#she's a long-standing oc of mine for the last several years

[pboogerswbb]

TOO LOST IN YOU - part I (reupload)

Paige Bueckers x bartender!oc

Dislaimer: player!p is very present in this fic so please do not read if that bothers you. this is not a true depiction of what i think paige is like but merely a character

Warnings: toxic!p, SMUT, language

Wordcount: 6.2K

A/N: if you're looking at this like it looks familiar... it's because it is. i'm reuploading because i accidentally deleted part 1 which had almost 800 notes sooo uh yeah ANYWAYS go enjoy this and the other parts, perhaps it's a good time for a re-read before the final part?

-

“Yo I’m about to get fucked up tonight” A strong voice comes through from the bar entrance.

I would recognize that voice anywhere. Before I even lift my gaze I’m brought back to the memories of her talking into my ear mid shift, hands on my waist, soft whispers in my ear telling me how good I looked. Or the flashing images of her in my bed on top of me, sweat dripping down her back, talking me through it inbetween groans. The images I replayed over and over in my head, a lot more than I’d like to admit - more than was okay for someone who had called the whole thing off between us anyway. 

In a panic I quickly bent down to hide behind the bar, pretending that scrubbing the sticky liquor stains off the floor was of the utmost importance. All just to get away from having to serve her.

“Hey, can you get this one, I’m dying for a break” Natalie, my co-worker, says - clueless to the hiding or the cause of it. For a moment I consider faking a heart attack, throwing a glass at her, or simply screaming “no”. But her round eyes (and the fact I needed to keep this job to pay the bills) softened me. With a deep breath I nod and stand up behind the bar, as Natalie walks off. Leaving me face to face with her.

She’s standing in front of me - Paige. It had been weeks since I had seen her last, doing everything in my power to avoid her. My eyes can’t help it though when they travel from her long fingers to her veiny hands to her broad shoulders that I swear had filled out even more in the weeks I hadn’t seen her. My gaze roams over her neck and my knees almost buckle at the memory of burying my head there, leaving open mouthed kisses on her pale skin.The way it bruised and reddened. The navy blue Uconn trackies made her skin even brighter, and I swear she glowed a little. Finally, my eyes land on her bright blue eyes that are already staring at me, heavy lidded, needy even. The way always looked when she made her way to my dorm in the middle of the night, needing me.

Her eyes widen. “Oh… didn’t know you were working today” Paige says. It’s a lie. It’s clear in the strain of her voice, the way her fingers twitch. Last time we talked I told her I never wanted to see her again. But right now as she towered over me forcing me to tilt my head up to meet her gaze, I nearly forgot why.

“Whatchu want?” I ask, ignoring her statement already instinctively reaching for the grenadine. I knew her too well to pretend anything else. My stomach twisted uncomfortably thinking about how we had left things between us.

Paige pretends to think. “Uhh… a dirty shirley.” Her words are slightly slurred. She’d already been drinking. I move my eyes away from hers, unable to take the severity of her stare. The tension is broken, however, by a very drunk KK crashing into Paige and leaning over the bar. “also shots” KK adds and nudges Paige who smiles weakly, her eyes never leaving mine. With the way she looked I might��ve thought she had missed me - but I knew better. Paige Bueckers did not yearn for any girl. Certainly not me.

I smile widely at KK. “You wanna be more specific?” I ask, making the shirley with a rehearsed ease. I had made quite a few since Paige had taken a liking to me earlier in the year, coming over to Ted’s almost every night, sitting in the corner with her teammates watching me, tipping me way too much with that smug grin of hers. It would’ve pissed me off if she wasn’t so insanely, out of this world hot.

“Anything strong” KK snorts and I let out a chuckle, reaching for the vodka. “You got it.”

I set the drinks on the counter but Paige is quick to grab hers, her fingertips pressing into mine for just a moment. I nearly whimper at the contact, seeing how Paige’s jaw flexes and cheeks blush. She felt it as much as I did, the tension from the last time we slept together.

“Thanks…” Paige murmurs uncharacteristically quiet. KK rolling her eyes and scoffing, grabs the shots for her and the team. “Bro” KK shakes her head at the interaction, leaving the blonde alone with me to pay. I try to ignore the burn between my legs, watching her long fingers shuffling through cash in her wallet. It would take a gun for me to admit I had been thinking about those fingers during lonely nights and fuck, even nights spent with other people. No matter what no one ever measured up to how those fingers knew exactly what to do, which buttons to push.

“Keep the rest, ma” Paige says, snapping me out of my daydream. My mind is too hazy to take in the nickname. I can’t get a single word out before she’s already turning away, dirty shirley in hand and a stupid grin on her face. She had got to me and she was enjoying every moment.

–

Paige dangled over the bar, her eyes wide and searching, finally setting on me walking out from the back. She’s pushing her blonde hair off her face with a sloppy, uncoordinated movement, clearly feeling the alcohol. I stop her before she can speak though.

“If you want another one you gotta ask Natalie, I’m off my shift” I tell Paige, refusing to give her my attention the way she wanted.

“I know, you’re off this time every week” Paige chuckles and leans forward against her elbows on the bar. She was in a Uconn tee now, her biceps flexing, making me want to groan out loud. “we should talk.”

“We really shouldn’t” I say sternly, taking off the nametag I had been wearing. “pretty sure I said I never wanted to talk to you again.”

“Sure and you also called me a bitch but never stopped us from fucking before either” Paige says, a slight annoyance in her voice for not having me wrapped around her finger like she used to. She’s licking on her grenadine stained lips, chasing my gaze. I finally meet hers, ignoring the aching I felt looking at her, looking at me. I knew how this ended up unless I left. Now.

“I have class tomorrow” i sigh, walking around the bar towards the exit and throwing on my jacket. Before I know it Paige’s hand grips my arm holding me still. I can smell her around me. Grenadine and alcohol sure, but also the scent of her. The scent I looked for everywhere. Her eyes were pleading, like I was water and she was on fire. I almost forgot why I hated her, just for a second. 

“Lemme drive you ma” Paige pleads. 

“You can’t drive, you're drunk” I say, brushing her hand off of me. A feeble attempt as Paige’s free arm quickly snakes around my waist and pulls me in, her scent so strong now it’s making me dizzy.

“But I need to talk to you, been driving me crazy” She murmurs with a slight whine in her voice. For a moment I waver, her hand firmly on the small of my back, all her height towering over me. It made my head spin.

Paige takes it as a sign and leans closer, pulling me in tighter but I place my hand on her chest holding her back, suddenly aware of how empty the bar was and how the most famous person on campus probably shouldn’t be doing this in public. I notice the way her chest is heaving, mine doing the same. The fabric of the shirt underneath my fingertips felt all sorts of wrong, I needed it off of her immediately. No, I had to be stronger than this. 

But I wasn’t.

“Do you need a ride back to campus?” I ask her, swallowing. The way her tongue slides over her lower lip as she watches me forces a deep blush to set on my face. 

“Yeah, bad” Paige murmurs and I push her hands off me, wordlessly heading to the door with Paige following close behind. She hurries past me to open the car door for me. I would think it was sweet if I didn’t know that it was just one of her plays. One of the ways she made girls like me think she actually cared. She didn’t. She just wanted to fuck.

The air is tense as I start the car, praying Paige doesn’t notice the slight tremble of my hand. I’m not sure if it’s anger from what she did to me, or how weak her touch had made me feel. Paige slouches on the passenger seat, watching me with hooded eyes, leaning her head back against the seat. Her legs were spread wide apart, sweatpants pulled low enough for her Nike Pros to peak through. For a second all I want to do is pull the car up and climb on top of her and from the smirk on Paige’s face I can tell she’s having the exact same thoughts.

“Been missing you y’know-” Paige starts but I interrupt, knowing she had the tendency to talk herself right into my bed.

“Told you I never wanted to talk to you again, remember?” I say with a slight shake in my voice.

“Baby c’mon, you weren’t serious about that,” her hoarse voice filled with amusement.

“What the screaming didn’t seem serious to you?” I sigh my eyes strictly on the road. Paige let’s out a chuckle and leans forward on her seat.

“i just remember how bad i wanted to fuck that attitude out of you,” she chuckles and the car swirls on the road as i slap her only half seriously across the chest. I pull over on the road, parking the car.

“Get out” I tell Paige sternly, rage and annoyance swirling inside me. She had no right to be making light of the situation. Not after what she did, how bad it had hurt me.

Paige lets out a laugh. “Man you’re crazy” she tells me turning to face me. I face her too, the anger turning my cheeks even brighter. 

“I’m fucking serious. Get out,” I repeat my voice rising a little but it doesn’t have the desired effect. Paige just chuckles and shakes her head.

“KK always telling me I pick the crazy ones, I’m thinking she’s right,” Paige groans, not taking any initiative to get out of my car. I unbuckle my seatbelt and groan, getting on my knees to lean over Paige manspreading on the passenger seat, reaching for her door as she grabs my wrist, my face so close to hers I could smell the alcohol on her breath. The air in the car shifted, my annoyance turning into something that made my legs feel weak, as she licks her lips, her eyes on me. “M sorry ok,” Paige says, her voice low and hoarse now.

I fold, once again.

“I don’t wanna hear a word from you, mmkay?” I say clearing my throat and pulling back from her before I made some really, really bad choices.

“Yes ma’am,” Paige grins, satisfied by the effect she had on me.

I start the car and in silence we drive back to Storrs, the streets quiet on the dark tuesday night. Paige fiddles with the zipper of her hoodie, her nimble fingers needing something to do - always looking for something to toy with. 

I tried to shake the feeling of each cell in my body screaming for her, needing to feel her skin against mine. I knew we weren’t good for each other. She wasn’t good for me. Part of me wished she came to tell me she’s done fucking around. That I’m all she wants, better than all the countless other girls that spent nights in her bed. That I was different, special. Worth letting everyone else go for. Frankly, even if she told me all those things, each word I wanted to hear, I wouldn’t believe her. 

When you were with Paige, it never felt like you were one of many though. She knew how to make you feel like you were the only one. It was in the way her blue eyes roamed my face, in the whine of her voice - like she would die if she didn’t have me. She’d remember your favourite movie and your mother’s name and the way you liked your coffee. All just to go see some other bitch later and repeat the same routine with her. Even with the girls she fucked, she had to be the best. Not because they meant anything, but because that’s who she had to be - the best. A winner.

Paige stretches her arms behind her head, the grey Uconn tee hiking up just enough for the skin on her lower abdomen to peek out as I park the car. There’s a moment of silence, Paige staring at me intently.

“Look, I-” she starts but I quickly climb out of the car, not wanting to hear it. She’s quick to follow me though, her long limbs catching up to me quickly. 

“Ma, c’mon-”

“Don’t call me that,” I say, doing my best to sound stern as I head towards my dorm walking as fast as I could, Paige right next to me. The campus was empty, most students already in their dorms, spending the night in.

“Bro you gotta listen to me-”

“No I don’t, you got your ride now fuck off!” I yelp, entering the building as Paige holds the door open, still persistent on following me. “You said you’d keep your mouth shut so… keep it shut Paige.”

“Well… I lied” She murmurs still on my tail all the way to my door, watching me struggle with the lock, my hands shaky from the mix of anger and how bad the need between my legs had grown for her. Paige reaches over, unlocking the door for me, her hands brushing against mine. I close my eyes and sigh - I really had to get it together.

“Well yeah you do that huh,” I chuckle bitterly entering my dorm, Paige leaning against the doorframe, not letting me lock her out.

Paige chuckles and shakes her head. “Bro you’re being so dramatic, we both knew what this was when we got into it. It’s not like you didn’t fuck around too!” Paige raises her voice, slightly amused, slightly bitter.

The truth was, I hadn’t slept around. Since Paige first fucked me, she took over me, consumed me. I would never admit this to her but I couldn’t even think about anyone else. 

“God, you can be such a bitch I swear to-” I groan loudly, rolling my eyes but Paige interrupts me, stepping into my room.

“Me?! You’re the most psycho bitch I ever met-” 

“Psycho bitch?!” I’m screaming now, my body hot with rage. “It was you who told me you weren’t fucking anyone else with some other bitch’s bra under your bed! Not me!”

Paige groans and shuts the door behind her, throwing her head back in frustration. “It’s just something people say! You were in those purple panties too ma, I’m not responsible for the shit I say when you wear those,” Paige argues. I chuckle, turning to face her. She was staring at me, heavy lidded and jaw sharper than usual from biting her teeth together. Paige was getting pissed off, wondering if any pussy was worth this much trouble.

“You’re a fucking sociopath P!” I yell at her as she takes a step towards me, her eyes darkening. The blue in her eyes nearly gone from the way her pupils were blown out.

Paige grins smugly at me, licking her lower lip, looking me up and down. “Yeah? What else?” she says smugly, her big hands coming to hold me by my waist. The moment my eyes meet hers I knew it was over for me. Suddenly my legs felt weak, and my head spun.

“An asshole too,” I sigh, my voice breathy and more quiet. My body was immediately responding to her touch, Paige’s fingertips sliding underneath the hem of my shirt sending goosebumps everywhere.

“Yeah?” Paige grins, with a smug tone. I nearly fall over.

“Yeah,” I repeat, my chest heaving. 

“That’s too bad ma…” Paige murmurs, her eyes roaming from my eyes to my lips to my body. 

I furrow my brows, fighting to not let out a whimper as her fingertips rubbed up and down against my sides, carefully over each rib. Up and down.

“It’s too bad because I’ve been dying to fuck you,” She says with a low voice, eyes returning to meet mine. “Shit baby, watching you tonight, the way your ass looks in those jeans? Fucking killing me,” she adds shaking her head. Paige’s hand drifts down from my waist to my hips, all the way to my ass. Gripping it hard, hungrily with a groan. 

I can’t fight the whimper that spills from my lips, the way my eyes flutter shut just for a moment. Paige grins, watching my reaction. She pulls me closer by my ass, my body pressing against hers as she towers over me. Paige leans down, nuzzling her nose against my ear. And I don’t stop her, biting my lip, feeling the way my panties were growing damp already. Only Paige could have this kind of effect on me - one touch and a few words and that grin and I was hers. She knew it as well as I did and I hated her for it.

I was too weak to hate her right now though. Too far gone.

“But since you hate me so bad…” Paige whispers into my ear, her lips brushing against it as she left a few wet kisses right under it. “I should probably leave.”

In a haze I reach up to wrap my hands around her, my hand pressing against the back of her neck to keep her there. To make sure she didn’t go.

“No…” I nearly whine. Paige chuckles against my neck, kissing it slow and soft. Her hand kneads my ass again, like she had been dying to feel it..

“No? You want me to stay?” She says, teasing.

“Want you to stay,” I murmur, tilting my head to the side, my eyes shut now.

“Want me to get you right ma?” Paige asks hoarsely. My body feels like putty as she holds me against her, like she could do whatever and I could do nothing but watch. I didn’t feel in control. I never did with her.

“Y-yes,” I finally admit with a sigh.

Paige pulls away from my neck, her lips ghosting mine. Her breathing was heavy. She needed this just as bad as I did.

“Attagirl,” she murmurs and finally presses her lips against mine. I moan against her, Paige’s lips slide against mine hungrily - like all these weeks apart she had been underwater and I was air. She could finally breathe.

With a swift movement, Paige pulls my shirt off, leaving me in a bra and jeans as her lips return to mine with a groan. Paige’s tongue slides against my lower lip, begging for access. I open my mouth, my tongue meeting hers, my hands pulling on her t-shirt, feeling the muscles on her abdomen, earning a small whine from her.

“Fuck,” she whimpers and walks me back without breaking the kiss. The backs of my legs hit the edge of my bed, forcing me to fall over. Paige watches me hungrily, her mouth ajar just slightly as her eyes roamed my body. “So fucking sexy,” she groans, pulling her shirt off over her head before climbing on top of me in her sports bra.

Paige starts kissing my neck roughly, sucking and nibbling enough to leave bruises to remind me of her later. Her leg finds its way between my legs, quickly pressing against my core as her free hand roams my side, fingers sliding underneath my bra and kneading my breast.

“Fuck, P…” I whimper arching my back off the bed. The friction provided by her leg was the opposite of relieving, making me more aware of all the layers between our bodies. “Need these off,” I murmur breathlessly, my hands pulling the blue sweatpants down desperately as Paige’s open mouth moved from my neck to my jaw.

“Whatever you want baby,” she whispers, kicking off her pants. She was now on top of me in a sports bra and Nike pros, a silver chain dangling against my chest. Paige leans back a little, eyes roaming my body, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe I was real. Her blonde hair was down and tousled from the way I had been gripping it as she grabs a hair tie from her wrist, tying it back messily, licking her lips.

“Baby, I need to taste you or I might die.”

With that Paige brings her lips back to my neck, making her way down with a trail of wet, sloppy kisses between my breasts, down my stomach, my hip bones, her hands unbuttoning my jeans, shaky with need.  

I watch as she gets on her knees on the floor between my legs, watching my face as she pulls down my jeans painfully slowly. I buck my hips, needing her mouth on me so bad I felt lightheaded. Paige’s hands pin my hips down with a grin, eyes moving to my panties and the visible spot that had grown wetter under her gaze.

“Fuuuckk ma,” she groans, finally bringing her lips to my core, kissing over my panties.

I gasp and grip the sheets beside me, trying to buck my hips closer but Paige shakes her head, still holding my hips still. “Thought you hated me,” she murmurs against my core. I wanted to cry, needing her lips on my bare skin. The feel of her mouth through my panties wasn’t enough.

“I do,” I whine, squirming in frustration, throbbing with need. I wanted to hate her, I really did. But when she was between my legs, pinning me down, a chain on her neck and that smirk on her face, I simply couldn’t. 

Paige brings her hand to my hip, finally pulling my panties down to my ankles, her eyes never leaving my core. With a bite of her lip, she brings her finger to my cunt, already soaked, all for her. Her fingertip presses against my clit menacingly, enough to make me gasp.

“If you hate me so much then why are you this wet huh?” Paige teases with a gravelly voice starting to circle my clit slowly, drawing out whimpers from my lips. My legs immediately trembled, and I watched her with heavy eyes and furrowed brows, nearly unable to think yet alone speak.

“You’ve been such a bitch all night shoulda known you just needed to be fucked,” she chuckles, pressing her fingers harder against my clit, making me let out a moan. It had been weeks since we last did this yet the way she touched me seemed practised and effortless, like she had been doing it every single day of her life.

“Fuck you,” I moan arching my back as Paige bit on my inner thigh, the veins in her forearm turning visible from the strain of rubbing my clit. 

“Nah ma,” she breathes out, shaking her head. “I’mma fuck you. Just need to taste this pussy first,” Paige groans and leans over, both her hands gripping my inner thighs harshly, forcing them apart as she dives in face first, her lips quickly attaching to my clit.

“Shit. Paige, I-” I moan, unable to come up with any comprehensible thought, Paige’s tongue lapping me up like she really would die if she didn’t taste me. Paige’s eyes are fluttering shut and she’s moaning against my cunt, unable to get enough.

“Fucking missed this pussy so bad,” she murmurs against me, wrapping her lips around my clit and sucking. “Taste so fucking good, never gonna get enough of you,” she rambles on, making quick mess of me. It doesn’t take long for the coil in my stomach to tighten, my hand gripping onto Paige’s blond hair, falling out of the bun now. 

“Paige-” I whine, throwing my head back, feeling her tongue swirling in my folds. The sheets underneath me were growing damp, wetness dripping out of me from how good she was eating me out.

Paige pulls away spreading my folds apart with her fingers. “Shit ma she loves me huh,” she groans at the sight of me dripping all over the bed. Without warning she pushes two fingers inside me, all the way as deep as she could. 

“OH fuck P” I gasp loud, bringing my eyes to her face, glistening from the mess I had made. She groans, my cunt tight and wet around her fingers as she curls them against me, her bicep flexing as she does. I moan loudly, throwing my head back, my legs shaking bad. Paige’s thumb rubs against my clit harshly as she pumps her fingers into me.

“P… mmph, please,” I cry out, not even sure what I'm pleading for. 

“Shh,” Paige coos, her hand reaching up to cover my mouth and shut me up. “Listen ma,” she says and groans. The room is filled with the sound of my wet cunt, as her fingers slam into me faster, curling harder. My cheeks burn up, almost embarrassed at the state that she had me in.

Paige grins watching my face. “Don’t sound like you hate me, huh,” she murmurs, a bead of sweat dripping down her face. “No one else gets you this wet right? No one fucks you like this,” she groans, hand moving from my mouth to gripping my jaw, making me watch her fingering me.

“Mmmh,” i whimper and grip the sheets harder, overwhelmed with the fullness her fingers were bringing me. I wanted to look away, unable to take the way her arm looked, muscles flexing, veins prominent, as she worked me. It was all overwhelming me as the pleasure built enough to make me shut my eyes.

“Answer me,” Paige commands, her voice stern and her hand moving faster. 

“Shit… No one.. No one fucks me like this,” I cry out, unaware of what was coming out of my mind. Too fucked out to care.

“Shit, that’s right. No one baby, only me,” Paige murmurs, her mouth returning to my clit, tongue working against it as her fingers fill me up, overwhelming me and getting me to my peak.

“P- I’m close,” I cry out, my legs nearly shutting but Paige grips my thigh with her free hand, spreading me open for her.

“That’s it ma, s’ good for me,” Paige coos working harder, her fingers curling inside me, tongue flicking against my clit. “Come for me baby,” she praises, groaning against me.

“Oh-” I whine and my head lulls back, as my core tightens around her, my legs trembling, her movements coaxing my orgasm out of me. Who cared she slept around, who cared I was supposed to hate her. In this moment, it was just me and her. And no one made me feel like she did, no one took care of me like this.

“Perfect fucking pussy, all for me,” Paige groans against my cunt, working me as I released all over her, the pleasure washing over me in waves. My moans turn to whimpers as I slowly come down, her movements slowing too.

I let out a breath, feeling the aching emptiness inside me as Paige pulled her hand away. She watches my pulsing cunt, mesmerised and hungry. The thing about Paige, one was never enough for her. Her lips kissed around my clit before pulling away, licking her lips from my slick. 

“Missed how you taste baby,” she murmurs while I lay back, trying to catch my breath. Paige brought her fingers against my lips, sliding them into my mouth. I wrap my lips around her fingers, tongue swirling around them, tasting myself. Paige hisses, watching me sucking on her fingers. With a groan she climbs back up, kissing me hungrily. The taste of me, and her saliva all mixing together. 

Her lips move against mine, the kiss filled with something more tender than pure lust. My arms wrap around her shoulders, pulling her in as we move up towards the headboard of the bed. Paige breathes heavy through her nose, kissing me with all the need she had, her hand holding my face by my jaw. I move my hand from her shoulder, down her arm squeezing her bicep, all the way to the band of her Nike Pros, tucking on them.

“Need to feel you P,” I admit in a moment of weakness, my heart fluttering with how good it felt to be underneath her again. I needed all of her.

Paige pulls back a little, breathing heavy and I swear her eyes are filled with tenderness for just a second as they meet mine. Her fingertips trace my jaw and lower lip before letting go and pulling down the fabric I was tugging on, lips parted from need. My eyes roam her sports bra covered chest, down the muscles of her abdomen finally to her core. I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly going dry.

I reach up and flip us over, with some help from Paige who was much stronger. She grins, watching me on top of her, straddling her thigh as I lean down and kiss her hard. Paige is quick to place her hand on my ass, gripping it harshly and hissing at how good it felt to touch me. My hand trails down her abdomen, fingertips itching to feel her cunt but she grabs my wrist, shaking her head.

“Ride me ma,” she says, half commanding, half pleading. I open my eyes meeting her eyes and I realise, she is fully pleading. 

“Need to feel that pussy on mine.” Shit.

Too weak to fight or to make her beg, I manoeuvre myself between her legs, angling her body just right, Paige’s other leg up in the air in my grip. Paige watches me, leaning back against the bedframe, eyes half shut and mouth agape, looking so good I could’ve burst.

Finally, I lower myself against her, feeling the slick of her cunt press against mine. 

“Ohhh shiiit,” Paige groans, watching our cores pressing against each other. I whimper, pressing on her lower abdomen to find just the right angle. 

“Oh,” I whine, feeling her pressing against my clit just right, my body immediately trembling, still sensitive from my previous orgasm.

Paige’s head lulls back at the same time, as she lets out a guttural groan, gripping my ass and forcing me to start moving my hips.

I do so, slowly, drawing it out for her - just the way Paige loved and simultaneously hated. Her breathing was getting heavier as she watched me. “Just like that,” she whimpers, trying to keep herself together. It never lasted for long.

I moan, grinding my cunt into hers, watching her face scrunch up in pleasure. Her hands snake around me, unclasping my bra with ease, letting my tits fall out as she groans. 

“Look so fucking good for me,” she murmurs, a slight whine in her voice as she leans forward, her mouth attaching itself to my nipple, tongue circling it as i ride her faster, mind spinning once more. “Such a bitch huh who knew you’d be so good for me,” Paige whines and I grip her shoulders, steadying myself, letting my nails dig into her skin as she hisses.

“You’re the bitch,” I whimper breathlessly, letting out a gasp when she bites my nipple. Paige’s hand are digging into the skin of my ass, forcing me to move faster, her hips bucking into me. She chuckles, breathing heavily, head falling back against the bedframe. “Shut the fuck up and ride me ma,” she hisses, gripping my jaw and forcing my gaze to lock on her face.

I hiss, furrowing my brows as i look down at her, moving my hips desperately, our cunts grinding together harshly, igniting that familiar burn inside me.

“That pisses me off, pretending you don't want me. Pretending you don’t want me to fuck you, it’s bullshit,” Paige groans, fighting back her own orgasm now. Her words shook and the muscles in her abdomen were contracting as she looked up at me. “Look at you now riding my shit, being a slut for me,” she rambles on. “You’re my slut ma,” Paige moans bucking her hips into mine, eyes fluttering shut from pleasure.

My nails dig into her skin harder, my whole body trembling. I was close, and it only made me ride harder, grind against her faster, the slickness of her cunt making me wetter. Paige’s hand squeezed my jaw, forcing my eyes open.

“Tell me.. Shit- tell me you’re my slut,” Paige whines. She’s desperate for it, barely aware of the words coming out of her mouth.

“Mmph, P-” I moan, my cunt throbbing.

“Aw shit- I- Tell me,”

“Fuck I am, I’m your slut P, please,” I mewl, my eyes growing wet as they shut.

“That’s right ma, fuck- ride me so good you’re gonna make me come,” Paige murmurs out inbetween moans, hands gripping my jaw and ass so tight I’m nearly bruising underneath her grip.

My whole body shook and I cried out, barely able to keep grinding my cunt into hers. But when I heard the moan that slipped from her lips, and felt her mouth attach itself to my neck, I knew I’d do anything to get her to fall apart beneath me.

“P- I’m-” I cry out but she interrupts me.

“Me too baby, shit- ride me so- aw fuck- fucking good,” Paige rambles, barely able to form sentences as she moves underneath me, the friction growing unbearable between us as she lets out a guttural moan, her body coiling underneath me. 

“Fuck-” Paige finally moans.

That’s enough to get me there too, coming against her cunt, fingernails leaving marks on her shoulders as I kept grinding my hips, movements turning sloppy as i whimpered on top of her.

My body trembles, eyes still closed when I feel Paige’s hands wrapping around my body and pulling me down. My naked body presses against her skin as she soothingly rubs my back, nuzzling her nose into my hair.

“Meant it when I said I missed you,” she murmurs into my ear, still out of breath. I bury my head into the crook of her neck, brushing her hair gently. It was moments like these that got me confused. You didn’t do this just for someone you fucked. Except Paige did.

“Don’t like fightin you,” she whispers, pressing a kiss on my temple. I feel my heart fluttering in a way I didn’t want it to for Paige. But I’m too tired to fight it. I press a kiss on her jaw, gently and pull my head back to meet her gaze. She looks completely fucked out, mascara smudged under tired eyes. Her hand reaches up to brush a strand of hair off my face before she leans over and kisses my forehead, as tenderly as humanly possible. Maybe this was her trying to show me I was in fact different, that she was done with the other girls. She just wanted me. 

“Don’t like fighting you either,” I whisper, resting my chin on her chest. Paige’s eyes are filled with relief, as she smiles weakly. 

“I’mma get us some water, okay ma?” Paige hums and I nod, letting her crawl out of bed from underneath me. I watch pull her clothes back on and turn to me, smiling affectionately. She leans down and presses another kiss on my temple, smoothing over the blanket to make sure I was comfortable. “Just a sec,” she whispers before walking into the kitchen. Surely you don’t do that just for a girl you fuck. There’s no way you look at someone like that and proceed to sleep around with other people. My heart fluttered as I let my mind wander, finding myself fantasising of getting to call Paige mine. All mine.

Just then I heard Paige’s phone buzzing on the bedside table. Without my better judgement, I reach over, seeing 4 missed calls and 12 messages from a girl, asking where she was and when she’d be over. My heart sinks, the reality quickly bringing me back down from my daydreams. Paige wasn’t here because I was special. No. She was here because I was whipped, and she knew it. And I had given her every single thing she wanted.

[yet-another-deanw-girl]

Chapter 4: The Order

||The Prophecy Series||

She knew for 15 years that this day would come. She knew her destiny had already been written. That her death had been foretold.

She knew she would have to stop him. She knew she would have to kill him. And she thought she was prepared for all of it. But the day she met him she realized how wrong she was…

Set in Season 10

Pairing: MoC!Dean x Female!OC

Warnings: the usual SPN, language

Episode mapping: After episode 4 of season 10 "Paper Moon"

Note: The events of this story are following season 10 of Supernatural and are taking place between October 2014 and July 2015. I tried to make sure that all the references to weapons, tech, etc. are accurate with the time period.

AN: This is my first time writing a fanfic but the story has been in my head for too long and it just needed to get out. I hope you like it.

AN: English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

"Checking biometric data…" a male voice comes from the car's speakers. "Identity confirmed. Hello, Emilia. Loading your last destination…" "Change the destination to mission location." I say to the computer. "Destination changed. 40 miles to the target, which is 64 kilometers" the computer announces. "Yeh, like I don't know that already." I mutter under my breath. "Seatbelt." I say to Sam. "What?" He is looking at the car's dashboard with astonishment. "Put the seatbelt on." I repeat and he looks at me, realizing that I already have mine in place. He puts his on and I start the car. After 10 minutes of driving in silence, Sam says. "When you said a car, I didn't imagine that. I have never seen anything like this." Well… I can not deny that the matt black Jeep Wrangler Unlimited Rubicon is kind of impressive and with all the customizations it is not something you can see every day.

Created with Microsoft Designer

"How is it that it recognizes your voice commands? And it shows everything in both miles and in kilometers." Despite everything Sam just can't hold back his curiosity. "It's a voice assistant. And I made some improvements before I came here. On top of everything else that was done to it." "What do you mean?" "Well… You don't think I have only one gun and a couple of knives, do you?" The pain is getting worse with every minute but I keep my focus on the Impala in front of me. "So… there are more weapons here? Is that why you so desperately wanted us to get it?" "No, damn it!" I'm starting to lose my temper. "I wanted you to get it, because there are things in this car that can not fall into the wrong hands. So they are protected. And if someone has the brilliant idea to try to steal that car it will protect itself. I stop for a second and when I see the look at Sam's face I know that he has no idea what I'm trying to say. I sigh and continue. "There is a self destruction mechanism… It will blow up." He is finally looking at me with understanding.

"So… What do you have?" "I suppose pretty much the same as you do in the Impala. For example…" I press several buttons on the dashboard and after a couple of seconds the console between the front seats opens, revealing a shotgun and 2 boxes with 12 rock salt buckshot each. "I'll have no problem handling a ghost." I push the buttons again and the shotgun disappears. "And what about that?" Sam looks at the bag in the back seat. "Those are my clothes." I smile.

I park the Jeep in front of the bunker. Dean is already out of his car and is coming to us. I take a breath and pull out the key from the ignition. I climb out of the vehicle without any grace and almost stumble on the ground. My legs are wobbly and the pain is making everything fuzzy. But I straighten my back and resume my stand with my hands clasped behind me. Sam grabs the bag from the backseat and emerges from the other side of the vehicle. The brothers start walking and I follow. Dean is in front of me, Sam is behind, never lowering his gun.

"So… talk!" Dean commands me and gives me two pills and a glass of water.  I take the pills and swallow them.  I'm sitting in a chair in the main area of the bunker. Sam had insisted on taking me to the devil's trap room, but Dean deemed it unnecessary, so, as a compromise, I was cuffed to the chair.

"In 1878, after significant changes in the geopolitics map of Europe, the Men of Letters desidet to drastically change too. There was the revolutionary idea to work side by side with the hunters and with the Witches' High Council. The British chapter, however, was strongly against this idea. They started a vicious campaign to stop it at any cost. There were massacres of witches and there was a real threat that the situation could escalate and restart the witch-hunts. So the British chapter of the Men of Letters was allowed to separate itself from the other parts. The leaders of the American chapter saw their opportunity and also negotiated their autonomy.  The Order was formed in Europe and Asia. The headquarters of The European Division of The Order is in Prague in a bunker just like this one. There are other smaller bunkers in other countries. The European Division is also responsible for the Middle East. The Asian Division's headquarters is situated in Japan. The British chapter of the Men of Letters isolated themselves and the Americans had their freedom too. An agreement was signed. The three separate organizations will not interfere with the work and the government of each other in fear of starting a new dark ages. However The Order and The American chapter of the Men of Letters continued to work together and exchange information, knowledge, and technologies. Until the Americans were wiped out overnight. A protocol was activated automatically and locked down all the bunkers in the States and an observation system was started so that The Order was notified if there was a threat to any of the facilities.  Over the years, members of The Order were sent to investigate different signals, but they were always insignificant events or nothing at all. There were a couple of demonic break in attempts but none of them were successful. About three weeks ago we received a signal that this bunker was attacked by demons. So I was sent here to investigate and, if needed, to neutralize the threat and secure and lock the bunker again. I never found what had triggered the alarm but I figured if you were here you had handled it." I finish my explanation. The boys exchange looks between themselves. They obviously know what has triggered the alarm. "Nice history lesson." Dean snorts. "What about the part about you killing Dean?" Sam asks. "Well... That's another history lesson." I declare and Dean rolls his eyes.  "My father's side of the family is something called 'Warriors of the Fates'. In every couple of generations, a member of my family line receives a prophecy predicting their lives and usually the task that they're given. In most cases, something that will change the course of history. I have received such a prophecy and everything it predicted had happened. The last part, the most important part, says that I will be the only one that will be able to kill some unstoppable dark monster." "And how do you know that that monster is Dean?" Sam asks. I look at Dean's arm and that's the only answer he needs. "He may never become like Cain! He may find a way to resist this mark and to control it." Sam protests but his brother doesn’t. I stay silent. How am I supposed to convince Sam that his brother will become something unspeakable? If I was in his place, I would never believe it. "Sammy, we both know that this is not true." Dean answers instead of me. "I already went down this path. And the fact that she is here just confirms the inevitable." "And I brought you back. And I'll do it again. As many times as I need to. We have no proof that you are the thing she is supposed to kill. It could be not related to us at all. We are talking about a prophecy for God's sake! A prophecy! It might not be real at all!" "Really? You believe that?" "And since when do you believe in prophecies? In destiny? In all this 'someone already decided it and we have no choice' bullshit?"

"I know it will all start when I'm bounded by 64 and four blood lines." I say softly and my words stop their argument. 

We are all silent for a long time after that.

Chapter 5: So many questions, so little answers >>

||The Prophecy Series||

[artistesoiree]

Nightfall in Sunridge Ranch

Chapter 1

{'70s Jack Daniels x Fem!OC)

Chapter 2

Rating: Mature Warnings: Mentions of blood and draining blood (she's a vampire, I feel it's a given), drug mention, mc is a bit eerie and her thoughts can be a bit troubling, Likely incorrect things about the 70s and Paris, France, as I was born in '02 and haven't been outside the PNW since I was born, Jack's too suave for his own good and probably shouldn't flirt with vampires, I hope he isn't OOC? Veronica's maker is interesting…(and is named after my favorite IWTV character) but I'll get into that in later chapters, takes place in the late 70s in a made-up Texan town WC: 3.8k

A/N:

Howdy, y'all! I wanted to write this because I've been recently inspired to begin writing again. I was inspired by Interview with the Vampire, 70s Texas, little bit of Ethel Cains Album Preachers Daughter, and my own OCs. The writing might be rough, but I'm proud of it. It's told in the first-person POV, and I hope you guys like Veronica as much as I do. She's a wreck and a weirdo .Oh, and the introduction was inspired by the beginning of The Vampire Lestat by Anne Rice.

headers by @/saradika

I am Veronica Sharpe. I am a vampire who stands six feet tall. I have been blessed with my mother's black curls and my father's family's white streak in it. I have my mother's pale complexion, cheekbones, plush lips, and aquiline nose. I have my father's slender green eyes. My father gave me his height, while my mother gave me the gift of a body with feminine curves. Over the years, while I have maintained my feminine body, I have gained muscle, which has dramatically complimented my figure. I am a strong woman. I am proud of that.

I was only twenty-one when I was turned in the year 1904. I lived in Paris, France, and several lovers sought my hand. One of them was my maker, Armand Sharpe. He was a tall man with a fine figure, and he loved his beautiful clothes and long silk like red hair. He collected art pieces and hung them in his home. He had found me painting in the Jardin des Plantes and asked kindly if he could buy one of my paintings. Armand loved his beautiful women; I was flattered to be one of them. 

He always talked about how I should be grateful that I remain eternally beautiful, that I will never age like most women, and that my youthful beauty will never leave. He always seemed too proud of it. And I am grateful, his beauty is like mine, eternal.

Although I am thankful that I remember my mother, father, and sister, Armand, when we first met, had made it possible for me to have photographs of my family. While I don’t remember my family name, I remember their names. My mother was named Estelle, and my father was Laurent, and my sister was Lucille. But sadly, I don’t know the name my mother gave me when I was born. I expressed my discomfort with not remembering my name to Armand, and he thought of a name for a moment until he told me that my name must be Véronique. It is a beautiful name, a one I deserve.

As time passed, my name changed from Véronique to Veronica. This transition came in ‘64 when a waitress misheard my name and called me Veronica in a thick southern California accent. She was a lovely gal. She was a Barbie blonde wearing a baby blue uniform, which suited her tanned skin tone. Her hair was styled like Farrah Fawcett's and smelled like Adorn Self-Styling Hair Spray. Veronica stuck. The transition was freeing from the name my maker and husband had given me. The name Armand would use to beckon me to his room was the name he would call with desire. 

I am very thankful to the waitress at that Los Angeles diner a couple of years ago; she gave me a new name, and may never know what it meant to me. I am sure Armand felt the same way, it is a gift to give a name to someone.

As I make my way along the winding Interstate 10 in Texas, the sky is painted with the last hues of the sunset, giving way to the emergence of countless stars. The radio fills the car interior with the nostalgic melody of John Denver's "Take Me Home, Country Roads." This song has been the background to my travels for the past couple years. With my hand resting on the smooth, black leather steering wheel of my 1964 Ford Mustang, I tap my fingers in time to the music. The car, painted a deep raven black, seems to blend seamlessly with the night. Despite the darkness, I wear my circular black sunglasses with their delicate silver frame. It might strike some as odd to wear sunglasses at night, but I do so to conceal my naturally eerie and unnerving green eyes, a feature that has often drawn unnerving attention. 

I’ve never understood why they were unnerving. They’re my eyes; they’ve been green since childhood. Is there something I’m missing? Green is the color of the earth, why must I have to cover my beauty.

The fuel gauge on my dashboard is hovering dangerously close to empty, and as I glance out the window, a highway sign catches my eye. It reads, ‘Visit Sunridge Ranch, Texas! The Cowboy Capital of the USA!’ I find myself humming in response, realizing that not only do I need to refuel, but it might also be a good idea to find a place to stay for the night. The sun will rise soon, and although I won't burst into flames like in fiction, its rays will still leave me with a nasty sunburn, turning my pale skin red. It’s embarrassing. Armand would scold me like a child when I would come home red. As my husband, he often acted like a father, not my own. Oh no, he decided my father wasn't useful and took him away from me.

As I made my way into town, I was struck by its quaint charm and the subtle nods to its cowboy past. Before heading to the nearby motel, I decided to fill up my car with gas. As I approach the motel, I couldn't help but notice the small sign featuring a cowgirl riding a horse and the name "Desert Ranch Motel." It seems like a beautiful place to spend a day. The sign advertised a pool I plan to enjoy once the sun had set.

I hear the soft jingle of a bell as I push open the heavy wooden door to the front desk. Standing behind the counter is a woman who seems out of place in this ordinary setting. Her immaculate appearance and bored expression tell me she'd rather be anywhere else. I glimpse her name tag and see "Barbara" etched onto it. 

"Welcome to the Desert Ranch Motel, where the Old West meets comfort," she recites in a dry, monotone voice. "What kind of room are you looking for?"

The weirdest thing is that Barbara jumps when she looks up at me and tries to act as if she hadn't jumped. Am I creepy? Surely it cannot be my eyes, they cannot be creepy in this light. Was it my staring? My eyes burning into her.

As she asked if I was interested in the suite, I responded, "I will take the suite." I respond, there is nothing fancy about the way I said it. It was monotone. Following my response, she picked up the check-in book to check for its availability, or at least that's what I assumed she was doing.

"Sure... that'll be no problem," she says, keeping her pretty blue eyes on my figure as she checks the lodging book. That will be 15 dollars for the day," Barbara says uncertainly as I hand her the cash. She carefully notes my name in the lodging book and gracefully passes me the key. "The room is 28B. I hope you have a pleasant stay, ma'am," she says.

The prominent feature of the chain is a weathered cowboy pendant suspended from it, effortlessly enhancing the town's rustic charm and Western essence. I wonder who made it; it looks like an artist had a hand in making it. 

As I make my way down the hallway to 28B, the weight of my luggage is a reassuring reminder of the countless times I've journeyed down this similar hallway. I navigate the stairs quickly. Arriving at the end of the hallway, I reach for the doorknob and swing the door open. A smile spreads as I take in the view before me.

The wooden door creaks open as I enter the room, unveiling a spacious living area. The room features a sunken seating area adorned with vibrant patterned cushions encircling a central sunken pit that could double as a fire pit. The brick fireplace is the main focus, making everything warm and comfortable. 

Large windows flood the space with natural light, offering picturesque views of the pool outside. The high ceiling is adorned with several elegant hanging lights that glow warmly throughout the room. The inviting atmosphere makes it a pretty space to spend time and relax.

Behind the conversation pit, the bed steals the attention, decorated with a striking orange comforter and decorative pillows. The bedframe and nightstands complement each other, showcasing a matching wood. The clock on the nightstand displayed 3:02 am, signaling the impending arrival of dawn. Hungry from my long drive from San Antonio, I couldn't ignore the persistent itch of blood thirst at the back of my throat. As the first light of dawn began to break over the horizon, I felt the familiar hunger gnawing at my insides. It is different from a human's regular hunger pains; my stomach feels as if it’s going to turn inside out, and I might die. 

The craving for blood pounded through me, and I know I couldn't ignore it much longer. But living in this arid, desolate town presented a challenge—no nearby life sources could quench my thirst. Then it hit me: In such a deserted town, there is an option: to search for the presence of rats. Although I don't like the taste of rat blood, it satisfies my thirst for blood. Or perhaps the local diner could provide a solution. I could order a rare steak and let its rich blood juices satiate my hunger for the night. I always thrived while killing; there is something so satisfying about that iron-rich liquid spilling down my throat.

As I leave the dimly lit motel room, I check that my purse is securely slung over my shoulder. I mentally record the contents within—my wallet holding a substantial amount of cash, my ID, and the all-important hotel room key. Opening it, I make sure that my favorite perfume is safely nestled among the other items. Knowing I'll smell good despite the bloodbath I’m going to put myself through does put a smile on my face. 

I stroll across the road from the motel to The Kingsman Diner, relieved to see that it is open 24 hours a day. Knowing that no matter what time, I can always find a warm meal here is a comfort. Approaching the front door, I couldn't help but notice a small cluster of mice scurrying around towards the back of the diner.

Sneaking towards the back of the restaurant, I quickly grab a mouse and sink my fangs into its body. Draining the blood from it and tossing it into the garbage. I continue doing this to a few more mice, draining and tossing.  It is not human, but it will do for the night. I need to drink multiple in order to feel fine.

Lost in my bloodthirst, I fail to notice the creak of the back door swinging open. Suddenly, a gruff and low voice startles me from behind.

"Darlin, what are you doin’ near my garbage?" The man asks, and I freeze, realizing someone had caught me. I feel my heart racing as I quickly toss the mouse into the garbage and turned to face him. There was a little blood on my chin, and my hands are stained from the unsuccessful attempt to clean up the mess.

What am I doing? Did Armand’s lessons in cleanliness and manners exit my brain the first moment I stepped foot on American soil? I should vanish now. Wipe his memory, he never saw me.

But as I answered, "Nothing," he gave me a questioning look, and I’m grateful for the overhead light illuminating his face. He was very handsome, with a man in his forties with a strong, tall frame, warm brown eyes, and a mop of dark brown, short hair. A well-groomed mustache adorned his upper lip, adding to his cowboy appeal. He stood before me in well-worn jeans cinched with a leather belt, an apron over his chest, and a vibrant blue flannel shirt. He held a black Stetson cowboy hat in his hand, completing the look of a true cowboy. God, he has kind eyes, clean-shaven eyes, and a beautiful smile. And a confident swagger to him, Armand never really had that sort of confidence or swagger. He was quiet and foreboding. 

"Why do you have blood on your hands and chin there, Darlin?" The man asks, squinting his eyes and furrowing his brow as if trying to assess my appearance. My mind races as I desperately tried to come up with some sort of plausible excuse. "Were you drainin’ those rats?"

I stammer nervously in response, causing his brows to furrow even deeper. "I, uh, yes...?" I admit, my voice trembling slightly. "I may have taken ecstasy in my motel room. It seemed like a good idea at the time. In the past I loved to drink the blood on ecstasy, it feels lovely."

"Why in the world would drinkin’ rat blood even cross your mind as a good idea?" the handsome man asks, leaving me speechless. Incompetent to conjure a coherent response, I found myself unable to answer him. How about we forget this ever happened, and I whip up something to satisfy that hunger of yours?"

I nod eagerly, awaiting his following words. "What are ya in the mood for?"

"Can you make mashed potatoes and a rare steak? It's been far too long since I've had a meal like that, not since I left San Antonio," I tell him, wiping the extra blood on the sleeve of my black blouse. It won’t be seen anyway. His face cringes for a moment as I do that. God, he needs to stop staring at me.

As the man mulls over my request briefly, he gently scratches his chin and nodded in agreement. "Come on in. Why don't ya take a seat at the counter," he offered as we entered the cozy diner. "Maybe after you freshen up a bit..."

Pausing, I glance down at my hands and suddenly became conscious of my messy appearance. The fancy clothes I bought for myself have blood splatters on me, and my hair is nowhere near presentable. I should’ve washed up in my motel room. 

"Oh, excuse me, where can I find the restroom?" I ask, and he gestures towards the doors at the back of the diner, clearly marked 'Men' and 'Women.' 

"I'll be back. I'm sorry you had to see that, handsome stranger," I say to him with a wry smile, trying to lighten the mood. His chuckle is a welcome sound as my eyes wander up and down, finally landing on the name tag labeled ‘Jack’' "Jack, a handsome name for a handsome man," I remark, a twinkle in my eye, nervously laughing. Has it been this long since I’ve been around a man? He must think I'm an idiot. 

Jack’s chuckle resonates through the room, carrying a warmth that seems to surround the entire room. "Not a problem, darlin'," he says in a soothing, reassuring tone, his words comforting to my ears. He flashed a kind and friendly grin, and as he did, the well-earned wrinkles around his eyes deepened, adding character to his face. A rush of heat floods my cheeks, betraying the blush that crept up in response to his gaze. Sensing my reaction, he arched an eyebrow ever so slightly, his eyes shining with a knowing glint. 

Dieu qu'il est beau. (god he is handsome)

“I will be right back, Mr. Jack,” I chuckle nervously before heading toward the restroom. Mr. Jack?! Why would I call him that? Also, I says I would be back not even a minute before. Must I repeat myself like a babbling imbecile?!

I quickly went to the restroom, but the encounter was still fresh in my mind. As I stand in front of the mirror, I meticulously wash away the stains from my face and hands, taking care to remove every trace of the blood. It's hard to believe that my first impression of this rugged man was being covered in blood. I can't help but wonder what  Armand must think of me. I did always turn to him for advice. He was always a posed man; he would get angry when I wasn’t. 

But I do not remember even doing anything that vastly embarrassing with him. Did I do something wrong when I was with him? Have I always been this way, and he was helping me? Should I have not left him? I cannot act like a lady around a handsome man who saw me draining mice near his garbage. Well, not that it is a ladylike thing to do, but there are nicer ways of satisfying my thirst. But fuck being ladylike, Armand would use that word so often I never liked it.

Wait, that businessman wanted to get with me at that party in ‘71. Why am I realizing this now?  Have I always been this aloof? I need to do better.

“Bloody lady, ya doin’ alright?” I hear Mr. Jack from just outside the door, “You’ve been in there for twenty minutes or so,” 

“Sorry, I got lost in thought. I’ll be out in a minute!” I reply, and my cheeks redden due to my embarrassment. Splashing water on my face, I walk out of the restroom with a slightly embarrassed smile, rocking on my heels momentarily. “Sorry about that, it’s been a long day.” 

Mr. Jack chuckles again, “‘s alright, darlin’ you not from ‘round here, aintcha?” He asks as I sit down at the counter where he’s prepared my food. God, it looks delicious. Staring at him, a little confused, he smiles again. “You ain’t got an accent like us, ya almost sound European.”

“No, I’m not from around here. I was born in Paris, but I’ve been traveling alone for a while,” I reply, grabbing the fork he’s set out for me. He tilts his head, confused.

“Ya look lil young to be travelin’ for a while,”

“M-My…uhh-” I begin trying to find a good excuse: “My family ages well. I am in my thirties,” Okay, that’s not a bad excuse, and it’s true I do not age. Thanks, Armand; one of the only good things about this gift he gave me. He still deserves to die, though. 

"Well, I’ll be damned ya do look good, sugar,” Jack tells me with a suave smile on his face, “that white streak in ya hair is real pretty too, them eyes of yours are real pretty too. I always liked green eyes on ladies,” 

“Why thank you, Jack. You sure know how to make a lady blush,” I giggle momentarily, hiding my face behind my hand, and while taking a bite of the steak he made me, and god if it isn’t delicious. That cowboy sure knows how to make a meal. 

He and I both chat for a while and continue eating the meal he had prepared. He pauses for a moment before asking, “You says you were born in Paris, that meanin you french?” 

“I suppose?” I reply, thinking for a moment. “I grew up there, my parents were born there too. But I have not been there for good while, I am losing my accent.” 

“Clearly, you barely sound French anymore, sugar. Are you still speakin’ the language?” he asks, and I nod with a bright smile.

“Oui, j'aime toujours cette langue,” I say, and his eyebrows raise. Is he impressed? “I say, yes, I still love the language.” 

Jack chuckles as he takes my empty plate and cleans it quickly while I wait at the counter. Should I wait for him to come back? Or should I leave? This feels weird. My legs begin to sway underneath the counter, waiting for him to come back, my chin resting on the backs of my hands. 

He comes back a couple of minutes later, and I've been looking around the diner, taking in the details of it all. It’s a very cozy diner. The warm lighting adds to that. If I lived here, I would be a regular, I know it. 

“How long you in town sugar?” He asks, snapping me out of my daydream. 

“As long as I want, I tend to keep myself in different towns for a few days before leaving. But I can stay in a spot for months if I’d like. Why do you ask?”

“I wanna offer you a job, if you’d like it. It would be watiressin’ but it pays good with tips.”

My eyes widen for a moment. Is he serious? His expression says he isn’t; extra cash would be nice. I have been running out of it since I left France and stole an excellent sum of Armand’s fortune. It would be nice to stay in one spot long and not be on the run. He also did find me with blood all over me. Why is he offering me a job? Did he not find me in the back with blood all over me..he does not have good awareness.

“I like that a lot. It would be nice to have extra money and save up a good sum.” I say to him, and his lips curl into an almost sly smile. He looks too mischievous with that mustache of his, but that is a reason he’s a joy to be around. He is much better than Armand, so much better.

“Sounds like a plan darlin’ let me get ya the uniform,” He tells me, walking to a closet in the back and coming back with two things, a red dress, it has short sleeves and seems that it would end at my knees. What’s in his other hand is an apron, simple enough. “Here’s the uniform, keep your hair in a bun and simple earrings. You got shoes that could go with it?”

Pausing, I think back to the clothes in my luggage, more specifically, the shoes I’ve been carrying with me. There are a couple of options, and others that would never work for that uniform.

“Would a pair of red-heeled sandals work?” I ask, unsure if that’s what he is asking for. 

“I believe they would darlin’. You can wear those with the uniform. Have you ever waitressed before?”

“When I was in Paris, I worked briefly for a cafe. Is this similar to that?”

“You’ll do great sugar. Now go get some rest and I’ll see you here at 2pm okay?” He asks, and I nod quickly, my arms gathering the uniform he handed me in my arms. 

When I leave the diner, the sky is empty; spare it for the stars sprinkling in the sky. This town is eerily quiet. Paris was loud, and so was Los Angeles. I like quiet; I've always liked quiet. Maybe I should stay here. Until Armand uses his fledglings to find me again, then I will run. I do miss him, the chase is more fun knowing he misses me. But for now, I will stay. 

I hope y'all enjoyed it! I do plan to have more chapters, as this is just the beginning; I've got a bunch planned!

Taglist: @morallyinept @604to647

[lady-of-imladris]

CHAPTER 10 - BROKEN AND BLUE

Synopsis: The battle comes to an end. One way or another

Word count: 2k

Pairings: Thranduil/OC

Warnings: Major Character Death, Death of a parent

Additional tags: this is probably the most depressing thing I have ever written

Link to the chapter overview

Soldier down on that icy ground Looked up at me with honor and truth Broken and blue, so I called off the troops - The Great War (Taylor Swift)

Anarríma fought tirelessly. Her every movement was calculated, executed flawlessly. But so were her opponent’s. She had only ever contested with such a formidable fighter a handful of times before, training with Celeborn and Galadriel and occasionally sparring with Thranduil, yet this being seemed different. It fought as if it had aeons of practice, older than this world itself. It used all its power fighting Ana, and despite her millennia of practice, it was beginning to wear her down. She could almost hear its voice in her head. One word over and over and over, burned into her head. She had not heard it uttered in over a century and yet there it was. ‘Durbatuluk.’ The language of Mordor. The language of him. Rule them all.

Rule them all. Anarríma saw flashes of the battle that had occurred so many years ago. The lives that had been lost. She had seen what his rule looked like and in that moment she knew once and for all that she would die before she let him come to power again. He would never rule over Legolas, not rule over anyone, as long as she lived. She had screamed for Thranduil as soon as the battle had begun but it would take him minutes to reach her. For anyone to reach her. Anarríma knew without a doubt in her mind that this would be the hardest battle of her life.

Their blades crashed against each other in rapid succession, each blow harder than the previous one. The Queen struggled to keep her footing on several occasions, stumbling over the uneven ground, falling down and quickly crawling away from the attacker to get up and keep fighting. She was bleeding from several scrapes and her head was slowly beginning to hurt from falling or being thrown against a wall by her opponent. One blow. She only needed to land one. Summoning all her courage, she leapt at the creature. Anarríma put her entire weight into it, severing the creature in half. The smoke dissolved and she fell to her knees.

“Ana!” Thranduil appeared in the doorway behind her. “Are you alright?” She nodded weakly, not bothering to turn around and face him. Fighting Sauron had taken a lot of her power. The King walked up to her, falling to his knees behind her and wrapping his strong arms tightly around his wife’s shoulders. “It’s over.” Ana let her head fall against Thranduil’s shoulder. “Yes,” he whispered, “yes, it’s over.” She felt his soft lips caress her neck and the soft caress of his hand on her throat.

Ana tried to get up, she needed to get back down to help with the last legs of the battle, but Thranduil did not let go. “Thranduil?” she tried turning her head to look at him, but the hand on her throat tightened. A shocked gasp was all she could choke out. Why was he doing this to her? A dark chuckle emanated from behind her, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “Did you really think you could defeat me, little Queen?” Sauron. “This pathetic excuse of a King you call your husband will be mine. Your sweet sweet son will be mine. And you. You will be mine too. Now let’s tell your King the good news, shall we?”

He walked her out onto the battlements, one hand firmly wrapped around her throat, making it barely possible for her to breathe, the other around her waist, half dragging, half carrying her. The fighting outside was raging on. “King of the Greenwood!” Sauron called out, “I suggest you stop this nonsense at once, or her death will be on your hands” “Ana!” Thranduil cried out her name so desperately it broke her heart. The elves and orcs ceased the fighting. All eyes were on Sauron. “If you want your precious Queen back,” he taunted, “we will need to have a little chat.”

Thranduil threw down his sword. He would gladly give up his entire kingdom for her. Anarríma struggled against Sauron’s tight grasp. “Don’t listen to him,” she choked out. The words were nothing more than a strangled whisper, but the elves could hear it nonetheless. Only in their hearts, they did not want to follow their Queen’s command. “Shhhh,” Sauron whispered against the back of her head “We don’t want this to turn ugly, do we?” Galadriel took a small step forward, putting her hand on Thranduil’s shoulder. Celeborn furrowed his brows. They were not seriously considering letting his daughter die, were they? He opened his mouth to speak, to tell Sauron to let his daughter go, tell him they would leave the forest forever. He would get everything he wanted, but Celeborn could not speak.

His face turned to stone as he looked over at Galadriel, whose calm and collected facade few could read but having been married to her for many millennia, he could tell that she was as desperate as he was, but unlike him, she was able to ignore her breaking heart and do the only logical thing. Silence her husband and do everything in her power to make Thranduil see reason. The Lord of Lothlorien felt powerless as Thranduil bent down to pick his sword back up. “Come down here and face me you coward!” What was meant as a challenge, came out as a desperate plea. Sauron merely laughed in response. “I have your wife, Oropherion. Why would I do you the favour?” “Please.” It was no more than a whisper, but Thranduil knew that Sauron had heard him. “No.”

Ana squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to fight back the tears. She was unsuccessful. When she had joined the alliance against Sauron all those long long years ago she had not been afraid to die. Anarríma of Loríen had had nothing to lose except her life back then. Fighting for something that was so much more important than her would have been worth dying for. But now? To her, it seemed like ages had passed since she last held her son. It had been reckless of her to go to war again. Legolas would lose her and it was her fault.

Sauron’s hand tightened around Anarríma’s throat. She couldn’t breathe. Thranduil. He needed to know. She needed to tell him. Ana had exhausted every single cell in her body fighting Sauron and yet the pain she felt when she tried to reach out to Thranduil with her mind was worse. Sauron must be blocking her in some way. The Queen gathered every last bit of strength she had left and then some. “I love you!” she screamed into the void, praying to the Valar that it would reach him. Sauron brought his other hand up to her face, caressing her cheek in an almost comforting way as he wiped away her tears with his thumb. The last thing Queen Anarríma heard was Thranduil’s panicked scream. And the sound of her neck breaking.

It took mere seconds but to Thranduil, it felt like an agonizing eternity as he watched Sauron slaughter the love of his life and carelessly let her fall to the ground. He stared at her lifeless body on the floor, a few meters ahead of him. Even in death, he thought she was the most beautiful elleth he had ever seen. He could not tear his eyes away from her. Not when Sauron yelled out “Nampatulûk,” commanding his remaining forces to kill them all. Not when Galadriel directed all her might at the Dark Lord. Not when Celeborn led the charge against the remaining orcs. Not even when Sauron dissipated into smoke and disappeared towards the east. No. Thranduil had lost his Queen. And his heart.

The elves had not lost many of their own that day, for the most part, thanks to Queen Anarríma’s brilliant strategy. When all the orcs were dead and their bodies disposed of, Thranduil was kneeling on the floor, next to his Queen, silently weeping, muttering in a hushed voice. “Goheno nin Ana. Gi melin.” I am sorry. I love you. Over and over again he repeated the words between sobs, desperately hoping that somehow, somewhere, she could hear them. A hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his trance. ‘Let it be Sauron come back to finish me,’ Thranduil found himself thinking, but it was only Celeborn. He had come to offer some words of comfort, to offer anything at all. But he couldn’t. His Anarinya was gone.

Galadriel appeared only moments later, her shaking hand buried in Celeborn’s hair as he leaned against her leg. “You knew,” the Lord of Lorien stated quietly. “Yes.” Galadriel had never wished to be rid of the gift of foresight as much as she did at that moment. “She knew too. I told her.” Celeborn shrugged off Galadriel’s hand and rose to his feet. “The day she married Thranduil, she was so upset. I understand it now.” “What?” The Elvenking’s voice was quiet, barely even a whisper, but his anger, amid his insurmountable grief, was palpable. Thranduil was on his feet in an instant, his hand wrapped firmly around Galadriel’s neck, pushing her against a half-collapsed wall.

“You knew? And you did not stop her?” The Lady of Lorien was eerily calm. Celeborn merely stood there, watching the whole scene unfold as he still struggled to grasp what had transpired. “If you really think anyone could have prevented her from marrying you, you did not know her half as well as I thought you did.” Elrond’s voice cut through the silence. Had he been here this whole time? Thranduil let go of Galadriel and whipped around to face the Lord of Imladris. “You knew,” he accused him, receiving only a small nod in return. “I am sorry mellon nin. Her fate was sealed the moment you first laid eyes upon her at the slopes of Orodruin.”

“Are you holding me accountable for her-,” Thranduil struggled, “death?” Elrond opened his mouth to contradict him but Thranduil did not let him. “Because I am. And so are you, and so is she.” He motioned towards Galadriel who was clutching at her neck. It would bruise. “The two of you could have saved her, could have told me the truth! I should have locked her in the deepest dungeon of my palace as soon as she told me of her intentions to fight in this battle. Her death is as much on our hands as it is on his.” A crowd of people began to form around them. Soldiers awaiting their orders. Thranduil took a deep breath. “We return home,” he ordered quietly and went down on one knee to pick up his wife’s lifeless form.

Their return to the palace was quiet. Elrond had advised that they should not draw any attention before Thranduil had spoken to Legolas. Everyone had offered to take this burden off his shoulders but Thranduil had declined. It had to come from him. As they neared the palace, Celeborn approached Thranduil and wordlessly took Anarríma’s body from him so he could do what had to be done. The Lord of Loríen summoned all his courage to look upon his daughter's face one last time, remembering the countless times he had carried her to bed when she had fallen asleep on the floor as a child. “I am sorry Anarinya. I am so sorry I could not save you.”

Thranduil was shaking violently as he walked through his halls. They seemed foreign to him now. Quiet and empty. Every guard he encountered on his way was dismissed with a quick wave of his hand. Celeborn could return her to her home without an audience now. Thranduil did what he could to keep the tears in check as he walked up to his son. “Ada?” He stopped at some distance, realizing that the blood on his armour seemed to scare Legolas. Thranduil stood there, not knowing what to say, trying to come up with the words to explain to this small child, barely old enough to talk that his mother was dead. Legolas approached him cautiously, looking up at his father with those big eyes. Her eyes. “Ada, where is Nana?”

Please consider reblogging or leaving a comment <3

Thank you so much for reading! I am very very sorry it took so long to update, I literally have no excuse :( But I promise I will never abandon this fic and we are 2/3 through already!

Everything-taglist: @fenharel-enaste @thesolarangel @enaelyork @sanfranciscocablecar @nevermcre

TGW-taglist: @queenmeriadoc @spnbandwagon1019 @somebirdortheother @some--morphine @hc-geralt-23 @legendary-maddie @elrondsevenstar @blumin8 @sigynbandraoi-blog @frodomyprecious @bookflowersnerd

You can join my taglist here <3

[turbo-virgins]

Last night I received the following concerning anonymous message:

When I first read it I was immediately suspicious and thought this was a malicious attempt to start in-fighting while everyone is on edge over the sock-puppet oc-stealing individual that has been hovering around the fc5 community for some time now. However, at least one mutual I have in common with the blog named in the anon has since blocked me, which leads me to believe that the message above might be true and I am being accused of plagiarism. I have left that blog name covered up in case this is all some huge misunderstanding.

In the midst of these accusations, no one (aside from the anon) has reached out to make me aware of the situation or even what I am being accused of plagiarizing. I have reached out to the person who is supposedly accusing me to confirm whether or not they are actually accusing me, but have not yet received a response.

In the meantime I'm providing my limited perspective of the situation to (hopefully) clear the air.

When I first became active in the fc5 community on tumblr (about two years ago, I think?) I was mutuals with the redacted blog in the anonymous message. This person is a long-time prominent member in the community. Their oc and their deputy/john fanfic is well loved and very popular. Not too long after I joined the fandom I began writing my fic, Holy Roller which is a deputy/joseph fanfic centered around my oc, Delilah. It was inspired by a deputy/joseph fic on ao3 called To Build A Home (and I have an old message with a different mutual that I can dig up if requested in which I discuss the premise of that fic and how it inspired me).

In an attempt to be more active in the community, I started reading a few of my mutuals fanfic (including this person's fic). From time to time I would send asks/dms/leave tags in WIP posts leaving encouraging and positive feedback and just enjoying someone else's writing in general. I believe I only read up to chapter 3 or 4 of the fic of the person that is accusing me of plagiarism.

The only similar thing I am aware of between their fic and mine is that we both make allusions/references/allegories (whatever the correct term is) to the biblical book of judges and specifically within that book - the story of Samson and Delilah. When I realized that both of our ocs/other characters in the fic make a reference to Delilah, I remember sending them an ask about it because I thought their take on their oc being a stand-in for Delilah/Samson/some amalgamation of the two was neat. At the time I believe they referenced some biblical academic debate about several different accounts regarding Delilah - some in which she is painted as a victim rather than a seductress. If I recall correctly, they offered to send me a link to their reference material, but I don't remember if I ever got the link - all I know is that I never actually read through whatever reference they were using.

Shortly after this exchange (maybe a few days, maybe a week or two, I don't remember) this mutual blocked me (and I think I was blocked maybe a year and a half ago? I don’t remember; I don’t think I’ve interacted with this person in over a year though). At the time it did not occur to me that the Samson and Delilah references might be why they blocked me. I reached out to a mutual we had in common to see if I had done anything or reblogged anything that hurt or offended this person because whatever the issue was I wanted to apologize make it right. It is my understanding that this mutual we had in common asked this person directly and the reason I was given via a dm back from this mutual in common was "[they] are feeling Some Kind Of Way." I didn't know how to interpret that, so I assumed that by blocking me, this person was setting a boundary of some kind and didn't want me interacting with them. Since I thought they didn't want me interacting with their stuff, I didn't push the issue further and blocked them in return so that I wouldn't see their stuff cross my dash anymore. I also never read any further in their fic.

If I am correct about my assumptions and the accusations in question are regarding the Samson and Delilah references in both of our fics, I am not sure what to say other than it is a complete coincidence. I don't know how this person has been interpreting my own work, all I can offer is my own perspective and decisions I made about my oc, Delilah.

Below I have done my best to outline aspects of Delilah's character and my personal reasoning behind why she is the way she is:

When selecting Delilah's name I knew I wanted a biblical name since the fictional cult in fc5 is a christian-based cult. I briefly researched female biblical figures and I decided on Delilah because the name didn't strike me as super common and I wanted my oc to be a character who may be misunderstood and villainized by some but is still sympathetic - much like the biblical Delilah based on how you interpret/read into the biblical narrative. I believe the name Delilah also means "fragile" or "delicate." I liked the meaning behind her name because my oc is physically resilient which may at first glance seem at odds with her name, but she is emotionally and mentally very vulnerable which is NOT at odds with her name.

As far as physical appearance the closest thing Delilah has to a face-claim is Maya Hawk specifically from Stranger Things. I liked her hair style and some of the 80s-esque fashion she wears in some of her photoshoots. Delilah has kind of dark red hair and my line of thinking there was that Wrath = anger = red. In my fic, Delilah is at times an embodiment of Wrath much like the in-game fc5 deputy. In my writing she is frequently associated with the color red (to tie back into Wrath symbolism) while Joseph is associated with the color gold (based on a long character analysis post I wrote about his glasses a long time ago).

As previously stated, Delilah was intended to have some minor association made between her and the biblical figure. There is a scene early on in my fic where Delilah calls Joseph over the phone only for him to accuse her of being a spy attempting to get close to him and betray him which would (he says) ultimately lead to his downfall. I personally see Joseph as someone who projects himself and his experiences onto the biblical narrative and then uses that biblical narrative as evidence to justify his actions (sort of like an endless self re-enforcing confirmation bias feedback loop... thing). This is a pattern of behavior of his that is referenced in other places in my fic - specifically his in-game references to the book of revelation and then later in my fic to the book of job. It is my reasoning that, when Joseph encountered Delilah by chance at a bar, learned her name, and learned of her connection to the Hope County sheriff, that he was ready and willing to connect her to the biblical Delilah based both on their shared name and their specific circumstances. I believe that Joseph himself even hints at that in their dialogue.

The only other instance I can think of where my work sort of alludes to Samson and Delilah is a few hints and conversations where Delilah explains that she had a traumatic experience as a child where her hair was cut off against her will. Honestly the Samson and Delilah symbolism potential there is secondary to the fact that it was intended to reference my own childhood fears and insecurities. For reasons I won't get into, my hair has been a major part of my identity and how I present myself my whole life. There was a time where I did not have autonomy over my appearance and that manifested itself in this fear of having something so crucial to how I present myself taken away against my will.

This feeds into my next explanation: I have stated before that Delilah is not intended to be a self insert, however there are major aspects of her character and the way she is written that are pulled from my personal experiences. Her religious trauma, her toxic relationships with the maternal figures in her life, her self-doubt, her self-loathing, her deeply ingrained religious guilt, and the symptoms of her anxiety/panic attacks are all pulled from my own deeply personal life experiences. Delilah is a character who keeps everyone at arms length because she believes there is fundamentally something wrong with her - that her flaws are something to be covered up rather than accepted. And the point of her dynamic with Joseph in my fic was for her to find a source of unconditional love that she'd been craving, but to have that love come from someone incredibly fucked-up, dangerous, and manipulative.

As for how well I have executed these concepts - that is a matter of every reader's personal opinion and they have a right to that opinion. This fic I have been working on for approximately two years is the longest work I have ever written. I am inexperienced and still developing my style and skills as a writer. There are approximately four more chapters I have outlined before it will be complete.

I would like to reiterate that I have not yet received confirmation from the person supposedly accusing me on the specific details of what they think I plagiarized. The purpose of this post was to explain my thought process behind my oc and the plot of my fic - I wanted to demonstrate that there is real creative reasoning and intent behind my writing, that my interpretations of Joseph and my characterization of my oc Delilah are based on my own thoughts about fc5 canon material, and that any similarities between my work and someone else's is a coincidence and there is no malicious intent behind any fandom related content I've ever put out on my blog or on ao3.

If this is all a big misunderstanding, then I apologize and I would like to keep in place the boundaries that were set before I was ever made aware of any potential accusations.

[achocolativorrousartistblog]

We're here again, that means another OC, this one was made for roleplay, but, I kinda loved the design so I gave her lore in my fav sector (Sector Z, gotta post the tons of drawing I have of them later) and that's it, let's go!. (This might be shorter than Heather's, also, yes, every character of mine will be Chilean cause I'm Chilean)

(2/2)

[⚠️ There might be some grammar mistakes, not just because it's not my first language but also because it's 4 AM and I still can't get myself to go to sleep without publishing thing.]

Luz Montero

Luz Montero Wigglestaine is a tall 16 year old female with long curly dyed hair, tan skin, baby blue eyes and round nose.

She's the grade's secretary, though she isn't involved in planning against the KND, she thinks it's immature and nonsense, still she will turn on the alerts and go with the plans they want her to follow.

Ironically, is kind of friends/allies with Cree Lincoln, Luz is the one who cleans up the mess at the teenage ninjas' parties and they collect a dollar from whoever wants to pay (if Cree doesn't say it's for the soda) and that's her salary.

Has fought some KND agents but usually she just immobilizes them and leaves, she gets paid a lot but not enough to fight children just because the others had plans.

At high school she's rather intimidating, her voice is calm but she's usually with a serious or mad expression, since all the work gets thrown to her because the grade president prefers to go to party's than do school job.

She's actually pretty shy, she is passionate about books and if she has a free moment she will lock herself up to read, not as mean with kids, she's not aggressive until someone hits first.

Luz was also known as Numbuh 0.11, occasional member of Sector Z, mostly because they got used to overwhelming themselves with missions and other stuff and weren't taking their health very seriously, also because Luz was bilingual and available to be removed from the medical barracks and placed in a formal sector, since (Headcanon) they were all orphans without legal guardians or an appropriate institution, they lived in their tree house.

She was the medic and specialist in paint weaponry, using her own paint guns to attack the enemy.

When Sector Z disappeared she was sick, so she didn't go on the mission and stayed in her own house, from then on till she was 13 she was super paranoid about what could happen to any others if she was sick, becoming a workaholic in the medical area until she was decommissioned.

_____________________________________________

Very noticeable, she is indeed Father's biological daughter, when Benedict was young he started to have one-night stands with several women, including Agustina Montero, a Chilean girl his age who was on her vacations visiting England and things happen, she got pregnant, but she didn't have his number, nothing more than name and looks, her parents supported her until she could go to United States with a 7 year old Luz, she decided to give the kid Benedict's last name, Why? No one knows.

Luz was raised without a father and that was fine, she didn't mind, it hurt to spend father's day without a "real" father, but she had her grandpa, she didn't care.

Trivia!

She dyes all her hair, eliminating its bluish undertone and adding blonde strands.

For some reason she feels her appearance isn't good, she knows she's her bio father's almost whole copy, but senses something bad about him so she erases what could be similar.

I'm actually used to roleplay with her kid version instead of the teen one, just because, no real reason.

She's bilingual.

You could say she hates The Steve because of how loud and annoying he is for her.

She never speaks up, she just speaks when spoken to and not much more.

If you're friends however it's like buying a bird, she will never shut up.

If she got to meet Nigel, she would probably flood him with candy, toys and Yipper cards, don't ask her how she got those last ones.

If she got to know DCFDTL condition while decommissioned, she would actually not care much, however, if she was recommissioned, she would break down.

(I have to refine her lore, there are things that might not match and I'm not getting, but, for now, that's all, Thanks! Have a good day/night! 💜)

[sakurarisen]

εїз

Send εїз for an unimplemented HC!

So this one's gonna be kind of long, apologies ahead of time- XD

Despite her rough life, Sera has kind of always known there's more to her than even she can understand - And this is a feeling that only grows once she's finally able to settle down with Zack into a calmer, more peaceful life, and learns how to cope and face the things that've happened to her. The more she finds ways to cope and finally have the life she's craved and deserved, the more it feels like she's standing on a frozen lake; there's so much more under the surface, so much more to her, and yet she can't access any of it past the occasional tap on the ice and a temporary, slight bubbling up of the cold water underneath. So, so much more... Something, but she's never understood what, no matter how much she tries to find the answers to 'what makes Seraphina Fair tick?' - A question that comes up especially often in her FF7 canon, when she realizes the materia she picked up on her way to Gongaga is a summon materia for Shiva, eventually gaining the use of her aid and power, albeit at the cost of her own energy and needing serious bedrest after.

This question of what makes her 'tick' and what lies under that frozen over lake is now the same in every verse: Because Sera holds the power of one of many elemental phoenixes - In this case, the Snow Phoenix.

There's lore I wrote up a very, VERY long time ago (and need to rewrite and fine tune, now XD) for another OC of mine whose bloodline is descended from a phoenix - Essentially, the phoenix lived in in an era where gods walked the planet freely and many gained a following, with the phoenix especially enjoying a temple and a fair number of worshipers. But as humans do, war eventually broke out, and the phoenix himself was targeted for his feathers under the false claim they would give the power of rebirth and the inability to fall in battle, causing his temples to be overrun in the people's bid to get their hands on them.

The phoenix stood tall and protected his temple and the priests and priestesses within it, eventually taking human form to fight beside them, and at the end of the war, began a bloodline with his most trusted priestess that eventually, many hundreds, probably thousands of years later, to my other OC - Who, for multiple reasons, thought she was the last of the phoenixes despite being only a halfbreed.

Expanded lore I've been working on, however, adds more phoenixes; the original was a solely fire-based creature, while the others that existed among the world were of other elements - Ice, lighting, water... The original 'myth' had been passed down among the people of a pretty remote village, and the myth/legend had inevitably changed over time, like playing a game of telephone, until all mentions of other phoenixes and gods ceased to exist within it. Nobody knows there's others - But even so, Sera herself inherited the defensive, healing powers of the Snow Phoenix, while her older brother Thoma inherited some of the fire phoenix's power - Two phoenixes who were originally siblings, now echoed in Sera and her brother, linked closely together just the same as the originals.

However, despite Sera embodying the Snow Phoenix in just about every way - defensive and protective in nature, rose from her 'ashes' to keep moving forward (multiple times over her life, actually, this girl SHOULD have died several times over and managed to survive), an affinity for ice magic/abilities, ranged fighting, a healer, hiding in the form of a snow leopard/human/snow fox, etc., that's all for another post and not this one which is already longer than I intended it to be - she isn't strong enough to use it, at least not in full. The circumstances of her life/lives have made it so that while she HAS the power within her, she's too physically weak to access it, and using it in full would more than likely kill her - Though she can access incredibly tiny fractions of it when she desperately needs it, or with the aid of Zack and Thoma, her soulmate and the single blood relative/member of her birth family she has left she's super close to.

This lore also fits into just about everything I have running for her; reincarnation and rebirth is a thing across all my blogs (every verse and AU is another lifetime for the muse, with them all being connected in the end by being the same person reborn into a new life with the same soul, changed only by the timeframe and circumstances they're born into, otherwise the exact same person), and the snow phoenix follows her through all of them. In GI, it's an old power caught up in the rebirth cycle, in FF7 it was a familiar of Shiva she aided into gaining human form - Nothing like an ancient in any form, but a being connected to the goddess and the elements (who still needs materia even with her innate abilities), and so on.

This... This isn't implemented YET because I need to figure out how to rewrite the phoenix myth and organically insert it into Sera's stuff, but this is... This is just Sera. This is my girl, and it's taken me over a decade to FINALLY figure out this is what she's had lingering within her, even though I've known there's something there for a looooong time. I want to make SURE it makes sense and doesn't step on toes when I add it in, or buck anything in canon lores for any of the verses, and I really want it to work out - And since Sera is inherently fandomless/multifandom at her core, it should be easy enough to do that?

But also I've been rambling for FOREVER here so I'll cut this one here XD I'm just?? So excited to finally know what's going on with Sera in more detail, and I have SO MUCH MORE I'm working on on top of this! <3

[snazzyladreal]

Alright, lore dump about Kirby OCs

Specifically about these two

Alright this is long, so get a snack

So hundreds and thousands years ago, there was an artist who was also a mage. She was a refugee from an unknown threat that destroyed her original planet. She ended up on a dying planet, with other refugees.

They made several art projects, most of which are lost to time, but the most remarkable creations are from the end of her life. Being crippled by a disease, their largest project came from her wondering what would happen if beings based off pure emotion existed.

This lead her to creating a rainbow of what she called ‘Spectors’, each based off a major emotion and the feelings associated with them. Using items such as clay, lava, plants, and a beautiful type of crystal in the mines that were all over the small planet.

Purple was made of crystal, representing trust and reliability. Made to look like a simple orb on two stick legs(cough, possibly a kiwi bird), it was given a small crown and nicknamed ‘Kudros’

Dark Blue was made of a clay that never fully hardened, representing knowledge and seriousness. A  golem body that moved on strange squishy limbs, it was nicknamed ‘Sapio’

Light Blue was made out of a bundle of sticks and feathers, representing trustworthiness and imagination. With 4 wings and a protective colorful helmet, it was nicknamed ‘Imagal

Green was made out of rocks and moss, with a water wheel for a heart, representing nature, peace, and security. With thundering steps and long locks of flowers, it was nicknamed ‘Portasnorm’

Yellow was made of fresh flowers and hay, representing happiness and hope. With skipping steps and nearly dancing gait, it was nicknamed ‘Optimim’

Orange was made of metal rods and blocks of cement, representing optimism and confidence. With clunking steps and a somewhat graceful movement, it was nicknamed ‘Elan’

Red was made from clay and hot coals, representing courage and to a lesser degree, anger. The closest thing to a somewhat human form, it was nicknamed ‘Valout’

Pink was made from unknown materials, representing love and passion. With small feathered wings and standing on 4 arms, it was nicknamed ‘Cupio’ 

When she was done with all of the Spectors, she named them all and showed them the purpose of their nature, but this time was cut short. In an shift of the ground that took out all the other sources of life on the planet, the artist panicked and sent all of the spectors into different ships and launched them across the universe, hoping they would all make it.

Although she thought she would’ve died soon after, a month later the artist remained. In her loneliness and in her thoughts, she finally saw how making the spectors could go terribly wrong. So, although she was crippled and weak, she gathered as much of the planet’s crystal as she could, and started making a knight.

She had heard stories of heroes from the other side of the universe, fighting back to protect the weak from the horrors out there. She wanted a hero to keep her safe for her final days, so she carved, polished, and enchanted the crystal, creating a knight who was given life with the power of the stars themselves. Starite Knight.

The artist took the knight and showed them the planet, which was dry and brittle. She told stories of the flowers and forests and the life that populated the universe. She gave it targets to practice using its weapons, ready to protect all who need it. And on her last day, the artist showed the knight the power of love by letting it hold her as she cried.

After the artist’s death, Starite used their small staff to return flowers to the planet, using them to seal the house of the artist shut forever. And the it launched itself into space, carrying out the mission and wish of it’s creator.

Most of Starite’s journey is unknown, but their most notable event is gifting Ripple Star its crystal. After fending off an attack from Dark Matter sometime inbetween the sealing of the Aeon Knight and the many series of events focused around Planet Popstar, Starite banished Dark Matter from taking over the galaxy. After the fight, the fairies who had recently become the dominant species on the planet Ripple Star, celebrated the victory. During this time, Starite Knight gifted a crystal to the planet to help keep the galaxy safe, as well as help make a crown for the known infamous Fairy Queen Ripple.

Several years ago, Starite Knight was cracked in battle. They continued fighting until it won, but their injuries weren’t easy to fix. Using their staff, they disguised themselves as a star so they could rest and heal. They remained this way, until Cupio made itself known again.

[xaracosmia]

ꕥ — WELCOME TO MARE COSMIA, RESENTMENT. 🌓

ꕥ  — OOC INFORMATION;

name / alias: arte(mis) age: 24 pronouns: they / she ooc contact: smearedcanvases twt, forgedsplendor tumblr other characters in xc: ( celiami ), getou suguru, kanon hisui

ꕥ  — IC INFORMATION;

name: ( the goddess of ) resentment age: immortal ( 1000+ years old ) pronouns: she / her series: oc canon point: n / a app triggers: death, vague mentions of death idealization, cannibalism

personality: she is resentment incarnate.

not always. but she has been, for the last thousand plus years, give or take— she’s lost count at this point. not that it matters. because of that much of the old person she once was has disappeared, and as a witch, after being stripped of her former identity what’s left is bitter and angry.

she is furious that the one she once considered her one and only friend left her to exist like this— and had the audacity to act like it was the best for them both, to be immortal and bound to the world forever. she is broken by the betrayal— that to this day, years and years and years later, death refuses to free her from the mortal realm and just let go.

she hates her. she loves her. it’s a terrible concoction, on the verge of exploding, but nowhere to go. instead it simmers, as she builds her energy, bides her time, waits and waits and waits.

one day she’ll reach the heavens, and drag down death herself. she’ll bring her to the edge of death, and only then, she dreams, will they both finally fall.

something your muse struggles with: it’s in the name. she holds grudges, and is overall just a huge hater… she’s bitter and angry. if you wrong her she will remember.

your muse’s greatest strength: she’s fiercely loyal. she loves deeply— how else would she hate just as passionately? 

history / background: 

once upon a time, a very long time ago, resentment was human.

… she remembers little of this, truthfully. what she does is fleeting. a simple human girl, with a foot in the supernatural. she could see things others could not— spirits, she’d called them, shaped by the whims of her fellow villagers. the little orange bundle of joy on her brother’s head. the blue fog of weariness like a cloak around her mother’s shoulders. and…

the other girl. she met her when she was twenty-one, standing over the body of her father, his green, broken soul in her hands. they’d met eyes. the other girl had smiled, waved—

and disappeared.

and disappeared. and disappeared. she haunted death, collecting souls. she haunted her, always only two steps behind. they became a sort of friends, in that way, and she began showing up even when there were no souls to take.

will you take mine? she’d ask. no, death said. it’s not your time.

and like that… death became her only friend. there was no one else to speak of spirits with, to muse over the dead, to take long walks in the forest even long after the sun came down.

death never left her side. fleeting moments, here and there— ( a soul to take, across the ocean. sorry, it was sudden. ) — but they were inseparable. it made it bearable. still, she asked—

is it time?

not yet, death would always say.

and that was that.

it wasn’t long before it caught up to her. it’s funny— she doesn’t remember how she died. it simply did, and she remembers, laying there, gasping up at the sky, blood pooling beneath her. she remembers death standing above her, blocking out the sun.

is it time? she gasped, choking on her own blood.

it is.

take it, then. let me be. let me go.

death stares at her. she does, for a very long time.

then she disappears.

powers / abilities: 

VICE. every witch has a unique ability to them, tied to their visage, from which they can use as a power source for their ability— something like a battery, though theoretically there is no upper limit. as the first and oldest witch, she has cannibalized several different witches and reapers throughout her time, and so has several abilities— 

FIRST VICE; the ability to create spirits. resentment can draw from her witch's visage to shape them into spirits of all kinds, beneath her control. she can put them together, pull them apart, or simply let them return to her well.

SECOND VICE; copycat. resentment can shapeshift.

THIRD VICE; she can alter the temperature of anything she comes into contact with.

FOURTH VICE; telekinesis. it’s what it says on the tin.

CANNIBALISM. witches can cannibalize other witches or grim reapers, gaining their contracts as well as respective visage and any abilities tied to them. however, as a result, they have gained everything relating to these witches / grim reapers— memories, emotions, even aspects of their personality, and it is reflected in their body as well. it is possible to repress some of these aspects, but in return, these vices weaken as well.

CONTRACT WRITING. witches and reapers are capable of writing contracts with others— with this, power can be exchanged, and when used between a human and a witch, in its basic form, witches can draw power from all of a human’s emotion, and not just their visage. however, this opens the witch to all of the human’s emotions, and will be reflected upon the witch as if they are their own; the strength of the emotions are directly correlated with just how much of their “well” a human has negotiated with the witch. the only exception to this is if a human sells their soul to the witch, from which the witch is completely free of consequence and free to use the human soul as they wish. 

inherent abilities: 

WITCH PHYSIOLOGY. witches are simply “rotten” human souls— if a grim reaper does not sever the threads tying their human souls to the human realm to pass onto the next, then souls rot and become witches. unlike grim reapers, who exist both on the human and spiritual planes, witches occupy the space between, walking the line between both; as a result, they can only be killed by grim reapers.

WITCH'S VISAGE. as a result of their strange status, witches wield incredible spiritual power. each embody the last, strongest feeling their soul “rotted” with, known as a “vice”— in resentment’s case, it’s, well, resentment. this means that resentment passively soaks up feelings of resentment from the humans around her, creating a well of spiritual power she can draw from and use; this is known as a witch's visage. additionally, this also allows her to control and manipulate any wayward, wild spirits made of her respective visage.

items / weapons: n / a

starting ability: first vice— spirit creation.

starting item: n / a

extra: nothing. hi guys

discord id: resentmentincarnate

[rosemary-morgan]

Draco Malfoy X F.Reader - Forbidden flower (Part 4)

(Pictures are not mine! Found on Pinterest/Google - Collage made by myself. OC Jericho Griffin belongs to me.)

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹

This AU is set 10 years after the Battle of Hogwarts

👉 Read PART 1  / 👉 Read PART 2  / 👉  Read PART 3

Summary: It's just you and Draco. A night full of passion and sins... ♥

Warning: NSFW 18+ and lots of fluff, romance and sweet, soft Draco

If you like the story, please, please reblog 🖤 it will help so much 🌻

Forbidden flower - Part 4

Draco sighed softly, kept watching the time, and hoped for the soon arrival of his girlfriend. In his hand he held a red rose and he could hardly wait to give it to her. He would have liked to give her a whole bouquet, but she would be unable to keep it in her home. 

Draco felt more and more worried about Y/N. In the last few weeks, Draco had also become familiar with the unpleasant side of her husband. Jericho had more and more often been noticed negatively at work, seeming hardly to be able to control himself when he was annoyed about something. Y/N hadn't mentioned  a single word that Jericho had ever gotten handsy with her, and Draco hoped that her husband would never dare. His thoughts faded as he saw Y/N leaving the store.

Y/N saw Draco and she instantly smiled, which he returned immediately - but her smile faded as Jericho appeared in the next moment. He just came out from behind Olivanders and headed straight for Y/N. Jericho didn't see Draco at all, for Draco was standing a few meters behind him. 

Panic instantly spread through Y/N's mind, because this was a risky moment. Draco didn't seem to have noticed her husband either, for he walked towards Y/N without any hesitation. Her eyes grew wide as she glanced briefly at Draco and he frowned in question, smiling nonetheless. He wondered why she suddenly looked so serious but Draco was not expecting that her husband would suddenly appear. Draco believed that Jericho was still sitting at his desk, working. To make things worse, Y/N saw the red rose in Draco's hand and if Jericho would see it too and then instantly he would understand what was going on between them. Y/N tried to keep a clear mind, but Draco sped up, almost catching up with Jericho. Now Y/N had to act quickly. Her heart was beating up to her throat and she turned pale. Her stomach contracted painfully and it felt like she was about to throw up. But she walked purposefully towards Jericho and greeted him;loud enough so that Draco would hear it too and understand what was happening.

"Hi Jericho!"

Abruptly, Draco stopped, feeling as if he had been struck by lightning and turned away from her, his heart pounding. The blond man stayed in place for the moment, overhearing the two of them and watching Y/N forcing herself to ignore him, as hard as it was for her. 

"Surprise, sweetheart!"

When Draco heard him speak, he felt sick. Sweetheart? No, she certainly wasn't his sweetie! Jealousy crept up involuntarily in Draco and he clenched his jaw tightly so that his bones were clearly pressing through under his skin. 

"I thought you were going to be working late again tonight?"

"Aren't you glad to see me, Y/N? Though I was going to give you a treat and take you out for dinner!"

Draco held back hard, hating the thought of her having to spend the evening with Jericho. The young Malfoy made his way down one of the narrow alleys, close enough to keep an eye on the two of them. It drove him crazy to see Jericho kissing and touching her. Stroking through her soft hair and seeing how uncomfortable it made her. Instantly, Draco couldn't help but think of that awful dinner where Jericho had treated his wife with no respect at all.

"Come on, sweetie. Let's enjoy tonight. We haven't spent time together for a long while!"

Draco would have loved to throw several curses at him, but he didn't. Not when Y/N was around and obviously Y/N was afraid of being caught having an affair with him. Draco looked down at the rose in his hand and sighed heavily before leaning the back of his head against the wall. 

"Fuck..."

From that day on, Jericho waited for Y/N every single day and Draco didn't even have a chance to talk to her. This had been going on for four days and the young Malfoy thought he was going crazy. Jericho didn't seem to let his wife out of his sight anymore and he left his workplace much earlier than usual. Draco couldn't visit her at work either, for she was never alone there. It was a crappy situation, that much was certain. He had to figure something out if Draco wanted to see his lover. And Y/N liked the current situation even less; Jericho didn't leave her side, seeming to be his old self. He brought her flowers, gave her gifts and was charming. But Y/N was not stupid, knowing that this was not his true nature. Whatever got into him, she didn't trust him. Too much evil had happened between them and Y/N would never forgive him. No matter how hard Jericho would try, he had already lost her. Draco was the only man she wanted and she had to see him. The young woman reached for other ways to make that happen...

♦♦♦♦

"Sit down, Jericho. Dinner will be ready in a minute."

He hugged his wife from behind, burying his face in the crook of her neck and breathing in her scent. Y/N shivered and closed her eyes for a moment, simply disgusted when Jericho got too close.

"Can't we just skip dinner? And go upstairs?", Jericho whispered hoarsely in her ear, making her shiver even more. 

"No, Jericho..."

"Come on, sweetie. It's been so long since we last had sex. Why don't you feel like it?"

What was she supposed to say in response? That she found him disgusting? That she loved and desired another man? Oh, Jericho would freak out! And Draco probably would too, if she gave Jericho what he demanded.

"I just don't feel like it lately."

She heard Jericho sigh and when he let go of her, she instantly reached for the plates she had already filled with food. Wordlessly, she walked to the table where she placed everything.

"You never feel like it. I just wonder why? Am I not good enough in bed for you?"

There he was again. The selfish, neurotic Jericho. 

"Not today, Jericho. Please. Sit down and have dinner with me."

She tried the quiet way, and sometimes it worked but once she got into an argument, she was lost. By now she knew how to deal with her husband. Nevertheless, it was not easy to restrain him, as it was now. He did sit down at the table, but Y/N flinched now and then at his abrupt movements. She averted her eyes from him while he stared at her, and of course it didn't escape her. It was more than uncomfortable, but she tried to focus on her food with her appetite gone. Jericho, on the other hand, ate everything Y/N had cooked him. Y/N just poked around in her plate, taking a bite or two. Again and again she looked furtively at him and wondered when the effect of the potion she had secretly bought would finally take effect. This potion was supposed to make him completely sleepy within a few minutes and put him out of action for the next eight hours. And when Jericho finally began to yawn, Y/N smirked unremarkably. Jericho himself didn't even think that Y/N might have added something into his food. Still, he found it strange that he suddenly became so tired.

"Fuck... I'm going to lie down. I can barely keep my eyes open..."

Jericho already rose and left the kitchen without further ado. Y/N glared after him until he disappeared from her sight. Impatiently she tapped her fingers on the wooden table, waiting for him to finally get upstairs to the bedroom. When she heard him going up the stairs, she slowly rose from her seat. Not much longer and she would finally see Draco...

♦♦♦♦

"Let me take care of your coat," the soft voice behind her said, and Y/N undid the last button, slowly pulling the fabric over her shoulders, tilting her head a little to the side, and she could clearly feel Draco's breath on her neck. He was more than surprised to see Y/N at this late hour, but all the more pleased. Draco slowly took off her coat and didn't take his eyes off her for a second. It took a lot of strength for him not to kiss her senseless. His focus was on her delicate neck and without really thinking about it, he gently caressed her skin with his fingers. Instantly the young woman closed her eyes and enjoyed this wonderful feeling that he caused inside her. 

With one hand, Draco brushed her hair aside and he smoothed a gentle kiss on her neck, whereupon she panted softly. She lifted her hand and placed it on the back of his head as Draco's hands slowly stroked her sides and he eventually wrapped his arms around her stomach.

"God, I've missed you, Y/N..."

He couldn't have endured another day without her, and he was happy to have her with him in his house.

"I almost went crazy without you," he whispered hoarsely.

His words brought a smile to her lips and she felt so wanted. She turned to him, their eyes met, and Y/N lost herself in his blue eyes. As Draco leaned in towards her, their faces were now very close and her heartbeat quickened. Naturally, their lips found each other and the moment Draco kissed her, her eyes closed. Her arms wrapped around his neck as they exchanged a tender kiss and Y/N instantly felt her pussy begin to tingle. There was so much desire, so much lust in that kiss. Sensually, Y/N whispered his name as he began to caress her neck again. She desperately clawed into his blond hair and tried to control her trembling voice, yet again and again a pleasurable groan escaped her. For Draco, this was pure music. His body was on fire, for he desired this woman like no other. He was nervous and also excited, but he managed to hide this well. 

His hands enclosed her petite shoulders as he opened his mouth a crack wide to glide his tongue over her soft lips. This was more than appreciated by Y/N and a passionate dance began between their tongues, making them both moan with pleasure. As if guided by an invisible force, they both went to Dracos bedroom. 

And once there, the two began removing each other's clothes, slowly dropping them to the floor one by one.

"Draco..."

His name fell softly over her lips as her fingers stroked his bare chest. Draco kissed her, looking into her face with half-opened eyes as he gently cupped her neck before covering it with fiery kisses. Full of pleasure, Y/N closed his eyes, moaning softly. Draco could hardly believe his luck. This wonderful and tender creature in his arms was the best thing that could happen to him. After all the years of loneliness and regret, Draco finally found peace in Y/N's lap. 

"Y/N..."

He whispered her name as he looked at her, gently stroking through her hair.

"Do you want to do this?"

Y/N felt so valued and it warmed her heart. Jericho had never treated her so lovingly before and it moved her to tears.

Draco saw the tears in her eyes, but he also saw her smile and she assured him that she wanted that. With a contented sigh, Draco kissed her and Y/N instantly wrapped her hands around his neck. 

"Draco, I want you," she whispered and her beautiful eyes looked at him full of love. "I'm very attracted to you and I can't imagine anything more beautiful right now. I want to make love to you."

Draco took great joy in her words. He leaned his forehead against hers and smiled, closing his eyes for a moment.

"You mean a lot to me, Y/N, and I want to see you happy."

Y/N kissed him with affection before nuzzling her cheek against his and sliding her hands into his blond hair. For a while they remained tightly in an embrace, whispering loving words to each other, until finally Draco lifted her in his arms and carried her to bed. There he laid her down, looking down at her from above, admiring her body. Naked and beautiful as she was created, she lay before him.

"Beautiful," he whispered as he did not take his eyes from her body.

The young woman looked at him, admiring the slender but quite powerful and well-trained body. His cock was already aroused and she almost feared that he might be too big for her.

"Come to me, Draco," she whispered, reaching out to him, an invitation which he gently took. He half lay on top of her, careful not to burden her with his weight. Her warm body felt so wonderful that he sighed in pleasure. He could clearly feel her breasts nestling against his skin.

Y/N's hands slid over his shoulders as he moved his arms under her back, and put one hand on the back of her neck, to support her a bit while he kissed her tenderly. The young woman literally melted in his arms. 

"Y/N"

He whispered her name.

"I want to touch you. I want to kiss every part of your body..."

At his words, the young woman sighed with anticipation.

"Then touch me, Draco," she replied as she took his hand and placed it on her breast. Draco grabbed hold of her firm and delicious flesh, moaning deep in arousal.

The young man bent down to her breasts and instantly closed his lips around the rosy bud. A soft, lustful gasp was heard from his lover as he began sucking on her nipple. Her fingers buried themselves in his blond hair, pressing him closer to feel more of that intense sensation. When Draco heard how much she liked what he was doing, he became even more passionate. His hand moved down her body. First over her hip, then further and further down until he reached the sensitive spot between her thighs. An audible sigh escaped her pretty lips as Draco caressed her and she opened her legs for him, allowing him more room to play. Draco looked up at her with a confident smile, and the lust that was visible on her face was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. He grinned, sliding his tongue around the hard bud as he did so, and he could already feel on his fingers how wet she was getting from his touch. With a soft smack, he let go of her nipple, kissing his way down her body with hunger and desire. Y/N blushed as she realized how close he was getting to her pussy and before she could think about it any further, she saw him already lying between her legs. Full of pleasure, she bit her lips and couldn't wait to be licked by him. 

Draco's hands gently ran over her thighs and he looked at her beautiful womanhood; this sight aroused him very much and her scent overwhelmed him. The young man looked up at her, wanting to make sure that what he was doing was okay. Her beautiful eyes looked at him with curiosity and she reached out to him, stroking through his hair. 

"May I?" he asked softly, with the thought of tasting her driving him mad with lust. He moistened his lower lip with the tip of his tongue as he waited for an answer from her. He would have loved to throw himself over her, making love at her like mad. However, Draco was not to wait long for a response as she nodded at him, and she saw Draco lower his face between her thighs. The moment Draco's tongue caressed her clitoris, her head fell back into the soft pillows.

His tongue circled her pearl, then drove between the wet, soft cleft of her inner labia. Letting her delicious nectar melt on his tongue, Y/N reached into his hair and clawed at it, making Draco hum softly. It was a contented hum that testified to how much he was enjoying this. The young woman kept panting lustfully as he licked her and sucked on her swollen labia. She thought she was going to lose her mind.

"Draco!"

This time she moaned a little louder, her body arching up and her legs began to tremble. Her climax would not be long in coming, that much was certain. As his tongue slid into her wet opening, she felt endless pleasure. She had never experienced anything so wonderful before. Draco took his time with her and gave her what was good for her.

"D-Draco..."

Suddenly she was overcome with such a violent orgasm that she cried out loud. Draco looked up at her, his gaze full of desire for her. His hands held her by the hips so there was no escape from his tongue. She felt hot, very hot, and her heart was hammering madly against her chest. Her climax ebbed only slowly and she enjoyed every single moment. 

Draco spread soft kisses over her inner thighs, possessing himself one last time over her sweet, wet center that shimmered brilliantly before kissing his way up her body.

Y/N could taste herself as Draco kissed her on the mouth; it was an unfamiliar sensation, but an arousing one at the same time.

Her throbbing center yearned for Draco and she felt his thick shaft pressing against her thigh, eagerly waiting to finally plunge into her.

"Y/N"

Draco watched her from under half lowered lids as Y/N nestled her abdomen against his, feeling the velvety tip of his cock pressing against her clit.

"Draco, I need you," she whispered with lust. The blond man reached between their two bodies for his erected penis, rubbing it first against her wet labia before gently pushing himself inside her.

Y/N's gaze moved down, wanting to watch him slide into her, finally making her his.

Her fingers clawed into his forearms and she looked up into his handsome face, which contorted with lust as he penetrated her inch by inch. Y/N let her head sink back into the pillow as she joined him in letting out a moan of pleasure.

He didn't move at first, wanting to let this wonderful feeling of being inside her take effect on him. When he bent down to her, his lips touched her face. He kissed her temple and let his lips brush over her eyebrow. When she lowered her lashes, he kissed her eyelid very gently. His tongue slid over her cheek, and finally his lips took her mouth in possession. He kissed her with such tenderness that she melted. She noticed the scent of the man she was hugging - fresh mint, and his kisses tasted the same. She opened her mouth to his searching tongue and gave in to his desire. Draco gripped her bare tit with the palm of his hand, stroking the tip of her nipple with his thumb. She moaned out as a shiver of purest pleasure took possession of her body. His hands moved down her body, the hot touch of his fingers on her naked flesh arousing her deeply. Clinging to him, she enjoyed his taste and scent, as well as the feeling of him deep inside her. Her soft curves pressed against the hard length of his body. When he began thrusting into her, they moaned together and Draco reached for her hand, letting his fingers slide between hers as he made love to her. She was tight and warm. When he felt her thigh brush against his, fire shot through his loins. Gasping and moaning, he thrust himself into her, sliding out of her silky cunt, and back in again and again.

Lust filled voices and the scent of her arousal was in the air.Y/N couldn't remember the last time she had been this happy. Draco was gentle, whispering sweet words to her over and over, which made her smile, but blush at the same time.

"Draco... this is so good..."

"Mmmm..."

Draco looked down at this beautiful woman and by God, what a glorious feeling that was!

"You're mine, Y/N..."

Draco was possessive, yes. But he wanted to make it clear once and for all that she didn't belong to her husband Jericho. That man didn't deserve her and he would never keep her with him.

"Say it, Y/N... I want to hear it."

"I'm yours, Draco..."

And to him alone. Her thoughts only circled around the young Malfoy and Jericho was completely forgotten at the moment. She would come again tonight, she felt it clearly and Draco was already starting to come. His thrusts became a little rougher, a little less precise and his abdomen began to tremble. Y/N pressed her lover against her, her fingers dipped in his blond hair, she moaned his name in his ear, and finally her climax burst upon her and took her into the sky. He thrust himself hard into her, clawing hard into her hips, and then when the wave of lust overtook him, he pulled out of her and squirted his seed onto her belly. This sight was pure sin and Draco more than enjoyed seeing her satisfied and happy. The cum was sticking to her skin, which was more than tempting. A soft purr left his lips as he finally leaned down to her and tenderly kissed her sweet mouth. His eyes showed pure love as he looked at her. Gently, he stroked through her full hair, then slid his thumb gently across her cheek. Her beautiful eyes shimmered like two stars and he saw the tears that had built up in them. But Y/N smiled, for she was so happy and this feeling literally overwhelmed her, finally began to cry. Draco kissed each tear from her cheeks, whispering loving words to her and Y/N, could not believe her luck.

Draco lied down next to her. Somewhat exhausted, but completely filled with happiness, he closed his eyes before pulling Y/N to his chest. A blissful sigh left her lips as she snuggled against his warm body. But as soon as Y/N would get out of bed and touch the floor, this beautiful moment would burst. Like a bubble…

♦♦♦♦

Tenderly, Draco stroked through her hair as her face rested against his chest and she stroked his skin. She had seen the large scars on his forearm, but hadn't spoke to  him about it. Each injury had its own story.

"I have to go soon, Draco..."

But Draco didn't want to hear that at all. However, he could not stop her. He still didn't understand why she wanted to go back to Jericho. She had no business there anymore! Her place was here, by his side.

"I don't want to let you go to him, Y/N," he whispered, and she looked up at him. "I can't stand the thought of him touching you... Stay here. You don't have to go back to him."

"I have to, Draco. The potion will lose its effect in a few hours."

"The potion?"

He raised his brows in surprise when she spoke of a potion. Now Draco understood why it had been possible for her to sneak out of the house at such a late hour.

"Yes. Otherwise it wouldn't be possible for me to be with you at all."

And she would continue to give this potion to him. It was an elaborate potion, but it was damn effective; if prepared properly. However, the young woman did not mention that she had bought the potion in a store in Knockturn Alley...

"Well, well. The Gryiffindor is using the tricks of a Slytherin. I guess there is a little Slytherin behind that cute shell of yours though?"

The young woman laughed softly. 

"I'm still a Gryiffindor. But I'm in love with a Slytherin."

When Draco heard this, his expression became quite serious and yet his eyes radiated so much love.

"I love you, Y/N."

And with a deep kiss he testified his words...

[jerzwriter]

Best Men

Book: Open Heart (Post Series)

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey MacTavish)

Others: Ethan Ramsey, M!OC (Jordan Carrick)

Category: Angsty, but some fuff

Words: 2300

Summary: Not everyone is happy to hear Tobias & Casey's news, but others help them through, and Ethan is elated with his new role.

A/N: OK, Jordan comes off as a total douche in this segment; you'll hate him. But there is more at play then meets the eye. Plus, he's really cute, so you'll forgive him down the line. lol

@choices-november2022 - Day 30 - It isn't over.

Casey & Tobias Masterlist C&T Wedding & Baby Stories Masterlist

“Well, I hear congratulations are in order,” a boisterous middle-aged man slapped Tobias on the back a little too hard. “At least to you, Carrick. Dr. MacTavish has our sympathies.”

Casey looked up from a folder with a forced smile as Tobias addressed the doctor.

“You’re a regular riot, Nieves.”

“You can’t really blame him,” Nurse Audrey jumped in. “No one ever expected the Tobias Carrick to go anywhere near the M word.”

“I don’t know,” Tobias asserted. “The old me, sure, you couldn’t say that. But anyone paying attention the past two years knows I’m crazy about Casey. If our engagement comes as a shock to anyone, all it tells me is they’re not very observant.”

Tobias locked eyes with Audrey, daring her to continue. But Audrey had grown bored, and with a shrug of her shoulders and a playful smirk, she was gone. So Tobias turned back to Dr. Nieves. “You have anything else to say?”

“Only congratulations to you both. I mean it.”

Tobias scooted closer to Casey as soon as they were alone. “You all right?” He whispered.

“Yeah. Those two are always snarky and believe themselves to be much more amusing than they are. Most people have been thrilled to hear our news.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, leaning in even closer, “and wait until they hear the rest.”

“Tobias Carrick, I swear to god if you blow our cover.”

“I’m not,” he grinned. “I’m content sharing the engagement… for now.”

“Hmm, and speaking of sharing our engagement, have you gotten in touch with your brother yet?”

"Huh? Oh, yeah," Tobias answered, returning to completing his chart. "I left him a message."

"A new message? Or the same message from last week."

"It's a message. Don't worry, we'll get in touch, and even if we don't, my mom will fill him in."

"That's the problem, T. Do you really want your brother to learn we’re getting married from your Mom?"

"Casey," he smiled, reaching over to kiss her forehead. "You worry too much. Leave this to me. It'll be fine."

“Famous last words,” she sighed.

“Trust me.”

~~~~~

Several hours later, Tobias and Ethan were silently reviewing notes in the DT office when, in an unusual turn of events, Ethan broke the silence.

“You know I’ve been thinking about being in your bridal party.”

“What, getting cold feet?”

“No, it’s just the title of best man… it’s rather foolish. If I were truly the best man, wouldn’t it stand to reason that Casey would be marrying me? They should change the title.”

Tobias’s eyes shot up at his friend and boss, “You know that might be funnier if you hadn’t been involved with my future wife in the past,” Tobias snickered. “But I see your point. How about we just call you my honor attendant.”

“That works,” Ethan smiled. “I’m still surprised you asked me.”

“Asked you what?” Casey inquired when she came into the room.

“To be your best ma… uh.. honor attendant,” Ethan smiled.

Casey stood behind Tobias and gently rubbed his shoulders before continuing. 

“Why wouldn’t he? You’re his best friend and one of mine, too. We’re honored that you are our… honor attendant.”

Ethan tilted his head in the couple’s direction with a content look… there was a time, not long ago, when he could never have imagined the three of them ending up here. “Well, it really means a lot to me. It’s an honor I don’t take lightly.”

“Stop getting all sentimental,” Tobias teased. “If you’re acting this way now, wait until you hear our other news.”

“Other news?” Ethan scrunched his nose. “What other news?”

Tobias looked at Casey, who nodded in response to his wordless question. 

“Well, buddy, Casey and I talked, and we’d like you to be our baby’s godfather. Now, I know that God isn’t really your thing, and, well… babies aren’t really your thing… so if you don’t want….”

“Hun,” Casey tapped Tobias’s shoulder. “Stop rambling for a second so you can enjoy the moment. You’ve rendered Ethan speechless.”

He looked over to find his friend slackjawed. 

“Is that a good shocked, or an oh, shit, how do I get out of this shocked?” He asked.

“You’re… you’re sure?” Ethan stuttered.

“Hey, I get that you may not fully trust him, but I’m here. So you know it’s legit,” Casey beamed. 

“I’d be… I’d be honored,” Ethan jumped up from his seat to shake Tobias’s hand, but he was having none of that as he pulled him into a bro-hug. Then it was Casey’s turn for a long embrace.  

“This means you’re going to be even more of an overprotective pain in the ass, doesn’t it?” she giggled into his ear.

“Oh, you better believe it,” Ethan assured.

“Well, take it easy. We can always rescind.”

“Nope, this is a no-returns offer,” Ethan laughed. “Wow. I’m going to be a godfather.”

“Is that title OK?” Tobias teased. “Or do you take issue with that too?”

“You know, I’m really glad you chose me. This child’s going to need a positive influence to counterbalance you.”

“You’re a comedian, Ramsey,” Tobias laughed as his phone beeped. “Oh, it looks like I’ve got more good news to spread!”

“Who is it?” Casey asked.

“Jordan. He’s going to be in town for a shoot tomorrow and wants to get together.”

“Finally!” Casey beamed. “I’m glad he’ll finally know.”

~~~~~

The next evening, Casey had wedding errands to run with Sienna. After giving her a kiss goodbye, Tobias got some snacks together for his brother’s arrival.

“Hey, look what the wind blew in,” he grinned as he greeted his brother at the door.

“It’s good seeing you, T.”

“So good? Then why haven’t you returned any of my calls?”

“I knew I was coming to Boston,” Jordan shrugged. “So, I knew we’d be chatting soon enough.”

“Well, you could have filled me in on that!”

His brother smiled an intoxicating smile with a little shrug, and Tobias laughed. The trademark Carrick charm. They had both evaded a multitude of situations with that disarming technique. Did he think it was going to work on him? 

“No matter,” Tobias assured. “It works out perfectly. Casey’s running some errands, and I really wanted to talk to you alone.”

“Ooh! Something we can’t discuss in front of Casey. This took longer than I expected. I gave 6-8 months at best.”

“Oh yea, what’s that?” Tobias asked.

“You coming to the realization that a mundane, monogamous life wasn’t what they show in the brochures. So tell me, what’s her name?” Jordan smirked.

Tobias let out a scornful laugh. “As usual, you’re far off the mark, little brother. Her name is Casey, and my news is quite the opposite of your delusions.”   

“What’s the opposite? You’re already living the opposite. I never thought I’d see you settle down, and I’m not alone.”

“Well, I’m all about defying odds,” Tobias smiled. “So this will really blow you away… Casey and I are getting married.”

“Right!” Jordan laughed, “No, come on, really. What’s up?”

“What’s up is I’m getting married.”

Tobias waited in silence as he watched the shock on his brother’s face, but it wasn’t the happy sort of shock the news had elicited in others.

“You… but… you … you never wanted to get married? I think you once referred to it as a death sentence.”

“Yeah, well, growth is good. Look, I didn’t want a lot of things before Casey, but now… I want it all with her. I’m really happy, bro. Can you chill and be happy for me.”

“I… I can try, but… are you sure? I mean, Casey has always been sweet, she seems nice enough, but you haven’t even been together that long.”

“We’ve been together, in some capacity or another, for almost two years, Jordan. I didn’t meet her last week.”

“In some capacity…” Jordan scoffed as any trace of amusement washed away from Tobias’s face.

“Jordan, where the hell is this coming from? I get that my life has changed, but it’s changed for the better. Casey is the love of my life, and I’m over the moon. We both are. This is my choice… can you just say congratulations and move on like everyone else.”

“So you’ve already told Mom.”

“Yes, and she’s elated…She loves Casey.”

“Of course, she’s elated! She’s been dying for this moment since you hit puberty. She’s not thinking clearly. Casey is great, but….”

“But what?” Tobias seethed.

“She's not from our world, T. How do you think she’ll handle one of Mom’s dinners when she has to sit next to ambassadors?”

“Like a goddamn champ, that’s how. We’ve been to a few already, and while it’s not either of our scenes, she’s been amazing.”

“Not her scene… you sure about that?”

“Where are you heading with this baby brother? And I’d tread very lightly if I were you.”

“Look, it’s no secret that many women see us as a golden ticket. We live a very privileged life, and… well…tell me you have a prenup at least.”

“OK, cut it right there! What you don’t know about Casey is a lot. My wealth was actually a deterrent to her. Now, she will be your sister-in-law, and I expect you to treat her with the kindness and respect she deserves. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Jordan said, shaking his head. “So when is this happening?”

“We’re getting married in six weeks.”

“In six… in six weeks? Are you out of your mind? Whose idea was this? Yours or hers? T, you’re my brother, and I have to look out for you… this is screaming get you to sign on the dotted line before you change your mind.”

“You're my brother? You sure as hell aren’t acting like it. Have you not seen me for the past two years? Do you not realize how in love we are? How happy I’ve been? Is it so impossible to believe that I might grow up one day and want this life?”

“Fine! Then get married in a couple years, a year even… six months. But six weeks? What the hell? Is she pregnant?”

Seething, Tobias didn’t respond immediately, and that gave Jordan the answer he needed.

“Oh my God,” he laughed. “Are you kidding me? That’s the oldest trick in the… Was this planned or a happy little surprise.”

Tobias reached the end of his rope. His face bright red as his patience wore completely away. 

“Let me make something clear to you, baby brother.  Casey is the woman I love, and the day we learned we were going to have a child together was the happiest day of my life. That little one already has my heart. They are the two most important people in my life! You will not talk about my baby like she’s a dirty little mistake, and you will not disrespect my fiance, or else….”  

“Or else what, big brother?”

“Or else you won’t have a place in our lives.”

“Isn’t that special,” Jordan smirked. “It wouldn’t be the first time, would it, brother?”

“The past is the past, Jordan. It’s resolved, and it has nothing to do with this.”

“You know what,” Jordan said, heading toward the door. “Maybe by some miracle, you’ll figure out a way to work this out, but I’ve known you your whole life, and I know better. There’s no place for me? Well, when this hits the fan, and you come looking for me? Don’t be so sure I’ll be there.”

“Noted.” Tobias spat. “That’s not going to happen, but after tonight, if it did… you’d be the last person I’d turn to. Now I want you to get the hell out of my house… our house… before Casey is back.”

Jordan held his hands up, “Don’t worry. I’m out. Good luck, T.”

Tobias let out a shuddering breath the minute the door closed. Clutching his hair in both hands and breathing through his teeth as he paced the floor. He considered punching a wall, but he thought better. But he needed to get the anger out. Normally, he’d turn to Casey, but the thought of sharing this with her…. He opened the sliding doors to the backyard with his phone in his hand, already dialing when he sat.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, let’s skip the small talk,” he breathed. “I just have one question.”

“OK, what’s that?” Ethan asked.

“How the fuck were you lucky enough to be an only child?”

“Well,” Ethan chuckled, “considering my mother's parenting skills, maybe they decided to only fuck up one life. Now, what’s going on?”

Over the next thirty minutes, Tobias relayed the story as Ethan listened patiently, talking his friend off the ledge a little at a time. When his breathing and heart rate returned to normal, and he no longer wanted to flip over a table, he asked Ethan for advice.

“Did I overreact?”

“Look, he’s your brother… but I punched a man out at a medical conference for less. I think you showed great restraint. Just wait until your mother gets a hold of this.”

“Yeah, well, that’s on him. What do I tell Casey? She’s going to be home any minute.”

“Be honest, but soften it. She doesn’t need to know all the details.”

“This is going to hurt her. I don’t like seeing her hurt….”

“You’re hurt too, and she won’t like that. You’re not getting through life without being hurt, T. But you two are a team. You’ll be all right.”

“Yeah,” Tobias smiled. “We will be. Hey, when the hell did you become so knowledgeable?”

“Me? I’m always knowledgeable when dealing with other's issues, but if it’s any consolation when it comes to my own? I’m still a mess.”

“Ain’t that always the way,” Tobias laughed. “I’m going to wait for Casey, but Ethan… thanks, man. It’s good to know I still have one brother by my side.”

“Always.  Let me know if you or Casey need anything. Including me taking a swing at your other brother.”

“Will do, man,” Tobias laughed. “Will do.”

Tobias went inside and sat on the couch, and after a short time, he heard Casey’s key slip in the front door… and he smiled. His Casey. Ethan was right. They had each other, and as long as they did, it would all be OK.

[harleybeaumont]

Searching For The Truth

Book - TRR AU (The Other Nevrakis)

Pairings - Drake x Lilith (OC), Liam x Riley (implied)

A/N - This fic was initiated from a writing prompt. For some reason, my mind went this direction with it, but I can’t say I’m mad about it. I had a lot of fun writing it, and I’m pretty proud of it. So thanks @choicesprompts​​ for letting me take part in this! The bolded section at the beginning is from the prompt and the rest is mine. 

A/N 2 - This is from my fic, The Other Nevrakis, set shortly after the book ends. If you haven’t read my fic, Lilith is my OC who is Olivia’s younger sister. You don’t need to have read my fic to understand this one shot.

Word Count - 4,880

Warnings - Language, blood, violence

18+ only

The cool wind pushes my hair back as I walk along the familiar path, every step taking me deeper into the past. It’s been years since I’ve been here; everything is different.

Everything is the same.

I’m not paying attention to the present as I walk, I’m too lost in memories of long ago. That’s why I don’t notice the person walking towards me until I hear a familiar voice call my name.

I freeze. It can’t be. What are the odds?

I lift my head as my eyes dart wildly around before finally landing on a face I’d recognize anywhere, even now.

“It’s you.” She says coldly. 

I’m speechless. How did that old shrew manage to sneak up on me like this?

My heart pounds as I look into the pale, harsh face of the woman who resembles my father.. The father I only know from photographs. The father who I discovered never even wanted me. The father who, along with my mother, planned a coup to overthrow the royal family when I was only a toddler. The father who was arrested and mysteriously found dead days later.

 I don’t know why I’m so surprised to see her. I mean, I am in the gardens of her home and I did come here with the intention to talk to her. I suppose it’s because I was hoping for more time to collect my thoughts before I spoke to her. Perhaps it’s because the last time I saw her, I was a small frightened child. Her red hair is now streaked with coarse, gray strands, and the years have only managed to make her frown even more callous and abrasive than I remember.

“Why did you come back here, girl?” The severe red-head woman demands, as if I’m an unwanted guest and not her niece.

I take a steadying breath, preparing to ask what I had rehearsed in my head a hundred times before. 

Lucretia has always been cold. I mean, she left Olivia and I to be raised by strangers for our entire youth after our parents passed away. She could have taken us in. Hell, any of our distant family members could have. Although, looking back I can't help but feel grateful that they didn’t. Life had been difficult growing up with Olivia, but I can't imagine Lucretia being the warm, friendly, mom-figure I always wanted. 

I hold my head high when I speak, despite her penetrating gaze that leaves me feeling as if I’ve suddenly aged in reverse and once again am that trembling, intimidated girl who just wants to be loved by her aunt. “I came to ask you something.”

Lucretia cuts her eyes across the garden we’re standing in, looking toward her imposing, forbidding manor. “Come inside then.”

I follow behind her, while the frost covered leaves crunch underfoot. It’s September, although in Lythikos it feels more like January. We only have two temperatures here: cold, and fucking freezing. I always felt as if the Nevrakis heritage had something to do with that. Some ancient curse from hundreds of years ago. Maybe some old witch hexed our duchy to be as cold as our hearts. It makes sense.. the Nevrakis have never been known for anything else.

I step inside, and the temperature isn’t much warmer than the frigid outside air. I haven’t been here since I was young. I honestly never thought I would come back. Why would I want to? That question had been easy to answer up until recently.

“May I take your coat, my Lady?” A stooped, frail man asks as he approaches me.

I wrap my fur-lined garment around myself tighter. “No, thank you.” This place is an icebox, there’s no way I’m taking this coat off. The cold never used to bother me.. That is until I met someone who made me realize how much better life is when you aren’t alone. I really wish he was here to wrap his arms around me and warm me up. It still amazes me how much I changed for the better since I met him. 

Lucretia clears her throat loudly and intentionally, pulling my thoughts from Drake, and bringing me back to the dusty, dank foyer I’m standing in. 

“Come on, girl, we can sit in the parlor.” She turns and walks off without waiting to see if I will follow.

The entire estate is dark. Like dark, dark. It feels like something out of a horror film. I half expect Dracula to be skulking around the pitch black hallways, and once again I am very thankful that I wasn't raised here.

I follow my aunt into the parlor, which is only lit by candles and a meager fire in the hearth. What the hell is with this woman?

She sits in an antique chair and I reluctantly take a seat across from her, unable to miss the smattering of dust particles that fly into the air as I do so. There are several old paintings of past Nevrakis nobles and warriors adorning the walls. Many I’ve seen before, as they are also lining the walls of our estate. I can’t help but think of how Drake would feel if he was in here. He’d probably be telling me to get the hell out of this creepy ass house. Riley is a straight up coward and would have never even gone in. Liam.. well Liam is a bit of a wild card. I never know what to expect from him. His sense of duty and propriety would probably have him play the perfect guest, even though Lucretia's home looks like a haunted house. I cannot wait to tell them about how creepy this place looks on the inside. Maybe I should discreetly snap some pictures so they’ll actually believe me.

An elderly woman with trembling hands approaches the two of us, holding a tray with a black and gold china teapot and two cups and saucers. “Here you are, my ladies.” She bows and slips back into the shadows.

Lucretia pours her own tea first. An intentional gesture from her that says she has no respect for me whatsoever and doesn’t want me here. I’m tired of the passive aggressive bullshit. “Lucretia, I-”

“Ahem.” She clears her throat loudly. “I know why you’re here.”

“Ok.” I maintain eye contact while her red lips curl into a snarl.

“You want to know more about your parents.” She says matter of factly.

I don’t suppose it’s any surprise. There’s no other reason why I would ever want to come here or speak with her. But she is the only one who can tell me anything about them now.

I nod and pour myself some tea. “Not just that. I-”

“You want to know how they died.” She interrupts again with a smirk.

I wait to see if she has more to say, but she just raises that pointed eyebrow that looks exactly like my sister’s and continues her cold grin. 

“Yes.”

Lucretia places her cup on the table and sits back crossing her legs, adjusting her velvet crimson dress over her lap. Instead of answering me, she lets out a laugh that feels as if she’s taunting me. Of course this isn’t going to be easy. I knew it wouldn't be, but I hadn’t planned on her being so damn smug. 

She wants to be a bitch? Fine. I can play that game. “Look, I don’t remember anything about them, obviously, seeing as how I was practically a baby when they died. As my father’s only sister, I thought you would have obtained plenty of information about their death. But I suppose some Nevrakis are not as competent as others.”

Lucretia’s eyes narrow to slits as she glares. “You’re one to talk. Traitor.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” I cross my arms, refusing to back down from the challenging look in her eyes.

She lets out a condescending laugh. “Why don’t you just head on back to the palace to your cronies? I mean, one of them is the son of the man who killed your parents.”

Well.. Constantine killed them. That’s not as much of a shock as it probably should be. “Liam has nothing to do with what his father did. He was a child when it happened.”

Lucretia rolls her eyes. “You think Constantine didn’t raise his sons to be just like him?” She scoffs, taking a sip of her tea before speaking again. “That entire family is corrupt.”

“You think that my parents planning to overthrow and murder their entire family isn’t ‘corrupt’?”

Lucretia leans forward, speaking quietly. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Enlighten me then. Please.” I scoff. “Tell me how my parents were justified in their actions of attempted treason and murder.”

“My god, Lilith. You’re in so deep with the Rys family that you are becoming one of them!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Lucretia smirks and I can tell she knows something she’s not saying. She thinks she has the upper hand and I need her to keep talking. “Little girl, if you think I don’t have sources, then you are sorely mistaken. For instance.. I know you and your low-born lover are involved in the occasional dalliance with King Liam and Queen Riley.”

I try to mask my surprise and keep my face neutral. How the fuck does she know anything about that? Nobody knows about that. No, she doesn’t know. She’s bluffing or talking about something else. Come on, Lilith calm down. Don’t forget why you’re here. “Yes, I am friends with them, but I’m not sure what you’re trying to imply.” I try to look aloof as I sip my tea, which by the way, tastes like old potting soil.

“I wonder what the Cordonian citizens would think about their King and Queen fornicating with a commoner and a Nevrakis.”

Ah fuck, she really does know. It’s not like it’s even a daily thing that happens. Like once a month.. Maybe twice. But we have always made sure to keep things very discreet. She would have to have cameras in our bedrooms or something to know about this. “That’s ridiculous.”

She chuckles. “I agree. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

“Lucretia, I didn’t think a Nevrakis would stoop to rumors and slander.”

She leans across the table toward me again, “Liam isn’t the only one who has loyal underlings inside the palace.”

“Bullshit.”

Lucretia flips her hair behind her shoulder. “You stupid girl. You know your parents didn’t act alone. And not everyone who was involved in the coup was caught.”

I shake my head, trying to keep her talking. “I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to. It’s true whether you believe it or not.” Lucretia says with a grin.

I can’t help but laugh at her boldness. “You are a delusional old hermit! There’s no way anyone would ever bother to report to you. You’re just a washed up, has-been!”

Oh ya, she’s pissed. I see her dig her fingernails into the table as she speaks with a hiss. “I am the only real remaining Nevrakis! You are literally sleeping with the enemy!” Lucretia sighs loudly. “And your sister.. has always been too soft for Liam to handle this. Even though he clearly doesn’t want her, she just doesn’t have the stomach to accept that and do what she needs to do.”

Holy fuck. “Oh and you do? Give me a break.” I gesture around the pathetic state of her home. “Look at this dump! Do you even use electricity?! Indoor plumbing? There’s no way you could lead a coup when you refuse to even join the rest of the world in the twenty-first century!”

“I have no less than twenty-five people working for me at the palace at this very moment!” Lucretia snaps. “I could say the word and they would execute the King and Queen in a heartbeat! No questions asked!” Lucretia crossed her arms over her chest. “I have people watching you too.” Her mouth twists into a maniacal grin. ‘Even right now.”

Suddenly the room feels even darker and more haunting than before, and I’m trying not to show the trepidation that's stirring inside of me as it feels like the walls are closing in. Every instinct I have is telling me to run, but I came here for a reason. And I’m not done yet. “I don’t believe you.” I swallow down my fear to try and keep her talking. I’m not a child, and she doesn’t get to make me feel afraid anymore.

“You really are an impudent little brat. No wonder your parents never wanted you. They could tell from the get go that you were worthless. A pathetic excuse for a Nevrakis.”

“Ha! I assume you were nowhere around when they stormed the palace. If you were so involved in all this, then where the hell were you?!”

“I was the mastermind behind the attack, you dumb bitch!” Lucretia’s eyes are burning with rage. “I told them where to enter. I was the one who made sure the Nevrakis had loyal servants on the inside! Hell, I was the one who branded each of them with the Nevrakis family crest on their forearms after their initiation!” Lucretia was now standing, her piercing green eyes looking down at me like she was ready to sprout horns and breathe fire, while she continued to scream wildly at me. “Your parents were the ones who messed up and didn’t follow orders like they were supposed to! I told them to go to the children’s rooms first and take them as leverage, but they insisted on going straight to Constantine and Eleanor.”

I’m even more confused than before, but I think we’re past the point of keeping our thoughts and feelings quiet. “Take the children as leverage?”

“To get the King and Queen to surrender. Then when their guard was down, your parents would finish all of them off.”

I feel my heart drop into the bottom of my stomach. This woman is sick.. Fucking mental! “Are you serious?”

Lucretia folds her arms over her chest as she grins triumphantly. “See, this just proves that you know nothing about me. You don’t know what I am capable of.”

“Apparently you’re capable of conspiring to commit treason and murder!” I rise to my feet to match her height. She doesn’t have the upper hand any longer. “Although..” I casually turn my back on her and walk closer to the fireplace. “I still think you’re full of shit.” I can’t help the small laugh that escapes me, and I turn back around to face her. “My parents were brutal strategists with genius IQ’s. I’ve heard enough about them to know that much.” I run my finger across my lips as I taunt her further. “It doesn’t seem plausible that you would be the mastermind behind the whole thing.”

Lucretia slowly stalks over to me, grinning all the while. She grabs a candelabra from the mantle and tips it downward. I have no idea what she’s doing, but I know I can take her if she’s going to try and attack me with it. Suddenly I hear a grinding noise resonating beside the fireplace as the stones start to shift and slowly slide away, revealing a small crawl space. No fucking way. My mind is torn between the shock of what she is telling and literally showing me, and the fact that she is this stupid. Did she think this was a good place to hide something? I’m starting to think she has never seen a movie in her life. I mean, come on, the trigger for the secret passage is always in the candelabra! Could this bitch be more of a stereotypical evil spinster aunt?

Lucretia has her hands on her hips, watching me carefully. “Go on.” She gestures at the dark aperture that has just opened up. “Reach in and see for yourself.”

I take out my phone and turn on the flashlight. No fucking way I’m reaching in there blindly. When I crouch down and peer inside I see a stack of documents. I pull them out, all the while staying aware of my surroundings - Which, by the way, I can barely see in this dark, grim room. 

I don’t have to look at the documents for long to recognize exactly what they are. Blueprints of the palace. Points of entry and schedules of guard changes. Notes written in detail depicting where the Nevrakis undercover agents were stationed. I try to will my heart rate to return to normal, certain that she can hear it as it pounds in my ears. When I glance back up at my aunt, she is leaning against the wall, arms crossed looking completely pleased with herself. 

I flip to a page that shows Liam and Leo’s bedrooms with notes saying to take them first, and my stomach twists. “You’re sick.”

She smiles. “No. I’m a real Nevrakis. You could have been one too if your parents didn’t fail, and had been able to raise you properly. Hell, you would be a princess and your sister would be queen.”

“And what would that make you?”

“The mastermind. I may stay behind the scenes, but I pull the strings.”

I can’t help but shake my head in disgust as another thought hits me. “Liam’s mother died a few years after this..”

I don’t have to ask, and Lucretia doesn’t have to answer for me to know the truth. “Eleanor got too nosy. Too pushy. One of my idiot informants turned traitor against me and told her everything. So naturally he and Eleanor had to be dealt with.” She shrugs and looks down at her fingernails as if she just told me the most casual thing in the world. 

“You killed Liam’s mother?”

“I did. Made the poison myself.” 

She admitted it. She actually admitted it. My blood runs cold as I realize what this means. She has no intention of letting me leave with this information. I take a deep breath. It’s ok. I knew this was a possibility when I went down this rabbit hole. I’m prepared. 

“So. Why are you telling me all of this incriminating information?”

Once again, a sinister grin pulls at her lips. “Because I know you won’t tell anyone.”

I casually reach into my pocket and feel around. I’m going to need backup very soon. I slide my fingers along the plastic until I feel the raised button, pushing it repeatedly.

“Lucretia, if you think-” I’m cut off by a cold, sharp feeling against my throat as someone holds me from behind. A knife. Someone has a fucking knife against my throat. God dammit, I let the shock of the information get the better of me and I wasn’t watching my back. Olivia would kill me herself if she knew I had gotten so sloppy.

Lucretia pushes off the wall she had been leaning against and makes her way over to me with a foul grin. “I told you, little girl. You’re. Not. Telling. Anyone.” She makes sure to emphasize each word as she gets closer and closer to my face.

The knife digs into my flesh slightly, but I don’t struggle. I know better. I can get out of this and take down her and whoever the fuck is holding a knife to my throat. But what I don’t know is how many other people are hiding in the shadows of this room at this very moment.

I feel buzzing in my pocket and grin.

Lucretia is just a breath away from me at this point, and I can see the fire in her eyes. “And why are you smiling, Lilith?”

“Because you’re a dead woman.”

Without another word I slam my head backwards, crashing into the forehead of the person holding the knife to my throat. The knife clatters to the floor and I wrench the man's arm backward before slamming his head into the stone hearth with a sharp crack. He goes down easily. Lucretia hasn’t moved, and through the firelight I can see a bead of sweat start to form on her brow. Lucretia looks toward the shadows in the corner of the room and jerks her head at me. 

“Take her out.”

Before anything else happens, the doors to Lucretia’s manor are thrown open and windows shatter as armed guards burst into the parlor where we are currently standing. Flashlights are streaming in and the sound of boots and shouting can be heard echoing from every room.

Lucretia is breathing heavily as she realizes what's happening. “You did this?!” Her rage and panic is music to my ears.

“Now who has the upper hand, bitch?”

I hear fighting all around me in the room, which is now illuminated, and I see half a dozen of Lucretia’s henchmen struggling against the armed palace guards. Lucretia turns and starts to run out of the room. Oh hell no. I grab the other candelabra from the mantle, hoping that it's real and not some other mechanism for a secret passageway.  I only have a moment to look at what I’m holding, and oh my god, there’s a dagger sticking out of the bottom. Jesus, this woman is extra. I hurl it at her with precision, and it sharply lands in her shoulder. She goes down to the floor with an ear piercing scream as the blade sinks into her flesh, and blood begins to pour from the wound, the same shade of red as her dress. In seconds, the guards have my aunt restrained and are leading her and dozens of her lackeys out of the estate. A commander and medic are at my side checking me over to see if I’m ok. I show them where the documents are. All I want to do is get the hell out of here. Some investigators help me remove the concealed wires and bullet proof vest I’m wearing and I feel like I can breathe a bit easier.

As I make my way outside, sirens fill the air and guards, police, and investigators are everywhere. But there’s only one person I want to see.

“Baby!” I hear that familiar voice call out as he makes his way through the throng of people toward me.

I’m strong. I’m independent. I don’t need anyone.. Except him. My stoic facade breaks as his strong arms wrap around me holding me tight. I relax completely into his touch, allowing myself to just be loved. It took a long time to come to terms with the fact, but I know he’s got me. And I am never letting him go.

Drake steps back to examine me. His eyes wander frantically over my face as his hands are cupping my cheeks. “Are you ok? Did you get hurt?”

I can't help but smile. “I’m fine.”

He tilts my head to the side and gasps when he sees my neck. “Oh my god, Lil! You’re bleeding!”

“Am I?” I don’t feel like I am. I touch my neck, and a small drop of blood coats my index finger. “Drake.. This is a tiny little scrat-”

“We need a doctor over here! Someone fucking get over here and help her! She’s bleeding!”

I can't help but laugh and I know there’s no point in trying to stop him from fussing over me. My god he is the best. A doctor cleans the scratch and places a small bandage over the cut. Drake pulls me to his chest once more. “Come here.”

I want to tease him for being so protective, but I just can't. No one ever cared for me the way he does. And damn it, I love it.

Liam purposely makes his way over to the two of us, concern written across his face. “Lilith, are you ok?”

Drake whirls on him. “I told you this was a bad idea! Your guards were listening the whole time! They should have gone in sooner! She could have gotten killed!”

Liam opens his mouth to speak, but I grab Drake’s arm, turning him around to face me. “Hey. This was my idea, remember?”

“Ya, but..”

“No buts. I wanted to do this, Drake. You know that. Don’t take it out on Liam.”

Drake sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, as Liam places a hand on either of our shoulders. “I really am sorry, both of you. Lilith you were so brave. And Drake.. I can't imagine the fear you must have been-”

“Ya, you can’t imagine it!” Drake interrupts, jabbing a finger into Liam’s chest. “You wanna send Riley into a house of fucking murderers and see how it feels?”

“Drake!” I cry out in shock. I’ve never seen him this angry at Liam before. Although I know it’s not Liam he’s upset with. It’s the situation.

Liam doesn’t say a word. He only stares at the ground, ashamed.

“Drake Walker!” I put my hands on either side of his face but he refuses to look in my eyes. “We had a plan. Everything worked out fine. Lucretia not only confessed, she showed me hard evidence! And now that we know who the traitors are, we can ensure the palace is safe!”

Liam spoke up softly. “Thanks to Lucretia branding them all with the Nevrakis crest on their arms, we can weed them out pretty easily. The guards are doing that at this very moment.”

Drake still refuses to meet my eyes, but I can tell he knows it was the right thing to do. “Drake. Baby..” I’m still softly holding his face in my hands, when I feel his envelope mine.

“I just-” His voice cracks and when he finally meets my eyes, I can see his are rimmed red and shimmering with tears. “I just can't bear to lose you, Lil. It would kill me.”

My heart shatters into a million pieces and I throw my arms around him. I hold him tightly as I feel his body shudder with quiet sobs. I can sense Liam has walked away to give us some privacy, and the two of us hold each other as if we’re afraid to let go. Sirens still ring out around us and people are running about, but the two of us at this moment are the only ones who matter. I can’t help the tears that begin to fall as I feel the deep love and affection he has for me. This man is crying for me. Because he was worried about me. If that’s not love then I don’t know what is. 

“Hey.” I pull back and gently wipe his tears with my thumbs. “I love you. So much. I’m sorry I scared you.”

Drake takes a deep breath before speaking. “Lilith, you mean everything to me. I’m sorry I lashed out.. I know it was part of the plan. I just.. When we heard what was happening, and the guards said you pushed the panic button.. My heart just stopped. All I could think was that I might never see you again.”

I hate that I made him feel that way. It hurts my heart more than anything.“Oh, Drake.” I rise on my toes and give him a soft kiss. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll never go undercover and infiltrate an evil family member’s home ever again.”

A laugh bursts out of him and it warms my heart. I can’t help but join him. 

“God, I hope not.”

We smile at each other for a moment, and he takes my hand in his. “Guess I should apologize to Liam.” He says quietly.

I bump his shoulder with mine. “For sure. But, I know he understands.” I know Liam and Drake didn’t hear exactly what Lucretia had said to me, and Liam is going to be grieving the loss of his mother all over again when he learns that my aunt was the one who killed her. I can’t help but feel guilt and shame deep within me knowing the Nevrakis were responsible for even more terrible shit. But.. Lucretia will be in prison for life. Olivia and I are the only remaining Nevrakis nobles now. We pave the future of our bloodline. And while it’s taken Olivia a while to come around, she’s finally starting to accept that we are better than our ancestors. 

We are the Nevrakis. And this is a new era. 

[notsopersonalcharlie]

Hotshot

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Army!OC - Kinda angsty at some points 

Warnings: Haley’s death, mentions of terrorism, sniper shots, military stuff, normal criminal minds stuff, LMK if there are more 

Tags: @hotchnerxo @arsonhotchner @whump-town @eldrai @hotchgan​

Note: feeding everyone’s sniper!hotch fantasies. I was recently watching the ep where there was a mass shooting and they profile the case and at the end Hotch shoots the unsub from the victim’s balcony and from that a new head canon grew. The mall thing is stolen from that one episode from season three . This is extremely long... I got into it... There will CERTAINLY be a part two which will be more about the past and maybe several several parts after that. Please let me know what you want to see out of future parts, I’m happy to make it happen. Also sue me I fucking love beard Hotch. Gif is not mine, enjoy it tho

Part 2: Irreplaceable

Aaron was staring. He was not usually one to be slack-jawed and shocked, so when Derek saw him staring he turned. Coming through the bullpen was a woman in uniform, Army from what he could tell, with a slicked-back ponytail and a stack of folders under one arm. She was walking right toward him.

“Are you just going to stare, soldier?”

“I- I never thought I would see you again, Willow. I’m just surprised.”

“Well, good thing we have paths to cross. Your office?” Aaron nodded, putting out an arm for her to go in ahead of him. He closed the door behind him, unable to stop staring.

“I really never did think I would see you again.”

“Me neither, Aaron. But this is more important than whatever happened between us. We have intel that there’s going to be an attack on a Northern Virginia mall and we need your help. Well, your team’s.” Aaron nodded and took a seat as the woman he thought he was going to marry two decades ago laid out several folders.

“We have a source that gave us information about a potential attack on a mall in Northern Virginia. This guy says that the threat is getting more real by the day and the goal is to hit as busy as possible.” Aaron frowned, looking at the first file she handed him. It took a moment to focus himself back to work mode when he could smell the perfume she used. It was the same as back when they were teenagers. 

“I’ll get my team on it today,” he said, taking the file and heading toward the office door. 

“Aaron...” He paused, waiting for her to finish the sentence. She didn’t. He opened the door and stepped onto the catwalk. 

“BAU, table.” The group scrambled from where they had their heads pressed together in a circle. Even Rossi was down there, listening from just outside their little ring of gossip. Willow was walking out of his office when he turned. 

“I have to get back to the base, this is my number and my boss’ number just in case I’m not at my desk.” 

“Let me give you my cell number,” Aaron replied, pulling a pen and business card out of his pocket. Willow’s lips quirked into a smile, but she schooled her expression. She had plenty more to do on the case. He handed the card over to her and she slipped it into one of her pockets without looking. His team of agents each walked past pretending not to look at her. 

“Thanks, Hotshot. I’ll let you know if we get any more information.” He wanted to roll his eyes over the name. He felt a little bit like he was back to 18 years old, buddying up with the only girl in their unit because he was still a wimpy little kid.  

“Will do, W- Sergeant Cutler.” Aaron couldn’t help but watch her walk away. The last time he had seen her walk away in that uniform was the day he told her he was leaving service to finally finish what he joined the Army to start. The last time he saw her walk away from him at all was when he had told her he was going to law school, that there was no way they could get married. He could almost see the back of her floor-length navy dress as it disappeared from view. 

“Aaron.” He blinked and turned to Rossi, who was standing about a foot away from him. Willow was gone.

“Sorry, yeah.”

“I’m guessing that’s her, the girl from the Army?” Hotch nodded.

“First time you’ve seen her since you left?” 

“She was invited to the wedding. I found out from a buddy that she was in Afghanistan.” 

“Aaron, as your friend, I’m going to tell you, she definitely wasn’t going to come to your wedding.” Aaron let out a little laugh and then took a deep breath, refocusing on the job at hand. 

Willow let out a sigh when the elevator doors closed, her eyes falling shut so she could focus on just breathing. She hadn’t expected seeing him to be so hard, and it had been even harder to walk away from him again. She reached into her pocket and looked at it. Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. She flipped it over and scrawled in Aaron’s surprisingly neat writing was his cell number with Hotshot written next to it. She laughed, shaking her head as she stepped out of the elevator. 

-/-/-/-/-

“I got him,” Garcia called over the phone, “Address in your texts. Be safe my special agents.” They had been at it for two days, pretty much straight through Hotch had slept for a few minutes at most. Based on the information that they’d been given, an attack was imminent.

“Thank you, baby girl,” Morgan said. Hotch dialed Willow’s desk number and got an answer on the fourth ring.

“Sergeant Cutler.”

“It’s Hotch, we have a name and an address, so you-“

“Send it to me. We have a strike force waiting.” Hotch waved his arm at his team to sit back down while listing off the address and the name.

“I’ve got it. Thank you so much, Aaron.” She hung up and Hotch stuck his phone back in his pocket.

“We’re off the hook for the takedown. I don’t think I need to tell anyone, but this is not information that is to leave this room.” The team mumbled their agreements.

“Get out of here. Take tomorrow off,” Rossi commended. The team shuffled out, but when Aaron looked up Dave was still there. He began to gather up the paperwork to shred it.

“What can I do for you, Dave?”

“You should call her.”

“I didn’t get her number. She has mine.” Dave gave one of his famous little sighs, indicating his disapproval.

“Well, I’ll be inviting the team over for dinner so, if you have an interest and she calls, always have an extra seat.” He left the room and Aaron finished cleaning up, hoping his phone would ring. 

It still hadn’t rung by the time he stepped outside to walk to his car, the bright sun shocking him. He forgot it was midday, all sense of time had been drained out of him. He pulled his phone out to check the day. Saturday, Jack should be up by now. He dialed the home number for the apartment. 

“Hotchner residence,” Jess’ voice came. 

“Hey Jess, I’m headed home.” 

“Sounds good, see you soon. Here’s Jack.” Guilt was sitting like a weight in his chest now, guilt over leaving Willow, over not saving Haley. Abandoning the women he loved seemed to be a theme. 

“Hi, Daddy! Did you solve the case?” All of the sorrow that had begun flooding him washed away. Jack was the greatest thing that could have ever happened to him. Guilt be damned.

“Yeah, buddy. We solved it. I’ll be home soon. What do you want to do first?” 

“I don’t know! Can we watch cartoons?” Aaron smiled, climbing into the driver’s seat of his car, the call automatically connecting to the console. 

“Sure thing, bud. Sounds like a plan. I love you.” 

“I love you too, daddy.” He hung up and started on the drive home, a country radio station playing quietly over the sound of the wind rushing by through the open windows. He was almost home when an unfamiliar number appeared on the screen, ringing and interrupting the music. 

“Hotchner.” 

“Hey Hotshot. We got him. Your profile was spot-on. He was a coward, he surrendered right away. Couldn’t face anyone bigger than him.” 

“Glad we could help.” A long silence permeated and Aaron pulled into the parking lot, stopping in his spot and turning the car off. 

“Aaron, I was ho-” Her words overlapped with his, “Willow, would you want to-” They both laughed. 

“You go,” Willow said. 

“Would you want to come to dinner with my team? We can grab coffee or drinks before.” 

“Today?” 

“Yes.” He felt like a giddy teenager again, like the first time he had pulled her in for a kiss in the parking lot after their first week of boot camp. 

“You sure do work fast, Hotchner.” He was tempted to say out loud ‘you remembered’. That was what she had said the first time they had sex, after a drive-in movie in the back of his pickup. 

“I don’t know, seventeen years seems like a bit longer than most people would say is fast.” She laughed, the sound overtaking Aaron in memories of the moments during training that they had snuck away, the evenings when the heat in Kuwait gave way to the cold evenings and they would sit with their backs to the truck and watch the sunset, the calls he would make long-distance when he was at school. 

“Is that a yes?” 

“Yes, Aaron. You know I could never say no to you.” Jess and Jack appeared by the door, coming toward him and Jess’ car parked beside him. 

“Daddy!” 

“I have to go, Willow. I’ll text you the details?” 

“Sure thing.” He hung up and Willow looked down at her phone. Had the child’s voice in the background been a coincidence? He hadn’t been wearing a ring, but she had come across his wedding invitation when she got her stack of mail months after the date on it. She got up from where she was laying on the couch and began to shed the uniform. Something clinked in her pocket when she dropped the pants onto the bathroom floor and she sighed, reaching in and taking out her challenge coin, setting it on the counter next to her watch and jewelry. It was from their group in boot camp, the little sniper symbol smack in the middle. 

When she got out of the shower, there were two texts from Aaron, one with an address and another saying it was a casual affair and she didn’t have to dress up. Either way, she stared at herself in the jeans and shirt for a few minutes too long, wondering if he would like it, if he still liked her. He hadn’t commented on her work fast memory. She rationalized though, why else would he invite her out? 

Aaron stood outside the bar, fiddling with his phone. He had left Jack at JJ and Will’s for the night, given Will was going to be keeping an eye on Henry and Michael it wasn’t a stretch. He had gotten a few hours of sleep on the couch with Jack wrapped in his arms. They had built part of his Lego set in the afternoon and had McDonalds for lunch as a treat in addition to the fact that Aaron hadn't gone grocery shopping in days. 

“Hey there, you come here often?” He turned and he guessed he probably looked like a lovesick puppy. Willow was wearing light wash jeans and a navy shirt that had a neckline reminiscent of the dress she had worn to that gala. 

“No, but if I knew you were going to be here all the time I sure would be.” 

“Witty as always, hotshot,” she laughed. Aaron wrapped her in a hug, longer than was probably appropriate, but she didn’t let go either. 

“What have you been up to the last two decades?” she asked jokingly as they found seats towards the end of the bar. It was busy, but not loud. A group of what looked like college students were on the other end of the bar laughing. Aaron had taken a look around the room, not having to note anyone for looking suspicious. He noticed Willow doing the same. 

“After I finished law school, I was a criminal prosecutor for a few years before joining the Seattle field office as an investigator. After that I moved to the BAU and I’ve been here since then. You?” The bartender took their orders and quickly left them with their drinks. 

“Army to Intelligence. CID for a while and now Homeland Security. Never used your skills again?” Aaron smiled and took a sip of his drink, looking into the dark liquid. 

“I still use them, taking out unsubs. Only a few times, but enough to know I still have them. It... I try to be the one who does it if we have to. I’ve done plenty before, a few more for the really bad guys doesn’t hurt as much.” 

“It always hurts, Aaron. Sticks to you.” He nodded. He knew that, he just told the team that so they wouldn't try to take the burden from him. 

“Your team, they seem like they’re... close to you.” Aaron snorted, a little uncivilized, but something he used to do as a kid. 

“Yeah, we spend almost all of our time together. We’re practically family. I’m mom, according to the kids.” Willow smiled. She missed having family. Aaron had been her family for a long time, a little brother for a while and then much more. 

“You were always a worrier.” A long silence held as they drank, neither of them looking at each other. There was so much to talk about that it was hard to know where to start. 

“Do you have a kid?” It was the first thing she could think of to say. Aaron’s face lit up a little bit and he pulled out his phone. 

“Yeah, Jack. He’s seven. He loves soccer.” He added the last detail because he knew she did too. There were a few things about Jack and Haley that brought back memories of Willow throughout his life. That was one of them. He often wondered what she would have been like with their kids. He pulled up a recent picture of Jack playing soccer with Rossi in the yard. 

“He looks just like you did.” 

“Yeah, that’s what Haley always says-said.” 

“Haley? High school Haley?” Willow remembered the photo of Aaron and a pretty blond girl from high school. She felt a pang of jealousy, especially know he had gone back to her after the near decade they were together. Aaron scratched his head and downed the rest of his drink. 

“Yeah. She... she was killed a few years ago.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure that hasn’t been easy for you or Jack.” 

“No... it hasn’t. We get by though. What about you? Partner, kids?” Willow shook her head, leaning back in the barstool. She thought about lying.

“I- Truth be told, Aaron, I never found anyone else like you.” Aaron’s guilt returned, but before he could try to formulate a response, his phone rang. 

“Hotchner.” 

“Hey, Aaron. I need to know if I need to set another place.” He looked at her. She was watching him expectantly. He hadn’t met anyone like her either.

“Yeah Dave, another spot. We’ll be there in a half hour or so.” 

“Coming together are you?” 

“Bye Dave.” 

“Nosy friends?” 

“Very, like I said, family. I can drive.”

“You can pay too because I have-” She was in the process of getting the challenge coin out of her jeans when he put his own matching one down on the table, pulled from his jacket pocket. She blinked in surprise. 

“What? Old habits die hard. Plus Dave was a Marine and he’s tried to pull that on me.” He paid for their drinks anyway and led the way to his car. Willow was still watching him in surprise until they got to the car.

“Not a blue pickup anymore?” Willow asked, sliding into the passenger seat of the SUV. 

“Wasn’t so practical after I moved to the city. Not the country boy anymore.”

“Clearly, I was surprised that I couldn’t hear an accent anymore. Pity you got rid of the truck, loooots of good memories.” Aaron smiled and turned on the car. The radio kicked on and it was the same country station it was always on. 

“Good to know not everything about you has changed,” Willow said quietly, looking out the window as Aaron started towards the house. 

“Not everything,” Aaron agreed, reaching over the console to take her hand. He started to sing the lyrics to the song, the South Carolina twang entering his voice as he did. She smiled and shook her head, squeezing his hand. 

By the time they arrived at Rossi’s house, they were both singing and laughing. A few cars were already in the driveway and Aaron led the way up to the front door, not bothering to knock. 

“I’m here!” 

“Heyyy, Aaarrrooonnn!” Emily came down the hall, clearly stumbling. 

“Hi Emily, do you need some help there.” 

“Uh, no. Who- O M G you’re the army lady.” 

“Yeah, that’s me.” Aaron helped her back down the hall, Willow trailing while looking around the house, amazed. The house was enormous. 

“She’s been here a while,” Dave supplied when they arrived in the kitchen. Spencer and JJ were sitting at the counter talking. 

“We’re here!” Garcia’s voice called. Derek and Penelope arrived in the kitchen, rounding out the group. 

“Everyone, this is Willow Cutler, she was in my unit in the Army.” All of them stared.

“You were in the army?” Penelope exclaimed, “You never told us that.” Aaron helped himself to a bottle of white from a fridge and poured some for Willow too. 

“Oh please, he doesn’t scream Army to you? Crisp suit as a uniform, early riser. He’s always been regimented,” Willow laughed, “He was the worst. We would all agree to be late to something and he would be early, and all the rest of us would get in trouble.” Aaron rolled his eyes. The rest of the team was watching out of entertainment. Few people were able to poke fun at Aaron, and much less at this extent. 

“He was the best out of our entire group though.” 

“Best at?” Willow looked at Derek, who was watching her inquisitively. 

“Sniper. His call sign was Hotshot, close to Hotch, and he also almost never missed his target.” 

“Uh, no I always hit my target,” Aaron shot back, “You were the one who almost never missed.”

“Modest,” JJ laughed, “I guess it makes sense why he always takes those long shots without an issue.”  

“He was being modest. He’s in the top twenty marksmen in the Army and he left almost twenty years ago.” 

“Why did you leave, Hotch?” Spencer asked, his feet were tucked up criss cross on the stool, “If you were so good you could have stayed. Probably lived a different life.” Aaron caught Willow’s eye when Spencer said that, a very different life indeed. 

“I only joined the Army so I could leave the small town I was from and go to college and get law school paid for. I stayed... longer than expected, but I paid my dues, and I got to go to law school.” 

“Military takes a lot out of you,” Dave said, “That’s why Willow gets the first plate.” 

“What? We’re the ones who stayed up for two days!” Spencer exclaimed. The group devolved into yelling at each other. Aaron smiled and raised his eyebrows at Willow, unspoken conversations had become easy over their seven years together, especially on deployment. This looks said ‘What do you think?’ She flashed him a smile and took a seat at the counter next to Emily, who was now drinking water out of a wine glass. She fit seamlessly into to the group. Maybe she would fit seamlessly back into his life. 

[yslkook]

good years (1)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: you arrive at hobi’s birthday party, along with some of your other friends. pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc warnings: alcohol, cursing, excessive use of pet names...bc its me

Being late to events, especially events in honor of your friends, was your least favorite thing. Punctuality was one of your top three favorite things about yourself, and yet here you were- nearly sprinting through the streets in heels because you were an idiot and had gotten the name of the bar wrong.

Instead of the Silver Spoon, you’d ended up at the Silver Tongue. That’s what happens when you don’t check your text messages for confirmation and operate on autopilot. So now, you were about an hour and a half late (as if the absence of the birthday boy and his merry band of friends at the Silver Spoon didn’t tell you enough).

Oh well. 

By the time you arrive about twelve blocks away to the Silver Spoon, you quickly make sure that not a hair is out of place before walking into the bar to try to blend in, as if you’d been there the whole time.

“Hobi!” You chirp, finding your friend in the middle of all of the chaos, “Happy birthday, Hobi-”

Hobi turns to greet you, a big (drunk) smile plastered across his face. “You’re late! Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“Well, I-uh, this is gonna sound dumb, but-”

You’re interrupted by a few of the guys walking into the bar, causing a ruckus and nearly screeching Hobi’s name. At least you’re not the only one who’s late. And you quickly see Sora in your line of sight, entering in behind the guys.

Sora, your best friend of several years since college. She’s been with you since the beginning, taking you under her wing when you were both young and in college. She had brought you out of your shell a bit, inviting you to parties and inviting you to have dinner with her in the dining hall. The slow convenience of college had blossomed into something real, something that could stand the test of time- also known as the test of post-graduate life.

Her friendship was an adventure to say the least.

“Hey,” You beam at her with drinks for both of you in your hands, “Fancy seeing you here-”

“Hey,” She grins, pulling you in for a hug, “Work was so shitty, like, I had to stay late today. Of all days! I can’t wait to have a fuckin’ drink.”

“Yeah, here’s something funny-” But your words are cut off yet again, by the arrival of more friends. It looks like Sora had invited some of her own friends, friends that you weren’t quite sure liked you very much.

But you don’t dwell on that, instead sipping on your drink and settling on people watching. Settings like this unnerve you- being in a place where you’re not quite friendly with everyone in attendance makes you feel self-conscious. It’s easier to just stay in the background, blend into the walls, so as to not upset yourself-

“Hey, you,” Comes a familiar voice to your right. It’s Yoongi, one of your fellow people watcher enthusiasts. He stands next to you, shoulder brushing against yours.

“Hey, you,” You repeat, flashing him a smile and a playful shove to his shoulder, “How have you been? It’s been a while, Yoongi.”

“You’re the one who’s been hiding,” Yoongi teases, “All cooped up at home.”

“So have you! In your studio,” You protest, poking his shoulder.

“I guess I can’t argue there.”

“No, you really can’t,” You say, “So tell me then, what’s new? What’s coming out of the studio these days?”

You enjoy hearing him speak, the way his passion for his craft pouring through his words. He invites you (again) to stop by the studio if you ever want to. You promise to stop by soon, with his favorite snacks. You usually try to stop by his studio at least once a month to catch up with him. He’s also one of your oldest friends, along with Hobi.

“Hey,” Comes another voice to your left this time. It’s a voice you definitely recognize, a voice that makes you tense up immediately.

Jeon Jungkook has always had a way of making you stammer over your words, ever since Yoongi and Hobi had introduced you to him years ago. He’s tall, nearly always dressed in all black, tattoos and piercings coloring his frame, and something sweet and sinful swirls in his dark eyes.

You don’t know if it’s a look that is reserved for you or if he looks at everyone like this, but honestly, your brain short circuits every time he glances your way.

“H-hi,” You mumble, taking a sip of your drink to ease your jumpy nerves. Jungkook only grins at you, his bunny smile a stark contrast to the rest of his aura.

“Been a while, huh?” Jungkook says, voice smooth and sweet like molasses. 

“Y-yeah, been busy,” You mutter. You watch in mild panic as Yoongi walks away, being called away by Namjoon and Taehyung.

“Missed you, baby,” Jungkook winks at you. Somehow, he always gravitates to you at these types of events. Not that you’ll particularly complain- his attention makes you feel warm, even if it’s all for jokes and fun.

As Sora repeatedly has told you.

According to her, he’s the worst- a player, a fuckboy (when he was apparently too old to be one, her words not yours) and this is how he treats any pretty girl. So you don’t take it too seriously, only indulging him a bit and keeping him out of your periphery.

But you won’t deny that his recent use of the pet name might make you swoon a little bit.

“Oh, stop,” You wave him off with heat rising in your cheeks. And he knows it, too, from the self-assured smirk he throws you.

“How’s work been? They got you crunching numbers and all that?” Jungkook asks, ordering himself a beer and a drink for you.

“That’s literally my job, but right now, we just got access to a new database so I’m excited to see what kinds of visualizations and insights we can bring forward. We’re moving forward to proactive analysis, but you know, we’re still a ways away from that, we still react to problems so reactively. Like we’re just putting out fires all the time, it’s kinda tiring but I’m excited-” You cut yourself off at your rambling, sheepishly laughing, “Oh, you should’ve stopped me. I know it’s boring.”

“It’s not boring, not if it’s important to you,” Jungkook shrugs, “Besides, I like hearing you talk.”

“Really? You really wanna hear about the latest and greatest happening in the data world?”

“I wanna hear about anything you have to say, baby,” Jungkook says easily. You squeeze your drink in your hand tightly to ground yourself.

This is why he intimidates you- his affections have only increased in the last few months. It’s like he’s playing a game with you, trying to see how long it takes for you to crack. You don’t know how sincere he is when he turns the charm on- is this how he talks to everyone, or is it just you? 

You like to think it’s just you (because you at least dare to call him a friend of yours), but he could get anyone he sets his eyes on. Rather than spiralling down that train of thought, you bask in his flirtations, his gentle affections hidden under his very many layers of black.

Before you can reply to ask him about the tattoo parlor and about his newly purchased motorcycle, Sora interrupts you both. You’re oblivious to the deadly glare that Jungkook shoots her, and the glare that she shoots right back at him.

She whisks you away, an arm tight around your shoulders. You turn your head and look back at Jungkook apologetically.

This is how it always is, especially for the last few months. As soon as Sora sees Jungkook and you speaking, she’ll immediately do anything to intervene. It’s fucking annoying and Jungkook is beginning to dislike Sora more and more each time he has the misfortune of coming in contact with her. He doesn’t really care about whatever personal vendetta your best friend has for him.

He’s always thought Sora was a conniving woman, full of manipulation and tricks up her sleeve. Ever since Yoongi and Hobi had introduced you to their friend group (and you had brought Sora along as well). His instincts are hardly ever wrong, but he hates to see you spiral with her.

But he’s powerless to stop you from walking away from him. Yet again.

tags: @kookdbean​

[aerynwrites]

A/N: This post - which I HIGHLY recommend everyone to see was drawn and shared by @ollovae3​. She draws amazing, fun, accurate, and touching art of all kinds of characters but mostly focusing on the Star Wars universe. Boba has always been a comfort character of mine and Ollo’s OC, Bee (short for Bui'cyare), has been such a fun character to follow and see the relationship that Ollo has created between Bee and Boba. So, after seeing this post with Bee helping post sarlacc Boba with the aftermath of his trauma, I had to reach out to her and see if she would let me expand on this sweet moment in writing. Thankfully she was super kind and amazing to talk to and gave me permission to create this one shot. @ollovae3​ I hope I did Bee and her relationship with Boba justice and I hope you enjoy! I haven’t written non-reader insert fic in years so this was a fun little thing for me to do!

WC: 1.2k

Warnings: mentions of phantom pain, amputated limbs, prosthetics, chronic pain, fluff, hurt/comfort, fluff fluff fluff!!

Boba Fett x Bee (this OC belongs to @ollovae3​!!!)

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

Boba enters his quarters just as the sun begins to set on the Dune Sea, where the unrelenting heat of the day finally gives way to the frigid cold of night. As the Mandalorian enters the shared space, Boba’s eyes fall to the figure hunched over the workshop table in the back of the large room. When the door closes immediately behind him, several lamps can be seen lit throughout the room, casting a soft glow against her skin as she focuses on the chestplate sitting in front of her. 

Boba smiles as he takes a few labored steps further into the room, “Repainting your armor again?” he calls as he pulls the heavy helmet from his head. 

A small chuckle escapes the woman’s lips as she turns to look over her shoulder, “I’m just touching it up, is all,” she states, “Believe it or not I don’t actually do a full repaint all that often.”

The man let’s out a small hum in response, opting instead to turn his attention towards his own armor...and the task of taking it all off. As he removes each piece, he works slowly, slightly more than usual, setting it neatly against the wall near their bed. With every movement, his joints creak and throb, feeling an ache in his left leg-- or, at least he thinks he does, where the comfort of his robe beneath the armor, rubs uncomfortably against his scars.

Today is a bad day. And Bee notices immediately.

She turns away from her work, watching with narrowed eyes as her partner struggles with himself. She can see he is trying to hide his pain and discomfort from her, but as he shifts unsteadily to favor his right leg, she automatically knows. 

“Is it the phantom pain again?” she asks, voice soft as she approaches him, bare feet padding gently against the sandstone. 

Boba stills, gripping the last piece of armor in his hand as he avoids her gaze. “I’m fine, cyar’ika, no need to worry about me.”

She purses her lips. While they have broken through most of eachother’s walls in their relationship, Boba was still as stubborn as an old bantha when it came to Bee worrying about him. Looking at him for a moment longer, acutely aware of the waves of discomfort rolling off of him, she sighs. 

“We’re partners, Boba,” she reminds him, “Both on and off the job. It’s kind of my responsibility to worry about you. Just like you worry about me. Even if you won’t admit it.” her voice is teasing with her last words, and Boba can’t stop the smile that tugs at the corners of his lips. 

He gives her a small nod, grunting as he turns to sit on the bed. “I thought the medicine was helping,” he finally admits, one hand falling to where his prosthetic ends, rubbing it absentmindedly. “And my karking knee is acting up again, and my scars…” he looks away from the woman again, eyes falling to the floor instead. “It’s been a long day, is all.”

Bee’s heart aches as she looks at the man she loves. This journey of losing him to the sarlacc, getting him back, and dealing with the aftermath hasn’t been easy on either of them. But, seeing Boba struggle is one of the worst things for her, especially when he tries to keep it to himself. 

She moves to sit beside him on the bed, one hand running gently over his back as she rests her chin on his shoulder. “Well,” she begins slowly, “I found this new form of bacta cream in town the other day when you sent me out to search for parts for the Slave I. Why don’t we try it? You know that hot compresses help with joint pain.”

Boba turns to look at her, their noses brushing as he does so, and he feels his chest swell with adoration at the emotion swimming in her eyes. Without thinking, he reaches up and cups the back of her head, fingers threading through the long locks as he presses his lips to hers. She responds immediately, smiling into the action before pulling away and standing from the bed.

“I take that as a yes?” 

Boba lets out a playful scoff, “Yes,” he breathes, “We’ll try this special lotion of yours.”

Bee smiles down at him, before turning to go fetch the canister from the fresher. However, just before she enters the room, she turns back to the man sitting on the bed. “Take your robes off, and your prosthetic too,” she instructs gently. “I’ll be right back.”

Boba nods and does as instructed before waiting for her return.

------

It doesn't take long before Bee emerges from the fresher, carrying a small metal container and a steaming washcloth. With his prosthetic set off to the side, and propped up next to him, Boba sits on the edge of the bed, wearing only his briefs. Neither of them say much in the next few moments. Instead, she places the container onto the bed beside him, before gently placing the warm cloth over his right knee, just to make sure that it hadn't been too hot. Once he confirms that the temperature was okay, Bee crawls onto the bed behind him, taking the container in her hands before unscrewing the lid. She dips her fingers inside and scoops out a generous amount of the cream, before rubbing her hands together. 

Bee leans over his right shoulder and looks at him, “What’s bothering you the most?” 

Boba quietly reaches up and gestures vaguely to his back, shoulders and chest. In their silent understanding, she lathers the cream over his shoulders and down his back, deciding to start there and getting to the rest later. Her gentle ministrations feel soothing, as she massages the ointment into the scarred skin. 

Boba seems to relax into her touch immediately, his shoulders sagging tiredly, with his posture less rigid, as if the salve had pulled the pain right out of him. Letting out a relieved sigh at the feeling of her hands roaming over him, the salve feels cool and smooth, as she rubs the rest in. It is the most relief he’s felt all day, as if it had almost completely doused the dull fire beneath his skin, to which he smiles at the feeling. 

Once she’s sure the ointment has been absorbed, she reaches down for a bit more, scooting closer to Boba, as she moves to work the salve further into his chest. But just as her hands begin to make contact, a familiar rough hand covers her own, looking up from her work only to be met with the deep pools of brown she had grown so fond of. She tries to ask him if anything is wrong, but is cut off by the gentle squeeze he's given to her hand, all while pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

“Thank you, cyare,” Boba’s voice is a rumbled whisper as he speaks, but Bee hears him and sends him a small smile.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Boba,” Bee whispers back, giving him a kiss of her own, before turning to look down as she continues her treatment. 

Boba smiles for what feels like the dozenth time, his earlier pain and frustration forgotten, as he relaxes back into her, all while whispering,

 “I love you too.”

[sofreddie]

Stashed Away

Summary: With their biological clocks ticking, the brothers set out to find their True Mates, before it's too late.

Characters: Alpha!Dean x OC!Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Unnamed!Omega

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Mating, Marking, True Mates, Institutionalized Reader, Heavily Medicated Reader, Implied/Mentioned Sterilization

Word Count: 2,876

A/N: For @spnabobingo 2021 - Free Space. This is my first square on my first ever bingo card. Let me know what you think!

Sam and Dean - Winchesters, Alpha hunters - for years they dedicated themselves to the life. But now that they're getting older, and still without mates, they're starting to go feral. Ruts happen more often, are stronger, and last longer. If they don't find mates soon, they will go feral, hurt a bunch of people, and die. So they do a spell, with Cas's suggestion, to find their true mates. They've always acted like they didn't want it, weren't interested, but there's no pretending anymore.

Following the tracking that the spell gave them - they track down Sam's True Mate first. Dean's more worried about getting Sam right than himself at the moment. The tracking leads them to a small town - a case is here, they quickly learn, vamps - by the time they figure out what's going on, they head to the nest, only to find a woman there, taking the head off a vamp, two other bodies at her feet. She’s a hunter - and a badass one at that, taken three vamps down on her own.

Dean's a little agitated, he needed some blood to help balance out the feral rut that's been burning him alive from the inside. Sam however, is speechless. His blood roars in his veins, pounding in his temples as his eyes lock onto her form. He knows - he can feel it with every fiber of his being - she’s his…his True Mate.

"Mega," he wines, taking a step forward only to fall to his knees in weakness, "Need you," he groans, before falling to his side and promptly passing out - the fever too high and rampant.

After quick introductions and explanations, Dean convinces her to come back to their motel. It just happens that she's in the same one, a few doors down. Dean drags Sam into the room, dropping him on one of the beds with a growl. He's getting too old to be dragging his giant of a brother like a sack of potatoes.

“I’ll get another room,” Dean offered, trying to move around her so as not to set Sam off, “I’ll check in with you in the morning,” he offered with a tight smile, nodding at her before leaving and closing the door behind him.

The next morning, seeing Sam’s much improved condition, Dean smiled before entering the motel room and seeing the Omega sat on the bed, a fresh claiming mark at her neck.

“Well, welcome to the team,” Dean joked, still keeping his distance from her as he knew Sam would still be testy over anyone coming near his Omega, “So listen,” he added a bit abruptly, “I figured you and her could snag a car, make your way back to the Bunker,” he explained to his brother, “I know you two need some time. Fresh bond and all. And I still gotta…you know,” he added sheepishly. Now that Sam’s rut had cleared, he could see how bad Dean was in it.

It was time for him to find his Omega.

Dean sighed as he put the Impala in park, looking through the windshield up at the large facility in front of him. When he and Sam did the spell to locate their mates, they looked up the locations to plan out their routes. That’s when they discovered that Dean’s True Mate’s location - was a psychiatric hospital. He couldn’t imagine why, but he hoped that maybe it was something he could help with.

He tried his best to compose himself, feeling weak and barely holding back from losing himself to his biology. Using his FBI credentials, he was led to a common room, the nurse pointing across the room to a woman sat along, staring out the window. Dean nodded to her and the nurse returned to her duties.

Dean gulped down the hard lump in his throat that threatened to burst into a growl. From the other side of the room he could smell her scent, climbing in and flooding his brain. He tried to shake it off, sweat forming on his brow from the fever, and he urged his body to move towards her calmly.

His scent hit her as she gazed aimlessly out the window. A warmth flowed through her and she closed her eyes, humming in content. She opened them once more, her gaze still outside, as she started gently rocking.

“‘Mega…” Dean breathed quietly, his eyes fluttering closed in small intervals as he approached and her scent got stronger. It was driving him crazy, but he had to be wary of his surroundings, wary of her. He had to stay calm. With long controlled breaths he finally reached his goal, pulling a seat opposite the Omega and huffing out a shaky breath.

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes gently rolling over his face and body before meeting his eyes once more. Her face was blank, but she looked pale and tired and afraid.

“W-who are you?” she asked, eyeing him warily.

Now he was here he didn’t know what to do. His brain was too full of other ideas. His cheeks had grown slightly pink from the quickly growing fever. “M-my name’s Dean Winchester,” he said quietly, “I…you…” he had to stop and clench his eyes for a moment, swallowing another hard lump in his throat, “You’re my True Mate.”

She looked him over once more, taking a deeper breath, before her eyes turned sad, “You’re dying too?” she asked, emotionless in features and tone.

Dean tilted his head at the question, frowning slightly, “Do you mean turning feral?” he had to gulp again, shifting in his seat as his body ached.

“I guess so,” she shrugged, “Too many meds to really know the difference.” She suddenly lurched forward, her elbows on the table as she looked at him intently and wide-eyed, “They say I’m crazy, you know? That what I saw wasn’t what I saw, but I saw what I saw!” she nodded manically along to her words, “You don’t need a crazy Omega.” she shook her head emphatically, looking down at her lap.

Dean jolted back in surprise at her small outburst, but his rational mind kicked in. He’d seen these places before and the meds they give patients, “I’ve seen a lot of things,” he offered, “So why don’t you tell me what you saw?”

“I didn’t do it,” she whisper-hissed, leaning forward on the table and glancing around the room before looking at him again, “He did, he came in and killed her, not me!”

Dean frowned again, his head jumping to ‘potential case mode’, “So, there was a guy?” he pressed her for more information, “What did he look like?”

“He was just a guy,” she shook her head, “B-but his eyes were weird,” she exclaimed wide eyed as if it was happening before her once more, “He killed her and he said I had to come with him because my Alpha was a very bad man. A-and then his eyes…” she trailed off, shaking her head and fighting back tears, “I got away, went to the police…b-but no one believes me.” she whispered sadly.

Dean’s body almost trembled with quickly growing anger. Someone or something knew what he and Sam had been doing. They hurt his Omega.

My Omega.

Mine.

“You’re not crazy,” he growled, quickly rising from his seat and looking down at her, “Omega, we’re leaving.”

She looked up at him in confusion, shaking her head, “I can’t leave,” she stated simply, “I’m scheduled for sterilization to stop my heat hurting me,” she explained as if it were a simple, everyday activity, “Doctor’s orders,” she nodded, turning back to look out the window.

The next thing Dean knew, he had his Omega in his arms and was standing beside the Impala. He was panting for breath and felt exhausted. He had some vague memory of a lot of snarling, roaring and punching Doctors directly in the face.

And now they were here.

“I’m gonna take you somewhere where you’ll be safe,” he breathed, looking down at…uh… “W-what’s your name, Omega?”

“Y/N,” she answered reflexively, still in an emotionless haze through it all, but relinquishing to her Alpha. “You shouldn’t have taken me,” she added, “The man with the eyes, I’ve seen him outside the window sometimes. And my heat is killing me. I’m a disposable Omega.”

“No,” Dean said suddenly and harshly, his arms held her tighter - his splayed out palms squeezing her. He bit back another growl, the scent of her heat crashing into him like a brick wall now his adrenaline fueled outburst was simmering down, “Never say that. You’re my Omega,” he pressed his forehead onto hers, gasping for breath as his body threatened to buckle as he grew weak, “Please…l-let me take care of you.”

She looked at the man, the stranger, the Alpha who had suddenly come in and tore her from her prison, like a knight rescuing a maid from a tower. She wanted to laugh at that, but she’d long ago lost her ability to emote.

They had kept her constantly medicated, to control her heat, her scent, her mind, her actions, anything they possibly could. But for some reason, something about him broke through her constant haze and made her want to just let him take charge.

“Okay, Alpha,” she agreed, just looking at him as she waited for whatever came next.

“‘Mega…” he breathed, voice breaking slightly from restraint. He held her so close, but not close enough at the same time. He could feel her warmth as he held her, her breath fanning across his lips. Some of that restraint slipped. He pressed his lips firmly into hers, the hairs on his neck standing on end as he hummed hungrily.

She pulled from the kiss, her hand gently cupping his cheek and turning his head to see several personnel searching the lot and searching for him, before one of them pointed at him and shouted for his companion.

“Right,” Dean stared wide-eyed before shaking himself back to reality. After ushering Y/N into the car, he quickly climbed in, the loud tire screeching of the Impala tires shortly following as Dean tore the car out of the lot and sped down the road.

When he said ‘somewhere safe’ before, he had meant the Bunker. The way his body was reacting right now however - aching, yearning, pleading to just touch her - he was ninety-nine percent sure he couldn’t last.

There was that motel just a few miles out though…

Y/N said nothing during the drive, her eyes out the window as before at the facility. She seemed still and calm, but also fragile and numb. But inwardly she felt trapped in her own head and unable to break free. She had dreamed about her Alpha, her True Mate, many times as had most people. And now that he was here, she was unable to even really experience it.

The next thing she realized, she was waking up in an unfamiliar room. She was somewhat dazed but her mind and body felt clear for the first time in a long time. She opened her eyes, sitting up slightly to two men at the foot of the bed she was lying in. One was the Alpha from before, the other a new stranger.

“I’ve healed and cleansed her,” Castiel explained, “But Dean-”

Dean had stumbled back, leaning against the wall as he eyes remained on fixed on Y/N. Castiel’s words were like white noise to him, he knew she was healed. If he thought her scent was powerful before, now with all the suppressants - and fuck knows what else - out of her system, it was like it had been turned up to eleven.

His head dropped back with a thud against the wall, his eyes clenching with a restrained growl. “‘Mega…” he breathed, his chest heaving and sweat forming on his brow.

She whimpered as her eyes set on him. She hadn’t felt a full heat in a long time and this one was especially bad. She knew it was him. She could remember their words, his touch, his lips.

“Alpha,” she called meekly, tentatively reaching up a hand in invite from her position on the bed.

“-Sh-she’s still in full heat,” Cas finished his sentence, taking a wary step back as he eyed the duo cautiously.

“Out,” Dean ordered, not even turning to address the Angel.

And Cas vanished.

Before Y/N could blink, Dean was there. His hands bunched in the back of her hair as he hungrily devoured her lips.

She moaned as they connected, his heat and weight soothing her ache and need. Her heart swelled, but a part of him also felt familiar, as if she’d known him all along. She pulled from the kiss, gazing into his eyes, frantic with need but also wanting to savor every moment. When she noticed how far gone he really was, she decided to let him take what he needed.

“My Alpha,” she whispered, kissing him once more.

There was a small rumble in Dean’s throat as his bloodshot eyes gazed directly back into her. He breathed, “Mine,” before his eyes fluttered closed and his mouth attached to her neck. He kissed and sucked a trail down to her collarbone, pressing his body into her as he fully mounted the bed and towered over her. He wanted to smother himself in her scent, every touch sending waves of need through him.

His hips rolled into her, his brain fogging as he quickly pulled at her shirt, ripping it clean off in one swoop before he hungrily mouthed at the swell of her breast.

She could feel the tremble in his muscles as he fought to keep the beast at bay, trying not to scare or hurt her. But she knew he needed more and she wanted to prove she could handle whatever her Alpha gave her.

“I won’t break,” she pleaded, pulling his lips from her body, “Take what you need Alpha, please,” she whispered desperately.

Dean’s eyes darkened, staring at her half-lidded before his hands moved fast. As he hungrily devoured her mouth once more, he quickly stripped them both of their clothes. His hands roamed her with need, quickly moving down to her center before two digits swiftly dove into her core.

He growled as he felt her slick, curling his fingers and pressing firmly into her g-spot, his eyes rolling back as she moaned in surprise. He quickly withdrew his fingers, moving to grab her hips and flip her onto her stomach. He hoisted her hips up to meet him, letting out a low moan as he rutted his painful hard erection through her folds.

She moaned wantonly, arching her back and presenting for him obediently. She purred, rutting back into him, desperate for her Alpha.

He moaned out, mouth hanging open longingly. “My Omega…” he growled lowly, positing the head of his cock between her folds and gripping her hips tightly, “Wanna knot you…” he growled again - hungrier - before slamming his hips forward with a loud grunt. She was perfect, tightening like a vice around him that he hissed blissfully, quickly pistoning his hips with choked huffs and growls.

She moaned loudly, panting hard as Dean set a brutal pace. His grip was tight, his cock filling her completely, slamming hard into her cervix on every thrust. She reached her arms above her, grasping onto the end of the bed for something to hold onto. Using the leverage, she pushed her hips harder back into him, lifting her head to groan out.

Dean leaned forward, his breathing quick and erratic as he pounded her. His lips grazed and sucked on her neck as he moaned, feeling the muscle at the head of his cock begin to swell. His grunts became strained as fought to keep his pace. “Cum on my knot, ‘Mega,” he demanded, releasing one of her hips to rub hard circles on her clit.

Feeling his knot swell she knew she was close to losing her mind. When his fingers found her clit, she stuttered and screamed as her orgasm washed over her, her walls clenching his throbbing length within her. Dean seemed to draw it out as her pleasure seemed to never end.

As her wall clenched him impossibly tighter, Dean roared through one final harsh thrust, holding himself as deep as possible as he finally came, his hot cum shooting deep and filling her. The hand still holding Y/N’s hip gripped bruisingly tight as Dean suddenly bit into her skin.

As her mind finally broke free of the haze of bliss, she realized he had positioned them on their sides spooning. Dean was nuzzling into the mark on her neck and humming, his hands grazing over her skin.

“Who was that man from before?” she suddenly asked, remembering feeling free of the medications and seeing a man there before he just wasn’t there.

“‘N Angel,” Dean mumbled, breathing in her hair and holding her tightly to him, “Cas. Healed you.”

Y/N smirked to herself, rubbing a hand over his forearm that was wrapped around her, “I see you’re still in caveman mode,” she teased.

He smirked with a small hum, not letting her go, ever.

Forevers:

@sis-tafics

@lyarr24

@calaofnoldor

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

Dean Winchester:

@akshi8278

@jerkbitchidjitassbutt