he grabs the cash with one hand, Mr. Beckett grabs your wrist with the other. Gently, he turns your palm over until your knuckles are on display beneath the oil lamp that sits just above your head. Pressing your lips together, you keep your eyes on the bartop, too ashamed to witness the results of your own stupidity.

“Why don’t you grab a seat, kid,” he insists.

There’s no use in arguing; you’re well aware that he won’t give you your change until you let him clean you up. Sighing, you hop onto the stool and lay your palms flat on the counter while Mr. Beckett retrieves his strongest moonshine. He pours a bit of it onto a rag before pressing it into your cracked skin where it soaks deep like thirsty soil. Your squeak echoes in the near empty room, and you feel your face heat as you attempt to keep your head down.

“Why’d he do it this time?” he asks.

“It was my fault,” you insist.

“You and I both know it wasn’t,” Mr. Beckett retorts.

You swallow as he wipes the rag along your skin before moving to the next knuckle. “I couldn’t quote his sermon today. I should’ve paid better attention.”

“Perhaps your father should have more grace. He ought to marry you off already. I reckon you’d find more peace with a husband than you would with him.”

Things grow quiet between you and Mr. Becket just as the muttering grows louder behind you. Those men—those strangers—make the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Still, you are grateful for their presence, as they give you something else to talk about than your unfortunate life as an eternal servant to your father.

“Mr. Beckett, can I ask about the gentlemen behind me?” you whisper.

He politely drops one hand in order to move to the next, but his eyes stray to strangers at your back. “Travelers. Blew into town a day or two ago. They’ve been doing odd jobs to scrounge up some money, but they’re nothing but trouble, if you ask me.”

“What makes you say that?” you ask, voice cracking as he starts cleaning your other hand.

Sighing, Mr. Beckett keeps his tongue between his teeth for a moment as he weighs his options. Eyes turning back to your hands, he pauses as he inspects the blood crusting on the rag.

“That fellow in the mask… I’ve heard of him. Ghost stories ‘bout him anyway. They all have strange accents. From across the pond, or so they say. They’ve all got this uncanny look in their eyes and… well, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say they’re the 141 Gang. At least, that fellow in the back looks like the man wanted from Blackpeak.”

This name—141—drops from Mr. Beckett’s lips like it’s supposed to mean something to you, and yet it doesn’t ring a bell. Eyes narrowing, you tilt your head at him.

“I’m not familiar,” you admit.

“Dangerous people. Robbers. Murderers. They might greet you with a smile, but just look at how sharp their teeth are, kid. Nothing but wild animals ready to rip out throats for a bounty or good pay. Surprised they’re not wanted by half of The West by this point. They make people disappear, then vanish just as quickly. I’m just hopin’ if I keep my head down long enough, they’ll skip town before they cause any trouble.”

Neither of you speak as the rest of your knuckles are cleared of debris and coagulated scabs. You are often plagued with the human affliction of having your heart stuck in your throat, but now you know your feelings aren’t unfounded. That tingle in your skin, the heat boiling at the nape of your neck—you wonder if these men even bother to wash the blood from their clothes before pretending to be human. Do they shed their wolf-teeth before attempting to blend into the flock?

Once Mr. Beckett is content with the dismal state of your hands, he finally gives you your change. You quickly stow it away in your apron pocket before you turn to the several bottles of wine waiting for you on the bartop. You gather them in your arms before you slide off of the stool, eager to get home and well away from this 141 Gang. Yet just as your feet hit the ground, the fabric of your skirt catches on the wood stool, and suddenly your seat comes toppling to the floor with a deafening thud.

Shame boils deep in your chest where it superheats your blood until your entire body is sweltering. You look up from the mess you’ve made with parted lips, yet no words come out. Your chest heaves as you stare up at Mr. Beckett with wide eyes, yet he only looks at you with benignancy.

“I-I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean- It just caught-” you stutter.

“It’s alright, kid,” he interjects.

Silence envelops you so suddenly that you’re painfully aware of how many sets of eyes are on you. Dark gazes glint in the numbra that lurks in the corner of the saloon. The men look over their shoulders and from beneath the brims of their hats to soak up the view of you—a trembling, pathetic thing that’s about to drop the wine from her hands.

“I’ll clean it up, don’t you worry about it,” Mr. Beckett assures as he rounds the corner of the bartop, waving you off. “Now, you best be on your way. Shouldn’t keep your daddy waiting.”

Turning around feels like opening a healing wound—it burns and leaves you trembling as you mutter a farewell and stumble out the door. You keep the wine in your arms clutched to your chest with wounded hands as you rush back home. Sheep bleat and chickens cluck, yet their whining cannot drown out the sound of your heart. That booming thunder as blood gushes through your veins; it still boils. Vermillion waves of unrelenting shame and fear.

Even on the edge of town you can still feel it—the gaze of those wolves. You pray to God that they leave your sleepy livestock town alone.

Then again, God has never been merciful in answering your prayers.

#kore writes #dwsu #john price x reader #price x reader #captain price x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x you #price x you #f!reader

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yelenasdiary · 1 day ago

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Request for the little au c: little reader is 6 and gets all turned around while wanda is out grocery shopping with her. Little reader does what momma told her to do when she gets lost and goes to find a grown up to help her find Wandie but the grown up tries to kidnap her? Wanda to the rescue! Big bonding moment?

Big Bad Wolf

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Daughter! Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Wanda picks you up from school and has to make a stop at the store on the way home.

Angst, Comfort

Warnings: Mentions of near Kidnapping | 1.5K

AC: Thank you for sending this, poor reader just did as they were told haha! I hope you enjoy! x

A Widow’s Sunshine Masterlist

Hand in hand, Wanda led the two of you into the grocery store. The same store you and your mother, Natasha often would go to. You felt a little sad that you’d been at school all day and had only seen your mom for breakfast before she dropped you off. Wanda assured you that your mom would be home before dinner and had a surprise for you when she would finish work. So, to help cheer you up, Wanda asked what you would like for dinner and to no surprise, you asked if you could make home-made pizzas.

“Wanda, can I go look at the plushies?” You asked, trying to drag Wanda towards the aisle where the cheap toys were. You always loved to see if there was any new plushies to add to your growing collection.

“In a minute love” Wanda replied with a light chuckle as she pulled a shopping cart out with her free hand, “do you want to sit in the cart today?” She asked but you shook your head. “Okay but make sure you either hold my hand or the cart” Wanda reminds you before you can run off to the toy section. Your small hand latched onto the metal cart as Wanda began to push it into the direction of the vegetables, checking her shopping list on her phone that she had pulled together quickly in the carpark.

“What is first on the list?” You asked, looking up at the brunette.

“We need some bell peppers” Wanda replied, smiling softly. As soon as the red and green bell peppers caught your eyes, you ran towards them. “Found them!” You called out to her as she followed behind you, pushing the cart. “Good job!” Wanda praised before she picked up a pre-packed set of three. “What’s next?” You asked, eager to get to the toy aisle. Wanda looked down at the notes app on her phone, “uhh, we need an onion” she replied while she read the next couple of items listed.

You patiently followed the cart's wheels as Wanda pushed it gently towards the onions, Wanda could see your eyes wandering towards the stuffed toys. “Now we need some shredded cheese” Wanda spoke after she placed an onion into the cart.

After grabbing the shredded cheese, the next item was tomato paste which just happened to be next to the toy aisle. Wanda was just about to turn the corner when she stopped in her tracks. When you looked up, you saw Aunty Pepper with a basket in her hand. The two adults smiled at one another before they started small talking.

“Wanda, can I please go look at the plushies?” You begged, Wanda looked down at you and chuckled, “okay, but don’t go anywhere else, okay?” She replied. You nodded with a smile on your lips before you raced off down the aisle where your eyes were met with the many different plushies.

You took a few moments, digging around the pile of toys before you finally found one that you fell in love with instantly, a lion plushie with an extra soft and fluffy main. This was the one, you knew you couldn’t leave your new friend behind.

On your heels, you turned and ran back to the end of the aisle where Wanda was, well, last was. You turned around in a circle, your eyes searching for Wanda, but you couldn’t see her. Suddenly you felt alone and soon enough a scared feeling started to settle in. You held the lion plushie a little tighter when you remembered what your mom would always tell you.

“If you ever get lost, go find an adult worker and ask them to help you, okay? Can you remember that for me?”

Your mother's voice ran through your mind, you couldn’t tell who worked here and who didn’t, so you walked up to the first adult in sight.

“E-excuse me, c-can you please help me? I’m lost” you asked, looking up at the stranger with watery eyes.

The stranger kneeled down, “well that’s a shame, isn’t it? Do you know what your mommy was wearing?” He asked. You shook your head, “my mommy isn’t here” you corrected him. “Who are you here with? Your daddy?” He asked. You shook your head once more, “I don’t have a daddy, I am here with Wanda but I can’t find her” you replied.

The blonde haired man with green eyes looked friendly enough to help you as he stood up and placed a hand on your shoulder, “come with me, I’m sure she’s outside looking for you” he said. He didn’t have a cart with him or a basket, he just had a loaf of bread in one hand. You clenched the plushie in your arms a little tighter as the man led you towards the check out.

“Just the bread and the toy?” The woman behind the counter asked, the man nodded. He let go of your shoulder to pull out his wallet and pay for the two items before the woman smiled softly at him and told you both to have a good day. He handed you the lion plushie and placed his hand on your shoulder once more, this time his grip felt a little tighter than before.

You were a foot out the sliding doors before you heard Wanda shout your name. You looked over your shoulder and saw Wanda running towards you.

“DON’T LET HIM GO!” Wanda yelled as security looked over towards the door. You wiggled free of the stranger’s grip and ran towards Wanda, crashing into her arms. “Sweetheart, are you okay? Are you hurt?” She asked you. You weren’t sure why she was in such a panic, “I’m okay Wanda” you smiled softly, “this man was helping me. He said you were outside looking for me” you added.

“Is there a problem here?” The security asked, blocking the door from the unnamed man to leave. Wanda looked up at him and saw the panic in his eyes before her mind flashed with the image of his intentions. “Yes!” She replied, “he tried to kidnap her!” Wanda added, making you confused.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you come with me” the security guard turned his attention to the stranger. “This is all just a misunderstanding” he said.

“Then you should have no problem coming with me”

You felt Wanda hug you tighter while you watched the security guy take the stranger who you thought was kind to the back of the store. Wanda gently placed you back on your feet, “Wanda, why did you get that man in trouble?” You asked her. Wanda felt her heart melt at your innocents, but she knew this would be something Natasha would have to explain to you in better terms.

“Honey, did your mommy ever tell you not to talk to strangers?” She asked you.

“Yes, but she told me if I ever get lost that I need to find an adult who works here and ask for help” you replied, looking into Wanda’s eyes, “I couldn’t find a worker” you added as Wanda gently brushed a loose lock of hair behind your ear, “did I do something wrong?” You asked.

Wanda shook her head, “no darling, you did the right thing, but that man didn’t do the right thing”

You could only nod at her words, unsure of what they meant. “How about we go home and order a pizza tonight?” Wanda asked.

“Was he a big bad wolf?” You asked Wanda, ignoring her question. Natasha must’ve told you something, Wanda was sure of that given the words that left your lips. She nodded softly, “yes darling, he was”

Without a second thought, you wrapped your small arms around Wanda and hugged her tightly, “I want to go home please” you said softly.

----

Like Wanda told you when she picked you up from school, your mother came home just before dinner. She was just in time, kicking her shoes off as the pizza delivery knocked on the door.

“Delivery?” Natasha questioned, “I thought we were doing home-made pizzas?” She added.

“We were at the store getting stuff but then a big bad wolf tried to take me outside” you answered, giving your mother an almost heart attack. “What?!” She said in a panic before scooping you up in her arms instantly, “are you okay? Did they hurt you?” She asked. You shook your head, “no mommy, Wanda saved me” you smiled softly while Wanda paid for the pizza.

“I’ll explain it to you after dinner” Wanda assured the redhead who held you close.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there baby” your mother spoke softly, not wanting to let you go. “I’m okay mommy, can we please eat now?” You asked as if nothing in the world bothered you. Nat slowly let you go, placing you back on your feed while her eyes checked you over, once she was sure you didn’t have any injuries she placed a kiss on the top of your head, “let’s eat” she said softly.

If you want to be on the taglist for this series, please see the masterlist. It's linked at the top of this post.

#yelenasdiary asks #scarletwidowblackwitch #fanfiction #marvel #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat x reader #wandanat

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itsa-me-lily · 3 days ago

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I am still tired, but brain is less mush after some lunch. (Can you guess what I had)

Here is other Military Program Spouse (mobile is fighting me to add the link)

It helps to assume here that unless stated otherwise Simon is wearing a medical mask around reader. She’s just like whatever floats your boat my dude

Content warning;

Mention of food, medical devices, scars, cellulite

“Simon whatever your middle name is Riley you better not be looking at my legs.”

Maybe his mum had a point, that women developed eyes in the back of their head. He wasn’t deliberately looking at your legs, but he wasn’t not not looking either. For some reason unbeknownst to him, you had decided that you had to make the biggest batch of soup known to man. Sure the seasons were changing, summer slowly letting go for fall, but it wasn’t as if a chilly wind was rattling at the windows threatening to steal whatever heat existed. It was still relatively balmy, warm enough to have the windows open and enjoy the breeze. Warm enough that having the stove going made the kitchen borderline stuffy, encouraging you to cook in just a loose tank top and shorts that hit mid thigh.

Simon wasn’t a prude, he wasn’t scandalized at seeing the curve of your thighs, or grossed out by the cellulite. Everyone had fucking skin and however you wanted to dress in the comfort of your home you were welcomed to it. But he had eyes and well he was curious. His own body was covered in scars and tattoos that told a myriad of stories. So he looked to see what yours had to say.

Picking at the chicken you had left on the counter he counted the spots that your insulin pods left behind like stars, noticed how you missed a small strip of hair when you were shaving, even the mole that you had on the back of one ankle; they all came together to make up parts of a story about his wife that he was just starting to get.

He was so lost in thought, mechanically putting piece after piece of poached bird into his mouth, barely paying attention to anything besides the action of seeming busy, that he didn’t notice when you turned around, the exasperation in your voice finally catching his attention.

“Seriously? What did I just say?”

Simon wasn’t someone who startled, didn’t jump or hunch his shoulders to his ears. He had spent far to much time sharpening himself as to cut anyone who tried to catch him unaware. He just wasn’t prepared for you to admonish him like that, hands on your hips and looking for him to answer your question.

“What? You said not to look at your legs…I wasn’t lookin’ at them”

Not a lie, but not quite the truth.

“Yeah instead you’re eating your way through them!”

He blinked at you slowly once and then twice, following your gaze down to the plate of chicken leg quarters he was indeed making his way through. At least one looked like it had been pounced on by scavengers.

“You said no lookin’, nothing about no tasting.”

That was most certainly a twitch to your eye. That probably should have been concerning, but honestly Simon was secure enough in his height and size that if you tried to suffocate him he could throw you off. He was a good head taller than you, honestly how much damage could you do? When you pointed your wooden spoon threateningly at his chest it didn’t do much besides remind him of a little old grandma who would wield the same utensil as a weapon.

“You sir, are an asshole. Now go run to a shop and get me one of the pre cooked chickens.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you’ve eaten half my damn chicken and like hell is my sancocho going to suffer for it.”

“Your what now?”

Yes Simon Riley knew he was being as ass. Yes he also thought that there was a realm of possibility that your upset face and clear murderous intentions were slightly endearing. But only slightly.

“My god damn soup. I swear to god if you fuck this up for me I will find a way to make you suffer the consequences.”

“Alright alright, no need to have a bird over some-heh, bird.”

He didn’t stay to see the double middle fingers you aimed for his back, he didn’t need to. He was pretty sure you were also cursing his name and maker. It wasn’t until the front door shut behind him that your colorful vocabulary was loudly shared with the world. It made him chuckle as he picked up his pace.

Heaven help anyone who got between a woman and her soup.

Edit

I am very passionate about my soup

#military program spouse #cod #simon x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley

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hyukasmiles · 2 days ago

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—Yeonjun—

Yeonjun misses you. Misses you so so so bad, hates when he has to be away from you. Texts you over and over and over again that he wishes you were with him, pouts to his members when you reply that he’ll be home in a few days and it’ll be ok.

He knows it’s true, two more days in Japan and he’ll be back in your arms, but here; alone in his hotel room he’s so overwhelmed with missing you tears well up in his eyes.

You pick up his facetime almost immediately, your tired, pretty features making him miss you more. “Awe..” You coo, kissing your screen. “My Junnie is crying.”

“I miss you.” His frown hurts. “My heart hurts.”

“I miss you too! So excited for you to come home!” You shift, so innocently, just trying to get comfortable but your pretty tits come into his view and Yeonjun is reminded of another thing he misses. “You’ve got my perfume, spray it on your pillow it might help you sleep.”

The tank top you’re wearing is so thin, pretty nipples almost completely visible through the fabric. “Yeah… that’s a good idea.” He doesn’t tell you he’s already drenched his bed and clothes in it, or that he’s quickly getting hard in his pants.

“Three days, Junnie, you’ll make it.” You move again, yawning and stretching and putting your body on display for him. “I miss you too, I had your hoodie on earlier but it’s too hot for it.”

Surely you won’t notice his hand slipping into his waistband. “We’re coming back a day early this time, so only two.” You make a noise in the back of your throat, eyes going wide as you smile out a yay.

“Really!” Your face presses closer at the same time his hand wraps around his achy cock. “That’s great! I can’t wait!” He can’t either, tempted to book a plane ticket and rush back to you now. “Are you guys having fun in Japan? Do any shopping before the concert?”

“Ye-yeah, I got you some stuff.” Another little noise and his hand slowly tugs upwards in his dick. “A sh- A shirt and some makeup from don quixote.”

“Awe, thank you.” Yeonjun’s hips jump, your hand would feel so much better, any part of you would feel better. Your tits are in his view again and the thought of fucking them draws a whine out of him, stopping you mid sentence. “You ok?”

“Yeah..” His voice is unstable, hand speeding up as you raise an eyebrow. “I’m jus-t tired and miss y-you.” His thumb swipes over his tip and another whine is pulled out of him.

“I guess I should hang up if you’re so tired.” You pull away from the camera, perfect boobs finally on full display for him. He wishes he was there to see them in person, too squeeze and lick and kiss and fuck.

Yeonjun panics a little, hand stopping as you try to say goodnight. “No- no, I want to hear your voice.” He rolls onto his stomach, hips hitting against the mattress. “Need to hear your voice. I just miss you so much.” His phone slips out of his as he reaches for a perfume-soaked pillow, groaning as your smell fills his brain.

“Do you feel good, Junnie?” You coo, seeming to have caught on to him. “Pick me up, I want to see.” Yeonjun props his phone against the bed frame, sitting up to show you his erection. “Look at that, so hard.”

“I miss you. Want to fuck your tits so bad.” You kiss your teeth, free hand cupping your boob and jiggling it a little. “Wanna cum all over them n’ then fuck your pretty cunt.”

“Show me how you’d do it, Junnie.” He picks up the pillow again, folding it in half and sliding his weeping dick between the fold. His knuckles turn white with his grip, hips rolling into the pillow. “Does it feel as good as me?”

“No.” He laughs, hips hitting the pillow harder. “Your cunt is so fucking warm, makes me feel like my dick is gonna melt, and your skin his so soft in my hands. It’s just fucking heaven to fuck you, nothing will ever come close.” You blush at his words, cooing about how sweet he is.

Yeonjun’s hips drop moving to rut against the mattress again, he can feel pressure building up, your pretty face and tits edging his release. “I wanna see you cum, Junnie.” His orgasm hits him then and there, shoulders sagging as he cums over the cotton sheets.

“Fuck- fuck I wish you were here.” His hips slow as he calms down, using his hand to milk out every last bit of cum. “Feels like a waste when my perfect girlfriend looks so pretty covered in my cum.”

—

inbox always open 🎀

#txt #txt smut #kpop smut #soobin smut #beomgyu smut #taehyun smut #hueningkai smut #yeonjun smut

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starrrcane · 2 days ago

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The Underworld Beneath Piltover chapter two: Unspoken Bonds

chapter one is linked on my master list

summary: After a couple of weeks of working with silcos men, you’re tired, one specific night you go home and hear them talking about you in the corridor. And sevika does not like the way they are talking about you.

warnings:drunk men being creepy towards you(don’t worry sevika is your knight in shining armor) and alcohol

notes: maybe I could’ve split this into two separate chapters🤷🏽‍♀️ who knows, chapter one and chapter two were only posted so close to each other cause this has just been sitting in my notes. P.S this is supposed to be pre-season one!!

But if you want to be apart of my tag list just dm me or comment!

As the days passed, you fell into a rhythm of sorts in the Undercity. You worked tirelessly, patching up the injuries of Silco’s men—bruises, burns, cuts, and broken bones—but there was one person who never seemed to need your help: Sevika. She was always around, yet never injured. She stood on the periphery, watching as you worked with her men, but when it came to her own wounds, she refused your care. It became almost a ritual, this unspoken distance between you and her.

The others, however, were a different story. They’d come in, grinning with all their bravado, eager for your attention. You’d fix them up with quiet professionalism, trying to ignore the constant leers and comments, but it was hard. It was hard because their words, their glances, were a constant reminder that in the eyes of many in the Undercity, you were just another object to be used, a healer with nothing more to offer than your hands and your beauty. The men would speak freely, their voices loud and crude, commenting on how "good" you looked, how they'd love to see more of you, how soft your hands must be...

It made your skin crawl, but you never let it show. You didn’t have the luxury of reacting. You needed to do your job, needed to stay focused.

One night, after a particularly long shift, you found yourself at home, exhausted and alone. The distant noise of the Undercity hummed through your window, but you found no comfort in the quiet. Instead, you were stuck replaying the words of the men. The crude remarks, the way their eyes lingered far too long.

It wasn’t until later that night, when you heard shouting from down the hall, that you realized the bar—the Last Drop—was packed with Silco’s crew. They’d been celebrating some small victory, and the noise spilled out into the hall like a river of chaos. But then, you caught the unmistakable sound of Sevika’s voice rising above the others. It was sharp, commanding—louder than you’d ever heard her before.

“Knock it off," she snapped, the tension in her voice unmistakable. "You think she’s just here for your damn amusement? She’s here to help, not for you to ogle. Keep your mouths shut."

It was the first time you had ever heard Sevika lose her composure. Her voice, usually cold and unflappable, trembled with an anger that was both surprising and—if you were honest—comforting. For the first time, you realized something: Sevika wasn’t indifferent to you. She just... didn’t know how to show it. She was the wall that everyone leaned on in the Undercity, but she hadn’t built the capacity to rely on anyone else. Not until now.

The men muttered, some laughing nervously, others too drunk to care, but Sevika’s command had silenced them. You could hear her footsteps as she approached the door to the bar, her voice cutting through the remaining laughter. She muttered something else you couldn’t quite catch, and then there was silence.

The shift in the air lingered, and you couldn’t help but feel something stir in your chest. It was a strange mix of emotions—gratitude, confusion, and an undeniable pull toward the woman who had always kept her distance. Yet, in that moment, Sevika had done something rare: she'd protected you in her own way, not through words, but through her actions.

You didn’t know where this would go, but you were starting to realize that whatever it was, it wouldn’t be easy. And maybe... maybe that was what made it so compelling.

As the last of the laughter died down, the faint echoes of clinking glass and rowdy shouts drifting off into the night, you stepped into the corridor, your fingers still numb from the long hours spent tending to the wounded. The noise from the Last Drop had only gotten louder, but the thudding of your heartbeat was what kept your thoughts focused. You had barely processed what had just happened when the sound of footsteps from further down the hall drew your attention.

Sevika was alone, standing still at the end of the corridor, her eyes narrowed in your direction. There was no one else with her now—no men, no rowdy backup. Just her. The tension between you seemed to hang heavier in the air than before, the weight of her intervention earlier not fully sinking in until now. Her usually impassive gaze softened, the fierceness that had commanded the room earlier replaced by something unreadable.

You stood there for a moment, unsure whether to stay where you were or to approach her. The quiet seemed to wrap itself around you both, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, you stepped forward, a quiet sigh escaping your lips as you pulled your door open.

“Sevika,” you began, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I just… wanted to say thank you.”

Her gaze flickered to you, and then she looked away, as though suddenly uncomfortable under your attention.

“It’s whatever,” she muttered, her voice rougher than usual. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.” She shifted on her feet, clearly wanting to brush off the moment. But there was an edge to her words—something that betrayed the mask she tried to wear. "I’m not doing it for you."

You didn’t know whether to believe her or not, but you nodded, taking her words at face value. She didn’t seem like the type to wear a facade for long, and even though she was trying to make light of it, the way she'd stood up for you—no one else had ever done that. Not here.

“Well, thanks anyway,” you said, the warmth of the words surprising even you. “I appreciate it.”

Her shoulders stiffened for a moment, and she gave a short nod before turning away. Her retreating footsteps echoed down the hall, but the sting of the silence seemed to carry her presence with you still.

The next day at work, it felt like things had shifted in a way you couldn’t fully understand. The usual crude remarks from the others—loud and persistent as ever—seemed to bounce off you in a way they hadn’t before. And though Sevika remained as stoic as ever, you noticed a few lingering glances. One of those, when your paths crossed near the supply room, made your heart skip a beat.

You’d brought something with you that day. A bottle you’d managed to find tucked away in a dim corner of the bar. Old Deloux scotch—an obscure but highly sought-after bottle that everyone in the Undercity had heard about but few had actually seen. You knew it was a rare treat, and you’d caught Sevika eyeing it in the past, her face betraying the barest trace of longing when she mentioned it.

You slid the bottle across the counter toward her when she was in the middle of patching up a man with a nasty burn.

“Here,” you said, offering the bottle like an unspoken truce. “For you. I know you’ve been wanting to try this.”

Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t hesitate to take it, her fingers brushing yours just long enough for you to notice how unexpectedly warm they felt. She glanced at the label, her lips curling into something of an appreciative smirk.

“Where’d you get this?” Sevika’s voice was low, curious, the edges of her usual tough exterior softening.

You leaned back, crossing your arms and giving her a sly smile. “Well, being from Piltover has its advantages,” you said, leaning in just enough for the words to sink in.

She chuckled—a low, almost begrudging sound that was as rare as it was unexpected. “Always full of surprises, aren’t you?” she muttered, but there was something almost... grateful in her tone.

“You owe me nothing,” you said, your words laced with a quiet challenge. “But I figured you could use a bit of a break.”

Her gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, and then, with a nod, she uncorked the bottle. "Don’t expect me to share," she said, but the playful glint in her eyes made it clear she wasn’t as serious as her words suggested.

For a moment, you could almost forget the tension, the lines between you, the things left unsaid. For just a moment, it felt like a step toward something uncharted, something unspoken, something rare.

And maybe, just maybe, it would be worth exploring—whatever it was.

#arcane #arcane x reader #lesbian #sevika x reader #sevika arcane x reader #i need to do my homework

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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 3 days ago

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I'm in love with this series!! Jay Todd, my beloved. Just, ah, the world building is so good, and the FEELINGS! Don't even get me started on the smut cause I was fr fanning my face. I talk about my fav parts below the cut!

Plsss, I'm swooning already. Love that she doesn't need the helmet to get shit done.

Jay goes to take the seat next to you but shoulder slams into a body. She turns and raises a single disdainful eyebrow that she knows for a fact has made grown men cower before. “You’re in my seat,” she says, low and bored.

Ah, I'm grinning! You can fr feel her confidence through the screen

Jay very conspicuously wipes the front of her leather jacket with a bar napkin. Looks him up and down and smirks. “I think your conversation was over 30 seconds after you opened your mouth. I bet a lot of things are over in 30 seconds with you,” she tells him coolly.

OOOHHHH!! Get him!! It's over for me. She has my heart and I'm buying her anything she wants

You grow more flustered at that and Jay rolls her eyes at Cala’s interfering. She lays a hand on your bare forearm to get you to stop tearing the napkin in your hands to shreds. “You’re not in any trouble honey,” she says, voice low and soothing.

!!! I've got heart eyes for this fr

Jay’s just so goddamned tempted to press her thumb into the hollow underneath your eyes, see if that’s enough to make the gathering tears of relief spill over. Wants to see your puffy bitten lips wrapped around her fingers rather than your straw. Time just gets away from under you two, Jay too enthralled with the way your hands move as you tell a story, you too drunk under her attention to bother looking at the time.

No notes. I love when two people are equally enthralled with each other

And Jay, Jay doesn’t really have a phone besides a collection of burners but for you she’ll keep one on her. “Could always use another friend,” she says slowly, hands her phone over to you anyway.

aw that's sweet but also only burners my girl? I worry for her lots

Your ensuing enthusiasm sets to right the last of her worries that you’d only offered out of obligation and she sets about monopolizing as much of your free time as she can get away with. Takes you to the movies, to museums, to lunch. Lends you her sweater, her umbrella, her helmet. Actually thinks about buying a second one with how much use you’re getting out of hers.

I've decided that they're married, your honor. Just, ah, I love how quickly they entwine into each other lives! Just finding your person and knowing you want to be with them all the time, do everything and anything with them.

How she’s come with the image of your tear-stained face, fingers buried in her cunt. It’s fine! Jay’s fine. Eventually she’ll learn to stop lusting over her darling best friend who looks up at Jay with such sweet trusting eyes, unaware of what an awful lecher she is.

Oh, it's so fine. They're absolutely just friends and there isn't anything more to it at all and they definitely don't see each other anything but platonic besties

“Oh what’s this, a party?” you ask, hair falling down the nape of your neck in a way that has Jay itching to brush it aside and kiss your spine.

I mean, I'd let her

“You hate the Jimmy Choos,” Jay reminds you. “Always complain they pinch your feet.” “Duh,” you tell her, pushing yourself up. “But they make my legs look like sex so I’m wearing them.” Jay has to swallow a couple of times at that, lost in the last time you’d worn them out clubbing and dragged her with you. Your legs had looked like sex, miles of long yummy skin only ending at your barely there mini dress.

AHH, I'm losing it over this interaction!! and all of it done in each others arms!! INSANE!! It really shows how comfortable they are with each other. I just adore friends to lovers

Your fingers come to her throat and slowly undo the buttons there until only a single button or two above her waistcoat remains done up. Satisfied with your work, you spread the material flat under your palms, right over the swell of Jay’s breasts. “I think you look really nice just like this,” you confess to her. Jay can barely breathe as she says “Fuck the tie, never liked ‘em anyway.” Your slow smile is worth it.

PLEASE! I'm drooling. Reader is better than me cause I would not have made it out of her apartment

Jay is secretly, privately glad that you don’t notice Dick’s eyes lighting up with interest in you as you come in to view. She’s very careful to stamp that light out with a scowl and pantomiming slitting his throat. He’s all charm and smiles when he’s introduced to you though Jay still stomps on his toes for good measure.

I actually love Jay's and Dick's sibling antics

“You just told Mr. Texas Oil Man that you’re here on a date,” Jay says, voice tight and frustrated at having to spell this out for you. “And we–” she gestures sharply at the two of you “–are not on a date.” Your face falls, voice thin and hurt. “We’re not?” you ask softly.

Misunderstanding of century!! But I am eating it up!!! Angst is my kryptonite

owwww. The heartbreak. The humiliation. I wanna sink my teeth into it

“Yeah, Jerry,” Jay says, not sure where this is going. “Fuck that guy.” “Gerry short for Geraldine!” you practically howl. “I’ve been practically throwing myself at you ever since, I thought you were just being nice and not saying anything to hurt my feelings,” you yell at her. “I thought– I thought you were finally giving me a chance tonight.” You pant, chest heaving as you reveal this more vulnerable truth.

GERRY! just, oww!! All of this is ow. Fr the pain reads so real and I'm devouring every line

And fuck. Jay’s not about to let the best thing that ever walked into her life just walk right back out. Not without a fight. Eating up the distance with her longer legs, she reaches out and gently clasps your wrist. Turns you around and pins you the door by it, forces you to look up at her with wide teary eyes.

Swooning. This angst is so sick and twisted (but in a good way, I swear)

“Why don’t you tell me what you were hopin’ for with your one big chance, tell me how tonight was supposed to go.” Jay nuzzles the side of your cheek, inhales the sweat and desperation rolling off your skin.

CRUEL and UNUSUAL. I'll take fifteen

Swiftly Jay drops to her knees, so fast she barely recognizes the pain of it. Hooks your leg over her shoulder and starts rucking up your devastating dress to expose your panties. Moaning you scrabble at the door, her hair, anything to keep you upright and balanced. “These,” she snarls, then licks a fat stripe across the thin fabric of your black lace panties. “I’ve been dreaming of getting my hands on them since I first saw them.” You shiver, bury your hands into her thick hair for balance.

Plssss, chekhov's gun but it's the underwear I knew were gonna come back up. I looove it. And Jay being just as desperate has me feral!!

Spells her own name against your clit, brands her claim on you into your flesh as you wobble and whimper. Slick runs down her face as she grinds her nose into you.

hehe, The way I am giggling and twirling my hair

Jay bites down at the sensitive inner skin of your thigh and suddenly has to drink down the slick of your second orgasm. So her baby girl likes a little pain with her pleasure, she’ll have to remember that for next time.

I think I forgot how to blink reading this. my jaws on the ground

Pulls your skirt back down to hide the utter wreckage she’s made of your panties. Jay scrubs at her chin with her hand, then licks down all the sweet remaining slick she finds there. Grins felinely as you moan at the sight.

!! They're nasty and I love them for it

“I’m taking you home and I’m fucking you until either I pass out or the sun comes up.” “Okay,” you say, voice just verging on a whine. “That sounds better, actually.”

eee I'm obsessed with this!! The way I want to sink my nails into it and never let go. I looove they're dynamic fr. Sunnie you're actually feeding the Fem!Jason enjoyers soooo good 🥰💙

A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out

Part 1: Unexpected Faces in Familiar Places

fem!jason todd x fem!reader summary: jay makes a new friend, now if only she could be something more... tags: sexual harrassment, threats of violence, idiots in love, flirting, swearing, sexual tension, semi-public sex, cunnilingus, fingering rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 4.7k a/n: enjoy! i've been having a really shitty week (even before the election) so i scrapped my original intention to only post once it was fully written and decided to just share this with you all

Jay Todd has the shittiest day to cap off the shittiest week in what feels like forever. Her ribs ache from a hit on Monday that’s still not fully right and she spent most of the day chasing down one of her accountants that had the sheer fucking nerve to try and steal from under her nose. Her knuckles are bloody, she’s on the verge of a stress headache, and all she wants is to drink her goddamn drink in peace. Apparently that’s too much to ask for because she gets a call from Cala down at one of her bars about out of towners harassing the guests and now that just won’t do at all.

Jay bursts into the bar, door hitting the wall with a crash, and oh fuck she forgot her helmet at home so she’s gonna have to do this as Jay, without the weight of the Hood’s legend behind her. Taking a deep breath she squares her shoulders and swaggers in. Zeroes in on the two chucklefucks have that cornered a poor girl sitting at the bar. Notes the way she’s hunched over and pulling down the hem of her skirt to hide her skin from lecherous eyes. Cala buzzes around the scene trying to divert their attention away from poor little miss unlucky but it doesn’t work.

“–m not alone,” Jay hears you say as she strides towards the bar. “I’m waiting on a friend.”

“That so,” the taller of the two men leer. “Well she can just join us too. Plenty of room for more.” The shorter man makes a crude gesture at his crotch and Jay sees red.

“There you are!” She calls out, shoulders past the men without even acknowledging their presence. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was a real bitch. Did you already order our drinks yet?” You look up at Jay with gratitude and something suspiciously like tears shining in your eyes. Fuck. You’re pretty.

“No I– I didn’t know if you were planning on driving so I just waited,” you play along.

Jay goes to take the seat next to you but shoulder slams into a body. She turns and raises a single disdainful eyebrow that she knows for a fact has made grown men cower before.

“You’re in my seat,” she says, low and bored. The man’s face starts to go a horrible shade of red that clashes terribly with his hair.

“So you think you can just butt into a private conversation, bitch?” He snarls, spittle flying.

Jay very conspicuously wipes the front of her leather jacket with a bar napkin. Looks him up and down and smirks.

“I think your conversation was over 30 seconds after you opened your mouth. I bet a lot of things are over in 30 seconds with you,” she tells him coolly.

He opens his mouth to respond, vein pulsing in his forehead but the cock of a shotgun stops him. Cala, blessed Cala, had finally had the distraction she needed to grab the shot gun from under the bar and she is using it to maximum effect.

“Out!” She thunders, waving the shotgun in the men’s faces. “Out and don’t you ever come back. This is one of the Hood’s bars, we’re under her protection and there’s gonna be hell to pay for this.”

Enraged the larger one goes to yell back but the shorter one grabs at his shoulder. Whispers at him to look around at all the hostile faces, the other regulars getting to their feet and cracking their knuckles. Tails between their legs the two nuisances scamper out.

Jay nods at Cala and she calls out “Next round’s on the house!” to the cheers of the room.

Job taken care of, Jay goes to leave when a hand around her wrist, just catching her under the hem of her jacket, freezes her in place.

“Wait!” you call. She turns to look at you properly, the wobble of your lip and the shortness of your skirt from where you’re no longer tugging it down. “Please? I just– I’m worried they’ll be waiting outside for me. I was supposed to meet a date here but they bailed on me and now I have to wait for the next bus to come. Would you stay with me for a bit? Please? I’ll– I’ll buy you a drink for the inconvenience.” And well, Jay always was a sucker for a damsel in distress.

“Sure,” she says, slinging herself lazily back into the bar chair. “It’s no inconvenience but I’ll take that drink. Whoever he is, he’s gotta be mad for standing a pretty girl like you up.”

“Oh um,” you fluster at her words. “Thanks?”

Cala sets down Jay’s usual order for when she’s driving in front of her and refills your drink. Waves off your fumbling with your wallet with a “It’s on the house, chérie. Our apology for the bad night. Besides,” she nods at Jay “the Boss Lady would not let you pay if you tried.”

You grow more flustered at that and Jay rolls her eyes at Cala’s interfering. She lays a hand on your bare forearm to get you to stop tearing the napkin in your hands to shreds.

“You’re not in any trouble honey,” she says, voice low and soothing. “Just needed a little help, that’s all. Now my name’s Jay and I own this little establishment. Why don’t you tell me a little something about yourself too?”

You stutter and start through your own self-introduction, mascara long eyelashes fluttering at all the attention. Jay’s just so goddamned tempted to press her thumb into the hollow underneath your eyes, see if that’s enough to make the gathering tears of relief spill over. Wants to see your puffy bitten lips wrapped around her fingers rather than your straw. Getting you to talk about yourself seems to work though, familiar territory slowly evening you out. You’re surprisingly witty when you’re not flustered, someone fun to have a conversation over beer with. Time just gets away from under you two, Jay too enthralled with the way your hands move as you tell a story, you too drunk under her attention to bother looking at the time.

A stray notification catches your attention, interrupts your story about how this bar wasn’t even in your bottom five. You roll your eyes at the sender name.

“Jerry,” you answer Jay’s inquisitive look. “Apologizing for standing me up, for all the good that’ll do.” With a flourish you tap at your screen, smile and say “Blocked.”

Jay can feel the corners of her eyes crinkle up in return, simple joy and approval for you cutting the trash out of your life. Not that she’s really entitled to an opinion on it. Your smile lasts a half second longer before suddenly descending into panicking, fumbling out your phone and chanting no no no under your breath.

“I missed the last bus,” you breathe out, eyes wide. Jay’s brain stutters at that, there’s no way you’ve been talking together for four hours. Cala catches her eye and jerks her head up at the big clock hanging over the bar. Fuck. It really has been four hours.

Jay knocks back the last of her beer and stands, extends a hand out to you to help you hop off the bar stool that’s just the wrong side of too tall. Even in your heels Jay’s still got quite a few inches on you.

“C’mon,” she says. “It’s my fault you were out so late, I’ll give you a ride home.”

She leads you outside to where her bike is parked, your palm still in hers.

“I don’t have an extra helmet so you just take mine okay?” She says, putting it on you.

“We’re– we’re going on that?” you squeak out, surprise rendering you docile.

“Yep,” she answers, already straddling the bike, thighs flexing. “Hop on and hold on tight.”

Jay more feels than hears your scream as she revs the engine and takes off, corners maybe just a little too fast to be anything other than showing off. Too soon she pulls up at your front door and already she mourns the feeling of your arms wrapped around her middle. She gives you a hand to help you off the bike again and nearly buckles at the brief glimpse of the black unlined lace panties she sees under your skirt as you swing your leg over the bike. The two of you stand there facing each other, moment stretching out until a car backfires a few blocks over.

“Well, I guess I should get going, “ Jay tells you reluctantly.

“I’ve got work in the morning,” you respond, still not moving. “Wait! D’you want my number or something so we can do this again? Not the first bit obviously, but maybe drinks? Maybe coffee next time?”

Jay calls first, asks about coffee with too much casualness in her voice. Your ensuing enthusiasm sets to right the last of her worries that you’d only offered out of obligation and she sets about monopolizing as much of your free time as she can get away with. Takes you to the movies, to museums, to lunch. Lends you her sweater, her umbrella, her helmet. Actually thinks about buying a second one with how much use you’re getting out of hers. Bitches with you about assholes at work – not that she gives you the full story – and bemoaning the state of customer affairs. Makes you dinner at her apartment and makes a spot for herself on your couch. Worms her way into every corner of your life without regret because you’d tell her if her presence was unwanted. Right?

Leave it to Jay to come back from the dead and still fall in love with a straight girl. Dick teases her about how far she’s willing to bend over backwards for ‘just a friend’ and Jay has to show her teeth and snap back that at least she has some. Has to cover up for the fact that her sanity is hanging by a goddamn thread thinner than that single string that had tied the open sides of your top together that one afternoon, revealing bare skin and the hint of a breast if you leaned just right. The way she almost walked into a wall when she realized you weren’t wearing a bra the first time she came over to your place. How she’s come with the image of your tear-stained face, fingers buried in her cunt. It’s fine! Jay’s fine. Eventually she’ll learn to stop lusting over her darling best friend who looks up at Jay with such sweet trusting eyes, unaware of what an awful lecher she is.

A gala invitation has Jay wishing she could shoot lasers with her eyes and incinerate it. Her eye twitches with annoyance and you snatch it up out of her hands before she can stop you.

“Oh what’s this, a party?” you ask, hair falling down the nape of your neck in a way that has Jay itching to brush it aside and kiss your spine.

“A stupid one,” she answers, not really paying attention.

“But you’ll have to get all dressed up for it! Please, please can I come over and watch you get ready? You never get dressed up,” you pout.

Even with your whining and pouting, Jay can’t help but think she’d still have a better time at the gala with you by her side to distract her from pointed glances and whispers. She sighs. Wait.

“There’s a plus one on that invite,” she tells you nonchalantly, studying your face in her peripheral vision. “You could come if you want, get all dressed up too.”

You stiffen at the question. “You really mean it?” you whisper, hardly daring to breathe.

“Course, but only if you want to,” she offers. You squeal, clutch the envelope to your chest and tackle her.

“It’s short so I’ll probably have to rent a dress and oooh I need to think about makeup, maybe a bold lip? Oh! And I can have another excuse to wear the Jimmy Choos...” you babble in her arms.

“You hate the Jimmy Choos,” Jay reminds you. “Always complain they pinch your feet.”

“Duh,” you tell her, pushing yourself up. “But they make my legs look like sex so I’m wearing them.” Jay has to swallow a couple of times at that, lost in the last time you’d worn them out clubbing and dragged her with you. Your legs had looked like sex, miles of long yummy skin only ending at your barely there mini dress. You prance around the room pulling down dishes for dinner and Jay sighs, melts back into the couch cushions as she listens to you chatter a mile a minute about how excited you are.

Jay’s really, really regretting her impulsivity by the time the gala rolls around a few days later. In all her excitement about not going alone for once, she’d forgotten that this meant she’d be going with you. With you, all dolled up and mouth-wateringly gorgeous.

You knock at her door earlier than she’d expected from you when a fancy event is involved and has to do her very best not to drop her jaw on the floor. Gorgeous green silk pools around your breasts in a daring cowl neck, the fabric clinging to your curves, draped to exaggerate them. Skims the plush sides of your hips before falling straight to the floor, a daring slit revealing the warm bare skin of your leg ending in those heaven sent Jimmy Choos. Jay stares, knows she stares for a beat too long but there is quite literally no force on earth that could tear her away. You start to squirm under her attention, still standing half in her doorway.

“That bad, is it?” You laugh self consciously, start to cover your cleavage with your hands. “I knew it was too much.”

“No, no it’s just enough,” she rasps, standing back to let you in. You brush past her so close she can smell your perfume, can tell you’d broken out your special occasions scent in the nice glass bottle. “I just need to fix my tie and do my hair and then we can go.”

“Do you need the tie?” You hum, stepping into her space. Grabbing a hold of one of the loose ends, you tug it out from where it’s tucked under her collar and drape it over the couch. Your fingers come to her throat and slowly undo the buttons there until only a single button or two above her waistcoat remains done up. Satisfied with your work, you spread the material flat under your palms, right over the swell of Jay’s breasts. “I think you look really nice just like this,” you confess to her.

Jay can barely breathe as she says “Fuck the tie, never liked ‘em anyway.” Your slow smile is worth it.

“Can I do your hair too?” You ask shyly.

“Don’t see why not, I was just going to do a ponytail,” Jay shrugs. Delighted you push her down onto the couch and start pulling bobby pins out of your purse. “Wait did you plan this?” She asks.

“A girl should always be prepared for the best outcome,” you tell her primly as you stand behind her and finger comb her riotous hair.

Quickly you separate out a deep side part and Jay memorizes the feeling of your hands in her hair. Hands twisting and pinning, you’re done in only a few minutes, handing her the little mirror out of your clutch to admire your work. Softly Jay touches your work, the way you’ve slicked back one side of her hair and made the waving curly mess look artistic and purposeful.

“Thank you,” she says, making eye contact with you in the mirror. She means it, means it for more than just fixing her hair but for everything else you’ve done since stumbling into her bar and her life all those months ago.

“It’s nothing,” you tell her, hands suddenly occupied with the mechanism of your purse. “We should probably get going, right?”

Jay drives the two of you to the venue in a really nice car you’ve never seen before. She waves away your questions with a tight, “My dad won’t even notice it’s missing.” She parks at the end of the red carpet and the doors haven’t even opened yet but you can already see the camera lights flashing. You look at her, suddenly nervous because you’d vastly underestimated how important this event was. She turns to you and smiles, grips your hand over the car console.

“Hey,” she says, all softness. “Just stick with me and you’ll be fine. I’ll head off the vultures, you just hold onto me and enjoy the canapes, okay?”

You nod, and then suddenly she’s opening up your door, hand extended to help you out. The lights are blinding, flashing so fast the afterburn never gets any time to dissipate. Pasting on a smile you cling to Jay’s strong arm, rock solid even under all her suit layers. Paps shout and scream at you to look their way and you can barely hear them over one another.

Eventually the two of you make it through the front doors of the hotel and you gasp like you’ve been drowning. Rubbing your shoulders Jay moves to cover you, cuts off the private moment from prying eyes that seek and skitter.

“Is it always like that?” You gasp. Fighting to regain your balance.

“Unfortunately,” she says with a rueful smile. “But that’s the worst of it over, now we can really enjoy the night.” Gallantly she offers you her arm and you accept it gratefully, her elbow brushing up against the swell of your breast as you walk.

She introduces you to the night’s hosts – her family – with a whispered apology in your ear. Jay is secretly, privately glad that you don’t notice Dick’s eyes lighting up with interest in you as you come in to view. She’s very careful to stamp that light out with a scowl and pantomiming slitting his throat. He’s all charm and smiles when he’s introduced to you though Jay still stomps on his toes for good measure. She doesn’t know what possesses her to, but she wraps a proprietary arm around the small of your back as she steers you around the room. Helps you to crystal flutes of champagne that make your nose twitch at the carbonation and warns you off the most disgusting canapes.

Jay has just chased down the waiter carrying the mushroom and cheese quiche bites you’d fast declared your favourite when the two of you get roped into a very stilted conversation with some of the fat cats the Waynes are currently trying to drain dry, for charitable reasons of course. She’s tuned out the conversation while she piles all the best looking bites onto a plate for you, horrifically uninterested in whatever Mr. Harold J. Carson, esquire had to say about the Texan economy. She cottons on to something being wrong as your hands tense up around her arm and your laugh gets ever more brittle.

“That’s a very kind offer Mr. Carson–”

“Harold, please,” the great mustached walrus harumphs.

“–Mr. Carson,” you bravely soldier on. “But I’m here on a date and I hope you’re not implying that I’m the type of woman to two-time someone.”

He turns an ugly shade of puce and sputters at the implication, society matrons chuckling behind their glasses at his terrible blunder. Sensing an opportunity, Jay grabs you by the arm and starts leading you away.

“I do think our presence is needed by my family elsewhere,” she says, vowels Diamond District clipped. Her grip around your fingers is strong, tighter than it’s ever been as she leads you down a hallway and into an unused meeting room. Her breaths are coming heavy as she drops your arm like she’s been burned, deposits the plate on the empty table. Jay knows if she speaks now, her voice will shake and she will not have that. FUCK. Fuck, she was supposed to have this under control by now. She’s not your keeper, she’s not gonna stand between you and happiness but fuck it hurts to be used like a ticket into someone else’s bed.

“Jay,” you ask cautiously. “Are you okay? I really wasn’t going to take him up on his offer, I’m telling the truth, promise.”

“Why’d you come with me as a friend when you were already invited as someone’s fucking date?” Jay spits out, unable to contain her jealous anger and pacing to try and burn it off.

“But you invited me,” you answer her, voice trailing off in confusion.

Your face falls, voice thin and hurt. “We’re not?” you ask softly.

Jay has to stop pacing because wait what.

“You– you thought this was a date,” she says slowly. “You got all dressed up and wore the heels you hate because you wanted to look good. For me.” You hug yourself tightly and nod, gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. “But you don’t even like women?” And it’s less a painful fact she knows now and more of a question.

“We met because my date stood me up!” you exclaim.

“Yeah, Jerry,” Jay says, not sure where this is going. “Fuck that guy.”

“Gerry short for Geraldine!” you practically howl. “I’ve been practically throwing myself at you ever since, I thought you were just being nice and not saying anything to hurt my feelings,” you yell at her. “I thought– I thought you were finally giving me a chance tonight.” You pant, chest heaving as you reveal this more vulnerable truth.

“Oh,” she says stupidly, suddenly forced to re-contextualize her entire life for the past few months. You dash an angry hand at your tear eyes and turn to go.

“It was my mistake,” you tell her voice thick with emotion.

“Oh sweetheart,” she croons and you shudder. “Bet you’ve been feeling like I’ve been treating your real raw lately.” She cups your face in her hand, smoothes her thumb over the high plain of your cheekbone. “Why don’t you tell me what you were hopin’ for with your one big chance, tell me how tonight was supposed to go.” Jay nuzzles the side of your cheek, inhales the sweat and desperation rolling off your skin.

“We were– we were supposed to dance,” you confess, head falling back against the door.

“We can still do that,” she says, curling her fingers into your hair and pulling. She grins at your swift inhale.

“We were gonna dance an’ then, then you were gonna take me home.” You breathe out, pupils blown wide with hunger.

“Was that it baby girl?” She asks. “Playing it a little safe for your one night fantasy, weren’t you?” Jay lets go of your wrist to rest her hand on your shoulder, large hand pressing down on your collarbone.

“Was gonna kiss you goodnight,” you whimper, shivers running across your skin. Slowly, so slowly you can make out the ticking seconds hand of the big clock on the wall, Jay leans in and carefully slots her mouth down over yours. Sucks gently on your bottom lip before releasing it with a sigh.

“Like that?” Jay asks. “You were just hoping for a sweet little kiss on the mouth?” Her own breathing is ragged.

“No–o,” you gasp. “Was hoping– was hoping you’d kiss a little lower too.”

“These,” she snarls, then licks a fat stripe across the thin fabric of your black lace panties. “I’ve been dreaming of getting my hands on them since I first saw them.” You shiver, bury your hands into her thick hair for balance.

“They’re my– my lucky date underwear,” you gasp into the air.

“And you were hoping to get lucky tonight, weren’t you baby girl?” She coos up at you.

Biting your lip, you nod. Jay sets about tearing your underwear to pieces with her teeth. Your thighs tremble around her ears and she slams your hips back down against the door. Spreads your lips open with calloused fingers, presses a light kiss to your clit in greeting before she starts making out with your pussy. You howl and sag, trusting her to take the full weight of you as your knees turn to jelly.

Jay eats you out with enthusiasm and she eats you out with experience. Does this thing with the slick thrusting muscle of her tongue that has you gasping and begging for more. Can feel the heel of your shoe digging into her back, urging her own, begging her to fuck you harder. Spells her own name against your clit, brands her claim on you into your flesh as you wobble and whimper. Slick runs down her face as she grinds her nose into you.

Sucks your clit, hard, just a hint of teeth as she spears you open on a thick finger. Twists and curls it against your slick wet walls, lets herself affectionately get acquainted with your cunt. Scissors you open with two fingers just to watch your head bang back against the door, eyes shut and tears streaming down your face. Sets an uneven rhythm with her fingers and tongue that has you moaning and trying to ride her face for more. Finger fucks you with wet, squelching vigour as you quiver and shake, walls tightening up as you careen towards climax. Starts putting pressure on your rim with a third finger just to tip you over the edge of it all, pleasure making you stupid. Jay bites down at the sensitive inner skin of your thigh and suddenly has to drink down the slick of your second orgasm. So her baby girl likes a little pain with her pleasure, she’ll have to remember that for next time.

Gently, she takes your trembling thigh off her shoulder and places it back onto the ground. Pulls your skirt back down to hide the utter wreckage she’s made of your panties. Jay scrubs at her chin with her hand, then licks down all the sweet remaining slick she finds there. Grins felinely as you moan at the sight.

“Hoping for a little something like that, honey?” She teases.

Vigorously you nod, head bouncing back and forth like a bobblehead, words still fucked out of your brain. She holds out a hand to you – not the one that’s just been buried knuckle deep inside you – and clasps your hand in her own.

“C’mon, let’s go home then,” she tells you airily, leading you back through the maze of the building.

“But what about the party?” you ask, mascara still smeared around your eyes.

“I don’t care,” Jay bites out. “I’m taking you home and I’m fucking you until either I pass out or the sun comes up.”

“Okay,” you say, voice just verging on a whine. “That sounds better, actually.”

“Good,” Jay smirks. “Because it wasn’t a question.”

series masterlist | part 2

#rae's fic recs #jason todd x reader #fem!jason todd #jason todd smut

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cosmicalily · 2 days ago

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'come to me, slowly' a hyunjin oneshot by @cosmicalily

author's note: short but very, very sweet. the whole ‘charm’ album is such a work of art in my eyes; it's so beautiful and reminds me of the dreamiest spring with my girls. i feel like hyunjin would really fw clairo so i decided to make a little something for him! i’m normally insanely protective over my precious wlw songs, but i think this song can be interpreted in a multitude of ways. can be read as a standalone fic, but works better as a sequel to 'episodic memory', which is part of a mini series!

warnings: pregnancy

It had been six months since you’d first told him. Six chaotic months of taking care of a new house and yourself in your new fragile state, days spent painting your bedroom deep emerald green, of Hyunjin washing your hair for you when you bathed, even though you insisted you were capable of doing it yourself.

In the end, despite your love for your studio, the two of you decided to move everything into the cosy sunroom at the back of the small house. So when your lease ended, the two of you spent the day unpacking and repacking tubes of paint, jars of ceramic glaze, kilos of clay and, with the assistance of your old roommates, Felix and his now fiance’s minivan, moving the kiln to your home. When the floors were clean and windows washed and everything was unorganised but exactly where you needed it to be, Hyunjin spent long minutes kissing you in your new makeshift studio. Hundreds of kisses on your forehead, nose, cheeks and collarbone, and thousands on your lips, soft yet hard, slow yet feverish.

He still couldn’t believe you were having his baby.

Hyunjin didn’t think he could fall in love with you anymore, but seeing you in your home, the one you two had finally bought together, skin shiny in the summer humidity and dressed in only a pale yellow lace bralette and loose-fitting overalls, he found himself sinking even deeper. You fanned your face, mumbling something under your breath about the heat, and unclasped the two straps of your overalls, letting your belly show. Hyunjin walked over behind you, wrapping his arms around your lower waist, kissing your shoulder. “Get off, baby, it’s so hot,” you grumbled, but let yourself melt into his touch. “I can’t tell if it's the hot flushes or the summer weather. Why isn’t your face all red and sweaty?”

Hyunjin chuckled. “Your pink cheeks are cute. You’re cute. I don’t think I’ll ever get how adorable your belly looks; I’m so excited for her to arrive, but I also kind of want to soak up this feeling.”

“Mm,” you replied, turning to face him and resting your cheek against his chest. “Me too.”

“My angels,” Hyunjin pulled you in tighter, kissing you then leaning down to press a kiss to your tummy. “My girls.”

“And we’re the luckiest girls in all the world,” you smiled, eyes glossy. “I love you so much, baby.”

His thumb moved to wipe your tears and kiss your cheeks. “I love you even more, pretty girl.”

Summer had long gone, and now Winter was rapidly approaching, orange leaves disappearing from the trees as the weather gradually cooled. You pulled a butter yellow mohair sweater over your shoulders and buttoned your jeans, walking out of your bedroom with a yawn.

Hyunjin had never been an early bird, but ever since Juna had been born, he’d grown to adore it. Regardless of whether it was four or five in the morning, he would be out of bed and with his baby, comforting her until she fell asleep again or, if she didn’t, strapping her in a baby wrap and taking her on a walk, the breeze cool on his face and the sun rising as he strolled. His heart would feel full to bursting with love for the being you had somehow created together, the baby you’d carried with such strength for nine long months.

“Good morning, my darlings,” your eyes sparkled with joy when Hyunjin walked through the front door, a wide awake and giggly Juna cosied up against his chest.

“Hi, pretty girl,” Hyunjin smiled, unwrapping Juna and passing her to you for a cuddle. He left the wrap on the kitchen bench and kissed you softly. His body and soul belonged to you. For you and Juna, he would tear down every star from the sky, rehang the moon if it fell in the night, chase away the clouds until the sky was clear again.

You were his world.

As he looked at the hundreds of paintings and photographs that lined the walls of your home, his entire body warmed, and he held the two of you closer.

“We’re yours, Hyun.” you whispered, and his heart erupted like a supernova, his eyes blinded with colour.

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soaked4mk · 9 hours ago

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Logan Howlett boyfriend Head Cannons

👽:my favorite old man frfr 😪 (not proof read)

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

SFW💛

★ Logan is fiercely protective of you, sometimes it can border on overbearing…If he senses danger just know he’s quick to step in without hesitation. “Just—stay close to me alright?” “I don’t care if it’s just a noise, stay behind me. I’ll check it out.”

★ This man is rough and rugged, always. But only you get to see his softer, more vulnerable side. Especially during quiet moments (aka when wade’s not home)

★ “Don’t go paradin’ this to the entire city now, but you’re my favorite person on this god forsaken planet.” He’ll murmur while bringing your hand up to his lips.

★ Logan is loyal to a FAULT! Once he commits, that’s it. He’s all in whether you like it or not. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here with you. Don’t think for a second I’d ever leave.” His loyalty runs deep and he’ll stand by you no matter the circumstances or the cost.

★ Peanut isn’t big on flowery words or poetry. But his love for you is shown through touch—rough bear hugs, protective hand holding, or giving you forehead kisses.

★ Again, rather than words this man expresses his love for you with his actions. “C’mere…” he mutters, pulling you into a hug that’s as secure as it is slightly crushing…

★ Fixing things around the house, cooking a simple, hearty meal. He tends to your wounds and pampers you when needed.

★ Logan’s temper flares if he feels like someone is crossing a line with you. “This guy botherin’ you?” He’ll ask cocking a brow, eyes narrowing as he sizes up the situation.

★ He’s got a dry, sarcastic sense of humor. Always expect sharp, quick witted one liners. “You’re late.” You’ll say, hand on hip. Smirking, he’ll reply some shit like “Time’s a human construct, babe.”

★ For someone who holds a gruff and rough exterior, he’s surprisingly a good cuddler. He’ll pull you close without a word, “Didn’t know I needed this til now.” He’ll smirk, relishing the warmth you provide.

★ Logan is the type of boyfriend who will stare at you when you’re not looking. His gaze can vary from intense affection to slight sadness. Sometimes he’ll reflect on the fear of losing you when he get’s lost in his admiration…

★ “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” You’ll ask whenever catching his stare. He just shakes his head slightly. “Just…takin’ it all in.”

★ Not one for fancy dates, he’ll plan out more low-key, intimate activities like camping in the woods, hiking together, or road trips on his motorcycle.

★ “I know a spot a few miles out. Stars are brighter there. Thought we could use the peace tonight.”

★ He has the absolute BEST stories. He shares stories behind his scars, memories from his long life during intimate moments. “This one?” He traces the mark up his arm. “Happened back in ‘78. Remind me to tell you about it when we get more whiskey.”

★ Whenever you’re feeling sad, or down, Logan knows how to be there, how to be present without speaking. “You don’t have to talk if you’re not ready. I’m here for ya…” He’ll sit beside you, offering you silent support and reassurance by giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze.

★ Sure, he’s blunt and straightforward. But with you, he’s also soft spoken. “I love you” “How did I get so lucky?” “You gonna let me hold you already or what?”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

NSFW💦🤭

★ He’ll never admit it, (he will) but he thinks it’s totally hot when you take control. Mostly because it’s a rare treat when you decide to do so. “Alright, alright. I’m sat.” “I love it when you get aggressive.”

★ He’s an experienced man. Who knows what he wants and exactly how to get it. “Mhmm—just like that…” “god damn baby…” “that’s right~”

★ Man’s got stamina for days. I’m talking about round after round. He’s down as long as you are.

★ “Oh, come on princess, I know you can take it a little longer.” He smiles, pounding into you relentlessly, his hand on the back of your head while pushing your face into the pillows.

★ Logan is rough around the edges…so of course you’re in for some rough treatment during freaky deaky time. “Quit squirmin’ and take it.” He grunts, pinning your wrists above your head, drilling into you with quick, harsh thrusts.

★ “God damn you’re snug.” He says, smacking your ass harshly while wrapping your hair around his free hand, pulling your head back as he sets a brutal pace.

★ Logan loves marking your skin during intimacy. Biting your shoulders. Nuzzling into the crook of your neck, sucking and leaving dark marks along the column of your delicate skin while soothing each sting with a tender kiss.

★ “look at you.” Logan coos, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “All beat up and tired. We haven’t even started yet.”

★ Gets off from overstimulating you with his cock. Rolling his hips against yours, slowly and agonizingly after making you cum several times already. Smirking while splitting you open. Using zero effort while your hands fist into the sheets. Legs trembling and a sheen of sweat on your forehead.

★ “Gonna make you walk crooked—fuck you til you’re beggin’ me to stop. Then keep goin’ til I get my fill. How’s that sound?” He teases, rubbing the tip of his cock against your buzzing, numb cunt before slamming into you without another word.

★ Loves it when you get on your knees for him. “Atta girl. Now, open up for me.” He commands gently, fisting your hair up into a ponytail for you. (Or just gripping your melon if you have short hair)

★ He’s not going to fuck your face unless you ask him to. Usually letting you set your own pace when you’re tasting him. Keeping your hair out of the way while praising you.

★ “Take it all baby..” “perfect.” “You’re damn good at thi—s aren’t you?” “Swallow for me…” his grip will tighten in your hair (or not) as you bob your head up and down his shaft. Feeling his cock throb in your hot mouth before spewing thick, white ropes down your throat.

★ He low key likes thigh riding. Like…a lot. It seriously is one of his favorite ways to make you a whimpering, whining mess.

★ “Fuck, you’re doing so good—” He’ll praise you, hands sliding up and down your sides before firmly gripping your hips, grinding you harder against his thigh. “You like that?”

★ After care…Logan knows his way around the block when it comes to pampering the love of his life. Especially after fucking you senseless.

★ Has a habit of getting too rough with you sometimes. Happens to the best of us, right? “Let me see those marks…” he’ll whisper, tracing over your skin with his finger tips.

★ “You alright?” “Still with me, sweetheart?” “just relax, that’s right. Let me take care of you.” “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” “C’mere, let me hold you”

★ Massaging your back, getting you a drink, cleaning you up and getting you a fresh set of clothing, running a bubble bath or shower. Whatever works best in the moment for you, he’ll do it.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

#wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #old man logan #i love old men #i have daddy issues #rainyworx #headcanon #logan howlett #logan wolverine #logan x reader #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #the worst wolverine

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mandarinmoons · 18 hours ago

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Idk if this is gonna make sense but I just got the random idea, but I’m not good at writing and I’d love to see it come to life. (I’m listening to scared of my guitar and idk just made me think of this😭)

Could you possibly do a story where the reader is kind of falling out of love with their current boyfriend (if you want to make it sound less bitchy he could be cheating or smthn idk) and falling in love with Spencer? Reader finally breaks it off with their now ex and finds comfort in Spencer and stays the night, eventually revealing the fact they’re in love with each other. If you don’t want to, that’s completely fine, and if you do, thank you so much!🩷

Being in the embrace of your loved one should feel warm, it should feel comforting, like nothing bad could happen to you, but that’s not what you felt. Every time you were in the arms of your boyfriend you felt cold, freezing even.

The past few times he had taken you into his arms for a hug you felt a shiver go down your spine and you had to push him off to escape the dreaded feeling. You would mumble an apology, but in all honesty you didn’t mean it, you felt distant from him and you didn’t want to hide it, why hide it when it would only make you feel miserable, or should you say more miserable, than you already were.

The only time you would feel the same hint of a spark the first time you were with Dylan was whenever you spent time with your coworker Spencer. His facts about the most obscure things would have your ears perk up and your day was better whenever you got to talk to him or listen to him talk. His ramblings were often blown off by others but whenever he would open his mouth to talk you felt like you could listen to him for hours. Whenever you were alone you would often reminisce about the previous breaks at work where you would laugh about a not so funny physics joke he would make, which to you would be the highlight of your day. You often wondered to yourself why is it that you felt so light whenever you were with Spencer when you should be feeling that way with Dylan, your boyfriend?

Eventually one day it hit you that you had deeper feelings for Spencer than you thought you did. It should’ve made you feel guilty, sick to your stomach even, but all you felt was clarity and the butterflies you were suppressing for so long finally had a chance to be set free. That lasted for a moment however as you were reminded that you already have someone, but knowing what you knew now it was clear what had to be done.

“So it’s over? Just like that?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I get more of an explanation?”

Your eyes went straight to your shoes as you scrambled to think of anything else. What else could you say? To you it seemed very simple that the feelings just weren’t there anymore and you needed to move on. Dylan still seemed to have feelings for you, you remembered the hurt in his eyes whenever you’d pass a hug or didn’t kiss him back, it was eating away at him and he deserved an explanation, one that you weren’t able to give him.

“No, I’m sorry.”

Turning to walk out, you froze when you heard Dylan’s last words to you, “I’ll always love you, Y/N.”

You wished you could say the same, but if you did you would’ve been saying the biggest lie of your life and that’s something neither of you deserved, so instead you turned the door handle and walked out, without a single word said.

Without knowing or looking in which direction you were walking, you knew the path all too well. Not long after, you were knocking an all too familiar door. After a moment of waiting, the door opened and you were met with none other than Spencer.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You opened your mouth but no words came out. Your eyes felt dry so you knew that no tears were to be shed, but you felt dead inside and you knew Spencer could see it. He was quick to pull you inside and bring you in for a hug and you felt it again, the warmth of his embrace was quick to go through your whole being and your arms instantly wrapped around him to not lose any of the feeling, you were reminded of why you did what you did.

“I broke up with Dylan.”

“Oh Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, it was for the best.”

Spencer took a moment to hold onto you and comfort you before taking a hold of your hand and taking you to the kitchen. It was hard to hide the smile that crept up to your face as your fingers lightly intertwined, but you bit your lip as this wasn’t the time for these types of feelings.

The whole night you spent your time at Spencer’s place and what should’ve been a time for you to rest and gather your thoughts over the break up were instead filled with laughter. Spencer insisted you stayed over the night so you didn’t have to be alone and you agreed immediately. What started off as him trying to teach you how to play chess ended up with you cuddled into his side as you watched a movie.

During the whole night you wondered if Spencer had any clue about your feelings for him. He most definitely knew that you needed some level of comfort to deal with the “heartbreak”, but right now you were clinging to his side more than you ever did with Dylan. He wasn’t one to turn you away either as at one point his fingers found your hair and were now lightly carding through the strands. The action felt so relaxing that you were having a hard time keeping your eyes open.

“You know I never really liked Dylan.”

“Really? How so?”

“I don’t know, whenever I saw you two together you seemed so uneased, as if you couldn’t wait to get away from him.”

Spencer’s words hit hard as what he was saying wasn’t far from the truth. You were reminded of the day Dylan came and surprised you at work and when the team came to look at the lovebirds, the whole time Dylan had his arm wrapped around your waist and you were itching to slip out of his grip. Spencer seemed to take notice of your discomfort and you remembered how he was quick to tell the team they had a case to get back to, he did that so Dylan would leave, so you would feel more comfortable.

“To be honest I don’t know if I ever truly loved him.”

Saying it out loud made you feel like a bitch, what kind of person stays with someone for so long without even knowing if they truly loved them. Dylan did make you feel safe, sure, but he wasn’t the best at making you feel loved. You weren’t even 6 months along into your relationship when you both settled into somewhat of a routine: wake up, have your coffee, kiss each other goodbye, maybe text a few times over the day, whoever got home first made dinner, watched some TV and that was it, no more no less. It was comfortable, but not exciting, you were aware of people who said not to chase the highs when it came to love, that it was supposed to simple and easy, but something deep inside you was screaming that this wasn’t it, that it wasn’t supposed to end this way, even if it was the only thing keeping you sane.

Now here you were, in the arms of a man that made your heart flutter whenever he was in your line of view, the man who was always considerate of you in the smallest of ways when he didn’t need to be, but he wanted to and that’s what made you fall for him.

“Y/N, I…”

Before Spencer was able to finish his sentence, your lips were quick to find his and a sigh parted both of your lips as it registered as to what was happening. Spencer’s thumb brushed over your cheek and your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as if your life depended on it.

When you both parted, your eyes found his and the look of shock in his eyes mirrored the one in your eyes, what had just happened?

“I’m so sorry I-”

“Don’t be, I liked it.”

Spencer brushed the hair out of your face, the feather light touches of his fingers feeling so comforting against your skin. You braced yourself and looked into his eyes as you knew you couldn’t hide what you felt for much longer.

“Spencer-”

“I like you.”

He took the words out of your mouth, quite literally. You weren’t expecting those words to come out of his mouth, you always thought that Spencer was just kind to everyone around him, but it seems like he was being extra kind to you for a different reason.

“I like you too.”

Goofy smiles splayed over both of your faces, Spencer leaned in for another kiss and his lips barely touched yours and yet you felt fireworks go off inside of you. Was this a feeling that would stick around or inevitably fade? You weren’t sure, but you were willing to risk it to find out.

You can find my masterlist here!

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

#spencer reid #spencer reid au #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x gender neutral reader

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rootedinrevisions · 8 hours ago

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Not Just Some Option

SUMMARY: After years of friendship and hidden feelings, you and Tyler Owens, the charming and fearless storm chaser, find yourselves tangled in an unspoken connection. One quiet evening at home in Arkansas, the walls of denial crumble as the tension between you finally comes to a head. Tyler’s frustration with your reluctance to open up sparks a raw, emotional confession, forcing both of you to confront the depth of your feelings. As truths are laid bare, Tyler proves his devotion with words and actions, leaving no room for doubt that his heart belongs to you—and only you.

A/N: Thanks to the Anon who sent the request for this in! Hope you enjoy it!

PROMPT: "What part of I want you and only you do you not understand?"

WARNINGS/TAGS: Some Angst. Fluff. Some brief kissing/making out.

WORD COUNT: 2k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

You’d always been good at hiding your feelings for Tyler. After all, what choice did you have? Loving him quietly from a distance was safer than risking everything and losing him for good. You told yourself you were fine being his best friend, the one he could count on through thick and thin, the person who knew him better than anyone. But sometimes, like tonight, the weight of unspoken words felt like it might crush you.

His arm was draped over the back of the couch, and you leaned into him, trying to focus on the movie playing on the screen. The warmth of his body so close to yours should have been comforting, but it only reminded you of all the times you’d wished for more.

And then his phone buzzed. Again.

You bit your lip, refusing to look at the screen. It wasn’t your business who he was texting, no matter how much it felt like a dagger twisting in your chest. You tried to ignore the flashes of girls’ names, the way his lips quirked up in a small smile when he typed out a reply. But when the fifth buzz shattered the silence, you couldn’t help the sharp glance you shot at his phone.

“Who is that?” you asked, keeping your tone light, though the words tasted bitter in your mouth.

Tyler barely looked up. “Oh, just that brunette from Kansas. You know, the one from the bar.”

The knot in your stomach tightened. You remembered her well. The way she’d draped herself over him, batting her eyelashes and whispering in his ear, like she owned the right to his attention. And the worst part? He’d let her.

“Right,” you said, your voice tight as you turned back to the TV.

Tyler frowned, his focus shifting from his phone to you. “Hey, you okay?”

“I'm fine,” you lied, your eyes glued to the screen.

“You don’t sound fine.”

“I said I’m fine, Tyler.”

You could feel his gaze on you, sharp and searching. “Come on. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing,” you said quickly, your fingers clenching the edge of the throw pillow in your lap.

He sighed, his tone turning frustrated. “Why do you always do this? I know something’s bothering you, but you won’t tell me. Why can’t you just be honest with me?”

Because if I tell you, I’ll lose you. The words screamed in your head, but you couldn’t say them. What if he didn’t feel the same? What if your confession made things awkward, and ruined the easy friendship you’d spent years building? You swallowed hard, your throat tight with unshed tears.

“Forget it, Tyler,” you said softly. “It’s not important.”

“Bull,” he shot back, his voice firm. “It’s important if it’s upsetting you. Talk to me.”

The frustration in his voice broke something in you, and before you could stop yourself, the words spilled out. “I don’t like watching you with other girls, okay? I don’t like it when you’re texting them or taking them home. It hurts, Tyler. It kills me.”

The room went silent, the only sound the hum of the TV in the background. Tyler stared at you, his eyes wide with surprise.

“You…” He hesitated, his voice quieter now. “You feel that way about me?”

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze. “I’ve been in love with you for years, Tyler. But I know it doesn’t matter."

"It does matter. I want you." He said softly.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "You could have anyone you want. Why would you want me?”

The vulnerability in your voice must have hit him, because he reached for you, his hand gently tilting your chin up until your eyes met his.

“What part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?” he said, his voice low and intense.

You blinked, the words not fully sinking in. “Tyler, don’t—”

“I mean it,” he interrupted, his eyes boring into yours. “I’ve wanted you for so long, but I didn’t think you felt the same. And yeah, I’ve been an idiot talking to other people, but that’s over. I’m done with anyone else. I just want you.”

You shook your head slightly, tears spilling down your cheeks. “How can I believe that? After everything? I've seen you take I don't even know how many girls back to your hotel room.”

His hand slid from your chin to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your skin.

“Then let me prove it to you,” he murmured, his voice dropping as he leaned in closer.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, soft but insistent, and the world fell away. It wasn’t rushed or tentative—it was a kiss full of everything he couldn’t put into words, everything he’d been holding back.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his breath was warm against your skin. “Do you believe me now?”

You nodded your voice barely a whisper. “Yeah. I believe you.”

“Good,” he said with a small smile, his hand still cradling the back of your neck. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

Tyler didn’t wait for your response. His lips found yours again, firmer this time, more insistent. The hand cradling the back of your neck tightened slightly, anchoring you to him as his other hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer.

The kiss deepened, his tongue brushing against your lips in a silent request, and when you parted them, a quiet gasp escaped you as he claimed the moment. His tongue swept into your mouth, exploring, tasting, and igniting sparks that spread through your body like wildfire.

Your hands, which had been resting awkwardly at your sides, moved on instinct. One slid up to his shoulder, gripping the soft fabric of his t-shirt, while the other tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. The soft strands felt warm under your fingertips, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giving a gentle tug, earning a low, almost guttural sound from him that sent a shiver down your spine.

He shifted, his body pressing closer to yours as the kiss turned more heated. You felt his fingers flex against your waist, holding you firmly but not harshly. The way he touched you was deliberate like he was savoring every second, every tiny reaction you gave him.

“God,” Tyler murmured against your lips, his voice hoarse and breathless. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

His confession hit you harder than you expected, making your chest tighten and your head spin. You barely had time to process it before he kissed you again, tilting his head to deepen the connection.

You melted into him, letting go of the doubts and fears that had held you back for so long. The warmth of his touch, the intensity of his kiss—it all felt so right, so natural.

Tyler’s hand slid up your side, his thumb brushing just under the edge of your ribs before it settled lightly on your cheek, guiding your face to stay perfectly aligned with his. The tenderness of the gesture contrasted with the hunger in the kiss, and it left you breathless, craving more.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were gasping for air. Tyler pressed his forehead to yours, his breath mingling with yours in the charged silence. His hands framed your face, his thumbs tracing soothing patterns along your jaw.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill through you. “I want you. Only you.”

Your heart stuttered at the sincerity in his tone, and all you could do was nod, your fingers still gripping his shirt as though letting go would break the spell.

“I don’t want this to be just a moment,” you whispered, your voice shaky but resolute. “I don’t want to go back to pretending.”

“We won’t,” Tyler promised, leaning in to press a softer, slower kiss to your lips. “No more pretending. Promise.”

Tyler’s promise hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You felt the truth of it in the way his hands lingered on your face, in the way his gaze bore into yours like he was trying to memorize every detail.

He kissed you again, slower this time, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache. It wasn’t just passion; it was something deeper, something that made the world outside this moment fade away.

You sighed against his mouth, your body relaxing into his as you let yourself get lost in him. Tyler responded by pulling you closer, his arm wrapping around your waist as he shifted, guiding you backward until you were lying against the cushions of the couch. He leaned over you, his weight balanced carefully on one arm as his other hand caressed your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.

His kisses trailed away from your mouth, moving to the corner of your lips, then along your jaw. Each touch of his lips sent a spark racing through you, and when he nuzzled against the curve of your neck, you couldn’t stop the soft gasp that escaped you.

“Tyler,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

He hummed in response, the low, rough sound vibrating against your skin as his lips found the spot just below your ear.

“I love the way you say my name,” he murmured, his breath warm and tantalizing against your neck.

You bit your lip, your hands sliding from his shoulders to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. It grounded you, reminding you that this was real—that this wasn’t some fleeting dream you’d wake up from.

Tyler pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, his expression softer now, almost hesitant.

“I need you to tell me something,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

You nodded, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you held his gaze. “Anything.”

“Do you trust me?” he asked, his brow furrowed as though the answer truly mattered more than anything else.

The question caught you off guard, but the answer came easily. “Of course I do.”

“Then trust me when I say this,” Tyler continued his voice steady but laced with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. “I’m not going anywhere. This doesn't ruin our friendship. You’re not just some option to me. You never were.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes before you could stop them. You’d spent so long doubting, second-guessing, convincing yourself that this connection between you was one-sided. But now, hearing him say it, seeing the conviction in his eyes—it was overwhelming.

“Tyler...” Your voice broke, and you swallowed hard, trying to keep your emotions in check.

He smiled softly, his thumb brushing away the tear that slipped down your cheek. “No more doubting, okay? No more wondering if you’re enough. You’ve always been enough. For me, you’re everything.”

Your breath hitched, and before you could say anything else, Tyler leaned in, capturing your lips in another kiss. This one was slow and deliberate, as if he was trying to prove his words with every movement, every gentle caress.

The heat between you began to build again, his kisses growing more fervent as his hand slid down your side, resting just above your hip. You felt his fingers curl slightly, holding you with a mix of reverence and restraint.

The sound of the rain tapping against the window faded into the background as the world narrowed to just the two of you. Nothing else mattered—not the doubts, not the fears, not the years you’d spent hiding how you felt.

In this moment, it was just you and Tyler.

And for the first time, it felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens x reader #Tyler Owens x you #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction

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ruwhimsical · 1 day ago

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“COOKIN’ IN THE KITCHEN AND I’M IN THE BED ROOM.”

a sneak peek of what a domestic morning would look like with your househusband, Osamu!

cw : sickeningly sweet , suggestive (no smut) , fluff fluff fluff , short drabble , ib @dearru :3!!

The sound of light snoring echoes throughout the room as two bodies were entangled, one comfortably in slumber. Osamu had ensured to stay as still as possible—he didn’t want to wake you up, you looked far too comfortable using him as a human pillow.

Osamu couldn’t help but gaze at your bare sleeping figure, littered with reminders of his love from last night, with pure adoration—oh, how he loved slow mornings like this. It wasn’t every day he got to spend time with you. After all, you were both working adults—your 9-to-5 corporate job and his business keeping you both busy. He reached out to tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear, but the movement must’ve woken you. You stirred, and Osamu paused, before a smile spread across his face.

“Hey, my love.”

Your eyes slowly opened, landing on your one and only husband. It felt so unreal calling such a kind, loving, and fine man your own. You felt so blessed to wake up to a beautiful view like him. You nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, inhaling his musky scent before returning his greeting.

“Hey, handsome.”

The vibration of your muffled voice against his bare skin sent a shiver down his spine, causing him to hold you a little tighter, not wanting to let this moment go to waste. But with morning comes responsibility. Although Osamu would love to rot in bed with you all day, he knew he couldn’t.

He was reminded of his duty as your personal chef once he heard your tummy growl.

“Looks like someone needs to be fed after last night.” Flashbacks of yesterday crept into your mind, and you lightly hit his shoulder before looking up at him. God, how could someone look so good at any angle?

“You’re not funny… make me some French toast,” you grumbled as Osamu stood up, grabbing his discarded sweatpants from the floor and pulling them on.

“And that’s exactly what you’ll get.” He gave you a quick peck on the forehead before heading out of the room. The once-filled room grew dim as you lay there, contemplating whether to follow him to the kitchen.

—

“You should’ve just stayed in bed. I would’ve brought it to you,” Osamu said with a chuckle as you emerged from your shared bedroom.

“It was lonely without you.”

He laughed softly at your response. Missing his warmth, you wrapped your arms around his muscular build from behind, your bare chest pressing against his back, now decorated with faint red marks from the night before.

“I’m almost finished making breakfast. Could you set up the plates, please?”

You waited a moment longer, savoring the closeness, before squeezing his torso and walking toward the cabinets to retrieve the cutlery. You placed them on the table for two, just in time for Osamu to place your freshly made French toast on the plate. The sight of the food alone was enough to make you eager to devour it, but you patiently waited for him to join you before digging in.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, his mouth already full of toast and fresh berries.

“You’re the best cook after all .” You looked at him with a fondness that words couldn’t describe. Never in a million years would you have imagined yourself here, but you were grateful for every single moment of it.

mlist

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morkleesgirl · 2 days ago

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Butterfly Kisses l.jn

idol!Jeno x choreographer!reader

Warnings: mostly fluff, but ends in a tiny bit of smut (body worship and pussy eating)

Word Count: 639 Words

A/N: I'm so so so sorry for how long I've been gone, but school has been absolutely killing my time lately. but I've written all day today and am hoping to write some more in the next couple days!! Please please please request, they are open, and I would love some inspiration to write more of what you all want to see!

But, without further ado, please take some Jeno fluffy smut(ish) as my apology

Warmth surrounded you, allowing a comforting haze to wrap around you. The bed feels so warm with his arms wrapped around my waist. Jeno, he's home, he’s actually home. He finally has a couple days off before promotions for the new album go into full swing. He wanted to take you somewhere today, but with how little time the two of you have had, there was nothing that could have pulled you out of his warm embrace. The only thing on your mind was staying as close to Jeno as you could remain. I hope he isn't going to get upset about not going out, you thought, but before you got the chance to think too hard about it two arms tightened around you, pulling you closer to his broad, bare chest. Next you felt his soft lips leaving butterfly kisses up and down your neck "good morning beautiful" he whispered as he kissed that spot right below your earlobe "are you ready for today?" "Baby can we stay here, stay close to each other? I just wanna lay here with you, I’ve missed you so much." That was half true, you did want to soak in all the time you should being close to Jeno today, but you also had been working a lot more often lately, 10 hour days had become your new normal without anyone to remind you to take care of yourself. The kisses halted as his hands slid up to your sides, his hands holding your waist, which was much smaller than the last time he had held you like this. "Beautiful have you been eating enough lately?" Damn, the last thing you wanted was to talk about yourself today, especially because of how upset it makes Jeno when he thinks your not taking good care of yourself. "I'm fine Jen, just been working a lot" you feel him sigh against your neck, "Baby I wish you would take better care of yourself.” He whispers softly against your shoulder, as he shifts you to lay on your back beneath him. “I wish you would realize that you're my everything, that you’re the most important think in the world to me." "Baby it's fine, I just had a really big project, and I was able to lose some weight while working hard on the choreography I was making" you tried to explain, trying to push the attention onto your work and not how poorly you’d been taking care of yourself. "Lose some weight?” he scoffed, looking lovingly into your eyes “baby you're beautiful, and you're perfect how you are." There was silence as he slowly moved to capture your lips in his. "Look in my eyes beautiful," he said softly, placing one of his hands on your cheek, as the other rubbed soothing circles into your bare hipbone. "I'm going to remind you just how perfect you are" he whispered kissing your lips softly before moving to trail more kisses down your neck and onto your collarbone. He kept his eyes full of love locked with yours as he moved down your body leaving marks occasionally. Nipping at the skin of your thighs before pressing them open. “I love you” he whispered before kissing your inner thigh, working closer and closer to the place you needed him most. “You’re so perfect, so so good to me” he continues as he finally locks eyes with you once again as he finally kisses your clit, and begins to eat you out like a starved man. Determined to make you feel as good as you make him feel. Determined to pull orgasm after orgasm out of you until you could do nothing but whine out his name. Determined to take care of you, and he did, leaving butterfly kisses all over your thighs until you were in ecstasy.

#nct dream smut #nct jeno #jeno x reader #jeno smut #jeno #nct dream #lee jeno smut

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moody-alcoholic · 6 hours ago

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These Violent Delights

Chapter 16 - My Dark Disquiet

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 8.7k words. Things are getting better slowly.

CW: a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes, hurt with some comfort, depression, mental health, descriptions of weapons, vomit, language, angst, nightmares, talks of death, alcohol, drugging/ sedation, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of past abuse.

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

The pain is still there. Every morning that you wake up, you think it will be better. It never is. Dr. Piper is still dead.

Maybe it was better when you were in the bunker the first time you thought she had died. Professor Hale kept you so busy you didn’t get much time to think. He blamed you for her death. She tried to get you out, but you got caught and then he killed her. At least that’s what he had told you.

John should have done the swap. Then she would be alive. This is as much your fault as it is his. He said he would save her but really it was your job.

Your heart aches. It’s a deep throbbing pain that feels like it’s never going away. The pain reminds you you’re alive. Maybe one day you’ll just get used to it.

You slept through the night for the first time last night. You didn’t dream, but you didn’t have nightmares either. Maybe you are healing. You don’t know if you want to heal. Healing means moving on, and you can’t imagine moving on without Dr. Piper.

Johnny comes in with a cup of tea. You sit up in bed making space for him.

“We’re going to be leaving tomorrow, late tomorrow around 10pm,” he says. Your stomach suddenly turns as you take in the news. You don’t want to leave. You want to keep the only connection with Dr. Piper you know is left.

“I don’t want to leave,” you say quietly, squeezing your hands round the mug.

“You’ll like the UK. You’ll love Scotland, and there's so much land. You can spend as much time as you want outside,” he says, nudging you. You sigh. Being outside sounds nice. It’s been too long since you’ve seen greenery.

When the Professor told you she was dead, you had mourned for months, and you still had to endure his abuse. At least now you have a pack around you. Your pack. Except it doesn’t matter though because it's your pack's fault she's dead.

You hand your mug back to Johnny. You’re not hungry or thirsty. You don’t want anything, you just want to sleep.

“Do you want any pain killers?” he asks. “You might want some. We’re going to be travelling for a while.” You shake your head looking up at him. He sighs, squeezing your thigh then getting up.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” he says as he heads for the door.

“Johnny,” you call. He turns looking back at you.

“Can I go for a shower later?” you ask, looking up at him. He smiles back at you.

“There’s a bath here too. Maybe that would be better?” You nod. A long hot bath does sound good.

John puts the vial on the table. It’s a sedative. He picked it up from the hospital while you were there. It’s a last resort. He thought maybe you would have been feeling better by now, or at least not so deep in your depressive state.

He’s worried about how you’re going to react to being in an unusual space with unusual people, strangers. Or maybe being in a confined space with him is worse. Travelling for so long is hard on anyone, let alone you right now.

“What do you think?” John asks as he looks round the room.

“I don’t think drugging her is going to get you back in her good graces,” Kyle says.

“It’s 2 flights, almost 12 hours not including another few hours’ drive,” John says. Johnny sighs looking at the others.

“What would Dr. Montgomery do if she was here?” Johnny asks.

“We wouldn’t be having this discussion if she was here,” Simon’s voice comes back harshly.

“Me and Gaz can keep her calm, she seems to be fine around us,” Johnny says.

“I’m worried about her distressing. We’re going to be in a stuffy cargo plane for hours surrounded by strangers,” John explains. The closest you’d come was when you ran from them in the forest. John looks round them all. He remembers how distressed you were when you woke up in the hospital. Your eyes, blown wide, screaming for him. For your alpha. It only stopped when they sedated you, and it seems you don’t even remember.

There's a collective sigh in the room. They were all there too. They all witnessed it.

“She hasn’t yet, maybe she won’t,” Kyle shrugs.

“One causes more harm than the other,” John says coldly. “Last time was close, too close and there’s no Dr. Montgomery to save her. It would be down to us.”

“If we decide, how do we get her to take it? She won't even take her pain meds. She’s definitely not going to take a sedative,” Johnny says.

“There are other options.” John looks round them all. Simon even looks up to meet his eye line. “She doesn’t have to know.”

Simon tuts shaking his head then walks past John over to the bedrooms. John sighs as he hears the door slam.

“I guess you both feel the same,” he sighs.

“Well she can't hate you more than she already does,” Johnny says, crossing his arms.

“She doesn't eat, she doesn't sleep. It's almost a day's worth of travel. Maybe it's for the best. Price’s right, if anything happens, we’re stuck in the air,” Kyle says. At least he has Kyle on his side. Johnny lets out a long breath looking over at your room.

“Let me talk to her. Maybe she'll understand and be more willing to take it?” Johnny suggests. Price nods, picking the vial back up.

It’s just afternoon when you sulk out of your bedroom to the bathroom. Johnny said he would prepare the bath for you after dinner. You were kind of regretting it now, you would much rather just take a quick shower. When you leave you look into the living room. Kyle and John are on the sofa watching the TV. You don’t see Simon anywhere.

You walk into the bathroom and Johnny looks up at you. The tub is still filling up. You walk past him feeling the towels on the shelf. They’re soft and fluffy. You pick one out.

“I can leave if you want?” he asks. You turn to look at him. He’s pouring what looks like salt into the water. The smell of rose hits your nose. You haven’t had much privacy over the last few days, over at least a week. You don’t know how many days you’d been in hospital for. Maybe it’s been longer than you think.

You don’t really want to be alone. It feels weird, but you can’t describe it. Maybe it’s because they’re betas but you don’t mind Kyle or Johnny being around. You’ve even gotten used to Simon too. He looks less intimidating without his mask.

“Stay,” you say. He nods and you start to pull your clothes off.

You’re used to Johnny seeing you naked by this point. He’s helped you through 2 heats. Still he averts his eyes from you, watching your face as he finishes preparing the bath. It smells good. He keeps pouring products in making the room smell of lavender, rose and other scents you can’t quite place.

You’re sitting on the toilet watching as he stands back with his hands on his hips. He smiles as you get up walking over to the bath. It’s filled with bubbles. You let the towel drop from your shoulders and dip your hand in feeling the temperature of the water.

“What do you think?” He asks. You nod, stepping into the water. Johnny helps you in as you sit down letting the water rise up above your shoulders. It’s hot but it feels good. You close your eyes for a few seconds letting the water heat through to your bones.

You let out a sigh resting back. You open your eyes looking over at him. He smiles at you.

“That's the smile I love to see,” he says. You didn’t even realise you were smiling. You tip your head to the side letting your hand run over the scar on your neck. The one Dr. Piper left. It’s all you have left from her, the scars she left on your body.

They’ll be healed in a few months, and then you’ll have nothing to remind you, just memories. Right now all the happy memories are tainted. It’s hard to imagine her happy. It's hard to imagine anything other than her suffering. You let out another long sigh watching the bubbles pop on the water.

“I can wash your hair if you want?” he offers, raising an eyebrow. You nod, smiling at him. You sit up leaning forward in the tub. He kneels down beside you pulling the shower head over and some bottles.

You let him work. He takes his time wetting your hair through. His movements are gentle as he works his hands up to massage your scalp. It feels good. He opens bottles of shampoo and conditioner. They smell sweet, like you. Strawberries and cream.

You hug your knees, closing your eyes as Johnny makes sure to get each inch of your hair soapy. It smells good, and it feels good. You hum as his fingers brush through your hair.

“Johnny, why do people call you Soap?” you ask, opening your eyes and turning to look at him.

“I ate a bar of soap in basic,” he says, chuckling.

“Really?” you ask, frowning.

He shakes his head.

“I’m good at my job, I clear rooms quickly,” he says, bringing up the shower head and washing the soap out of your hair.

“Like with enemies and stuff?” you ask, turning your head back and resting your chin on your knees.

“Yeah, or hostages, whatever there is.”

You close your eyes letting out another sigh as you hear another bottle open. Johnny squirts some in his hands before lathering a thick layer on your hair. You feel sad all of a sudden.

Dr. Piper used to do this after your heats. You would be locked in a room naked with a hose. She would bring soaps and scrub your body clean, wash your hair then braid it after. You always looked forward to that, a light in the never ending darkness of your heats.

You miss her so much. You squeeze your eyes closed. You don’t want to cry. Your eyes are so raw from tears. You didn’t think it was possible to cry so much. You didn’t think it would be possible to miss someone so much. You loved her.

The water feels good as Johnny washes the conditioner out of your hair, his hands are soft, gentle. He’s taking his time keeping the warm water flowing over you. It’s relaxing. The steam builds up in the room. It's almost lulling you to sleep.

“Johnny, Do you know how to braid hair?” you ask. It’s a long shot. You don’t expect him to know.

“Yeah,” he replies. You turn to look at him, sniffling. Tears come, but you hope he can’t see them with the water already running down your face.

“Could you braid my hair?” you ask.

He nods, smiling. His hand comes up to brush wet hair out your face. He moves round to the back of the tub. He gathers your hair up and starts to braid it.

“How did you learn?” you ask him.

“I have cousins,” he chuckles. You let out a sigh. You don’t have any family anymore. Dr. Piper is dead, the Professor is dead. Your biological parents—who knows where they are or if they’re still alive. You drop your shoulders as Johnny finishes tying the end of the braid off.

He puts it over your shoulder and you pull it in your hands. He’s done a good job. You run your fingers over it. You feel a chill on the back of your neck. It will be exposed to him. He’ll be able to see John’s mark. Your fingers move around to it. You feel the indents in the skin.

It will never heal, the skin is too sensitive, or special or something. Dr. Piper explained it better. You always thought you would end up with the Professor's mark. Instead you have John’s mark. You let your hand fall as Johnny stands up walking to the side of the tub.

“C’mon, you look like you could use a cup of tea.” He holds the towel out. You nod at him, stepping up out of the bath and into the towel he wraps around you. You can’t keep your hands off the braid. It makes you smile. Maybe you’re healing. Johnny and Kyle have been so kind to you. They have been there for you.

“Thank you,” you say, turning to look at Johnny. He kisses your forehead just like John used to, his thumb coming up to rub your cheek.

“Not a problem.” He smiles.

It feels like it’s never going to be the same again. Maybe you need a change. Maybe going to the UK is going to be a good thing. You don’t like the thought of being stuck on a plane in close quarters with John. It’s going to be a long trip, to a strange place.

At least everything Johnny has told you about the house in the highlands seems nice.

“Did Dr. Montgomery braid your hair for you?” he asks as he opens the door. You nod, tightening the towel around you. When you step out into the main flat goosebumps rise on your body.

John and Kyle are still sat on the sofa as they look over at you. You stare at them for a few seconds. Something inside you burns. You miss John. You miss your alpha. He’s the one who is supposed to be comforting you, telling you everything is going to be okay.

It’s not going to be okay though and you remember why. The burn gets replaced with anger, sadness and you want nothing to do with him. It’s not healthy for you to be away from your alpha for so long. You need to keep the pack threads tight, and right now you’re barely holding on to John’s. Johnny guides you into your room.

He closes the door going over to the pile of clothes they bought you. It’s mostly pyjamas, but you don’t mind. You pick some out Johnny comes over helping you dry. You really don’t need the help but you’re too tired to care.

You change sitting down on the bed as Johnny moves round the room collecting the dirty clothes and towel.

“After my heat. Professor would lock me in a room. It was this dark concrete room with a one way window and a hose. I always hated that room. It was cold and I was always in pain.” You look up at Johnny who comes over to sit next to you. “Dr. Piper would be there. She would wash me with these soaps that always smelled so good. Then she would braid my hair.” You pull on the braid. Johnny’s arm wraps round your back, the other resting on your thigh.

“She took good care of you,” he says. You nod, picking at the skin around your fingers. He sighs, placing his hand on yours. You stop picking and look up at him.

“She loved you, all the way to the end,” he says, his voice low. You feel a lump rising in your chest, and your lip quivers. His hand moves up to your chin, he tips it up so you’re looking directly in his eyes. He has beautiful blue eyes, and a lovely smile.

“All those good memories you have, the good ones with her. That's what you hold on to. She’ll always be with you,” he says. You sniffle, the tears rolling down your face.

“John let her die,” you say, the words sounding foreign coming out your mouth.

“They were both trying to keep you safe. He would never hurt you on purpose.”

“I miss her,” you sob.

“I know. It’s okay,” he says, pulling you into his arms. You cry into his chest while he rubs your back, kissing your head. You can smell his calming scent, and you let yourself breathe it in. Maybe this is healing, maybe this is what healing feels like.

Maybe this is what you need.

“Johnny, will you stay?” you say pulling your face off his chest.

“Course love.” Johnny smiles.

…

Simon sits down next to John on the sofa. He's been avoiding him. Bar following orders, he’s been keeping his distance. He was planning on spending the night in your room again but when he stuck his head in he saw Johnny in your bed. At least you’re not alone. He hates the thought of you being alone.

He’s distracted, going over what happened again and again in his head. John left Piper to die like there was no other way, like they didn’t have a choice. They could have gone back and made another plan to blow the place. They could have dealt with Shadow Company, they could have given Johnny time.

No, John was right during the debrief. Shadow Company were closing in on them, it was the best way to cover their tracks. Piper knew the sacrifice she was making. She would do it every time, she was more like John than she knew. Simon can’t spend his energy worrying about that now. He’s too worried about you.

There's something about the thought of you being alone that makes his blood run cold. You're safe here. No one other than Laswell knows where they are. John sighs, reaching over and filling the glasses sat on the coffee table with whisky.

He pushes one towards Simon.

Truce?

Simon reaches over and picks it up.

Yeah.

John smiles and does the same. The news is playing on the TV, anything to drown out the quiet that hangs over the flat.

“Still mad at me?” he asks before drinking the whole glass. Simon lets out a sigh, taking a sip of the whisky. He doesn’t say anything. He wants to stay mad at John for a long time. He liked Dr. Montgomery, and he doesn’t like seeing you suffer. Who would that help though? No point in causing more rifts in the pack.

He understands the decisions John made, even before the debrief, when they were stuck in the hospital waiting for you to recover and hoping you wouldn’t distress. It was like walking on a knife's edge. John insisted you were kept sedated, at least until your wounds had healed.

Simon remembers you screaming. It was horrible, like nails down a chalkboard. You were crying out for John like you couldn’t see him, even though he was with you the whole time. Maybe it was the strangers, maybe it was the pain, the miscarriage. It could have been a number of things. It felt like they were losing you. But John always knows when to make the tough decisions.

For the greater good.

“Hale is dead, the chemical gone. Graves and Shepherd are off our backs.” Simon finishes his drink. “I know why you did it.”

“But I should have done it differently,” John says as a matter of fact.

Simon sighs. He looks at John. He looks sad. He can see the strain in his face as he pinches the bride of his nose.

“Do you regret it? When you told the omega you should have saved her, did you mean it?” Simon asks as he refills their glasses.

“Yeah, I meant it,” he says. Simon can smell his sincerity in the air. John reaches forward picking up his drink. Simon does the same.

“How long do you think they’ll stay away?” Simon asks. John lets out a sigh letting the glass rest on his knee.

“Who knows. We could be arrested when we step off the plane in the UK,” he sighs.

“That's not going to happen,” Simon scoffs.

“The last few weeks haven’t exactly gone according to plan,” he sighs. Simon can hear the guilt in his voice. He really does feel bad about this.

“Not your fault,” Simon sighs. No need for John to spiral further. “You did what you thought was best.”

“Would you have made the same decision?” John asks him. He looks over at John. He liked Dr. Montgomery, he likes you.

“Yeah I would have,” he admits, looking down. He’s no better than John. “I liked Piper.”

He finishes his drink, putting the glass down.

“Christ Si. I didn’t know.”

“Not like that,” Simon tuts, crossing his arms. Something burns in him though. He doesn’t believe the words coming out his mouth. “Would it have changed your decision?”

“No,” John says, Simon smiles, looking at him. That’s why he’s captain. He made the right choice. Now he’s beating himself up about it. Simon sighs. He shouldn’t push John away; he doesn't deserve it.

For the greater good.

Johnny comes out of your room. Simon looks over before turning back to the TV. He can feel the tension in the air as he moves over to the sofa. He offers him his glass.

Johnny accepts it, Simon can see the gloomy disquiet on his face, not the Johnny Simon is used to seeing.

“I’ll give it to her. You’re her alpha, you're supposed to protect her.” Johnny drinks the whiskey and sits down in one of the chairs putting the glass back down on the coffee table. “If there is any chance of you fixing your relationship with her she needs to trust you again.”

Simon lets out a sigh looking over at John. He can see the pain in his face. He can smell the guilt in the air. He’s doing the right thing, everything to protect the omega. They’re going to be leaving tomorrow, back to the UK, Scotland, somewhere remote and safe.

That's where they can fix the relationships. That's where they can repair the damage done to the pack.

Your scream pierces the silence in the flat. Johnny is on his feet in an instant. John stands up too. The hairs stand up on the back of Simon's neck, his fingers digging into the sofa arm.

Johnny flys through your door with Gaz following behind him, pulling a shirt on. When he sees Johnny’s got you, he closes your door, turning to look at them on the sofa. He smiles. Simon can see the sleep on his face as he heads back to his room.

John sits down letting out a shaky breath rubbing the back of his neck. Simon puts his hand on John's thigh, squeezing it.

“She’ll get better John. She’s got the best people around her. Even Piper knew that.”

“I let her down, I let the pack down,” he says.

“You did what you had to do to protect her. Hale is dead, she’s safe,” Simon says. He reaches over, pouring more whisky into the glasses.

“Soap said we should get something for her,” Gaz says as they get out of the car at the store. Simon hums, locking the car. They’re only supposed to be here for a few things. Things for the flight, things for the next 24 hours.

“Like what?” Simon asks as he pulls the black surgical mask up over his nose.

“I don’t know, maybe a nice blanket or something she could use on the flight.”

“She’ll be knocked out,” Simon says, a little harsher than he means. He’s not happy with it. It is going to be a long trip, though. You’re in pain. At least if you’re sleeping you won’t be in pain.

Simon follows Gaz through the store as he picks up stuff for dinner. Looks like stir fry from what Gaz is putting in the trolley. Simon leaves him in the produce section and heads over to homegoods. He follows the aisle until he comes across pillows and blankets. Simon runs his hands over them. He’s not sure what he’s looking for. The most colourful, fluffiest one.

He picks out a baby blue one and a fluffy matching pillow. He keeps looking, scanning round for something else. One blanket and one pillow doesn’t feel like enough. Gaz sticks his head round the aisle coming up to Simon.

“Think she’ll like it?” he asks as Simon places the pillow and blanket in the shopping basket. Simon just hums picking up a thinner cream one and putting it in too. The hairs stand up on the back of his neck. He looks at Gaz who looks past him for a second, eyes focused on something distant before flicking his eyes back to Simon.

Something's wrong.

“We should get some bottled water,” Gaz says. Simon nods following him out the aisle. “See the man on our 6 with the grey puffer jacket.”

Ghost turns Gaz down an aisle to his right so he can sneak a look. He doesn’t see anything. Maybe he’s turned down a different aisle.

“Split up, let's see who he follows,” Ghost says as they make it to the end of the aisle. His weapon suddenly feels heavy, tucked in his waistband against his back. Gaz nods, splitting left with the trolly down the main middle aisle. Ghost works his way forward.

He doesn’t need to worry too long though as he turns at the end of the aisle he sees the man out the corner of his eye. Ghost takes a sharp left looping back to the middle aisle. His hairs stand up on the back of his neck again. He is being followed. He spies Gaz and nods at him. He turns left, and Ghost follows him.

He can hear the steps behind him. He's still being followed. There’s a staff-only door at the end of the aisle. Gaz turns to the right out of his view. Ghost speeds up, turning to the left. He spies across to see Gaz waiting there.

Ghost waits until the stranger is in view before pouncing on him. He grips his wrist pulling his arm up to the top of his back. Before he has time to react Ghost pushes him through the staff only door and up against the wall. Gaz hits the lock on the door coming over to help Ghost wrestling with the man.

“Fucking hell!” he calls, gritting his teeth as Gaz pats him down. He pulls a pistol off his hip unloading it.

“You a cop?” Gaz asks. He doesn’t reply, just grunts uncomfortably as Ghost keeps him pressed up against the wall.

“Concealed carry, pretty illegal. What are you doing following us?” Gaz asks, pocketing the mag. Ghost lets out a sigh. This guy’s not going to talk, or not easily at least.

“American?” Ghost asks him looking for a reaction on his face. He presses his lips together.

“Shit, he’s a fucking Shadow,” Gaz says holding a badge up. Ghost sighs. Price had intel from Laswell that Shadows had crossed the border. Price said it wasn’t a problem, Graves would have no idea where the safehouse was, it’s a Canadian special force’s house. At least that was the theory. Guess he was wrong.

“Bit far from home. Did Graves send you up here?” Ghost asks. The man scoffs. Ghost tuts. They don’t need to get anymore info from him. They need to get back to Price and leave. Get out of Canada and up to Scotland where it’s safe. They have clearly outstayed their welcome.

Gaz goes over to a room labelled maintenance, he comes back out almost as quickly as he disappeared. He holds the black zipties up so Ghost can see. He nods pulling the man off the wall and over to the room.

It’s a small maintenance cupboard filled with cleaning supplies and various tools. Ghost holds him as Gaz ties his ankles and wrists.

“You know they’re not after you right?” he says eventually.

“Talking’s not going to get you anywhere,” Ghost says through gritted teeth as he kicks the black of his knees forcing him to yelp in pain and drop to the floor.

“Didn’t take long for Graves to team up with Shepherd again,” Gaz scoffs under his breath as he ties the guy up to a pipe running up the wall.

“Match made in heaven,” Ghost says, finally letting go and standing up straight.

“She’s worth more dead than she is alive now that Professor Hale is dead,” he calls as Ghost goes to open the door to leave.

“How’d you figure that?” Gaz asks. Ghost almost wants to turn around and tell him to ignore what he’s saying. He’s most likely just doing this to mess with them, or worse, to stall. They need to leave.

“That’s what the brief said,” he says.

Shit. There’s a hit out for you, that’s why there’s only one Shadow here.

“What brief?” Gaz asks.

“Gaz, let’s go,” Ghost orders opening the door. Gaz nods, following him, picking up a wet floor sign before closing the door behind him. Ghost leads him out back into the store in silence.

“Clean up in aisle 9?” Gaz chuckles as he puts the sign down in the middle of the aisle.

“Christ you’re worse than Johnny,” Simon sighs, shaking his head. “C’mon we need to get out of here.”

You hear commotion in the flat. Something feels wrong, the energy is different. You can hear low murmurs, hushed voices. Hairs stand up on the back of your neck and you sit up in bed.

Johnny walks through the door. You freeze. He seems tense as he walks over to you. You pull your legs up to your chest as he strides over, sitting down on the bed. He reaches over and turns the light on, but it just makes the expression on his face look darker.

You can smell his worry in the air. There’s something else too. Fear? Anger? You can’t tell.

“Hey,” he says, putting something down on the bedside table. It’s a little bottle with clear liquid in it. You don’t know what it is. You look back at him frowning.

“We’re leaving now,” he says. Panic rises in you. You don’t want to leave.

“You said we were leaving later tonight.” You’re trying not to get upset, but a lump forms in your throat. It doesn’t go away as tears threaten to spill over.

“I know but something came up so we’re leaving now,” he says. You blink at him letting the first few drops roll down your cheeks.

“I don’t want to go,” you let out the cry that’s been stuck in your throat.

“I know.”

“It’s like I'm leaving her behind,” you sob, wiping your tears. His hand comes to your chin pulling your head up to look at him. He smiles at you, his head tipped to the side.

His hand falls down to the centre of your chest and he presses gently. “She’ll always be here with you. The memories you have of her will never go away.” You can smell his sincerity in the air. It’s not helping though. You let out a little smile, sniffling, you look over at the vial on the bedside table.

“What is it?” you ask.

Johnny leans over taking it in his hand.

“It’s a sedative. We’ve got a long trip. Thought maybe it would be easier. It’s a lot of travelling in confined spaces. I know you’re still in pain,” he says, rolling the vial round in his hand.

“I don’t want—” You look up at him, the sentence catching in your throat.

“I know but I think it will help. You won’t have to worry about anything. You just fall asleep and wake up in the UK, skip the whole 11 hour plane ride,” Johnny says. 11 hours on a plane sounds horrible right now. 11 hours on a plane confined in a small space with John sounds even worse.

Maybe it would be better for all of them if they just leave you behind.

“Will it hurt?” you ask. You already ache. You’re sick of being in pain. He shakes his head. Maybe a good long nap would be nice. A long nap where you’ll wake up thousands of miles away and still surrounded by people who let you down.

“Will you be there?” you ask, looking in Johnny’s eyes. He smiles nodding at you pressing his forehead against yours.

“Every second,” he says. You let out another breath, closing your eyes.

“What would Dr. Piper do?” you whisper to yourself. Johnny pulls his head back, his hand coming to your face, his thumb rubbing your cheek. You really don’t want to leave, but maybe this way it would be less painful this way.

Johnny gets up, and the room suddenly feels cold. You can hear more voices now. Simon and Kyle must be back. John’s voice is low, you can hear him giving commands. There’s a knock at the door, and Johnny goes over to take it. You don’t listen to their conversation looking down at your hands and picking at the worn skin.

It’s becoming a bad habit, your fingertips rough with hard and worn skin. You don’t bother listening to who it is. It's probably John. Johnny comes back to the room. It feels like he’s coming to give you the worst news ever. Worse than Dr. Piper being dead.

Johnny smiles at you, as he comes to sit back down on the bed. You reach over taking Dr. Pipers scarf in your hands. She’d want you to be safe, she would want you to be happy.

She’d want you to be brave. You have to be brave.

“Where are we going?” you ask, your words slurred as Johnny carries you into the back of a car placing you against Kyle who pulls your seatbelt on.

“We’re going on holiday,” he says, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, and getting in beside you.

“It’s going to be okay,” Kyle says, pulling your head down onto his shoulder. John closes the door walking over to the front passenger seat. Simon is driving, his focus stuck on the road ahead. John looks back at you as Kyle rubs your thigh. You’re feeling really sleepy, your body heavy as Simon starts to drive. You try to stay awake for as long as you can, but the motion of the car and the smell of beta in the air lulls you to sleep.

“I think she’s out,” Kyle says a few minutes later. Simon sighs looking over at John.

“How long will it last?” Johnny asks.

“A few hours. It should be worn off by the time we land in the UK,” John says. His voice is level as he looks over at Simon. The short drive to the airport goes in silence with John’s eyes constantly looking up in the rearview mirror. You're sleeping up against Kyle. He can smell their scent strongly in the air. Yours too. Strawberries, and mint.

He’s come to associate mint with sadness.

When they make it to the airport they drive straight through to the waiting military cargo plane. John had to pull an unbelievable amount of strings to get on this transport without anyone asking questions. Not to mention having to bully the commander into leaving early. He was going to owe him big time.

He managed to get another General in the UK to sign off on their leave for a month at least. The plan was to lay low and see what came out of the investigation in America. Last he had heard from Laswell there wasn’t much they could do since technically the omega doesn’t exist. They were going over the rubble of the ruined mansion. It could take weeks. The DOD have taken a step back not wanting to be affiliated with Professor Hale and the crimes he’s being accused of.

But now Shadow Company is after you. Laswell managed to find the bounty. As far as they’re aware though, Shepherd knows nothing about it and Hale is dead. Maybe there’s someone new after you, people who want to take over Hale’s work. Dr. Montgomery didn’t round up every person who used to work for him. There are still others out there.

They managed to track them down to Canada, they could easily track them to the UK. Johnny’s house is safe, and they can defend it if they need to. Johnny keeps enough of an arsenal to supply a small army in the basement. They’re going to be fine. Hopefully when they get there he can let his guard down a little, try and relax.

The car drives up into the back of the plane. There are a few soldiers mulling around, some of whom will be travelling back with them. John doesn’t trust any of them. He barely trusts the commander who chartered the flight in the first place.

“In the boot there’s some blankets,” John says, turning back to look at you still with your face pressed up against Kyle’s shoulder. Johnny is reaching over into the back pulling them up. Simon and John get out of the car. Simon comes round opening the door for Johnny who scoots out. Kyle moves you into Johnny’s arms and he lifts you up.

Simon reaches over, taking the blankets and draping them over you. He looks at Johnny as he pulls the blankets right up under your chin. Your head rests against his chest as you’re carried through to the extra jump seats. Johnny lowers you down into the middle seat as Kyle and Simon wrap the blankets around you.

Johnny gets in first taking the window seat and Kyle sits on the other side of you. You slump against Kyle as Johnny moves over you, re-adjusting the blankets and placing the pillow under your head. John walks through the doors last. He stops in the aisle looking over at you as Johnny attaches your seatbelt.

It hurts him he had to do this. You look so peaceful leaning against Kyle. He wishes it was different. He has no idea if or when you’ll forgive him but he’ll keep trying. He wants to reach out and hold you, pull you against him and tell you everything is going to be okay.

That's supposed to be his job, to take care of you and the pack. Things are going to be different now. He’s going to step up. Things are going to change.

He can’t stand seeing you like this and knowing that he was the one who hurt you.

“She’s making progress, Cap, she just needs time. We all do,” Kyle says. John smiles at him. He knows he’s trying to make him feel better. He puts his hand on his shoulder and squeezes it nodding at him. He lets out a sigh going to sit in the adjacent aisle with Simon.

Simon hands him a tablet. More paperwork, more news from Laswell. Probably nothing good. He can’t help looking back over at you. He can just about see your body pressed up against Kyle as the betas fuss over you.

The door opens and soldiers funnel in, they take seats, some of them clocking you as they do, muttering under their breath like school boys. It makes John uncomfortable. He closes the tablet down, putting it in the pocket of the seat in front of him.

“Who's the chick?” John hears one of them chuckle. He ignores it, sighing and attaching his seatbelt. He can’t let them get to him, he closes his eyes. 9 hours couldn’t go any slower.

“Hey!” an unfamiliar American voice calls angrily.

“Keep yer comments to yourself, yeah?” That’s Soap.

“MacTavish,” John says, looking over at them. One of the soldiers is looking back over the seats at Soap gripping the chair.

“He started it, Cap,” Soap protests.

“I don’t care,” he says, sighing. The other soldier sits back down. You murmur, scooting up closer to Kyle, pulling your legs up onto the chair. John moves his eyes over to you as Kyle moves so you’re more comfortable.

John sighs, he wants to be with you so badly it hurts, every fibre in his body is screaming for him to be near you. You’re knocked out, you wouldn’t know. He stops himself. He needs to respect your space. He needs to let you come to him when you’re ready.

From now on he’s going to do a better job at protecting you and taking care of the pack.

“Want me to move her?” Simon asks. John shakes his head.

“I’m going to take a nap, wake me up if we’re crashing or Soap’s trying to rip someone's head off.” He leans back, pulling his hat over his face. It was going to be a long flight.

Simon didn’t wake him until they were about to land. You were already starting to stir. You started mumbling and drooling over Kyle as he tried to keep you calm. The scent of both the betas filled up the small space they’re confined in.

You grumbled as they tried moving you when the plane landed.

“C’mon lass,” Johnny encouraged you to lean against Kyle so he could rearrange your blankets. John watched them almost fighting with you, your eyes fluttering open now and then. It looks like you’re searching for something. The other soldiers leave first before John stands up heading out to the cargo hold with Simon following behind him.

He needs to clear his head. Simon should have woken him earlier.

“You good?” Simon asks him as they make it to the car. He nods, getting in the front passenger seat. It’s not long before he sees Kyle coming with you in his arms. You have a sick bag in your hands. It makes him tense as they open the car door.

“She threw up,” Johnny says as he gets in first. John sighs. This is his fault. Now you’re sick and they still have another flight, plus a few hours drive. You whine as Kyle places you up against Johnny.

“Alpha?” You whimper, reaching out and gripping onto Johnny. It makes the hairs stand up on the back of John’s neck. You’re crying for him. He grips his seatbelt.

“Got any water?” Johnny asks. Kyle passes him his canteen. Johnny presses it up to your lips but you moan turning your head away.

“C’mon love you’ve got to drink something. It will make you feel better,” Johnny says, chasing your lips. You sigh, opening your eyes and taking sips from the canteen. “Good girl, there ya go.”

“Maybe we should just drive up?” Simon asks as he starts the engine.

“It’s a 10 hour drive. Even when we land in Edinburgh, it’s another 4 hours on the road,” John sighs. The car backs out of the plane as they make the quick drive to another cargo plane. John looks back at you, your eyes closed again leaning up against Johnny.

…

You don’t wake again until they’ve landed in Scotland. Even then it's a slur of murmuring and quiet sobs.

Maybe this was a bad idea, John thinks after a stop off at a petrol station where you vomit again. This time it brings tears and shaking.

“Cold,” you whisper, your lip quivering as Kyle is trying to get you to drink some more water. He gives up in the end, sighing as you sleepily blink up at him. He hums, pulling the fluffy blue blanket up and around you tighter, shushing you.

John gets out of the car looking in the building where Johnny and Simon are paying for the petrol. It’s cold, it's late. He wants nothing more than to just crawl into bed with you in his arms. He breathes in the frigid Scottish air as he sees Johnny and Simon walk over to the car.

Johnny’s beaming as he walks over with a coffee in his hands. Of course he is; he’s home. He gets in the back as Simon walks over to him.

“Get some rest, I can drive,” John says.

“I’m good,” Simon says. John scoffs.

“I know you are but I slept on the plane, let me drive.”

“It’s not a problem,” Simon says and before John can stop him he’s walking back around the car to the driver's seat. John sighs getting in the car.

“Half way then we switch,” he says as he puts his seatbelt on. He looks in the back. Your eyes are glossy, your cheeks wet. You meet his eyes. It’s the first time you’ve really looked at him in what feels like forever. A smile tugs on his lips. You’re looking at him with your unfocused gaze.

You smile at him, a soft smile, the type that makes his heart flutter and goosebumps rise up the back of his neck. It’s bittersweet since you’re still zoned out. Before he knows it your smile is gone and your eyes are drooping closed again. He sighs, turning back to look out down the road, the thick foliage of the Scottish highlands coming into view.

For the greater good.

You don’t remember much of the drive. Every time you opened your eyes it made your head spin. All you could see was the bright headlights of the car against the trees. It reminded you of trying to run from your pack.

Kyle’s arm around you is warm, his grip soft as he holds you against him. It feels like you’re driving for hours. Sometimes you try to focus on the conversation between Simon and John but you end up drowning them out. The winding roads sway you to sleep as you dribble over Kyle’s shoulder. He doesn’t seem to mind though.

“Hey, we’re here,” Kyle says as he gently shakes your shoulder. You sit up, stiff as you stretch looking round the car. You’re tired, cold and shivering as Kyle opens the door getting out. You unclip your belt scooting across to the open door.

“Simon’s going to get the fire started,” he says as he leads you inside. The house is old, but big you walk in looking down the hall that has indoor windows looking through to the dining room. The lights are low. The whole place has a cosy feel to it. You just wish it wasn’t so cold.

You let Kyle lead you through to the living room. There’s a plush sofa, a TV, record player and a book shelf. You see Simon bent down in front of the fire. You don’t see John or Johnny anywhere. The place smells like damp wood, but you can smell the embers of the fire starting as you look round the room.

“This wood’s wet. It’s not gonna take,” Simon says, standing back up. You look over at smoke coming out into the room.

“It's fine, it's late anyway. I think we could all use a good night's rest,” Kyle says. You nod as he heads out the room back into the hallway. You turn back to look at Simon taking gloves off and throwing them into the pile of logs. You can see John and Johnny in the kitchen.

“C’mon you can have the first pick of the rooms,” Kyle says, wrapping his arm around you as he leads you upstairs. Upstairs feels warmer but not by much. You stand in the hall looking around. All the doors are cracked open and you walk up to one. There’s two beds inside. You move to the room next to it, the same.

“What about here?” Kyle asks, smiling pushing a door open. You go over to see what you assume is the master bedroom. It’s beautiful with a four poster bed, a fireplace and a chaise longue. It’s dark but you can see the windows look out towards the woods. You smile stepping inside. It’s lovely. You feel guilt rise in you.

“It’s John’s room,” you say, turning to leave. Kyle shrugs from the doorway.

“It’s no one’s room,” he replies.

John gets the biggest room because he’s the Captain. Or maybe Johnny will take it, it’s his house after all. You walk over to another door, this room is smaller than the rest only big enough for a single bed and a rocking chair. You go in and look out the window.

It looks out over the front of the house and you can see Simon and Johnny bringing bags out of the car. The latches on the window look old, brass and heavy as you click it open. Cold air immediately blows into the room. You can open the windows as wide as you want, not like the windows on the base.

You take in a deep breath and go to sit down on the bed. There's a small bedside table with a lamp but the only light coming in the room right now is from the outdoor lights.

“Like it?” Kyle asks from the doorway. You look up at him nodding. He moves out the way as you hear commotion in the hall. Johnny walks in the room hitting the main light as he comes in.

“Hey lass, how are you feeling?” he asks, putting a bag down.

“Tired,” you say. You’re not really in the mood for a whole conversation. He hums, coming over to run his hand over your head, and you look up at him.

“It’s been a long day. You should sleep, you'll feel better tomorrow,” he says, his thumb brushing your cheek. You feel bad. You’ve been sleeping the whole way, you don’t understand why you’re so tired. Johnny turns around closing the window. “You can put it on a latch if you want some fresh air,” he says, moving out of the way so you can see.

“Thank you,” you nod at him. He smiles, leaving the room.

“If you need anything you know where to find us,” Kyle says, pulling the door closed, but not fully. They always leave a gap. You look over at the window, and you can see your reflection. Your braid is almost completely pulled out. You run your hands over it pulling on the hair tie at the bottom letting it fall apart.

You run your fingers through it pulling it apart before walking over to your bag unzipping it. It’s your clothes, mostly PJ’s. Dr. Piper's scarf is sitting on the top. You take it out, bringing it up to your nose. The scent is fading. It will eventually be gone. Scents don’t last forever.

You stand up taking the deepest breath you can. You can smell beta, soap, clean sheets straight out of the dryer. It’s a comforting smell, you miss it. You get up rubbing the back of your neck. You turn the light off pulling your clothes off so you’re in your underwear and climb into the bed.

It’s cold and you find yourself pulling your legs up to your chest. You look out the open window. You hear a door close and the outdoor lights are turned off. You let your eyes adjust to the dark. You look up. You can see the moon. It’s big and full, lighting up the room. You can’t remember the last time you saw the moon, never mind this full.

You smile bringing her scarf up to your nose. Dr. Piper would love to see this. A star filled sky. Maybe if there is a heaven, she’s there looking down at you. You don’t think you believe in heaven, it makes you think of the house on the hill, with the pies and the lake. The smell of caramelised apples and cinnamon in the air. The summer breeze and the sky burnt orange and red, the whole place surrounded by trees. That's your heaven. That’s where Dr. Piper is waiting for you.

It’s still your happy place. You can still go there when you need to, and Dr. Piper is there. She’ll always be there.

Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui Beta reader and editor - rememberwren

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