#sorry i wanted to get this out yesterday!!

[imaginespazzi]

All Fell Down ~ Part 3 ~

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

* masterlist in collaboration with @azzibuckets *

summary: paige and azzi have never really been just best friends

a/n: Hello, hello my lovies <3 I'm so sorry; I literally just fully forgot to post this part yesterday because life has been so very hectic. But I think having an Azzi Fudd masterclass before this chapter is probably ideal. As always let me know your thoughts my loves!

Azzi should have expected the deafening silence that follows Paige’s name leaving her lips. If it wasn’t for the sound of the other girl’s breathing -staggered and heavy- she’d have thought perhaps it was a phantom call with no one on the other end of the line. And really Azzi doesn’t know what she was expecting; doesn’t know why she’d expected anything but exactly this when she’d picked up her phone. But when Paige’s CallerID had flashed on the screen, the buzzing of the ringtone cutting into Azzi’s pity party, there hadn’t been much else in her brain other than this sudden burst of hope. It had taken barely two rings before she was scrambling across her bed, grabbing her phone and hitting the green answer button with far too much vigor. It was one syllable but she’d wrapped Paige’s name in a desperate mixture of i just miss talking to you and please can can we fix this. And she’d gotten nothing in return.

“Paige?” she tries again, fighting the fresh new set of tears threatening to fall from her eyes; she’s lost count of how many times she’s cried tonight. 

There’s a sharp intake of air on the other end but still no response and whatever thin string had been holding the remnants of Azzi’s heart together seems to fray even more.

“Okay,” she breathes out, closing her eyes as she digs her fingernails into her palm, “okay Paige,” she repeats, her tone resigned and ready to accept something that feels a little too much like defeat, “I get it. I guess this was um- this was an accident or something so I’ll uh- I’ll hang-”

“Canyoucomepickmeup?” Paige’s words come out hoarse and slurred together as she cuts Azzi off.

“What?” the brunette’s eyes widen, unsure if she’s heard wrong. 

Azzi hears Paige gulp; can almost picture the blonde chewing at her lips like she usually does when she’s nervous, “I asked if- if you could um- can you come pick me up?”

“I-”

Paige begins to ramble before she can say anything, “it’s just uh- it’s just that the rest of team seems to be having a lotta fun and I- I think maybe I drank too much and my head’s throbbing and Evina says I should go home but-”

“Okay.”

“I can’t drive myself and I don’t- I don’t wanna ruin anybody else’s night-” Paige cuts herself mid sentence, taking a second to process what Azzi had just said, “wait- okay?”

The brunette has already slipped off her bed, rummaging around her bedside table for her car keys. She thinks she’s probably giving in a little too easily, thinks she should probably be more pissed at Paige’s audacity to not speak to her for two weeks and then call her out of nowhere to ask for a mundane favor. But it’s Paige. Her Paige. And Azzi knows that if the blonde asked her to show her the stars, she’d find a way to steal the whole night sky for her.

“Okay,” Azzi confirms as she slips into her sneakers, “I should be there in a couple of minutes.”

“You’re actually coming,” Paige’s voice is slightly dazed. 

There’s a pang in Azzi’s chest at the slight surprise in her best friend’s tone. It’s a testament to how much has changed between them. Those unspoken promises of we’ll always be there for each other that had been the solid foundation of their relationship seem to be clouded by fears of are we still the same us? It hits her then the depth of the abyss between them. They’re stranded on opposite sides of it and Azzi just hopes they still have enough strength to build a bridge over it and get to each other again. 

“Do you still want me to come?” she asks timidly as she steps out into the wintry Storrs air. It’s freezing cold but Azzi thinks it’s nothing compared to the way she knows her heart will ice over if Paige says no. 

That familiar silence lingers between them as Azzi waits for Paige to say something. It feels like that’s all she’s done for the past two weeks. Waited. She’d waited for the answers to her list of ever-growing questions as Paige had pulled further and further away from her. She’d waited to catch her best friend’s avoidant eyes so she could try and decipher the storm brewing in them. She’d waited, arms outstretched, for her Paige to come back to her. But she thinks that if Paige says no now, if Paige decides to keep building this wretched wall between them instead of helping Azzi tear it down, then she won’t wait again. Because the weight of waiting is just too much and there’s only so much longer that Azzi can hold on. 

“Evina said to go home,” Paige’s voice trembles when she finally speaks, “she said to go home and all I could think of- was you.”

“Paige,” Azzi whispers. 

“Azzi,” and that same desperation from before echoes in Paige’s tone, “please come take me home.”

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 9

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, alcohol, barely proofread Wordcount: 3.7K A/C: HEY BABIESS here's chapter 9 but SOME DISCLAIMERS - this fic does not follow the official irl Dallas Wings game schedule before someone comes at me. ALSO this is so short i am aware but next one will make up for it i promise <33 ily guys please send reactions again bc i miss those and they're my favourite ever <333 OK ILY

-

Before London

“Zari! Zari, come sit over here,” Trey’s voice yells as I enter the plane, walking behind Paige ready to head back to Dallas.

“Shit,” I mumble to myself, making the blonde in front of me chuckle.

“I gotchu,” she whispers, clearing her throat before her voice rises above the crowd’s. “I need some help with the gameday vlog! Sorry Trey!”

The man’s face falls, watching closely as Paige allows me to pass her to slide into the window seat. 

“Thank you,” I say under my breath passing the blonde, the smell of her deodorant comforting me as it enters my nose. Paige smirks, sitting next to me and pressing her leg shamelessly against mine. I want to press back. But I need to remember our rules. Friends.

Walking into the bus for the airport many eyes had been fixated on me. Since my panic attack yesterday I had been feeling off, not quite right. Wearing the tight, uncomfortable clothes I had packed seemed like a nightmare, so Paige had lent me her hoodie for the flight home. For the first time my coworkers had seen me out of work clothes, which made me feel a little uneasy. Paige could tell, always smiling at me reassuringly when I began to feel unsure.

“You look good in that hoodie,” the blonde next to me grins as I buckle my seatbelt, eyes watching my each move. I give her a warning look. She only chuckles, raising her hands defensively. “Yooo, in like a friend way.”

“Okay,” I laugh softly, buckling the seatbelt. From the corner of my eye I notice the blonde’s eyes locked on me, a slight smile on me.

“Soo, do I get to drive you again?”

I laugh softly, feeling a familiar ease with the girl return. Since our talk yesterday after I freaked out both our moods had miraculously lifted. 

“You want to drive me?” I ask amused. 

Paige nods with that familiar grin I’d missed so much. I’m so enveloped in her presence I don’t even notice the plane beginning to take off.

“Bro I love driving you,” she admits. 

“Really?” I ask. Almost embarrassingly needy.

Paige leans back in her grey Nike tech, resting her head on the seat. “Yeah Iz,” she hums. “Best part of my day.”

I look at her for a moment, meeting her eyes, feeling butterflies grow in my stomach. No, just friends Zari. I quickly look away, gazing out the window noticing we’re about to take off. Before I can even ask, the blonde is gripping my hand hard, sending jolts of sparks up my arm, thumb rubbing my skin soothingly. 

-

“Shirley temple, thanks,” I say to the brunette bartender, her dark eyes quickly finding me in the middle of the other players lining up along the bar. A wide smile spreads on the girl’s face as she takes my order, beginning to make it in front of me.

“You sure that’s all you want?”

The bartender is flirting, I can tell. She’s got that spark in her eye, that sweet grin on her face, that tells me she wants me. It tempts me for a moment, the idea of taking her to my hotel room and working her all night.

“What are you drinking?” Izzie’s voice interrupts my thoughts, the girl completely forgotten the second she enters my mind. Her hand grabs my forearm and instinctively I wrap it around her lower back pulling her to the bar.

“A shirley, whatchu want?” I ask, unable to take my eyes off her. The bartender huffs, continuing to make my drink eyeing the both of us but I don’t even notice. Izara looks so unbelievably stunning, in a brown halter neck top and a leopard print skirt, makeup flawlessly done but hair left naturally wavy - rare for the girl. There was an ease in her demeanor the past few days since we’d become friends again. And truthfully, I felt the exact same. Our game against Liberty had been a clear loss but at least I got a few shots in. I wasn’t overthinking the ones I missed anymore.

“A dirty martini. But I can pay for it myself Paige.”

“Shut up,” I laugh, ordering the drink for her and letting the bartender work, looking around the club. Some of the Liberty players had asked us out, and after a game that wasn’t a huge flop, I had been quick to agree, inviting Izara and the rest of the media team out with all of us.

With an easy coolness I pay for the drinks, tipping really well as I always did which seemed to cheer up the pretty bartender a little. 

“Thank you,” Izzie’s sweet voice whispers, sipping on her martini and stirring it. I wanna tell her she looks beautiful, especially in the dim lighting of the club, the purple hue painting her skin. But I’m not sure if it’s too much, so I stay quiet.

“Paigeee!” Stewie’s voice rises over the crowd as she passes Arike, Lala, Lou and others, greeting them with a wide smile.

“My Husky,” the woman smiles, hugging me with one arm. “I think you owe me a drink since we won.”

I laugh, rolling my eyes. “Bro with the way you were flopping the second I touched you I think you owe me one.”

We laugh together, when I realise Izzie is just standing there, staring at us two.

“Oh yeah, this is Zari,” I hum, my hand wrapping around the dark haired girl’s waist without much thought.

“My brother’s such a fan of you,” the girl grins, shaking hands with the woman. Stewie smiles and nods.

“He’s got good taste. Nice to meet you,” she chuckles, quickly ordering a beer before returning to the conversation. “Why didn’t you tell me you got a British girl Paige?”

Izara and I burst into laughter, my hand quickly falling from her waist. A touch was okay, but I shouldn’t linger. A look was okay, but gazing wasn’t. There was a fine line between friendship and more that I was learning to tread carefully. But the urge to slip was there, bubbling beneath the surface constantly. But anything was better than not having Izzie in my life. My best friend in Dallas.

“Bro, no we’re not together,” I laugh, watching as Izara covers her mouth while giggling. There’s a hint of the faintest blush on her cheeks, but it’s gone as fast as it appeared. “She’s our social media girl.”

“Oh shit, my bad,” Stewie laughs. Zari waves her off with ease, shrugging. 

“Here you are!”

Trey interrupts the conversation, grabbing Izzie’s arm with a tight grip and pulling her closer. My hand falls off the girl, and I can’t help the flex of my jaw as I watch the way the man is intruding Izara’s personal space. I don’t even know why he had to come. I think he should’ve just stayed at the hotel. Why did he think anyone wanted him here? I sure didn’t.

“Oh hey,” Izzie chuckles as Trey throws his arm around her shoulder. It angers me. What angers me even more is that the dark haired girl doesn’t seem to mind. She remains still, sipping her martini, popping an olive into her mouth speaking to Stewie with ease. About what I couldn’t tell you. They almost look like a couple. I wanna kill him.

“So where’s Marta?” I ask Stewie, trying to refocus my attention.

“She’s at home with the kids, you wanna go sit down somewhere? It’s so loud here and I wanna catch up.”

I glance at Iz whose back is fully turned on me now, engaged in conversation with the brunette, brown eyed man. I think he’s 2 inches shorter than I am. That makes me happy.

“Yeah lemme get another drink first.”

-

After four martinis I can feel the way I’m losing control over my gaze. My eyes were stuck on Paige, sitting between Stewie and JJ, sipping on her drink and throwing her head back as she laughs. She looks stunning, in a slicked back bun, black denim shorts ripped on her thighs and an oversized t-shirt, silver chains dangling on her chest, diamond studs glimmering in the purple light of the club. My sight couldn’t move from the way Paige’s veiny hands are wrapped around the glass, her complexion tan from the Dallas sun of early summer.

“I could live here for sure… Like start a family here and shit,” Trey is speaking my ear off as always. If that man was good at something it was talking without needing a single reply. So I let him blabber. Not that I’m paying much attention to what he’s saying, mind far too wrapped on the blond sitting in the far corner.

“You want kids?”

This snaps me out of my tipsy thoughts, my head turning to the man. “Huh?”

“You ever want kids?”

Really not a conversation I want to have right now. Or ever with Trey. Why is he even talking to me about this? 

“Uh, yeah, I do,” I murmur and down my martini, letting it burn my throat satisfyingly. I don’t wanna think about it, about the life I gave up when I left Jasper. How even if I had a horrible husband at least I’d probably be pregnant, I’d be a mom soon. It was the one thing I had always wanted, to be a mom. Now I felt lost, worried I might never find that person for me - to have children with. I couldn’t bear to imagine it.

“Yeah?” Trey grins, revealing a row of white teeth. “How many?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I chuckle awkwardly, putting my glass down. “Three, I guess.”

The man gasps, his hand grabbing my arm in excitement. “Me too! I want all boys. I could see you be a boy mom.”

I disagree so hard I can’t even fathom what’s coming out of his mouth. I always wanted a girl, more than anything. Trey clearly did not know me at all.

“Girl she’s so hot…”

I hear the two bartenders whispering to each other behind the bar. I snap my head towards them and notice both of the girls glancing towards, who else but Paige, and blushing.

“I know I’m straight but like… For her?” The red haired girl giggles. I roll my eyes, feeling annoyance rise to my chest, making it heave.

“Go ask for her number, she wants you for sure.”

“You think?”

“She was looking at your ass earlier.”

I feel hot in the face, angry, for whatever reason. I try to clear my throat to get their attention, to order another drink and partly to stop the conversation. But they don’t hear me.

“Fuck, okay, I’mma do it. Wish me luck.”

I watch as the red haired girl walks to the table, holding a tray of drinks I guess the group of girls ordered, obviously swaying her hips from left to right in an amplified way. Surely she was delusional, it would be stupid of Paige to be getting with random bartenders as famous as she had become.

It’s as if they move in slow motion, the girl leaning down with a bright smile placing the tray of drinks on the table. Paige’s blue eyes flash as she looks the bartender up and down and flashes that smug, flirty grin I knew much too well. The girl exchanges words with Paige, though I can’t hear over the thumping beat playing loudly. But from the looks on Stewie’s and JJ’s face I can tell it’s something flirty. The blonde digs her phone out of her pocket and allows the red haired girl to type what I assume to be her number in it.

“What can I get you?” The second bartender asks, as I lean against the bar, eyes sharp and watchful. I don’t hear her. I feel my face turn red, a strange frustration swelling up inside me. I wanted the girl to get away from Paige, my Paige.

“Zari? You tryna order?”

“Uh what?” Suddenly I snap out of my head as Trey taps me on the arm. The bartender is staring at me with expecting eyes. 

“Would you like something to drink?” She asks, her voice overly sweet. I decided I didn’t like her either, because why had she egged the red girl on?

“Uh, just a vodka soda, please,” I mumble, digging for my wallet.

“I got it,” Paige’s familiar, low voice murmurs from behind me, sliding her card smoothly to the bartender. I feel her front press into my back as she reaches over, the heat of her body making my mind spin.

“Thought you already got your drink,” I huff, and it comes off much more rude than I intended.

I feel the blonde chuckle soundlessly, her warm breath teasing my ear. “Need a straw,” she says, grabbing one from the holder set up on the bar. I feel irrationally upset, even more so now that she had paid for my drink. The moment it’s handed to me I scoff a quiet thanks, pushing off the bar and walking away with urgent steps. Paige is persistent as always, following close behind me like a puppy.

“Yo you good Iz?” She asks. The alcohol was hitting me, making my brain stupid and inconsiderate, words spilling from my lips before I could think them through.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

Paige scoffs loud, still following at my heels as I hurry around the club aimlessly, trying to shake her off. I should know that was impossible with the blonde.

“What’s your problem?” Paige asks. I roll my eyes, but don’t answer. Frankly I don’t know what the answer is. I search my brain, looking for any valid reason or excuse for me to be mad. Because I couldn’t deal with the answer being that I have feelings for her. I just couldn’t.

“Nothing, just leave me be.”

Paige grabs my arm, stopping me and holding me still with ease and flipping me over to face her. My green eyes circle the walls of the club as we stand on the edge of the dancefloor, lights flashing purple, pink, blue, avoiding her gaze, her ocean eyes.

“Iz, what the hell is going on?”

I scoff again, shaking my head. “You’re being stupid. Flirting with random bartenders. You’re famous like actually famous. You need to be smarter Paige.” Good excuse. I almost believed it myself.

Paige furrows her brows, taken aback. “Bro, huh? Whatchu talkin about?”

“The girl you idiot!” I’m speaking with my hands now, flailing them everywhere, forcing the blonde to let go of me. “If she goes to the press it’s gonna be everywhere!”

“Who cares? I did nothin’ wrong! I’m single,” she argues back. She’s right. I was gonna lose this fight.

“Shouldn’t you focus on getting your game right first? Maybe that’s why you haven’t been doing as well, you’re unfocused.” It’s a low blow. I don’t even mean it. I knew how in her head Paige was about her games recently. I regret it the second it leaves my mouth. I should never drink again.

Paige goes silent, and raises her brows, kissing her lips with a bitter smile. “Wow Iz, fucking wow.” And she turns around and leaves me standing there alone.

-

“Hey, everyone’s start is hard. Don’t get in your head about it. You’ll find it.”

Stewie’s been staring at me staring at the floor and moping for the past ten minutes, sipping on my drink and biting my nails. Her words are so sweet that I don’t have the heart to tell her that my game is the absolute last thing on my mind. I’m still trying to comprehend the conversation between me and Izzie, the attitude she was giving me and wherever it was coming from, because I had no idea. I cross my legs, huffing and nodding as if to acknowledge Stewie’s words, though my head was filled with images of Izara’s stern face, the way she rolled her sharp eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, the way her voice sounded once she got angry. Everything about it had turned me on, insanely much. I’m really in it huh?

“Unless you’re Miles, now that girl’s been hooping,” JJ chuckles. Stewie nods with a smile, agreeing.

“Yeah she’s had a good start this season.”

JJ gets up, looking over at us two. “Anyone want another drink?”

I shake my head, still working on the fruity concoction I had ordered last. Once we’re alone, Stewie turns to me, studying my face.

“You good?”

I shrug, leaning back on my seat.

“Ohh, it’s a girl huh?” 

I grin and nod. “Always is.”

Stewie nods and looks around, watching the way my eyes glared over Izzie who was sitting next to Trey, looking at everything but me.

“It’s the British girl huh?”

“She’s…” I murmur, taking a sip of my drink. “She keeps me on my toes I’mma say that much.”

“Uh oh,” the woman laughs, clearly expecting me to keep talking. It works, the drinks making it easier for me to open up.

“Nahh, I’m playing. We’re just friends. But now she acting crazy over how I’mma ruin my public image or some shit by getting a girl’s number,” I groan. “Like she was forreal upset.”

Stewie listens with a small grin, nodding and glancing between me and the girl I was staring, my chest aching to touch her the drunker I got.

“I see that basketball IQ doesn’t translate to real life huh?” She asks. I don’t understand what she means. Reading my confused expression Stewie continues. 

“I don’t think she wants to be just friends. I think she’s jealous Paige,” Stewie nearly laughs at my ignorance. I’m about to get defensive, knowing this was a ridiculous thing to say. Why would Izzie, who wanted us to be friends, who kept rejecting me time after time, be jealous over me? But there’s no other reason, no other motive for her actions that makes sense. Izara is jealous over me.

-

I enter the women’s bathroom, trying to mull it over in my head. Had I had it wrong this entire time? Maybe Izzie had feelings for me, the same kind of feelings I had for her. She was just better at hiding it. The girl was always cool, calm and composed. Of course she was good at hiding it. It only makes sense. I walk to the sinks, watching my reflection in the mirror when Izzie opens a stall door, heels tapping on the marble of the floor as she walks to the sinks.

Her green eyes lock with mine in the mirror, her face still hard and stubborn. She’s not gonna talk to me, her gaze swiftly moving to the sink where she’s washing her hands diligently. Fine. If she won’t I will.

“Hey,” I say. Without looking at me she responds.

“Hello.”

I approach the girl, stepping closer to her. I needed to talk to her, I hated the coldness between us, even if it hadn’t lasted for longer than the past hour. Every minute we spent not together felt wasted to me.

“You thinking about heading back to the hotel soon?” I ask in hopes it would be enough to show effort for reconciliation. Instead she furrows her dark brows, turning to me.

“What you’re not gonna go home with that girl then?” She crosses her arms, green eyes even more vibrant in contrast to the black lining her waterlines. Not reminding me as much of the deep dark green of the forests back in Connecticut, but more so like the bright green of the first blades of grass pushing through the dead ground in the spring.

She continues before I can answer, face scrunched up in annoyance. “You know what, all those girls you bring home too, it’s so inconsiderate. It is so loud, it drives me insane! You should think of your neighbours once in a while, you know!”

Stewie was right. She’s jealous. Actually jealous of me with other girls. An involuntary grin begins to grow on my face, as I gaze down at the girl, loving the way she was a couple inches shorter even with heels. Thankfully the bathrooms are empty besides us two, because I’m too euphoric to even check.

“Honestly, it’s just being a bad neighbour and-” Izzie stops talking, noticing my expression, scoffing. “Why are you smiling?”

“You want me to stop?” I ask, my voice teasing.

“I- wh- pardon?”

My grin falls, expression turning serious, my voice turning low and genuine. “If you don’t want me with anyone else just say the word.”

Izzie’s eyes flutter shut for a moment as she takes my words in, cheeks beginning to redden as she comprehends them and what I mean.

“N-no it’s not that,” Iz murmurs, barely able to hold eye contact with me. “It’s just. So loud sometimes.”

I nod, stepping closer to her, our fronts nearly touching, electricity between us tingling, sending chills all over me.

“I’ll stop.”

“No Paige, you don’t need to. I don’t care about who you sleep with.”

“You don’t?” I ask, my gaze stuck on her face as her lips part to let out a shaky breath. She feels it just as much as I do.

Izara shakes her head slowly, never breaking eye contact. 

“Are you sure?” I ask, tongue swiping over my lower lip.

We stare at each other for a while and I can tell the dark haired girl is thinking it over, considering every detail before admitting to something that might end in a mistake. Just as she opens her mouth to speak, the door to the bathroom opens, a group of women walking in. I quickly avert my gaze, Izzie doing the same as I take a step back and clear my throat, feeling the burn between my legs return in a painful, desperate way.

Izzie takes a deep breath, turning her back to me as she dries her hand wordlessly. I watch her, her shiny black hair and the way it swings in the air, her long neck and jaw, the sharp slope of her nose.

As the girl takes steps towards the exit, walking past me I grab her arm carefully, but sternly, pulling her close.

“I mean it Izzie. Just say the word and it’s done. They’re gone. Just a word, ma."

Iz breathes heavy, looking at my face with heavy lidded eyes before nodding. I let go of her, my fingertips burning where they had touched her skin. The girl exits the bathroom, leaving me on fire, a tingling in my lower abdomen making me dizzy.

-

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[revelboo]

Everytime I think about the pure unhingedness of the current situation megs is in is so unserious, like imagine making a rebellion against this dictator and going through all the hardships of this unseemigly long war only to end up pregnant? And it’s not even yours!?!!? Kinda - being forcibly pseudo surrgate turned reversed hostage husband married to this squishy small alien that you assumed was more pet but nooo turns out your soldiers have been fucking these things and now you carrying your second in command, who has been up to this point, trying to kill you, and now. NOW. YOU. ARE. ONCE AGAIN: Pregnant with his and the alien’s kid. Like you fucked yeah, but you are now forced into a polycule with alien and two of your best soldiers because of you trying to be nice, for once, and look what it did! The slight good thing is that it can maybe save your species but like miner megatron or gladitor megatron would’ve never expected to be anywhere near this absolute shitshow of drama that everything is alright megs is right in. Still accidental mpreg/baby mama/you are not the “father” megatron was never in my bingo card for ANY year. Speedrunning the entire series since i found it yesterday has been a something. Idk. Love it tho. Your writing is amazing, but im reeling because WHAT. Great work.

Yeah, poor guy is not having fun.

A little shy of 2000 followers, it’s at 1996 this morning, but I wanted to go ahead and post this extended chapter to cheer myself up after getting into it with the car dealership I got Soundwave from this morning because the window they just replaced is already leaking again. 18+ Mass displaced mech 🌶️

Everything Is Alright Pt 132

IDW Starscream x Reader, Megatron x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

Megatron doesn’t want this moment to end. Wants to just feel you drifting through him, to enjoy this intimacy. This feeling of belonging that he’s not had in so long. Or, if he’s honest with himself, ever. Even in the mines there had been companionship, brotherhood, but nothing like the feel of being so tangled in someone else that he can’t tell where you begin and he ends. Because right now he can pretend. Pretend you’re someone who loves him, that he loves you. That the fragile spark he’s cradling within himself is really his. It’s all a lie, though and he swore to never be deceived again. Not even by himself.

But he needs this so much. Knows you’re his now, as trapped as he is. Bound to each other by accident for life. Needs to believe that you might eventually love him. That this will get better, less broken over time. Hurt less.

Trembling as his servos wrap around your wrist and gently separate you from his spark, you make a soft sound of protest at the loss. For a moment, teetering on the edge of crying though you're not quite sure why as his arm curls around you and he rights his plating. And he brushes his mouth against your forehead before letting his helm fall back against the berth, the uncharacteristically gentle touch making the urge to cry worse.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you got roped into this mess," you whisper. Even if he'd been delighting in tormenting Starscream, going out of his way to antagonize him, he'd still not really deserved to be saddled with you for life. You and Star.

"Are you?" He asks, optics fixed on the ceiling and not bothering to look at you. Most likely furious with you for what you'd unconsciously done to him. He's yet to take it out on you, though. Hasn't yelled or threatened. Just seems oddly resigned to this and it makes you feel even worse. Had felt that longing for more echoing through the bond and it hurts. Aches through you.

Before you can come to your senses and second guess yourself, you lean forward and brush your mouth against his in a quick kiss. "You didn't have to save me. You could have let me die and be done with Star, too."

He's just staring at you. Like he isn't sure what to make of you before he drapes an arm across his optics. "I could have been permanently rid of Starscream?” He mutters as if it had never occurred to him until now and you smile despite yourself.

Blowing out a breath, you look up when someone knocks on his door and he slowly lowers his arm, head turning. And then huffs out a bitter sounding laugh as the door opens and Soundwave hesitates just inside the doorway. His visor brightening when he spots you and guilt seizes you by the throat. Not sure what to say to him after what Star had done to your bond with him, but unable to not feel like it was your fault. That you could have stopped Star. Could have fought for your bond. And now you can’t even meet his optics.

“For Primus’s sake,” Megatron growls, rolling slightly so you slide off of him onto the berth as he pushes off and mass shifts. Looming over you, a big hand splayed near your head. “Fix this.” He demands, venting to stir your hair. “Watching you two pining for each other is torture.”

Breathless, you watch him straighten and reach to lay a hand on Soundwave’s shoulder. Before going out the door and leaving you both alone in his habsuite. “Little one,” Soundwave whispers, keeping his distance and you feel it. This new distance and hurt between you. Feel it and hate it.

Sitting up, your jaw works as you press your fists against the tops of your thighs. “I’m so sorry,” you manage, voice breaking and then you’re crying. Knowing it’s all your fault. That you could have done something. And he’s just staring at you, before he rocks into motion. Barely aware of him mass shifting and joining you on the berth. Of his arms curling around you when he goes down on his knees and pulls you into his warmth.

Wrapping his arms around you as you cry and just keep apologizing, your voice ragged and small, he realizes you blame yourself. Even though you couldn’t have stopped Starscream, you’re hurting, too. Brushing his mouth shakily against your forehead, he can’t help but think that maybe if he hadn’t tried to push you and Megatron together to protect you, that Star wouldn’t have tried to sever his bond. Wouldn’t have felt threatened and lashed out. “It wasn’t your fault, little one.” Trying to reassure you as you hide your face against his neck and he feels the dampness of your tears on him. Crooning to you like he would a cassette as he gently grips your chin and makes you look at him.

“I let him,” you whisper, sounding so lost it hurts.

“Couldn’t have stopped him,” he counters, leaning his helm against your forehead. “Bonds can be repaired. If you still want that?” Still want him. Because how he feels hasn’t changed. Even if he has to share you, he wants to bond you. To claim you as his. The swim through your warmth and light again, know you better than he knows himself.

And those teary eyes look up at him as you loop your arms around his neck. Letting him settle himself with you in his lap. Retracting his mask, he brushes his mouth against yours. “I love you,” you whisper against his lips, those words spilling warm through him. Words he’s been desperate to hear.

Servos threading through your hair, mouth sliding hungrily on yours and you open up for him. Letting him taste you as his glossa slides against your tongue. Shifting the plating protecting his spark as he lifts his head. “I love you, too, my little one. My mate.” His little spouse. And you bridge the distance, reaching for his spark and arching against him with a breathless sound.

Expects you to flee and to have to chase you, but you rush to him. Pouring into him, your emotions still a mess of grief, love, and guilt as he cradles your warmth. Soothing away the pain, understanding what you need from him. For him to be your calm, your shelter from the other two when they’re at each other’s throats. And you’re so tired and hurt. Overwhelmed by all of it as he wraps himself around you.

Coaxing you gently to accept him. To claim him as yours. Because even though this isn’t what he would have imagined, this craziness is the family he’s found and he wants it. Even if it comes with Starscream and Megatron as brothers even as they hate each other. He’ll take it for you. For a future. For a chance at a family. Sparklings. Wants it so bad it hurts. To spark you and raise a family with you.

Feel him coaxing you, can feel that not quite a question right there and you accept. Reaching for him as he curls himself tighter around you. Aware of your real body, his mouth brushing against yours even as you’re here tangled in his light. Feeling that bond spangle through you, tying you to him and feeling right. Feeling like home. And his hunger and need spill into you. His desire to spark you lighting through you even though you’d been worried about it when Megatron had brought it up.

But you want this with him, you realize. Whimpering when he carefully separates you from his spark, mouth sliding against yours as if in apology as he rights his plating to hide away that warm light. Those big hands sliding against you as you reach up to cup his face. Pressing kisses against his mouth, his cheek, anywhere you can reach as he hooks an arm around you and carefully lays you back. And you’re all need, arching up into him as your hands stroke over plating. “Please,” you whisper, wanting him. Wanting everything. “Soundwave.”

His mouth covers yours again, the kiss becoming more demanding. Urgent as he frees his spike and you feel it brush against your inner thigh, branding you with his heat. And he growls when he shifts against you, finds you, and presses deep to make you gasp.

That familiar spike stretching you as he shifts against you, hips pumping. His mouth moving against yours, glossa sliding against the seam of your lips and stealing inside as he thrusts inside you, your fingers dip into seams, clinging to him.

Thrusting deep into your wet heat, you whimper into his mouth and you’re where you belong once more. The bond finally whole like it should have been all along. Your emotions spilling into him, familiar and right. His little mate in his arms. Your need and love urging him to claim you. Growling as you hook a leg around him, hips rocking to meet his thrusts as needy as he is. And he wants all of it, all of you, mouth brushing yours as he breaks the kiss and your head lifts, breath warm against his lips as you try to claim his mouth again.

“Let me spark you,” he growls, your lips brush his. Those eyes he loves opening and he needs this. Wants it so much his spark aches. Just the thought of you carrying his sparkling nearly enough to make him release right then. “Let me have this.”

“Spark me,” you whisper and he groans, hips pumping as he shifts over you, trying to find that angle you like. That spot that makes you shatter for him. “Soundwave.” Voice a ragged whimper, he mouths your soft skin, rolling his hips and you cry out. Coming apart under him, little fingers digging into seams as you tighten on him.

Hips bucking urgently, he urges one of your thighs up higher. Driving deep as you fist his spike and listening to those little, needy sounds that are just for him. Because right now, it’s just you and him. There’s no other mates, so drama. Groaning as his thrusts falter, he shifts his plating. Snares you with his spark as he’s filling you. Hips still rocking as he coaxes you. Asking. Pleading as he tangles in you, your scent, your body, your light all his. And he feels you accept him, reaching out in return as he shudders against you, filling you again as his mouth opens on a groan against your jaw. His little mate. Finally his.

Previous

[shanastoryteller]

Dean is taking too long in the basement.

He should have been right behind him, but he isn’t. Sam gets the kids out and goes running back downstairs, gun held in front of him, which ends up being pointless. The rawhead is head.

For a moment, he thinks Dean is too.

He’s pale and cold in the water and Sam sees the tazer and knows exactly what happened and if his brother is dead, he doesn’t care about personal gain or consequences or any of that shit, he’s brining him back no matter what.

But his pulse flutters weak and too fast under his fingers and Sam doesn’t even spare a moment for relief before he’s shouting, “CHRIS! CHRIS! I need you!”

Nothing happens.

Fear clogs his throat. “Paige! Wyatt! Leo!”

He never bothers the others. He’s trained with them, even fought with them while he was at Stanford, but at the end of the day he’s just another witch and Chris is his whitelighter. But his brother is dying.

No one comes.

He calls 911 then, because as long as Dean isn’t dead then he can be healed, and he’ll worry about what’s going on with the Halliwells later.

~

The doctors can’t do anything, Dean’s already resigned himself to death, and no one’s answering his calls.

He’s pacing in the hall outside of his brother’s room, not wanting Dean to see him unraveling but not able to bring himself to go too far away. It’s not like he’s going to drop dead the second Sam looks away, he knows that.

He knows that.

It doesn’t matter if no one’s answering his calls. He knows other witches, he can track down another whitelighter if he has to. Even then, whitelighter healing is the best solution, but not the only one. He’s loathe to attempt a healing spell on his brother, just in case it goes wrong, but he knows the stasis ones well enough. Dean won’t like being put in a glass case like Snow White, but it’ll keep him alive while Sam finds a solution.

“Sam!”

He turns to see Chris striding toward him and he should be relieved, he is relieved, but the terror and stress he’s been managing since yesterday all course through him at once and come out as rage. He grabs the front of Chris’s shirt and slams him into the wall, thankful there’s no one around. “Where the hell have you been?”

Chris doesn’t fight him, not that it would do him much good to try. Chris may be the stronger witch, but Sam can hand him his ass easily. “Sam-”

“Dean electrocuted himself saving children,” he says, “He almost died! He – they said – his heart–” It’s almost too much for him all over again, but then he notices the blood down Chris’s neck, the smell of smoke clinging to his clothes, the bone deep exhaustion that Chris is so good at hiding from everyone except for him and Wyatt and occasionally Phoebe. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Sam wonders if his grip is pressing him down or holding him up. “There was a demon attack, we were in the underworld. They had Peyton, we didn’t,” he shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m your whitelighter, I should have–”

“Shut up,” Sam says gently. He pushes Chris’s hair aside, but whatever wound left the blood is long gone. “You’re not just my whitelighter. You’re my friend. I know you wouldn’t not answer for no reason, sorry, I just. It’s Dean.”

He offers him a weak grin. “Yeah, I know. Older brothers, right? Always causing problems.”

Chris knows that better than most.

“Sam, I can’t heal him here,” he says quietly.

“I know,” Sam says. “Secrecy, mortals, I get it. I’ll get him out of here and to the motel, then I’ll call you, alright?"

“Alright,” Chris says, then frowns. “What are you going to tell him? He’s going to have questions.”

“He’ll get over it,” Sam says firmly. “I wouldn’t expose you guys like that.”

Chris shrugs. “I mean, I get why you don’t want to tell him, with your dad and everything, but he does have a right to know. Just because his powers are bound doesn’t mean he’s not a witch too.”

Sam stares.

He frowns. “What?”

“You,” he starts, then changes tracks. “Dean’s a witch?”

Now Chris is the one staring. “Of course he is. It runs in families. If you’re a witch, Dean’s a witch. He’s just had his powers bound and you haven’t.”

“But,” he starts. “Why?”

He shrugs. “You were too young. Doing it before the child’s first birthday can lead to, uh, some strange results.”

Sam understands that him being a witch descended from Melinda Warren means his mother was a witch, but he’d never really thought about it before. She knew what he was, what Dean was, and had planned to keep it from them forever. If she hadn’t died when he was six months old, she would have bound his powers too.

He doesn’t know how to feel about that. He doesn’t have the space to figure it out now. “Okay. Well, that’s probably a conversation more appropriate for when he doesn’t have a heart condition. Go, clean up, I’ll call you when we’re ready.” Chris nods, but before he goes Sam grabs his wrist. “Hey. Peyton’s okay, right?”

He grins. “She’s good. And maybe next time she won’t think it’s a good idea to sneak to the underworld alone.”

Knowing Peyton, it probably won’t be much of a deterrent.

~

Dean isn’t afraid of dying.

It’s just that this is a really bad time.

Dad’s missing, the demon that killed their mother is after Sam’s girlfriend, never mind what the hell is going on with Sam and the weirdo vision he’d had about their house. Vision. It’s enough for sweat to prick out over his skin in worry.

And now this, him frying his heart and leaving Sam on his own, the one thing he never wanted to do.

“Hey.”

He looks up, trying to force a smirk, but it falls off and he’s just left blinking. Sam’s lost the stubborn fragility he had before, smiling at him like everything’s going to be fine. Maybe it will be. There’s a jump in his chest that he thinks might be hope and not his heart giving out on him.

“We’re getting out of here,” Sam says, slapping his leg. “AMA, come on, you know the drill.”

“Alright,” he says, bemused. If he’s going to die, he hadn’t been all that keen to do it in a hospital bed anyway.

The doctor is less than impressed. Dean lets do Sam do all the talking and eventually the doctor rounds on him and demands, “Why are you doing this? It makes no sense!”

He actually has no idea why he’s doing this, so he just shrugs. “If my brother says we’re going, then we’re going.”

Which is apparently not the right answer by the way he goes white to the lips, but Sam smiles at him, so he really can’t bring himself to care.

They eventually get out there, Sam helping him from the wheelchair to the Impala, and being back in his baby, even in the passenger side, is another hit of relief. Of course they reach a second problem when they get to the motel and Dean realizes he’s not certain he can make it to the door.

Sam rolls his eyes, parking the car as close to the room as they can get, and says, “Don’t be a baby. I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”

He considers arguing against it, but he’s exhausted, there’s no one around, and he’s already lost a significant amount of big brother credibility by getting fried in the first place.

“Shut up,” he mutters, but only rolls his eyes before looping an arm around Sam’s neck. He grimaces when Sam gets an arm under his knees, lifting him up with at least a grunt of effort. He’s kind of irritated that his baby brother can lift him this easily at all, even though it’s not exactly a surprise. Sam’s grown up a lot since he left for Stanford, adding inches of height and muscle, and it’s not exactly like he was a weakling when he left. Still, being carried by his little brother like a princess is almost as bad for his ego as nearly dying in the first place.

Sam doesn’t comment on it, however, easing him down on the bed closest to the door, even though he’d be a speed bump at best to anything coming after them. It sends a well of fondness through him that he expresses through a scowl.

“Lay down and keep your eyes shut, okay?” Sam says. “No matter what you hear or feel.”

Dean blinks at him. He figured Sam had a plan, but he hadn’t expected it to be so immediate. “Why? What are you doing?”

“Not letting you die,” he answers promptly. “Don’t argue with me. It’s not going to hurt. Just trust me for five minutes, okay?”

He’s been trusting Sam for a lot longer than five minutes. “Fine, whatever.”

He lays down on his own, because he can at least do that, and Sam doesn’t look nervous or worried or guilty, so whatever thing he’s about to try is probably fine. Although he really has no idea what the hell Sam thinks he’s going to pull out that can fix his heart, but he closes his eyes and waits.

There’s the sound of the door opening and closing, which he hadn’t expected. A moment later it opens again, but there are two sets of footsteps. He tenses. “Sam?”

“It’s alright,” Sam says, his large hand settling warm and comfortable on Dean’s shoulder. “Just relax.”

Relax? How the hell does Sam expect him to relax when –

There’s a hand on his chest, one he doesn’t recognize, and he barely keeps from leaping off the bed. Then there’s a warmth, something comforting, like being held by his mother or his dad’s proud look or how it feels every time Sam reaches for him. Then he’s breathing in, chest expanding comfortably in a way it hasn’t since he was electrocuted. He’s not cold anymore, not exhausted, the creeping feeling of death chasing him whisked away in a matter of seconds.

It leaves him terrified.

“Sam?” he says, and it takes everything to keep his eyes squeezed shut.

There’s the sound of the door opening and closing again and Sam says, “It’s okay, you’re okay,” and Dean’s eyes pop open and he’s shoving himself onto his feet.

It’s nothing, it’s easy, just like it was a day ago. Sam is smiling, relieved and okay, and Dean grabs onto his shoulders and shakes him. “What was that? Who was that? What did you do, Sammy?”

“A friend,” Sam says. “Dean, don’t worry, it didn’t cost me anything.”

He scoffs. “Right, because what – hoodoo priests and witches or whatever the hell that was just help out hunters from the goodness of their hearts? What did you do?”

Sam presses a hand to his chest, where his heart is now beating strong and sure in his chest, none of that stuttery crap of before. “I didn’t give anything. It’s okay. Sometimes people just help each other out because they’re good people, Dean. Like you do, when you saved those kids last night.”

“We saved those kids,” he corrects, because he wouldn’t have been able to both fight the rawhead and get the kids out on his own. He and Sam did it together.

“Right,” Sam says, mouth tugged up in the corner. “There’s no trick, no price. They’re someone I know that was willing to help, that’s all.”

Dean presses for more information, but Sam refuses to give it, and eventually he has to give it up. At least for now.

He’s glad he’s alive. He’s glad he won’t be leaving Sam alone.

And most of all, he’s glad he’s going to be around to pry out of Sam whatever secrets he’s keeping from him.

let the beltane fires burn

The Halliwells are descended from Melinda Warren, are the branch in which the greatest power resides, the line that would birth the most powerful witches to walk the earth.

It's not the only line.

Deanna knows about hunters, knows what they don’t know and don’t understand and that they killed her family. But Samuel didn’t kill her family. Samuel’s a good man who saves innocents, the same way she was raised to, if not how she was raised to do it.

She’s all alone. It’s not safe to be a witch.

The day before her wedding, she binds her powers.

When Mary is a year and a day, she does the same to her. It’s safer this way. Better. The world is so unkind to witches, even ones like them, born into it, with their power baked into their blood. Better to fight evil with bullets and knives than the strange terrible thing she’s destined to give her daughter, that her daughter is destined to pass along to her own daughters.

She never tells Samuel. There’s no reason to.

When Mary is old enough, when she’s talking of running and rebelling and all those things Samuel thinks will never come to pass and Deanna knows almost certainly will – running and rebelling is in her blood as surely as the magic, but there’s no binding potion for that – she tells her daughter what they are. What she’ll have to do to keep her future daughters safe, if she has them. It’s the only potion she ever teaches Mary how to brew, the only one she’ll ever need.

The day after Dean’s first birthday, Marry brews the potion and feeds it to him. He cries more after, doesn’t settle as quickly, and John worries and Mary reassures him and tells herself she’s done the right thing. Whatever it is that Dean feels he’s lost, he’s better off without it. She’s going to be normal. Her children are going to be normal.

She intends to do the same for Sammy, but she burns above his crib when he’s six months old.

~

John sees Sammy levitate a toy towards him when he’s two years old and shouts so loudly that he drops it, tears running down his face and wailing in the face of his father’s anger. Dean comes running from the other room and reaches for Sammy, letting his brother’s chubby fingers tangle in his shirt. “What’s wrong?” he asks, eyes wide.

He doesn’t answer, rubbing his hand over his face and heart pounding in his chest.

What did that demon do to his son?

What did it turn him into?

Is Sammy even human anymore?

He doesn’t react to salt, to holy water, to silver. John loses his temper every time something moves inexplicably and eventually it stops, by the time Sam’s in kindergarten he’s just like all the other kids.

John watches, fear and suspicion and something uglier caught up inside of him.

What is his son?

~

Sam figures out young that he’s a freak.

Dad and Dean just think he’s weak, just think he has nightmares, and he lets them. He only practices the telekinesis when he’s alone and every time he almost gathers the courage to tell his brother or father about it, to finally come clean, he’s viciously reminded how much they hate the things they hunt, how they’d never accept it, accept him, and as soon as he tells them what he is, he’ll lose them.

He doesn’t know what he is, really. Only that he’s not normal.

Eventually he stops seeing things in his sleep, instead getting them when he’s awake, more vivid and real than the monsters that plague his dreams. He sees people being hurt, people who need help, and it goes against everything he’s been taught to leave them to their fate.

But how can he explain it to his family? He can’t.

He’s thirteen the first time he sneaks out and saves a woman from one of his visions, finding her in the dark alley he’d seen her die in. He puts a bullet in the man’s chest, but it barely stops him, and then she and him both are getting a fireball thrown at them.

Sam shoves his hand in front of him, pushing back against the heat, refusing to die the same way his mother died.

The fireball returns to the man, catching him in the chest and he screams, disappearing into the fire until he’s nothing more than a smudge on the ground.

“Wow,” the woman breathes. Sam turns to her, trying to come up with some sort of explanation, when she continues, “I’ve never met a witch with active powers before.”

“I’m not a witch,” he says automatically, thinking of bargains made with demons, of hex bags and rotting meat and blood sacrificed.

She looks between him and the smudge on the ground incredulously. “Are you sure about that?”

Yes. No.

He doesn’t know what he is.

She leads him back to her apartment, stacks books into hix arms, and then makes him a sandwich when his stomach rumbles. His age worries her, his ignorance worries her even more, and everything she’s saying sounds like kooky new age bullshit except for the way that it explains everything he’s never been able to.

There are witches and demons and monsters nothing like anything his father’s ever talked about.

~

It’s easy to research, at least, because his dad thinks there’s a kernel of truth in every piece of supernatural bullshit. Dean makes fun of him for digging into girly, feel-good crap rather than the harder stuff, but his dad just seems relieved he’s taking an interest all. Sam starts taking notes, keeps them all in a folder until Dad buys him a journal, patting his back when he hands it over like it’s a rite of passage.

To Dad, it’s his first hunting journal.

Sam runs his hand down the soft leather spine and knows he’s starting his book of shadows.

The visions don’t stop. He saves more innocents, some witches and some mortal, and keeps the record of all the creatures he’s killed in Latin to discourage Dad and Dean from snooping. He uses his telekinesis on hunts only when there’s no other option, only when there’s someone’s life on the line, and he’s as careful as he can be not to get caught.

It should be a relief, to find out there are other people like him, to know that he’s a force for good in the world.

There’s no way he can explain the existence of a different type of witches to his father without putting a target on their backs.

Some witches have been targeted by hunters, ones who were trying to help but got caught in the crossfire, ones that had turned evil and needed to be stopped, but it’s not often he finds a witch that regards hunters with anything but fear. At least when his family are the ones sniffing around, he can give them a heads up, can tell them how to avoid their attention.

He’s had a lot of practice, after all.

~

Sam is sixteen when he’s a little too slow.

The innocent is safe and the demon is killed, but his chest is torn open and he’s bleeding out on the pavement.

“Oh no, oh no,” the woman he’d saved chants, pressing her hands against him, even though it’s pointless, even though it just sends a bolt of pain through him. Fuck. He doesn’t want to die. Dean is going to devastated. “Paige! Help me! Paige!”

There’s a bright light in the corner of his eyes and an woman around his dad’s age with bright hair red hair is leaning over him.

Then she touches him, but her touch doesn’t hurt.

He looks down and the wound on his chest closes, skin clear and unharmed, pain retreating to only a memory.

“He saved me,” the woman says. “He can move things!”

The redhead’s eyebrows rise. “You have active powers?”

They’re always so surprised by that. Sam’s more impressed with the fact that she just healed him. “I get premonitions too. What are you?”

“You get,” she starts then cuts herself off. “Where’s your whitelighter?”

He stares. “My what?”

She raises a hand to her head and groans. “Oh, someone’s really messed up somewhere. Leo!”

~

Guardian angels are real, called whitelighters, and apparently witches with active powers who go around saving innocents are supposed to have them to help keep them from getting themselves killed in the process.

Leo, who’s something called an elder with a kind face, says an unconventional witch deserves an unconventional whitelighter.

Chris Halliwell is his age, half witch, and also has telekinesis.

Oh, and he’s apparently his cousin. His very, very, very distant cousin.

“Are all witches related?” he asks incredulously.

“No,” Chris says, long dark hair and hazel eyes doing more to aid his claim of family than the spell his mother had cast. He and Chris look more related than him and Dean do. “We’d thought all the other branches of the Warren line had died out. You’re a surprise.”

Great. He’s a freak even among witches.

~

It’s so much easier now that he’s not desperately trying to piece together everything on his own, with only the occasional help from the innocents he saves. Chris is sarcastic and annoying and funny and more than having a guardian angel, Sam’s relieved to just have a friend he doesn’t have to lie to for once.

The Halliwell house, with its potion ingredients and powerful witches and home cooking, is only an orb away. He mostly hangs out with Chris, of course, but Piper always invites him to stay for dinner and Paige checks in on him, feeling somewhat responsible for him since she met him first, and Wyatt’s friendly enough but Chris sends him packing whenever Sam’s there.

He’s pulling doubletime when it comes to saving innocents, doing it as a witch and as a hunter, and he’s still maintaining straight As on top of it all while lying about half his life to his father and brother. It’s a stack of cards that’s bound to fall apart.

Going to Stanford is about more than just escaping his father.

It gets him close enough to San Francisco that he won’t need to be orbed to the Halliwells. It’s supposed to give him some breathing room, to let him focus on being a witch, to let him get his education. He does more good as a witch than as a hunter, but it’s not like that’s something he can explain to his family.

He’d wanted out, needed out, before he gets himself or someone else killed trying to balance it all. But he hadn’t thought his father would kick him out. He hadn’t thought Dean would let him.

He goes to the bus station but doesn’t buy a ticket. He calls Chris and spends the rest of the summer at Halliwell manor, burying all his hurt under training with Chris and saving people and getting ready to start college in September.

~

Jess wears a pentacle around her neck and keeps salt in small bowls in each of the cardinal directions and Sam doesn’t intend to tell her that he’s a witch, but when he ends up saving her from a darklighter attack, that decision is taken out of his hands. Coming clean about the hunter part takes longer, but it’s a bit of an easier sell once the knowledge of the supernatural is already out there. The thing that surprised her most of all is that things like bullets and steel can be used successfully against monsters, rather than the existence of monsters themselves.

Three years later when Dean shows up at their door, Sam can’t bring himself to deny him. It’s one weekend. He’d never wanted to lose his family in the first place.

When he returns home to Jessica pinned to the ceiling, he doesn’t even have to think.

He yanks her down, catching her in his arms just as fire effulges the place she’d been. He pushes the fire away from them, but it fights him harder than demonic fire usually does and leaves his hands burned and blistering. He doesn’t care. Jess is bleeding and in shock but still alive, breath rattling against him. “CHRIS!”

Dean’s yelling for him, but Sam can’t let him in. He throws his hand out, keeping his bedroom door closed even as his brother throws his body against it, still screaming his name.

Chris orbs in, eyes going huge. “Sam, what-”

“Heal her then go,” he snaps, the smoke already hurting his throat. “I’ll explain later.”

He puts his glowing hands over her bleeding stomach and the wound closes, her body going slack and her breathing easing even as her eyes roll back.

Sam tenses. “Is she-”

“Fine, let’s go, your hands,” Chris says, hands already glowing as he reaches for him.

“SAM!” Dean shouts, sounding like he’s about two seconds away from trying to shoot through the door.

“You can heal me later,” he says. “Thank you. Go.”

Chris shoots him a bitchy look that Paige says they share and then he orbs away. The fire’s covered almost the entire room now and Sam finally lets go of the door.

Dean stumbles in, pale, already reaching for him.

Sam stands and finds his knees buckling, gritting his teeth to keep himself upright. “Take her,” he says urgently, pressing Jess into his brother’s arms. “We have to go.”

“You think?” he snaps, but he’s gentle with Jess. Sam shoves him towards the door, slamming it behind him just as it surges after them. Keeping the flames from killing them is one of the hardest things he’s ever done. No wonder he’s exhausted.

They stumble downstairs, away from the fire, and someone’s already called the ambulance.

The story’s an easy sell because it’s not like anyone would believe the truth. They say Jess took sleeping pills and Sam came home to flames. He pulled Jess out and has the burns to prove it. Dean saw the flames in the window and went up, helping to get them both out.

It’s almost true.

“He had yellow eyes,” Jess tells him after. “He was – Sam, I’ve seen demons, I’ve fought demons. He’s something else.”

“Different kind of demons,” Sam says. There’s the underworld, and there’s hell. Underworld demons go after witches mostly. Hell demons go after mortals and are a lot harder to kill, ironically. “It’s the same demon that killed my mother, Jess, and now it’s after you. I have to take care of this.”

Dean’s too relieved about Sam’s determination to rejoin the hunt to question him too closely about all this. He knows better than to think that will last for very long.

Chris agrees to watch over Jess for him even though she’s not technically one of his charges. They layer protection spells on her, including one cast by the power of three, and even this yellow eyed demon will be hard pressed to break through that.

Hell demons are tricky. They’re not as susceptible to witch magic. But Sam’s not just a witch.

He’s a hunter too.

[rcmclachlan]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by the lovely @beanarie!

Here's a snippet of something I started writing yesterday. It hit me out of nowhere, and once I came out of the fugue state, I discovered I'd written 4,000 words.

The premise: Buck is in the middle of making room for his stuff in Tommy's closet when he finds an old phone hidden in a shoebox. Unexpectedly, it starts ringing.

+

"Sorry, but I don't negotiate with terrorists," Tommy says, then chucks the hornworm into the bucket by his feet. It lands inside with a muted thunk. There must be a bunch more of the little bastards in there.

"USA! USA!" Buck chants, pumping a fist into the air as he gets closer.

Cracking up, Tommy dashes the back of his gloved hand across his forehead. All it does is smear dirt and make him look rugged and disgustingly sexy. Buck wants to lick every drop of sweat from his body. 

"Done already? Please tell me I got to keep at least three hangers."

"Is there a henley shortage coming that the rest of us aren't ready for? Jesus." Buck holds up the Nike box and says. "I, uh, found this. Or it found me? It started ringing out of nowhere and scared the living shit out of me."

The moment Tommy claps eyes on it, something fascinating happens. Every muscle in his body visibly tenses, like a wave that starts at his jaw and washes its way down, leaving quiet devastation in its wake. In a single almost fluid motion, he straightens up from his lean and folds his hands at the small of his back. Shoulders back, chin up, feet apart. Parade rest. 

Buck's eyebrows hit his hairline. "Tommy?"

"It started ringing." It's not a question or even an accusation. Tommy says it like a simple statement of fact, his voice is flat as a board, the edges sharp enough to draw blood. "It just... started ringing."

"I, uh, yeah?" Buck holds out the box to him, jostling the phone inside, but Tommy doesn't move to take it. 

In fact, Tommy does nothing. Tommy says nothing. Buck has to squint to confirm that he's even breathing. 

After the most terrifyingly silent thirty seconds of Buck's life, Tommy shifts his gaze from Buck to, oddly enough, the sky.

"Did you answer it?"

"No, of course not!" Just because they're on rock solid ground now doesn't mean there aren't still fault lines beneath the surface. He at least thought he knew most of them. "I-I wouldn't, I swear. I just let it ring."

Tommy's nostrils flare. If his lips were any thinner, they'd probably disappear. 

"Um, I'm sorry. I know you said I could have free rein, but I didn't mean..." He has no idea how to end that sentence. He didn't mean to do what? Dig up something that Tommy obviously tried to bury? Make room for himself in Tommy's closet? Make room for himself in Tommy's life in the first place? 

A moment passes, and then the statue that was once his boyfriend shivers back to life. Tommy closes his eyes, exhales, and steps forward to take the box from Buck's trembling hands, tucking it under his arm. He wraps the other around Buck's waist and draws him close for a kiss. Buck pushes into it gratefully.

"Sorry," Tommy says against his mouth, then pecks it again before drawing back. "Sorry, I'm being an asshole. Get that look off your face, you did nothing wrong, okay? I was just... surprised to see it. I forgot it was even in there."

"What is it?" Buck mentally slaps himself. "I mean, I know it's a phone, but who was on the other end of it?"

Tommy doesn't answer right away. Instead he looks up at the sky again for a long moment, a strange smile quirking at the corners of his mouth. When he looks back at Buck, his pupils have shrunken to pinpricks. "Think of it like, uh, an old war injury acting up. It's nothing for you to worry about."

"Is it something for you to worry about?"

No pressure tags: @dadvans, @liminalmemories21, @screamlet, @setmeatopthepyre, and @leashybebes

[hitomisuzuya]

zombie apocalypse au. scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. cunnilingus. fingering. feral!softdom!scara.

i would like to give a big, big thanks to @pxndxzdx for letting me use this idea to help my writers block and having a lovely conversation with me yesterday. i hope i did okay 😅

life is a bitch and then you die. millions of people discovered that first hand all over the world when the fabled zombie apocalypse hit. and it made scaramouche wonder if people thought it was such a cool thing to talk, and fantasize about now.

reality has a big hand to bitch slap someone in the face with. although, he couldn't exactly say the zombie apocalypse didn't give him a chance to work out some long simmering frustration with humanity.

a few months after the world blew itself to hell, he discovered you in an abandoned mall looking for supplies. he'd seen you around school, having a few mutual friends between you.

scaramouche fucking swore it was love at first sight seeing you bashing a zombie's head in repeatedly with a baseball bat, yelling at it about how you just wanted to find supplies in peace. he took you back to his hidey-hole, a very efficient shelter with pretty much all the works that are now considered rare, food, hot running water, medicine, and electricity.

it really would've been a shame to him if the world cruelly swallowed up someone delicate like you. the zombie apocalypse seemed to have an affinity for bringing capability out in people they didn't know they had.

scaramouche could barely handle himself right now. having just gotten out of the shower, the scent of your body wash and shampoo fresh on the air, standing in front of him wrapped in a towel. "sorry, my head was in the clouds and i kind of forget to bring clothes to change into with me. let me just grab them real quick and-" you said shyly, hastily looking through the drawer.

"no, you can just change in here. it's fine," scaramouche cut you off, very reluctantly turning his head away. the blush on his cheeks is infuriating to him. the curves of your body being teased to him by a towel that only covered about less than half your thighs. the peek of your chest over the top. needless to say, he had to turn the rest of his body away from you to.

"are you sure? i mean, i can just go back and change real quick," you said and fuck you are so cute when you fret shyly like that.

"i said it's fine," he scoffs, he didn't want certainly walking back out into the hallway were other people would undoubtedly leer at you. you are his precious treasure damn it, not their's.

"just hurry up because i am getting hard," he mumbles, shifting restlessly on the bed a little.

"huh?" he mumbled so quietly you could barely hear him. "look, i know i am not much to look at but i didn't think i was that bad."

scaramouche stiffens and grits his teeth at your response. he couldn't believe the drivel that just came out of your pretty mouth. did you have any idea how much his eyes linger on you? how often he'd been awake at night, fighting the urge to stroke his cock while he thought about you? how much his cock aches to be buried to the hilt inside you?

a delicate girl like you deserves to be bred.

"i said hurry up because seeing you standing there wrapped in a towel is making me hard. fucking hell," scaramouche snaps, turning to look at you. "please, get dressed before i lose my self control."

that should say a lot.

maybe life wasn't up to bitch slapping him that much now because with that, he had you on your back on his bed, the towel discarded on the floor, and his head between your thighs. if he has to die anytime soon, he could now die a happy man having gotten to taste that pretty pussy of yours.

he, as well as his cock are on cloud nine.

his tongue parts your folds as a shiver of anticipation goes to straight to his cock. he instantly muffles a groan into your pussy, licking long, agonizingly slow stripes. "my pretty, do you know how fucking long i have wanted to do this?"

"y-you have?" you said shakily, blushing at the sight of him slowly lapping at your pussy. you writhe on the bed a little as his pierced tongue sweeps up to your clit. the consistent wagging and swirling of the ball of his piercing making your clit throb unbearably. a strangled moan tears from your throat as your hips rock up into his mouth.

he chuckles feeling you shiver as his thumbs skim across your inner thighs. "so sensitive, so responsive," he hums approvingly, scooping your abused clit into his mouth to suck on.

your hands clutch at the sheets before putting them on the back of his head. pressing his mouth down on your pussy, eagerly chasing the delicious friction from his tongue piercing. you open your mouth to form words, however instead his ears are met with moans and little whimpers that sound way too sweet.

"you sound so fucking cute, kitten," scaramouche releases your clit, prodding his tongue into your dripping hole just in time to feel it clench at his praise. "be a good girl while i devour you," god he wants to reach down and fist his cock, but he couldn't bear to let go of your thighs.

his tongue is fast overwhelming your senses, rubbing and licking on sensitive parts you didn't even know you had. tears well into your eyes as you grind your pussy on his mouth, shameless moans fueling his fire. "i..i have always been in love you!" you cry out, whimpering as the ball of his tongue piercing bullies your clit.

scaramouche got harder hearing your words. "adorable. i am tongue fucking you so good that you confessing your love for me. you are all mine now, dollface," he moans, drunk on the taste of you. "fuck you are gonna cum so hard i can taste it."

you gasp in pleasure as he pushes two fingers inside of you, desperate to taste you cumming. he flicks his elegant fingers into your sweet spot in a way that makes you see stares, focusing his tongue on your clit as he scissors your walls apart.

his fingers are absolutely soaked, squelching wetly in and out of your pussy. hooking into your sweet spot with calculated accuracy. whining, you tug on his hair as he coils the knot of your orgasm up tight. his tongue lapping at your pussy like a starved dog.

"oh god, please, scara! make me cum!" you cry out, your legs shaking as you grind on his mouth, your pussy eager to suck his fingers in.

"don't fucking need to tell me twice," he groans, drinking in your fucked out state. he adds a third finger, sending your body to quake with pleasure as he further stretches you apart. "fuck yourself on my mouth pretty, i welcome it," his eyes roll into the back of his head as your pussy clenches hard on his fingers.

pleasure burst white behind your eyes, your orgasm practically being ripped out of you. you shake as your pussy gushes on his fingers, flooding his tongue with your taste while you cum hard. "don't.. don't stop, please," you plead so sweetly as he nurses his tongue on your clit through your orgasm.

scaramouche couldn't help it. his cock emptied in his pants, your desperate cry for him leaving him hard again. "sh, sh, it's okay," he cooes, stroking your hips, "I'll take care of you, relax," he wasn't going to stop until the sun came up.

[ayumigotabittoolonely]

Big day in the morning

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Your name was everywhere.

Trending on Twitter. Flooding the news. Fans were demanding your comeback, and you had no idea what the fuck to do about it.

It wasn’t like you didn’t appreciate them. You loved your fans. They were the reason you stood where you did. But none of them knew what was actually happening behind the scenes.

None of them knew how tired you were.

And now, thanks to Utahime’s drunk impulsiveness, the internet was going crazy over your almost-kiss.

Last night, at the club, Utahime had pulled you into a dance both of you tipsy, breathless, laughing. And for a second, just a second, you two had leaned in a little too close.

Shoko had been the one to pull you back before anything happened.

But Utahime? That little traitor?

She posted the damn picture.

Now the entire world was obsessed with the idea that you two were dating.

You groaned, throwing your phone onto the bed. "What the fuck was she thinking?"

But honestly, a part of you didn’t even care.

Because there was something else weighing on your mind.

Something that had been suffocating you for weeks.

Nanami.

He had promised he’d be home by 6 PM.

But as always he wasn’t.

And you didn’t even have the energy to be mad anymore.

So you just went to bed.

morning

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

You woke up feeling warm.

For a moment, you thought it was a dream.

The familiar weight of an arm draped over your waist. The quiet sound of steady breathing.

But when you opened your eyes

Nanami was actually there.

For the first time in weeks, he was sleeping beside you.

Your heart clenched.

Carefully, hesitantly, you reached out and ran your fingers through his hair.

"Nanami?" Your voice was soft, still heavy with sleep.

A low hum rumbled in his throat.

"Mmh… I’m sorry for coming home late yesterday, love," he murmured, voice thick and drowsy.

His golden eyes fluttered open, looking up at you with something tender.

And fuck.

How could you not love him?

But then

Then you remembered.

The hickey. The perfume. The woman in his office.

Your stomach twisted.

You shoved him away, the warmth of his embrace suddenly suffocating.

Nanami didn’t resist. But his grip on you tightened.

"Please," he whispered. "It was just… a moment of weakness."

Your chest ached.

A moment of weakness.

Was that all six years meant to him? A moment of weakness?

A thousand words fought to leave your lips. You wanted to scream, to cry, to ask him why.

But in the end

You said nothing.

Because despite everything, despite knowing you should walk away

You forgave him.

Because you loved him.

Loved him so much you were willing to put up with his bullshit.

"I saw your tweet."

Nanami’s voice broke the silence as his fingers traced slow circles over your stomach.

"You wanted to get married, hm?"

You stiffened.

"It… It was just an excuse to get them off my back," you lied.

Of course you wanted to marry him.

You wanted it more than anything.

He hummed, unconvinced.

"You must have seen the news, then," you continued. "Everyone’s trying to figure out who the lucky man is."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Yes," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "And I don’t mind you posting me at all."

You sucked in a breath.

Then, as if he could read your thoughts, he cupped your face tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to look at him.

"I meant every word I ever said to you," he whispered.

Your lips parted.

"I worshipped you," his voice dropped, low and intense. "I still do."

"Do you know what you are to me?" His voice was soft, but it carried weight.

You swallowed, unable to speak.

"You are the first thought in my mind when I wake up," he confessed, his lips ghosting over your temple. "And the last thing I think about before I sleep."

Your breath hitched.

"You are my peace, my chaos, my greatest weakness," he continued, his thumb stroking your cheek. "I have loved you in a way I never thought I was capable of loving anything."

He exhaled slowly.

"And it terrifies me."

You blinked, startled by the rawness in his voice.

"I have never been a selfish man," he admitted, his fingers tightening slightly on your waist. "But with you? I am."

Your heart pounded.

"Because I don’t want to share you. Not with the world, not with your fans, not with anyone." He leaned closer, his forehead pressing against yours. "I want you to myself."

"You are the only thing that has ever made me feel truly alive," he murmured. "And if I lose you, I don’t know if I could ever feel that way again."

You swallowed hard, heart pounding.

"So don’t doubt me, love," he murmured. "Because my heart has always been yours."

Fuck.

You forgot everything.

The cheating. The lies. The pain.

You forgot it all when he held you like this.

And you hated it.

But you smiled back anyway.

Because loving him hurt, but not loving him felt impossible.

a day off

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Nanami took the day off today.

And for the first time in so long, things felt normal.

You spent the morning baking together. Flour dusted his shirt. Dough stuck to your fingers. He chuckled softly when you stole a bite of cookie batter.

And yeah.

You totally posted a couple of pictures.

Muhehe.

Then, later he took you out on a date.

It felt like old times. Like before.

Soft words. Affectionate glances. His fingers brushing over yours just because.

"You look beautiful," he had whispered. "You always do."

Your heart swelled.

And just like that

You fell in love with him all over again.

Night

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The day ended peacefully.

Nanami sat beside you on the couch, reading a book while you scrolled through your phone.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

And yet your heart wouldn’t stop racing.

Because you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

That this happiness was temporary.

That sooner or later everything would come crashing down.

And you weren’t sure if you were ready for it.

Somewhere other the universe

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Gojo Satoru had never been a man of patience.

So why the fuck was he still here?

Scrolling through your posts. Clicking on your pictures. Watching the videos of you and Nanami with a scowl on his face.

He told himself it was just curiosity. Just harmless interest.

But the truth was so much uglier.

It boiled his blood to see you with Nanami.

Nanami. Of all people.

An old classmate, a so-called friend someone Gojo had always thought was too stiff, too rigid, too unfeeling to love someone like you.

Were they happy? Sure.

Would Gojo ever fucking admit it?

Absolutely not.

Because deep down, he knew he wasn’t just criticizing Nanami.

He was jealous.

And fuck, he hated it.

Gojo had never been particularly close to you. Sure, you had been featured in his songs. Sure, he had spent hours replaying those tracks just to hear your voice.

But beyond that?

Nothing.

You were a fellow artist. A colleague.

And yet

To him, you were so much more.

He had tried to forget it. Tried to drown himself in distractions.

But it never worked.

Your voice was still the one he searched for in crowded places.

Your face was still the one he found himself watching during award shows.

Your name was still the one he typed into search bars at 2 AM just to see if you had posted something new.

And now, as he sat there, glaring at yet another picture of you and Nanami

He decided enough was enough.

He was done watching.

If he wanted to hear your voice so badly he would make it happen.

A remix.

That was the perfect excuse, wasn’t it?

A new collaboration. A remastered version of one of your old songs.

Just an innocent business proposal.

Not an excuse to see you. Not an excuse to hear your voice up close.

Not an excuse to remind you that you had other options.

That maybe just maybe you were better off with someone else.

Gojo leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his snowy white hair.

"She just needs to sing for me," he murmured to himself.

But deep down

He knew he wanted so much more than that.

Gossip in the group

He then went to the group to share about his idea to feature you in his remix, and fuck, as always, it was useless.

It was always the same eye rolls, dismissive texts, insults disguised as jokes.

But did that stop him?

Hell no.

If they weren’t going to support his genius plan, then screw them.

Gojo would make this happen on his own.

But he was genuinely shocked when Geto actually backed him up. Of all people, he expected Geto to be the first to shoot him down, not the one defending his idea.

So this bastard actually liked your songs? And he had been pretending he didn’t just to avoid getting teased? Unbelievable. Gojo smirked oh, he was never letting this go.

IS GETO FUCKING KIDDING HIM

Suguru. Of all fucking people.

Gojo could handle Nanami.

Nanami was stiff, reserved, predictable. He was a good man, but he was a man who followed the rules. And rules? Rules were meant to be broken.

But Suguru?

That shocked him to his core.

Because Suguru wasn’t supposed to want you.

Yet he did.

Gojo had always known, deep down, that Suguru secretly listened to your songs when he thought no one was watching.

He knew Suguru had pictures of you tucked away in his room.

And yet, every time he confronted him, Suguru would just smile. Brush it off. Deny it.

But now?

Now, Suguru admitted it.

Now, Suguru said it out loud.

And worst of all Suguru had the audacity to say,

"She was never yours to begin with."

Gojo knew that was the truth.

But he didn’t want to admit it.

Didn’t want to hear it from Suguru, of all people.

Because Suguru knew.

Suguru knew Gojo had an eternal, fucking pathetic, all-consuming crush on you.

Suguru knew that Gojo wanted you in ways he didn’t even know how to put into words.

And yet, if Suguru ever got the chance to be with you?

Gojo wouldn’t be able to bear it.

He’d end it.

He’d ruin it.

Because the thought of you with Nanami was frustrating.

But the thought of you with Suguru?

It was maddening.

His best friend. His brother. The only person who could truly challenge him who could steal you away from him.

It was unbearable.

Because Gojo didn’t want to share.

Not with Nanami.

Not with Suguru.

Not with anyone.

He wanted you for himself.

And he didn’t even know how.

Maybe just maybe he’d take a turn that was insane.

Something that no one would expect from him.

His fingers twitched. His mind raced.

Then, abruptly

He slapped himself.

A loud, sharp smack that snapped him back to reality.

And then he laughed.

Because fuck.

Maybe he was already losing it.

Don't have the motivation to continue to series :( and fuck i lost some of my works

@blushedcheri @kazupop @thesunxwentblack @fuffyfun123

Previous___. Next____

[morgana-larkin]

Here it is, the next chapter! Now for this one, Joe is back for half the chapter and you might all hate this chapter but I don’t really care. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I just want to say Happy Valentine’s Day to everyone! I was able to write a chapter today but I’m going on a date tomorrow so I won’t have a lot of time to write a chapter but I’ll see if I can write one quickly.

Just Tired - Part 8

Warnings: manipulative relationship, Upset Mel (you’ve been warned)

Words: 2.7k

You and Melissa get to your place. You let the both of you in and then you take your shoes off while Melissa looks around.

“If you’re looking for my roommate, she won’t get here for another hour.” You tell her and she nods. “Do you want to text Joe? Just to get it over with, and you’re not home so there’s no way he can get to you. I’m not pressuring you but I’m guessing it’s something on your mind.” You tell her and she nods.

“I want to end it but… I don’t know, I’m just scared.” She says and she goes to sit on the couch and you follow her.

“What are you scared about?”

“I’ve been with Joe since I was 23, I’ve been with him for most of my life and now I’m letting him go.” She tells you. “I get he’s a manipulator, but there’s some part of me that wants to stay with him as he’s all I’ve known for 25 years.” She tells you and you hum. She then gets a text and she goes to read it before she groans.

“What is it?”

“Joe said he wants to know when I’m coming home so we can talk about what happened.” She tells you and you look at the text.

“You don’t have to go see him in person, you can tell him right now that it’s over.”

“No, I think it’s better if I tell him in person. I think it's better for me, so my brain understands that it’ll actually be over.” She says and you nod.

“Want me to drive you over?” You ask her and she nods.

“Please.” She says softly and you take her hand.

You drive her to her place where Joe walks out of the house as soon as he hears the car pull in. You see a white bandage over his nose and think that Melissa got him good. Melissa takes a deep breath and then gets out of the car.

“Melissa where have you been? You haven’t been home since yesterday afternoon.” He asks her and then sees you. “What is your coworker doing here and driving your car?”

“That doesn’t matter.” She tells him and then you slightly roll down the window, enough so you can hear but they don’t notice that it’s open. “I wanted to come here to tell you that it’s over between us, I want a divorce.” She firmly states.

“Oh come on Melissa, you’re just overreacting.” Joe tells her. “Look I know you’re sorry about breaking my nose, so just come inside.” He says and she shakes her head.

“No, I’m telling you that I’m really asking for a divorce.” She says and walks a few steps towards him. “I’m going to file for one and I want to make sure that you’ll sign the papers.”

“I’m not going to sign them. I’m not signing anything because of some hissy fit.” He tells her and crosses his arms.

“You have been manipulating me this entire time, the entire time we’ve been together. I think the least you can do is sign the damn papers.” She admits to him and he widens his eyes slightly.

“I haven’t been manipulating you. I don’t know what’s going on in your mind or what your coworkers have been drilling into your head, but let’s just continue our normal lives as husband and wife.” He says and offers her a hand for her to take.

“They haven’t been telling me anything, I found out on my own.” She says and Joe looks at you.

“Has she been spewing nonsense at you. I saw how she looked at you at the bar, she has a crush on you.” He says, blaming everything on you. “I bet she’s been feeding you lies about me, about us. She wants this to happen, she wants to be with you so she’s sabotaging our marriage.” He says to her and she’s shaking her head.

“No, she’s not.” Melissa tells him and walks closer to him. “I haven’t been happy in a long time and I never knew why until yesterday.” She admits and he looks at her.

“Do you think you can find someone else? Someone who will love you better than me?” He asks her as she steps toward her. “Face it, I’m your best chance.” He says with anger and points a finger at her.

“No, no you’re not.” She says and looks down quickly before looking back up with a tear rolling down her cheek.

“Now you’re crying? You’re so sensitive, woman.” He tells her.

“It’s ok to have emotions, it’s ok for me to cry.” She defends herself. “You just never wanted me to cry because you wanted me to just stay clueless about what you were doing to me.” She tells him and then he grabs both her wrists. “Let me go!” She tells him.

“I haven’t been doing anything to you, it’s you that’s clearly flying off the rails. If you leave me then you’ll be alone for the rest of your life.” He says to her. “It’s obvious you’re not feeling well right now, so just calm down and I’ll bring you to bed.”

“No, just let me go.” She says softly as a few more tears stream down her face. He then is able to hold both her wrists in one hand and he grabs her chin with his free hand.

“Melissa, come on and think about it. We’ve been together for 25 years and we love each other, shouldn’t that be enough for you?” He tells her and she shakes her head. “So you want to be alone for the rest of your life? Cause that’s what you'll be if you let me go.”

“You should let her go.” You tell him and he turns his head to see you there holding a bat, ready to swing. “Let her go, she said she wants a divorce.” You add.

“You’re probably feeding her nonsense, trying to ruin a perfectly good marriage so you can have her.” He says to you and you shake your head.

“I haven’t done a thing except helping Melissa yesterday after she left you.” You tell him. “Now let her go or I won’t hesitate to use this.” You say and he thinks about it for a few seconds before he lets her go.

“You’ll regret this Melissa, and you’ll come crawling back to me.” He tells her before he walks back inside the house.

You lower the bat before you run up to Melissa, who’s full on crying right now. You wrap your arms around her and she lays her head on your chest while she just cries it out. After about a minute you gently stroke her head and she wraps her arms around your waist. You feel her pull the both of you down so you lower yourself, with her, to your knees. After a couple minutes, you feel her sniffle and her tears subside.

“Can you take me to your place?” She says softly and you nod.

“I can definitely do that.” You tell her and you help her stand up and then bring her to the passenger seat. You put the bat back in the backseat and then you drive the both of you to your place.

“Can we go to your room and cuddle?” She asks you and you nod. She walks to your room without any help from you and you see her wrap her arms around herself and she’s looking down. You quickly get a box of chocolates from the cupboard and bring it upstairs to your room where she’s sitting on the edge of the bed.

“None of what he told you was true.” You tell her and she looks up at you. “I heard everything.” You admit and she brings her knees to her chest and hugs herself. “Were you wanting to cuddle on the edge of the bed?” You ask her and she shakes her head.

You go up to the headboard, place the chocolates on the nightstand and sit down and she takes a deep breath before she crawls up to you and places her head on your lap. You gently stroke her hair and she wraps one of her arms around your legs. You then start humming a lullaby that your mom used to sing to you and you feel some of her tension leave.

“Something he did say was true.” She tells you.

“What are you referring to?” You ask.

“You did help ruin the marriage.” She says softly and you look at her and freeze in your stroking. “But that’s not a bad thing.” She adds. “I’m glad you got involved, that you overstepped.” She says and you resume stroking her head.

“Ya?”

“Ya, I knew I was unhappy but I couldn’t figure out why. Until you got involved.” She tells you and you hum. “I have something to confess.”

“And what would that be?”

“Barb’s guest bedroom is always ready to be used, she didn’t have to get it ready.” She admits. “If I’m being honest, it felt nice to be held like how you held me last night and I wanted that again.”

“Melissa, you could have told me that and I still would have said you can stay here again.” You tell her.

“I know but I just didn’t want to admit it, out loud.” She tells you and a thought pops into your head.

“Melissa?” You ask her and she hums. “Did you know you might be into women?” You ask her.

“No, but last week I realised that I’ve been attracted to women before without knowing.” She confesses.

“Are you comfortable going to a bar where women will definitely hit on you?”

“Ya, I think that’s something that will make me feel better. Explore more of myself and kiss some people.” She says.

“It’s a gay bar, so there’ll be lesbians, bisexual women and men.” You tell her. “But mostly lesbians and bisexual women hang out there. And I see most of them hit on older women. So they’ll be all over you.” You add and she hums.

“That sounds nice.” She says with a yawn and then she falls asleep on your lap. You then get your phone out and you text Barb what happened and that Melissa is now asleep on your lap.

Melissa opens her eyes and sees that she’s been tucked in your bed and her head is on one of your pillows. She’s pretty sure she was just laying on your lap a few seconds ago. She then hears some noise downstairs so she gets out of bed and makes her way to the stairs. She then hears some voices in the kitchen and realises that you and Barb are talking.

“You’re doing an excellent job at helping her dear.” Barb tells you.

“I just feel like I’m not doing enough.” You say to her.

“You’re listening to what she needs and making sure she gets exactly what she needs to help. I mean you did a combined class all day because she needed you at the last minute.” Barb says.

“Ok.” You say. “Will this really help her feel better?” You then ask.

“It’s a comfort meal of hers that I made her after she had a fight with Joe and I made it every time she stayed at my place overnight.” Barb explains to you. At that moment Melissa decides to go downstairs and you look up and smile at her.

“Hey, you’re awake.” You tell her. “Feel any better?” You ask and she nods.

“I’m pretty sure I fell asleep on your lap though.” She says and you nod.

“You did, but Barb came over and I had to open the door for her.” You tell her and she hums. “She made your favourite comfort food.” You add and she looks at Barb putting it on 3 plates.

“Y/n told me everything.” Barb tells Melissa.

“You warned me about him 15 years ago and I should have listened to you.” Melissa tells Barb.

“Melissa, sometimes people in this situation aren’t aware for a while and they have to figure it out themselves. Even though Y/n and I both told you, you had to figure it out yourself to actually understand what was happening.” She tells Melissa and you see how Melissa nods with watery eyes. You go up to Melissa with a plate and you gently hand it to her while also rubbing her arm.

“Eating might make you feel better.” You tell her softly and she nods as she takes the plate and heads over to the couch. Barb hands you one of the plates and you both follow Melissa to the couch. You end up sitting on the floor across from them and Melissa looks at you.

“Where are you eating on the floor?” She asks you.

“It really only fits 2 people comfortably.” You tell her. She then looks at the empty spot on the couch and then at you. Barb gets the hint and goes to the side of the couch before Melissa pats the now empty spot beside her. “I mean it, it’s really only comfortable for 2.” You repeat and she raises her eyebrows at you before you get up and join them on the couch. Melissa gets you to sit down as close to her as possible so that at least your legs are touching hers.

All 3 of you eat dinner and talk for about an hour before Barb heads back to her place and you’re left alone with Melissa again. Melissa then goes to cuddle you on the couch. You lean back on the couch and she wraps an arm around your waist and places her head on your chest. You wrap an arm around her and she lets out a content sigh. She stays like through the entire movie that you let her pick.

“I should go have a shower before bed.” You tell her and she sighs.

“No.” She complains and wraps her arm tighter around you.

“Melissa, we can cuddle in bed after I’m done.” You tell her and she still doesn’t let you go. “Melissa, I promise we can cuddle in bed after I’m finished or you can swing that bat at my head.” You tell her and she thinks about it before she sighs and lets you go. “I’ll be quick.” You tell her and then you go have a quick shower while she goes upstairs and gets changed in some pjs.

You come out in a towel and hair wet and Melissa freezes at the sight and her cheeks turn the same colour as her hair. You miss her reaction as you went right to your dresser to get some pjs.

“I keep forgetting to bring pjs with me.” You say as you get some out. Melissa snaps out of her trance before you turn around and she swallows the extra saliva she got from drooling over you.

“That’s ok. I’ll just finish getting ready for bed in the bathroom.” Melissa says and then bolts to the bathroom.

She comes out a few minutes later and you’re in bed on your phone. She crawls into bed beside you and you set your alarms before you put your phone down and look at her.

“I called Ava and told her I’m not going into work tomorrow.” She tells you and you nod.

“That’s a good idea.” You say to her.

Melissa looks into your eyes and sees the care you have for her and she feels a slight flutter in her stomach. In a moment of confidence she goes to give you a kiss on your cheek as a thank you. You happen to turn your head right before and she ends up kissing your lips. She quickly pulls away and you both are looking at each other with wide eyes as the realisation kicks in. Melissa licks her lips and looks at yours before she kisses you again.

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[yelenasdiary]

Valentines Request!! Maria x Reader were Maria is off duty from being the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and decides to plan a whole day for her and Reader like a little picnic in the field by their house, a bath for them to soak in together with candles. Maria also making a valentines basket up with some chocolate and other things like roses and stuff reader would like maybe some jewelry. And then at the end of the night Maria proposes to Reader after watching a few movies. Basically just full one fluff. You can ad anything else you'd like!

-🌊

Maria's Plans

Pairing: Maria Hill x GN! Reader

Summary: Maria has the perfect Valentines Day planned out.

Fluff

Warnings: None, if I missed any, please let me know | 1.1K

AC: Thank you for sending this! It’s been ages since I wrote for Maria! I hope you enjoy! x 

Cupid’s Masterlist 2025

The morning air nipped at Maria’s cheeks as she stepped onto the back porch with a coffee warming her hands. The soft, warm glow of the morning sun kissed the open field before her, exactly how she hoped it would. It was a big day today, for Maria anyways. She’d taken some time off from being Director of S.H.I.E.L.D and all its deadlines to focus on something a little, sorry, a lot more important to her. 

She’d woken up early, slipping out of bed careful not to wake you, even though you lightly stirred at her absence. She grabbed the picnic basket out from the storage cupboard, ready to pack it with sandwiches, fresh fruit, some of your favorite snacks and some sparkling cider. All the things she had brought yesterday and prepared while you were in the shower last night. 

Maria whipped up a breakfast feast while you were in the bedroom, completely in a deep slumber, the smell of waffles syrup wasn’t even to wake you. She clearly carried the tray in her hands into the bedroom, placing it on the nightstand before gently nudging you, she hated to wake you but she couldn’t wait to spend the day with you. 

“Honey” she whispered softly, “time to rise and shine, sleepyhead”.

You groaned softly, burrowing deeper into the softness of your pillow, “Mm, five more minutes”.

Maira smiled softly, leaning down and placing a kiss on your cheek, “I made breakfast” she whispered. You finally cracked an eye open, a sleepy smile graced your lips, “waffles?”

She chuckled, “of course, what else would I make for my favourite person?”

You sat up, your back resting against the headboard as Maria carefully placed the tray across your lap. “I have a whole day planned for us today” she said. 

“A whole day?” You asked, a little confused, completely forgetting it was Valentines Day. Your brain still waking up. “I plan to make this Valentines special” Maria replied. 

“Oh crap! I totally forgot!” You stressed, feeling bad. Maria gave you a comforting smile, “you’ve been busy with work, don’t stress. Besides, today is about you” she assured you even though you still felt horrible for forgetting. “Now, eat up, don’t want your waffles to get cold” she added.

After breakfast, Maria drove you to Otsego Lake, the perfect place to set the scene. She laid the picnic blanket out, layered with large throw pillows for extra comfort. The sun casted its warmth over the water as the two of you sat down, intertwined with one another. The fresh air was a small reminder of the peace the world had to offer.

“These sandwiches are so good!” You beamed, taking another bite of the roast beef relish sandwich. 

“Only the best for you” Maria smiled softly, taking a bite of her own sandwich. 

The food picked at, the cider almost gone. Maria’s arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer into her as the afternoon tore on. The sun kept you both warm as the air hummed with the sound of bees buzzing through the wildflowers.

“This is the best Valentines day” you sighed contentedly, enjoying the down time together. 

“The day’s not over yet” Maria smirked, running her hand through your hair before she took a deep breath. She reached for your hand, her own trembling slightly. You looked at her with soft eyes as her blue eyes looked into yours. “We’ve been together for a while now” she began, “and these past few years, they’ve been, well, they’ve been the best years of my life…you’re…you’re everything to me” she shifted, pulling out a small velvet box from her pocket. 

Your eyes widened; a look of surprise spread across your face. “I know our jobs can take a lot from us but, you, you make it all worth wild. You’re my best friend and the love of my life” she added, opening the small box, revealing a ring. “Will you marry me?” She asked. 

The silence that followed was deafening. Maria held her breath, her heart pounding, then, your eyes filled with tears. A smile bloomed on your face, “yes” you whispered. Your voice thick with emotion, “yes Maria! A thousand times, yes!”. 

Maria let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through her body as she carefully slid the ring onto your finger before pulling you for a tight hug. “I love you so much” she murmured. 

“I love you too, Maria” you replied, squeezing her tightly, “more than words will ever be able to say”.

----

Maria transformed the bathroom into a haven of gentle fragrance and lit candles. The scent of lavender and chamomile hung in the air as she filled the bath with the perfect temperature. She added bath salts, fragrance oils and bubbles to the tub before finishing it with sprinkled rose petals. 

You smiled softly at Maria as you leant against the doorframe of the bathroom, admiring the way she moved swiftly around the bathroom wanting to make the perfect bath.

“Now I just need one more thing” she beamed proudly. 

“Let me guess, would that one last thing be me?” You asked, your voice laced with love. Maria’s soft smile grew as she closed the gap between you both, “you guessed correctly” she said softly, cupping your cheek. 

“You didn’t have to do all this for me” you replied, melting into her touch. 

“I wanted too” she said, her thumb gently stroking your cheek, “we don’t want it to get too cold now” she added. You smiled softly, nodding your head at her words.

After stripping your clothing and throwing them in the hamper nearby, you and Maria sat comfortably in the bath, your back resting against her front as the two of you soaked. Maria intertwined her fingers with yours, admiring the engagement ring on your finger. “It suits you” she whispered, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder.

You chuckled lightly, “I feel like I need some time to get used to having it, I keep playing with it” you admitted. 

“It took me months to find the perfect ring” she replied.

“You picked perfectly” you smiled softly. 

As the two of you sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound was the gently cracking of the candles and the soft movements of the water. “You know” you began, breaking the silence, “everybody is going to consistently ask if we have set a date yet”.

Maria chuckled, “yeah, I figured they would”. 

You turned your head slightly, looking up at her, “you’re perfect” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Maria leaned forward, kissing you softly, “says you” she smiled. The scent of lavender and chamomile forever burned into your senses, to remind you of this perfect night being wrapped in your fiancé’s arms, sinking deeper into her hold. The future ahead looked brighter than ever, as it always did. But for now, it was you and Maria sharing ideas for the wedding that you were beyond excited for.

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[thewinter-eden]

Damn Puppy Dog Eyes

images are mine (except middle KS pic that I got from pinterest). please do not use without permission. ATE pcs are my inspo for this series.

PLEASE READ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

in honor of so many of you being so sweet and sending me birthday wishes yesterday, I was extra motivated to get this one finished and posted as soon as possible. You all made me feel so loved and appreciated and I'll never be able to thank you enough. So to ATTEMPT to thank you, I got this goofball finished.

ALSO - y'all go read the story that @ramadiiiisme wrote for me as a birthday present <3 if you love Ateez' Yeosang (as you SHOULD), you'll enjoy the bit of fluff that my bestie outdid herself with. (p.s. hey bestie I put Wooyoung in this story just for you hope you love it sorry he's a lil twerp but he kinda is ok bye) find my birthday story HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

part 7 of the skz crack!horror series.

pairing: Kim Seungmin x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes summary: werewolf!Seungmin saves your life from a pack, inadvertently earning your unwavering loyalty, even though he’s just as much a killer as they were. Sometimes he can’t decide if he wants to wrap you up in bubble wrap to save you from your own idiotic self or dump your annoying ass back where he found you. (warnings below the cut)

word count: 6k

warnings: Fear, attempted murder, werewolves hunting humans, reader makes dumb decisions, Seungmin’s gonna pull his own hair out, Ateez, group dynamic manipulation (Jeongin is SKZ alpha, Yunho is ATZ alpha), language, undertones of violence (canine-type pecking order fights), reader is referred to as ‘the bitch’ occasionally (canine term more so than derogatory term), undertones of domestic abuse (non-physically-violent, reader is unhappy), Yunho SLANDER (I’m sorry Yunho I love you), reader is touch starved, cuddles

Comment a request to be tagged.

series info

He's noticed you here and there around campus.

You're always with Yunho, or one of his pack. The entire student body knows who you are, knows you belong to one of the strongest packs on campus, knows that you're engaged to the alpha. To Yunho, one of the most prolific killers of your generation.

No one bothers you.

The first time Seungmin recognizes you by yourself, you're on the outskirts of campus, practicing some kind of flowy, yoga-like, graceful movements in the back of the baseball field. He watches you for only a few seconds before his eyes are scanning your surroundings, checking the bleachers for Yunho or the other members of his pack who are always hovering around you with possessive consistency. There's no one. You are alone.

Your focus surprises him. The way you control your motions, the finest muscles in perfect form, your expression intensely concentrated, is different from the behavior he's seen from you so far. You're always smiling, always latched onto Yunho, always fluttering around him and his pack to provide companionship and servitude whenever called upon. Now, though, you are planted firmly in your own autonomy, exercising some kind of active meditation that speaks volumes of your true self.

Seungmin turns away from you and doesn't look back. To be caught gazing at Yunho's fiancé with anything other than perhaps disinterested reverence means trouble.

The next time he sees you, you're in a restaurant alone, watching the clock tick away the minutes as Yunho stands you up. You're quiet again, your face peacefully still in your fiancé's absence, your hands folded neatly in your lap and not an ounce of surprise in your body that you're being forgotten once again.

After over an hour of waiting, a member of Yunho's pack arrives and hovers over your table. When you meet the eyes of the man who's come to pick you up, you've got a manufactured embarrassed smile on your face and you get up, already laughing and chatting about something that you had no thoughts of only moments before.

The man herds you outside into his car, pays the bill for the glass of wine that you've barely sipped, and chauffeurs you off into the night.

A few weeks go by before he sees you again, and this time you’re in the grocery store with two of Yunho’s pack, and you’re not smiling anymore. Your hands tremble as you reach for packages of meat and cartons of eggs, your eyes downcast and darting to clock the positions of your companions at every turn.

Each time he catches a glimpse of you between aisles and around fruit displays, he notices the dynamics have shifted from what they usually are. Because they’re not your companions, this time; this time they’re your keepers; your captors.

Seungmin notices a familiar face pop up obliviously from behind a shelf of fresh bread, turning over a package of sourdough in his hands to check the baker’s date. The young man, one of Seungmin’s own friends, bounces the loaf of bread in his palm once and then tosses it into his basket before moving on to the display of cheeses.

You noticed the guy at the same time that Seungmin did, but you whip your head away and make a beeline for an aisle at the complete opposite side of the store to avoid him.

Both of your companions have already caught sight of the man you’re trying to stay away from, and they’re hurrying after you with hostile glares pointed back at him.

The entire exchange is odd, especially since Seungmin knows for sure that his friend Felix wouldn’t be stupid enough to make a move on Yunho’s woman.

Despite your obvious attempts at avoidance, you run into Felix at the checkout line, which Seungmin witnesses from a spot further back in line, his own groceries piled high in his own basket. He hears Felix chirp a cheerful hello to you, and then a more cautious one to both of your escorts.

You murmur a quiet response back, and your men say nothing.

“I just wanted to thank you again for carrying me on that partner project last week.” Felix is saying, completely ignoring the darkening auras of the wolves beside you. “I was getting worried about my grade there for a minute.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” You respond kindly. “Your part definitely tied the project together.” You’re dumping your items on the conveyor belt as quickly as you can, desperately trying to get checked out and away from Felix as fast as possible.

The line moves and Seungmin finds himself ever so slightly closer to you.

Felix laughs softly and reaches to lay a casual and friendly pat to your arm, a move that Seungmin has seen him replicate hundreds of times with dozens of friends and acquaintances—a move that means nothing—but the shorter of your two companions bullies his way between you and Felix with a snarl.

“Woo!” You snap, snatching him by his sleeve. You can’t move him, you can’t actually call him off, but the frantic tone in your voice and the desperate plea in your eyes convinces Felix to back off without a fight.

“Don’t worry about it,” Felix shakes his head at you, ignoring Wooyoung entirely. “It’s not your fault they don’t have the social experience to recognize a harmless interaction. But I hear that’s a common problem for lapdogs.”

Seungmin can feel the tension thicken between the four of you and his own hackles rise instinctively, his hand gripping his basket with enough strength to bruise.

“That’s not helpful right now,” You say, and loop an arm through Wooyoung’s to hold close. You turn to the taller man behind you, the one who hasn’t torn his smoldering glare from Felix. “We need to pay and go. Yunho doesn’t want to cause problems with another pack, and there’s no reason to waste energy on him.” You shrug a dismissive shoulder at Felix, who rolls his eyes and walks away to join another checkout line. “He was just a group project partner, Mingi. He’s friendly with everyone.”

The larger man glances at you, then over the divider to Felix, then to the end of your line to Seungmin.

Of course he’s already clocked Seungmin.

There’s a reason he was chosen to guard you.

Evidently deciding that getting you out of the grocery store is easier than dealing with a confrontation from two members of a competing pack, Mingi tugs his wallet from a back pocket and pays for the groceries. He tosses the bags into Wooyoung’s grasp and then turns you with a hand on your back and herds you out of the store.

Seungmin doesn’t breathe again until their vehicle speeds you out of the parking lot.

The reason for your sudden protection detail becomes a little clearer the next time he finds you at the end of the baseball field, practicing your meditative *tai chi—*when he finds you crying. Your arms and legs carrying you with perfect poise through the movements, your face scrunched with pain and soaked with tears.

He’s on alert at the sight of your obvious distress, his senses kicking into overdrive to determine the cause of your ache, but he can’t identify a source. Instead of endorphins and blood, obvious markers of physical pain and abuse, you smell like cortisol and low blood sugar. Despite the over-controlling appearance of things, Yunho doesn’t seem to be hurting you, which does surprise him.

But you are unhappy.

That much is obvious.

You’re unhappy, you’re pulling away from your perfect fiancé to find time for yourself, and Yunho is feeling his grasp on you slipping. He can’t risk suffering a humiliating breakup that the entire student body would find out about, so he’s using his pack to keep an eye on you.

Seungmin knows what will happen to you if you continue to be unhappy—what happens to all humans who overstay their welcome with Yunho’s help. Either he will manufacture a breakup that humiliates you instead, or you will be disposed of.

Seungmin collects his gear, bouncing a baseball thoughtfully in the palm of his hand. You’re still unaware of his presence, still crying into your morning meditation, but he can’t help but feel like he’s witnessing your last moments on earth.

It’s not his business.

He leaves you there, headed for the showers, and hopes nobody had seen the indecision in his eyes.

The next time he finds himself close to you is an accident. His head is down, thumbing through the pages in his notebook, looking for a homework sheet that he’s suppose to turn in by today, when he’s hit by the scent of tea tree and blackberry—and then a shoulder jabs into his ribs.

He lurches back, hand lifting from his notebook to push the offending body away from him, and finds himself holding you by the arm, blinking down into your apologetic face.

You’re babbling regretfully, asking him if he’s okay, checking the ground to see if he’s dropped anything, but he’s just watching the way you’re avoiding his eyes.

You’re terrified, overwhelmed by the sheer number of werewolves on campus. He can feel you shaking beneath his hand. For a moment he wonders if he was wrong in his assessment of Yunho’s treatment of you, if you are actually being physically abused—based on the way you flinch away from his blank stare, you’ve clearly had some bad interactions with wolves.

“I’m so sorry.” You say again. “I’ll watch where I’m going.”

Seungmin lets you go. He never should have touched you, not even as a reflex. You’re Yunho’s woman, and now his scent is on you. “It’s fine.” He says simply, and shoulders past you.

He’ll hear of this again.

Jeongin will hear all about the member of his pack who put his hands on an alpha’s fiancé.

“Let me make it up to you!” Your voice cries from behind him, desperate to smooth things over and help him explain this unintentional rendezvous. You know how wolves can be. You know what’s just happened—you’ll probably be punished for it.

“Forget it.” Seungmin snaps back, barely looking over his shoulder. “Leave me alone.”

You find him the next day in the library, studying by himself. He can smell you coming, now that he’s gotten a scent of you up close, and his body immediately coils, tightening to leave. Nothing good can come of the two of you being seen together, much less studying together. You dump your books on his table and plop yourself down into the chair across from him.

Seungmin abruptly forgets his topic of study, stunned by your brazen neglect of cultural boundaries. “Are you stupid?” He snaps, whipping his gaze around. Your posse seems to have abandoned you today, but the morning is young. “You need to stop talking to my pack.” It’s harsh and biting, but it’s best for everyone.

You’re human—you don’t understand.

You can’t be getting buddy-buddy with Felix, you can’t be seeking out Seungmin. There are enough members of the pack you’re marrying into to keep you company without dragging another one into the drama that is your human desire for friendship and attention. You’re going to cause a fight, and you’re going to get someone killed.

But you just roll your eyes and flip open the cover of a textbook. “Things aren’t working out with Yunho.”

Seungmin’s scraping his things together, dumping handfuls of pencils and scrap paper and sticky notes into his backpack. “I don’t care.” And he really, really doesn’t. He thinks you’re pathetic, trapped in a relationship that isn’t all you thought it was going to be, and now you don’t realize there’s no way out of it. “Does Yunho know that? Because your guard dogs are still stalking you.” He juts his chin towards the front desk, where Wooyoung and Mingi are hovering, glowering at you.

Your complexion washes out ever so slightly.

At least you realize a little bit of the severity of the situation.

He catches your eyes finding his again and for a second he pauses in stacking his books. “What?”

“I don’t like these rules.” You say. “Why can’t I talk to you just because of Yunho?”

Seungmin’s backpack zips with a definitive sound. “Don’t you know anything? Wolves are territorial.” He shoves his chair back and gets to his feet. “Stop trying to talk to me. You’re not worth killing an alpha for.” He doesn’t catch your shocked expression as he spins on his heel and stalks out of the library.

And of course you don’t listen. Of course you think you know better than what everyone is telling you. You must think that, because Seungmin can’t imagine another reason that you would show up at his doorstep, banging on his dorm room door, sobbing your pitiful heart out in front of him.

You must be either stupid or arrogant.

He can only stare at you, one hand clutching the door, when you barrel straight at him and he finds a miserable, weeping human wrapped around his chest. Your tears are soaking into his throat, your heart hammering against his chest, and all he feels is panic.

Because you’re emitting hormones and chemicals that every wolf in the building can smell and you’re smearing them all over his clothes.

He doesn’t even question why you’re crying. In two seconds he’s shoved you off of him and slammed the door in your face, and in the next two seconds he’s bolted across his dorm and plunged himself into the shower to scrub every last remnant of you off of him.

It’s not until he’s out of the shower, toweling through his hair, tugging on fresh clothes, that he realizes that he hasn’t been able to get the image of you bawling like a lost lamb out of his head.

The shower isn’t enough. He’s meeting Jisung and Felix the next morning to study, and as soon as he approaches the table both older boys pin their gazes on him suspiciously. They’re taking in his scent, absorbing the intermingling of his familiar musk and the treacherous addition of your tea tree shampoo and warm skin.

“Dude.” Jisung sniffs, face scrunching once. He leans in, pushing his nose into Seungmin’s hair and bouncing back with a bright laugh when the younger man shoves him away. “Who did you fuck last night? You reek of woman.”

Seungmin swings a half-assed fist at Jisung and lets him dodge it. “I didn’t fuck anyone. Shut up.”

Felix’s eyes widen, leaning closer as well, and then he flinches back in surprise. “That’s Yunho’s girl. You smell like Yunho’s fiancé.”

A second of silence settles over the library before Jisung’s hand claps down on Seungmin’s shoulder. “You fucked Yunho’s fiancé?” He hears himself as soon as he’s said it, smacking a hand over his own mouth and ducking his head to avoid Seungmin’s burning glare. To take the target off his own back, he squints at Felix. “How do you know what she smells like?”

“We had a class project.” Felix frowns. “It took us a week and I nearly got gutted by Wooyoung and Mingi every time we had to meet for it. Are you fucking insane?” He directs the last question to the youngest.

Seungmin slams his textbooks down at the table, expression dark with rage. “I didn’t fuck anybody.” He snaps. “She showed up at my dorm last night and I shut the door in her face.” He hopes it will be enough to change the subject, but Jisung just inches closer. “I didn’t talk to her,” He grumbles before any more questions can be thrown haphazardly across the table. “I don’t know why she came to me. I’ve met her exactly once and told her to leave us alone.”

“I’ve heard she’s not vibing with Yunho anymore.” Jisung says, flipping casually through his notes. “She’s not as enamored with his freaky possessive tendencies as she thought she would be.” He completely ignores when Felix kicks him under the table. “And, actually, I’ve heard that his second in command is higher on his fuck list than she is.”

Seungmin kicks him too, being the second to notice to looming presence approaching from behind Jisung. “Shut up, hyung.” he grumbles. “This is none of our business.”

“Leave it alone,” Felix agrees. “It doesn’t concern us.”

“Yeah, but come on.” Jisung barrels on. “Why wouldn’t she be pissed to find out she’s second to Mingi after being paraded around like a queen for two years?”

The approaching wolves decide to make themselves known as Seungmin’s eyes roll to the ceiling. “Maybe don’t believe everything you hear.”

At the sound of Wooyoung’s voice in his ear, Jisung scrambles up and spins to face the two pack mates who have overheard him yapping. He looks appropriately abashed and rubs the back of his neck once but doesn’t back down. “We’re just talking,” He says, and flashes them both a glare.

The larger of the two, San, edges closer. It’s a very clear warning.

Wooyoung’s eyes flicker to Seungmin and his nostrils flare. “That one smells like the bitch.”

It’s enough to raise Seungmin’s hackles, even though he knows it isn’t meant the way humans mean it. More than that, it’s almost affectionate—because you aren’t properly a bitch; you’re not a wolf; but they accept you as belonging to Yunho anyway, like you are one.

They just don’t seem to care that you don’t want to be.

“It was nothing.” Seungmin says lowly. His tone is threatening, low enough that Wooyoung thinks twice about jumping in his face. “She came to the wrong room, I sent her away.”

San’s eyes narrow. “She’s come home reeking of you before. This isn’t the first time, pup.”

The nickname does not go over well.

Jisung utters a reverberating snarl that seems to eliminate the almost comical height difference between himself and San, while Felix rises from his seat and lifts his chin in a challenge.

The rest of the students begin to gather their things and move seats, giving the wolves a wide berth.

“We have no interest in you or any of your toys.” Jisung announces flatly. “Go home before you embarrass yourselves.”

Wooyoung takes a step back, but he has one final blow to land. “Watch yourself, dog.” His eyes are on Seungmin. “Yunho doesn’t take kindly to stealing.” He looks gleeful as he utters his next words. “And he doesn’t keep tainted goods.”

Seungmin doesn’t even know your name. He’s tuned everything about you out ever since he first started noticing you around campus. He doesn’t want to know you, doesn’t want to spend time with you, doesn’t want to think about you.

He especially doesn’t want to think about how pretty you are, or how kind and innocent you seem, or the way that your expression sinks into loneliness when you think you’re alone. He doesn’t want to know your name, or why you’re engaged to Yunho, or why you’re suddenly unhappy that you’re engaged to Yunho.

He doesn’t want to know why you showed up sobbing at his door after he was so cold towards you, or why you thought throwing yourself into his arms was a safer option than sharing your burdens with your own fiancé.

But when he hears you weeping once again, your wails echoing through the woods, he doesn’t even try to avoid you. This time he follows your sound, follows your scent, creeps through the dark trails to find you. Because he’s the reason your back is against a tree, your terrified body surrounded by the eight members of your pack.

He’s the reason Yunho looks sick as he takes in your scent and smells remnants of another wolf.

It’s his scent on you that is about to cost you your life.

If you were a wolf, Yunho would have just cut you loose. He would have sent you on your way, let you find someone else, staged some public and humiliating breakup for you. But you’re not. You’re human; you’re less than. he doesn’t need to let you live.

You’re screaming into the dark, pleading your case, begging them to believe that you don’t even know Seungmin, that it’s all a misunderstanding. The entire pack ignores you. They’ll make an example of you after they’ve torn you to pieces.

Seungmin knows there will be parts of you around campus by morning, a warning to all other wolves to keep their hands off of Yunho’s toys.

He can’t just sit by and watch you be killed because you were too dumb to understand pack boundaries. But he also can’t face down eight werewolves by himself, not on two legs.

So he shifts.

He transforms at will, assuming the form that so many fear and he takes a second to adjust. He’s big, one of the biggest of his pack, and he’s fast. As long as all four limbs are cooperating, he has a good chance at success to get you out of the trap you’re backed into.

He’s so fast Yunho’s pack doesn’t realize what’s happening.

Seungmin bolts into the circle they’ve created around you and darts straight towards you. Before you can scream or dodge his trajectory, he’s clamped his teeth around your shoulder and snatched you away into the dark.

He knows it hurts, he can taste your blood in his mouth, but his greater concern is the shouting and howling of the pack behind you. They’ll shift and give chase in a matter of seconds, but they’ll need the same time to adjust that he had needed. It will be enough time.

At least for now.

You’re screaming beneath him, clawing at his throat and trying everything to loosen his bite, but he can’t stop. If he stops they’ll catch up, and if they catch up, they’ll kill you both.

He doesn’t drop you until he’s outside his dorm, shifting back to human form just in time to catch you before you hit the sidewalk. You’re pale and bleeding, your shoulder mangled from his own teeth. He can still taste the blood on his tongue, and he feels it as it trickles over his lips.

“Seungmin?” You gasp as soon as you find yourself in his grip. “Wait, you—”

“You really are stupid, aren’t you?” He lifts you to his chest and shoulders the door open, casting a glance back to see the wolves of your old pack burst out of the tree line. “I told you this would happen.”

Seungmin hurries you up the stairs and down the hall, slamming his door shut behind you just in time to hear footsteps pounding behind you. He'll deal with it later. He'll text Jeongin, and Jeongin will deal with your pack.

He locks the door and sets you down on his bed, turning away abruptly to catch his breath. Sweat is trickling down his brow, seeping into the shirt at his back, his heart pounding a mile a minute. Behind him, he hears you tell him your name. "I don't want to know," He snaps, reaching for a first aid kit. "Don't say anything. God." He's seething, face red with rage. "You can't actually be this stupid."

"But--" You're confused. "You saved me. You got me out of there. It's over."

Stunned, Seungmin flings a hand towards the door where Yunho is doing his best to beat it down. "Does it sound fucking over? No. You're going to sit there and shut up, and once I'm done dealing with this mess you're going to leave. Transfer schools. Get lost. Just take your drama somewhere else and leave my pack out of it."

You sink into his pillows, your expression falling.

As he pushes your sleeve aside to clean the flesh his teeth have punctured, the only noise is the clamoring of your pack outside his door. Campus security will be alerted to the disturbance soon and they'll be gone without a fight, but the real trouble is coming.

"Why did you start running around on Yunho anyway?" He mutters sourly, not bothering to apologize when you hiss at the sting of his ointment.

"I'm not running around on Yunho." You refute glumly. "I broke up with him. Two months ago."

Seungmin snorts. "I don't think he agreed with you."

"Yeah, well, I didn't expect to be the one on a leash." It's a bitter, unkind comment, one that earns you a sharp glare. You flinch away from him, fully expecting to earn a slap or another bite for your disrespect, but the expression on Seungmin's face just melts into a smirk.

"Well, you know how dogs can be."

You weren't expecting that. "Why did you save me if you hate me so much?"

Seungmin begins to wrap your wound, not bothering himself with gentility. "Because you're dumb as fuck."

"Not because I'm human?"

It's your turn to surprise him. He fully expected another round of tears at his words, but you just take his prickly demeanor in stride. "I don't hate your humanity." He says, quietly this time. "I don't hate you. But you need to think about what you're doing. You got yourself involved with a volatile pack when you decided to date Yunho, and then you put my pack in danger when you decided to come crying to me. This world isn't all about you. You're messing with instinct and pride and you literally almost died over it."

You sink even deeper into the pillows. "I'll do better," You say. "I promise. I'll do better."

"You'll leave." He replies flatly. "You won't survive on campus. You have to leave."

A few minutes pass as the pack outside his door goes quiet, noise shifting into the sounds of campus security escorting them out of the building and urging them to deal with their issues during the daytime.

"Why did you come crying to me?" He asks finally. He gets up to collect a clean shirt for you to wear instead of the one that's now doused with blood.

"You called me stupid."

Seungmin rolls his eyes. "You came crying because I hurt your feelings?"

"No I came to you because you called me stupid when everyone else over there tells me nothing's wrong, it's all in my head, everything I do is fine. I came to you because I knew you'd tell me the truth, that you wouldn't do me any favors."

Well he certainly hadn't done you any favors by slamming the door in your face.

"What truth were you looking for?" He asks, tossing you the shirt.

You blush. "I wanted to know if they were going to kill me and never let me leave."

Seungmin snorts. "Figured that one out on your own, did you?"

You sit curled up on his bed while he rummages through his groceries and finds some rice and chicken to make. There’s a twitch in your posture, an obvious tug from where his bite has damaged the muscle of your shoulder.

He slides the pre-cooked rice into the microwave and turns it on, letting the low hum fill the room as his eyes find you once again. “I’m sorry about the bite,” he tells you, and he is. He hates the way your eyes fill with tears from the pain of it, hates the way your pathetic expression makes his gut twist.

You flinch, staring up at him. “No, no, I’m fine! You saved my life. I have no complaints.” Despite your rushed reassurance, you bring your legs closer to your chest and make yourself even smaller. “Look, I hear you.” You say. “I know I’ve made trouble for the packs. And I know I’ve put you in danger. If it’s important to you to just kill me, I understand.”

You’re absolutely stunned when he swats the back of your head. “You really are dumb as fuck, pabo.” He rolls his eyes again and drops himself onto the bed next to you, sitting against the wall as he watches the microwave hum away. “Why would I save your life just to kill you?”

You’re trembling next to him. “Why would you save it at all?” For a second your gaze drops to your shoulder, taking note of the enormous breadth of his teeth marks. “I’ve never seen a wolf so big.”

“Yunho is bigger.” Seungmin says simply. “I saved you because it’s my scent that marked you. They didn’t need to kill you over some stupid accident. Not when I wasn’t even trying to steal you.”

“Steal me?” Your eyes are wide.

“Wolves are territorial.” He reminds you again. “Yunho would rather kill you than lose you to me.”

The microwave beeps and he hefts himself up, going to swap one container for another. By the time he’s turned around again, you’ve gotten off the bed and found the strength in your legs again.

“Careful,” he warns, reaching for a plastic spoon. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“Seungmin.” Your voice is tiny, pleading.

He turns, and then you’re flush against his chest, your mouth crushed against his. He stumbles back but you chase, kissing him so hard he feels his brain blank out for a second.

Until your hands climb the back of his neck and scrape through his hair and he lurches back, seizing your wrists.

You’re gasping, staring at him, eyes filled with tears. “I’ll be yours. I swear. I’ll be good and I’ll respect pack boundaries and I’ll do anything for you. I’ll make you feel so good, please, Seungmin. Let me be yours.”

He pushes you back, pushing you back on the bed. “God you really don’t know how not to be someone’s bitch, do you?” He pries your hands off his neck and backs away from you. “Stop chasing wolves. Go have a normal human relationship somewhere else.” He puts a plate of rice and chicken in your lap. “Eat.”

Your tears spill over. “I’m scared, Seungmin.”

“Scared isn’t a good enough reason to mate a wolf.” He snaps. The cruelty in his tone is undermined by the gentility with which he lifts your hand and presses chopsticks into your palm. “You must have learned that with Yunho.”

“He’ll kill me, Seungmin.”

“Eat your food.” He plates his own meal and sits at his desk, far away from you. “And don’t go kissing people for protection anymore.”

Your eyes duck to your plate and you sniffle pathetically. “I’m too scared to eat.”

“I’ll drive you to the airport in the morning.” He says disinterestedly. “Once you get out of here you’ll be fine. Just don’t go chasing wolves anymore.”

You put your food aside and get up to stand at the window, glancing out over the darkness of campus. “I like it here though.”

He drops his plate on the desk. “Oh my god, wolf girl, you literally cannot keep yourself out of trouble, can you?”

There’s a second as you turn to face him, a coy smile crossing your lips. “Do you like trouble, Seungmin?” You take one step and then you’ve got his chin in your palm, your other hand scruffing through his hair. “Do you want to get into trouble, puppy?”

He looks absolutely appalled as he snatches your hands away from him. “God, no wonder they were trying to kill you. Keep this up and I’ll just leave you on their doorstep.”

You utter a quiet laugh and the playful sneer melts off your face. As soon as it’s gone he realizes that it was a mask, that you had just been messing with him, but at the mention of your uncertain fate your fear is gripping quiet fingers at the base of your neck. “If you’ll let me sleep here tonight, I’ll sleep on the floor.” You say quietly. “Airport tomorrow morning, no more wolf chasing. Got it.”

He hates the defeated slump of your shoulders, the tears that slip down your face.

“You already have my scent.” He says flatly. “Sleep in the bed with me.”

So you do. You’re pressed into the wall on the other side, as far away from him as you can possibly manage. He watches you through the dark, watches your body shake with silent sobs.

You reek of fear and heartbreak, the scent overwhelming his senses until it’s pulsing in his skull.

He’ll never sleep at this rate, and he doesn’t want to think about the way his chest clenches every time he catches a glimpse of your big pitiful eyes.

“Pabo,” he whispers at your back, and sees you fall still. “You’re sniffling so damn loud I can’t sleep.”

Your entire body cringes. “I’m sorry. I’ll move to the floor.” You roll over to attempt to crawl to the foot of the bed to get around him but he catches your arm.

“Just come here,” he says, giving you a tug. “Neither of us are going to sleep if you’re over there being pathetically lonely. Come here, pabo.”

You seize the opportunity, desperate for physical touch, and you scoot closer until at least you can feel his shoulder against yours. “Thank you,” you whisper. “Yunho never let me touch him when he was trying to sleep. He’s not much of a cuddler.”

“And you are.” He guesses, feeling the way you’re leaning every ounce of your need for comfort into the two square inches of shoulder that is touching his.

“It’s a disease,” you laugh at yourself. “I just want to be held so fucking bad sometimes.”

Maybe it’s some science about the resonance in your voice or the sob that breaks through your tone or maybe a bout of temporary insanity, but the second your aching words touch his ears, Seungmin’s arms fall around your waist and tug you into him.

He hears you gasp, feels your heart beating through your back against his chest, feels your abdomen clench against his arm as you hold back sobs.

He gets it now. “You’re fine, pabo.” He mutters into your hair. “Just cry it out quickly so we can actually get some sleep.”

You immediately begin to sob, entire body decompressing with a corner of his pillow stuffed into your mouth. Months of a miserable, domineering relationship where your most sensitive emotional needs are neglected finally expressing itself on the night you nearly lost your life over nothing.

Seungmin huffs a tiny laugh against the back of your neck, allowing instinct to take over as he squeezes you closer. He sighs, almost amused. “Poor pabo,” he says, and chuckles again as you cry harder. “If only you had picked Wooyoung, I hear he’s way too physically affectionate.”

You launch a foot backwards and kick him, causing him to laugh harder.

“You’re not funny.” You mutter weakly.

“Shh, you’re supposed to be crying.” He tucks his arm firmly around your waist so neither of you will fall off the dorm twin mattress and promptly falls into comfortable sleep.

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[bedouinpoet]

A picture is worth a thousand words

Aaron Hotchner x (photographer) reader

Warning: 18+ only please, SMUT, mentions of torture and murder, emotional trauma.

I hope you all enjoy, may not be my best work but been super sick 🤒 all month and just saw this as a cute idea. Another three part Aaron Hotchner story coming soon my lovelies!

…

You’ve been a PI for over two years and ironically a professional photographer for 5. You got into the detective business by accident really.

5 years before

“Hi! Mrs. Barrows? So sorry for the wait I was just setting up…is Mr Barrows here?” You notice the sadness in her eyes, and the tears you notice swelling in her eyes that made you want to bring her in a hug

“is…is everything alright?”

With that final question her tears ran

“he’s cheating on me”

Oh gosh this is gonna be a domestic “urm did you…is there something I can do?”

She shook her head, her face slightly aged but her beauty never wavering, elegant, fuck her husband, he is missing out.

“Hey ya know what, let me take some pics you’re already dressed and have everything.”

After some persuasion you noticed her confidence building while the session continued and it made your day when her laugh came out at the perfect moment. By the end she received an unexpected text. Apparently her husband was held up at the station (cop). Mhmmm right. Oldest excuse in the book but you keep your mouth shut however apparently your face shows more then you thought

“you don’t believe him?”

you really need to learn to control your facial expressions sometimes

“that’s not my place to say”

“but you think it….i do too I just…I don’t know, we have been married for 26 years I can’t believe it but I also need to know…” like a light bulb in her eyes you could almost read her thought “would you be willing to…if I hired you, would you be willing to…follow him, take pictures…just to see if he is really having an affair I’m willing to pay…”

“like…a PI?” “Please”

….

present day.

Turned out her hubby really was just a cheating ass and you were able to get her the proof she needed to believe it and leave…Thanks to her you found your calling…well second calling as a private detective. And a damn good one you became known as the cold case queen. Solving 15 cold cases in your last two years and assisting the police department in on-going investigations. Yet despite that you never would have expected the FBI to be knocking on your door. Especially in the middle of a photography session with a middle aged couple in a rather riské position.

”ahem..excuse me Miss Y/l/n-“

”y/n will be just fine no last name needed what can I do for you agent?”

“Agent Hotchner of the behaviour analysis Unit, this is Dr Reid and Agent Morgan… we were-um” you look back at a rather flustered Agent Hotchner and you can’t help smirk at the hottest man you’ve ever seen flustered and damn did it turn you on. “You were what agent? It’s alright I can talk and work at the same time Mr and Mrs Auburn don’t mind do you?” They both merely smile and laugh.

He clears his throat “right well we actually are assisting in the investigation of nine murdered woman in the last two years and we’ve been told that you are investigating a murder of a Tabatha Burns she-“

It’s like you can see Mrs Burns like it was yesterday, crying in your arms at the murder of her daughter a year ago, police marked it a cold case but she never stopped looking

”yes I know. It’s my only open case At the moment, her mother hired me a few months ago….you think it’s connected to your nine?”

”yes she fits the victimology and according to her mother the victim..”

“Tabatha….her name is Tabatha, she’s dead doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve her own identity-“

you take a deep breath trying to hold the attitude in, scared that you just offended the skinny one they call Dr Reid. He merely smiles understandably as you notice agent’s eyes looking into your soul, like he’s trying to study you like a book…and you start to wonder how much he can read. Hotchner speaks for Reid

“of course…according to Tabitha’s mother she was running her usual route but never came back”

“yes I went the route to see the most likely places she could have been attacked-“

“and?”

“Well it was during midday so there were others around most of the route but she turns into the woods half way through. Rough ground, and extremely annoying for those of you, like my fine self, who don’t run unless I’m chasing or being chased I was winded barely half way there-“

you notice the model of a man agent Derek laugh and Dr Reid holding in one. But your attention remained on the dark haired stud whose eyes remained serious even as you notice a smirk pulling at his mouth against his better judgement….mmm what I would do for those lips on- you shake off the wetness pooling between your legs as you continue

“anyway you’d need to know the area and be patient, as well as physically fit to keep up with Tabatha, find your way around, AND knock her out and take her to a second location without ever being noticed and not having a single witness…”

You could feast on those impressed looks these agents are giving you and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t boost your ego and confidence. You continued and let them know everything you had…

”thank you Mis- I mean y/n this has been greatly helpful and appreciated, if you can think of anything else or find any more information please give me a personal call here’s my number-“ Hotchner hands you the card and his callused fingers lightly graze against your hand and it feels like a flame in the midst of a blizzard.

His gaze never wavering from you, remaining moments longer as the rest turn away. As he turns away however it’s like you want to stay in Hotchner’s presence a little longer. “Um actually agent Hotchner-“

“please Hotch is fine” you smile at the opportunity to get closer to this man and his warmth…

”thanks…well um Hotch…I wanted to ask…if you do find whoever did this. This unsub you call it? Let me be the one to tell Tabathas mother? She has gone through so much and I’ve made her a promise I will do everything in my power to give her some justice… she deserves to hear it all from a friend….we both know its gonna get uglier before he makes a mistake and you find him and…she doesn’t even know everything he did to Tab…I know its not how things are done in the FBI and protocol and whatever but i’d consider it a huge favour if-“

he grabs your hand and it stops your rambling in your tracks as he gently rubs your hand with his thumb…”I understand….I will call you personally and I’ll make sure to tell the officers”

you smile gratefully and notice his hands remained in yours and your heart beats so loud you could hear it in your ears and you pray he can’t hear it. Little did you know his heart was beating just as hard and his cock twitched as you gave him that pleading look in your eyes wanting to stare at them forever. But Derek pries him away and he desperately wishes everything could stop for a moment so he could have his way.

….

The case went just as you said…a fuck ton uglier before Hotchner and his BAU team found the unsub…a Richard Prine….while he was torturing a young woman that you swear could be Tabatha’s sister. You didn’t even know until Hotch texted you

Aaron ‘the hunk’ Hotchner: We found him. Would you like me to meet you to tell you everything?

Y/N: :( I would prefer you coming over for better reasons ;) but yes you can come to my apartment if that’s alright I’m just doing some work at home.?

you send him your address and within the hour Aaron Hotchner is at your door and damn do you almost swoon at his loosed tie unbuttoned at the top and no suite jacket….but he looks so tired, so worn….its worse then you thought.

“Come in”

You move aside and smell a note of his intoxicating cologne

“please sit…would you like something to drink? Water? Coffee?”

”water’s just fine thanks”

You get both of you some iced water and you sit bracing yourself for whatever he has to say. You dig your feet into the carpet and fidget with the rings on your finger

“his name was Richard Prine ….”

You tried not to throw up as Hotch tells you everything. By the end your head feels like its gonna explode

“fuck….I’m gonna have to tell Tabs mother, how am I gonna tell her-“ you rub your eyes from complete exhaustion and walk to your espresso machine if your gonna do this you need something to keep you going “want one?”

“Sure….when will you go to Mrs Burns?”

his eyes remain on you searching, reading,

“After I chug this down-“

”would…would you like me to go with you? After all I still owe you that photo shoot for sharing all your information you had on the case We can go there straight after and have the night…we leave for Quantico tomorrow afternoon” you almost forgot that you made him agree to a photoshoot before handing your files over. You blush and you gratefully nod and you would hug him right now if it didn’t risk you wanting to jump his bones in the desperate need for a distraction and to think of anything but the terrible trauma that you are about to inflict on an already mourning mother.

“Thanks….I’d appreciate the company”

“Of course. I can drive as well if you’d like?”

“Nah it’s ok I enjoy driving helps clear my head but thanks…shall we?” You quickly grab your red leather jacket and let Hotch pass as you lock your door and put the security code, he stares at the extra security you had placed and you’re surprised to see concern in his eyes…

”I had a couple break ins by some rather angry hubbys who’s wives were none too happy to find out about their many lovers…..and vices”

“ah….they didn’t hurt you did they?” You notice Hotch’s hands clench and you are rather touched by the fact this man already cares that much.

“They tried haha but no usually they didn’t get within two steps near me before they get knocked on their asses” he smiles at that almost challenging look in is eyes and for the life of you you can’t figure out what it means but you want to see how far it can be pushed.

The drive was silent on your way to Mrs Burns as your head turns into a storm of words trying to figure out what you are gonna say, what you should say and what should remain unsaid.

“Just tell her the truth….at the end of the day. She deserves to know and I found with the truth at least they won’t question what happened and they can move forward and try and move on” It was like he could read your very thoughts and his words were a comfort to you. He’s right. That’s all she ever asked of you and you can’t back down now.

…

”the truth is Marge…” you look at Hotch’s eyes and he looks at you with such elegant care and you find comfort lost in his brown caramel eyes.

“The truth is Marge….Tab was killed by a man who needed to feel in power and he took it out on Tab….but the truth is Tabatha was a brave, kind hearted girl and she died protecting another girl, she died being kind and that takes so much strength….thats how you should remember it and her Marge. Don’t give that coward any attention cause he doesn’t deserve it. Tab was a hero and that’s all you need to know” you do everything you can to not to break down as Marge breaks down falling to her knees crying and you fall to your knees next to her and hold her, she grasps onto you for dear life you hug her tight and let her cry. All you wanted to do was cry right by her but you keep your eyes locked on Hotch and his eyes are like a hug to your soul supporting you up and keeping you strong and his smile makes you want to kiss that smile and stay there forever you stay firm.

When Marge’s eyes dry you help her sit and make her a tea before you leave. As you go back into the family room handing her the tea Hotch is holding her hand “you have my most heartfelt condolences Mrs Burns and if there is anything I can do please don’t hesitate to call me” he hands her his card and you hand her her tea before “we should probably head out please try to rest Marge and I’ll come by in a couple days to check up” She gives you one last grateful hug and you both leave. The pain in her eyes and her tears staining your shirt and mind.

The ride back was silent and Hotch respected your need to just sit and think. Even on your way up to your studio he respected it and merely comforted you just by being near. He opened every door for you and let you go first. Once you turned on the lights of the studio you felt a relief in your heart. For a few hours the pain can be subsided and distracted by taking pictures of this painfully sexy dark haired, serious FBI agent. As you stare back you almost laugh out loud seeing this usually composed serious man, stand awkwardly in the middle of the room as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself and you feel your dominant side arise. “You can relax handsome we just taking some pictures not rehearsing in front of a crowd. Can you take your tie off and sit down on the sofa….there is a waiver on the table I’d like you to read and sign before we begin.”

“A waver?”

“Yup…basically just saying that we wont do anything you aren’t comfortable with and if at any point you feel uncomfortable you will tell me immediately and we will stop. I usually take pictures of the sexier or kinkier persuasion, so consent is priority. And if you do decide to share my work you give me the credit and etc.”

he reads through the the contract and you smile….yup he was definitely a lawyer…you can practically see him take apart the entire waiver…you set everything up. You’ve been thinking about taking his pictures, how you want him posed, since you’ve met. You look back to see him sign the waiver. “Perfect….so this is where it gets rather intimate so as I said we wont do anything you aren’t comfortable with. If you can sit here” you point to the chair you had set up, the chair is set backwards so his arms and head will rest on the back, his legs spread.

“Um….how do you want me..”

”just sit on it just how it’s facing me…”

His tie is off but his shirt is still buttoned so you go to him as he’s sitting “may I?” You gesture you hands to his shirt and he swallows hard his eyes slightly dilated. “Of course”

“perfect”

you unbutton his top buttons and you keep your hand longer then nessasry on his chest, you coul feel his heart beating through and for a moment you stay like that Hotchs eyes blow black.. you finally pull yourself away and lightly ruffle his hair. “Perfect now I want you to look down at me maybe have your head leaning against your hand.” He does as you say, naturally and it looks just as hot as you imagined….fuck he’s hot deliciously so…you take a few pictures of him in this position, and the more pictures you take you notice Hotch’s inhibitions slowly break away and his comfort levels increasing. “Ok so this next one is a bit more intimate are you on with it? I wanna go for a dominant becoming submissive sorta vibe?” His confusion evident and adorable, absolutely adorable. You smile and take your camera. you stand up close in front of him…he looks up at you sitting in the chair and fuck, seeing him look up at you with those curious dilated innocent eyes makes you want to kiss him until he begs for breath. Or cuff him to that chair and show him how good he can feel. His breath quickens so you try and remain calm and collected. you step even closer feeling his warmth and his breath on your chest. “You are the type of man who is always dominant, always having to be in control. Sometimes guys like you, need to let go. Let go of control and thoughts and just feel. There is a beauty to it and damn can it feel good.” Your breath quickens as you talk and you can see Hotch’s cheeks flush and heat. He swallows hard and his eyes are almost entirely black, no sign of that caramel, you set your camera….this is exactly how you want him but one more touch…you move your hand faster then you think and your hand is on his throat…’s breath hitches and he almost stops breathing like he couldn’t move “is this okay?” You whisper and he swallows, you feel the action under your hands, his pulse, his warmth, his neck in your hands and you feel the warmth and wetness stick to your panties as he meekly nods you keep your hand there and take a picture after picture. Finally, you put down your camera and before you remove your hand he grabs it to keep your hand on his neck and your grip tightens. You stay there for a moment afraid to move and this whole moment falls apart, you move even closer and your grip tightens just enough to partially block his air ways, you look down and notice his hardening under his slacks and you smirk down at him as he swallows and moves himself into your grasp. You don’t think, you don’t consider you just go for it and within the same second your lips come crashing into his and its like fire to your entire body as his hands move through your hair and pulls so you keep your grip on his neck and make him stand up as your tongue finds its way into his mouth needing to taste him more and you feel his equal desperation…

”give me your belt” you whisper into his mouth and he obeys without restraint, unbuckling his belt and taking it off all in one smooth movement. He hands it to you leaning in, desperate for more kisses but you put your hands on his chest and keep him a step away. He damn near whimpers for the need of your warmth and it turns you on to see this man needing you like you’re his only meal.

“Give me your hands Aaron Hotchner” at the sound of his first name he growls and hands you his hands anything to feel your warmth you keep eye contact and put his hands together and tie them slowly without even having to look…this is like muscle memory for you. Once his hands are tied you can see the length of his impressive hard on trying to rip through his slacks and you take his hands and lead him to the couch. you sit him down and he swallows as you keep his tied hands in yours kissing them slowly and sucking his fingers he growls “fuck y/n please”

“please what Aaron? Tell me what you want agent”

“say my name again”

“tsk tsk tsk don’t you know to say please Agent?” You tease

”fuck…please say my name y/n please”

“mmm Aaron tell me what you want”

he moans just at the sound of his name through your lips and you can feel him trying to grab you with his tied hands but you don’t give him the chance you swiftly move his hands on top of his head and sit on his lap the feeling of his bulge under you, between your legs makes you moan his name as you slowly grind on his lap his eyes rolling back and he almost fights your grip but you tighten your grip on his arms and kiss his neck, biting his neck and nibbling his ears. His moans and growls intoxicating. “Keep your arms up or I get off your lap understand?” He moans and nods “yes” he whispers out of breath. “Yes I understand”

You leg go of his arms and he obeys and keeps his arms up, his gaze never leaving you as you unbuckle his pants and- he hisses at your touch as you pump his bare hard cock “fuck y/n baby fuck yes please fuck” you keep pumping him faster and harder as you grind on his lap and pump, kissing his lips, his tongue attacking yours like a war you don’t want to end. “I said use yours words Aaron what do you want sir? Tell me how you want me” his eyes darken and you can swear he looks at you like prey even as you’re on top of him and he is the one tied up. You are still his prey. “Please….i want to be in you. I need you” you swallow hard at the words as you get off his lap just fast enough to take off your pants and before you can react his tied hands are grabbing you back into him and you don’t even fight it you lift your self up on his lap and at first just put the tip in, fuck this mans impressive even his tip starts to stretch you and you love the needy growls and moans as you tease him further…he smiles as he wipes that smirk from your face by grabbing your shirt and pushing you all the way down his length and you scream out in ecstasy and delicious pain “fuck Aaron!”

“Mmmm” He moans your name over and over as you ride him like a race and you feel your coil almost snap but you keep going you want him to cum first you want to feel his cock twitch and release

“fu-fuck baby I’m -fuck I’m gonna cum” he breathlessly moans into your mouth

“cum Aaron…please cum in me you have full permission” his eyes roll back as you grab his neck and ride him even faster and with his full length inside you he screams your name as you feel his cock twitch inside you and the feeling of his release forces you over the edge and you clench his cock milking every drop of his cum inside you. You stay there breathlessly on his lap just leaning into his forehead “definitely the best photshoot I’ve ever done” you giggle and he laughs “this is my first and definitely the best photshoot I’ve ever been involved in.” You laugh into each other and you start to untie his hands still on his lap….and as you look at him you start to remember one unfortunate fact….this man that just lit your entire body on fire is leaving in the morning and as if he can read your thoughts again he says “if you don’t have any other plans tonight…would you want to spend it together?” You find it adorable as if you could ever say no to such an offer, you smile “of course I would. I thought you’d never ask…and it just so happens I have an appartment on top of this studio….ready and waiting for a night of movies and dinner and a whole lot more of what we just did if I’m lucky” you wink as he laughs and its like music to your ears “sounds incredible” you take his hand and lead him up stairs….you have no idea what will come between the two of you but you are gonna appreciate this night as much as you possibly can and save that smile of his, in your mind forever.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Only Yesterday 4 ~ End

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, voyeurism, intimidation, isolation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Isolated and lonely in your life as your grandmother’s caretaker, you find yourself living vicariously through your neighbour.

Character: Nick Fowler

Note: I sat on half a chapter forever and I'm sorry.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like a love song, baby. Take care. 💖

You turn and march away from Nick. He chuckles and follows casually. There is no urgency in his step, as if he is certain of his goal.  

You twist the knob on the stove and put the kettle over the burner. He looms in the doorway, watching as you distract yourself with the tin of tea bags. Your hands are clumsy and shaking. You don’t know what to do to make him leave. You don’t think you can. 

“You don't gotta be so shy. Hell, I should be considering all you saw–" 

"Stop," you plead as you keep you back to him, "I told you it was a mistake." 

"Uh huh. Because it was wrong or because you got caught?" 

“Both,” you turn to face him, “please, I get it. Alright, I’m fucked up. I’m sorry I watch you but you don’t have to do this.” 

“Do what?” He asks with a soft smirk. 

You inhale and shrug, “terrorise me? Ruin my life? I don’t know what you’re doing but I want you to stop. Please, leave me alone.” 

His lips curve fully and he blows out between his lips, shaking his head as he comes closer. You hold yourself still, barely able to keep a tremble from breaking the surface. He steps around you at the last moment and goes to the cupboard. He takes out a cup and plucks free a teabag to drop inside. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, “do what I say and no one gets hurt.” 

The subtle shift in his tone unsettles you. Still mocking but sinister. You watch him as you cross your arms protectively. 

“What do you mean?” 

“She’s an old lady. One accident and… that’s that,” he leans on the stove as he faces you again, “so, you are going to sit down so I can make Ruth Ann her tea. I’ll get to you, don’t worry.” 

You hesitate, swaying in spot. You touch the side of your neck and frown. Your heart plummets to your feet. You’ve brought him to your grandmother’s front door, you’ll never forgive yourself if he goes any further than that. 

“Promise you won’t hurt her,” you eke out. 

“That’s all up to you,” he winks, “oh, and when I’m done serving the queen her nightly chamomile, I expect to find you ready.” 

“Ready?” You swallow. 

He tilts his head as his eyes wander down your body, “put on something less…. Just less.” He smirks, “nothing, preferably.” 

You hug yourself and frown. You can’t hold back the shudder. He didn’t say he won’t hurt you. 

“In the front room,” he stares at you, his brows tweak, and he taps the tip of your nose. “Go on, won’t be long before the water’s ready.” 

You lower your eyes and sidle away. Your eyes gloss hotly as you march into the front room. You glance at the windows. The evening paints the balcony in shadows. 

You stand in front of the couch. All those nights you wish you were Cleo, you were so stupid. You don’t want this. Everything was just fine before you messed it all up. You’re just as ungrateful as Nan said in her fits. 

The kettle whistles and you flinch. You can hear everything, the twist of the knob on the stove, the pour of boiling water, your pulse. His footsteps strut through the archway and he passes into the light of the hall. 

“Ruth Ann,” he calls to your grandmother as he smirks for you, “tea’s ready.” 

He heads down to her bedroom and you sniffle. You face the couch and sway. The tears pebble along the brims of your eyes. They roll out as your lashes flick. 

You undress shakily. First your shirt, then your pants. You sit to take of your sock, your legs to flimsy to balance. You ball them up as you sit in your high-rise briefs and thin white bra. The bedroom door clicks and his soles pad closer. 

You sense him as he stands in the crux of the hall and entryway, watching you from the arch. You can’t bring yourself to look. You hunch and grip your knees. 

He crosses the room. The silence roils around his prowling figure. Your eyes flit over as the lamplight limns his figure. He unbuttons the borrowed shirt as he circles like a hawk. You tense and plead with the floor to swallow you up. 

He tosses the shirt onto the chair. You wince as it lands with a soft whoosh. His belt clinks and you whimper. You wipe your cheeks with your knuckles. He startles you as he hooks his arm around to grab your chin. He pulls you to lean against the couch as he stands behind it. 

He looks down at you as his muscled torso flexes. He smirks and bends as his thumb stretches up your cheek. He tuts as he nuzzles your nose. 

“Why’re you crying, sweetheart?” He growls. 

You can’t answer as a sob lumps in your throat. He keeps hold of you as he rounds the couch. He comes in front of you and hovers his mouth over yours. He brings his other hand to your face and wipes your tears with his roughened palms. 

He frames your jaw and guides you to sit up. He presses his lip to yours. You squeak and reach to push on his chest, scalded by his nudity. He clings to you as his tongue glides along your lips and pokes through. You nearly gag on his tongue. 

His large hands cradle your head as he traps you in his vice. You slouch as he lowers himself to his knees, pulling you with him. You grasp his shoulders as you wriggle and try to detach. 

When he lets you go, you swing back against the couch and gasp. The feet scrape on the floor as it lurches. He chuckles and brings his finger up to his lips, hushing you. 

“Don’t wanna wake nan,” he traces the straps of you bra then covers the cups with his hands. He bounces you in his hands. “Mm, you gonna be quiet for me, baby?” 

Your lips trembles as your lashes stick with dried tears. You shiver and stare at him. He slides his hands around you and tugs on the band of your bra. He unhooks it and gently draws the straps down your arms. As he uncovers your chest, you try to hide. 

He clucks and yanks away the bra meanly. 

You drop your arms and bat away another swathe of tears. He hums and tickles up your sides. His fingers leave a tingle of warmth as he pulls away. He shifts on his knees and searches in his pocket. He brings out a chain that catches the lamp's glow. You stare at the single pearl hanging from it, just like the one you saw at the market. 

"I thought it'd be even prettier on," he reaches to you and clasps it behind your neck. He trails his hand along the length and sets the pearl to rest just above your chest. You inhale as he once more feels along the swell of your tits. 

He bends forward and buries his face against your chest. He turns his head and nips at the sensitive flesh. You squeak and he spreads his hand over your mouth. You bite down on your tongue. If your nan walks in on this, you're not sure she'd be okay. She might not be able to handle the shock and you're not sure what Nick would do to her. 

His thumbs circle your nipple and he places his lips around the other. He toys with you as you writhe helplessly. You grab onto his wrist and try to push him away. He twists and latches you instead. He puts your hand on his head and teethes your sensitive bud. 

You quiver as your strength dissolves. Despite your fear, it feels good. All of it. 

His fingers flutter down your stomach and along the elastic of your panties. You wince. He delves beneath the fabric as he keeps his lips sealed around you nipple. He purrs and curls his fingers up and down your pelvis. He pushes against your slit and dips between your lips. 

He rubs along your cunt and swirls around your clit. You nearly cry out at the shockwaves of his touch. It’s the first time anyone but yourself got that far. You squeeze your eyes shut and hang your head back. 

He flicks his finger over your clit. Your thighs quake and your hand combs through his hair. You moan and he hushes you, leaving a wet trail down your skin. 

He moves back on his knees and tugs on your panties. He guides them down and taps gently along your thigh. You lift yourself and he rolls them lower. He pulls away to strip them down your legs then quickly inserts himself between them once more. 

He bows and breathes over your pelvis. You squirm and push on the cushions. You whisper his name. 

“Please...” the last effort to stop him and yourself. 

He leans in and presses his nose to your pelvis. He slides his tongue down and glides between your lips. You cover your mouth to keep from squealing. 

He traces his fingers along the inside of your thigh and makes a trail up to the crease. As he laps at you, he runs his finger around your entrance. He hums and flows through you. He probes inside of you slowly, pushing his thick digit in to the knuckle. 

He turns his hand and bends his finger. He pushes until you feel pressure. You writhe and curl your toes against the floor. You make a fist and bite it. You don’t know if you can handle this. 

He draws his finger in and out, his tongue flicks up and down. He groans and you gulp down one of your own. You push your chin down as you fight your racing heart. Your breath shallows and your skin prickles. 

He scoops his hand under your ass and dips another finger into you. He shoves them in to his limit and retreats again. His mouth and hand work together, building a maddening tempo. You hiss as your stomach clenches and your muscles wind tight. 

You spasm and brace your head as you cum. It’s more intense than anything you’ve felt before. Alone in the dark, ashamed. This is different. 

You shove his head, overstimulated as he keeps going. He jams his fingers in as deep as he can as you tremble and twitches around him. He drags his tongue up and smears the wetness on his mouth up your pelvis. 

He wipes his fingers on your thigh and sits back on his heels. His eyes gleam at you as you peek out between slitted lids. You heave and stare at him. 

“Not done yet,” he takes your hand and stands. He pulls you up on your wobbly legs. You nearly fall against him. 

He pets your head then spins you away from him. He points. You follow the gesture to the balcony door. You waver and he nudges you. 

“You know what I want.” He growls. 

You look down at your naked body. You fold your hands and slouch, shying away from him. He tickles down your neck. 

“Go, baby.” 

You blink away more tears as your nose tingles. You bite down and obey. You go to the door and pause before it. You hesitate and look back as he drops his pants. You panic and twist the handle. 

You go out into the night air if only to escape him. The sight of him is etched into your mind. His body is forged in muscle and that part of him... it looked big. You don’t have much to compare it to. 

You look across the street. Cleo’s apartment is dark. She must be out living her life. The door behind you creaks. You feel him before his shadow darkens around you. 

He steps up behind you and runs his hand down your arms. He leads your hands to the rail and squeezes them around it. You shiver and whine. He kisses your shoulders. 

“Baby, you just need to hold on,” he grits. 

He brushes down your sides and the curve of your ass. His touch crawls back to your hips and he moves your feet back. He kicks them wider and pushes until you arch your back. 

He steps closer and reaches around you. He pets your pelvis and rubs along your cunt. He spreads your lips and plays with your sensitive clit until you moan. He pushes against your ass and lines himself up with your entrance. You suck in air and stare into the night.. 

It was easier when it was Cleo. That shame was different. That pain was tolerable. 

He inches into you. Your legs shake and you lean against the railing. You groan between your teeth. He urges you down with a hand on your hip and hooks his chin over your shoulder. He turns his head to nuzzle your jaw. 

He thrusts and your legs buckle. He tuts and does it again. “Stay on your feet, baby.” 

The tears fall again and glaze over the street. The lights turn to blurry orbs and the shadows are nothing but layers of black and grey. His pelvis claps against your ass as he ruts harder with each tilt. 

He reaches to the pearl around your neck, his other hand still nestled between your legs as he stirs your nerves to fury. He breathes against your neck and sighs. 

“You think someone’s watching us, baby?” He taunts. You whimper and he chuckles smokily. “I hope they are... you’re the star now, huh?” 

END 

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg | divider by @fictive-sl0th

Biker!Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader | No Outbreak AU

Warnings for this Chapter: lots of angst and sadness, Daryl (yep, he's a warning), swear words

Word Count: 2k

a/n: Prepare some tissues, guys! This is gonna hurt, I think. I'm sorry.

《 M a s t e r l i s t 》

《 Chapter Six 》 《 Chapter Eight 》

Chapter Seven...

...in which the rose-coloured glasses slip off your face and shatter on the ground as you have to face the truth.

What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh Only in my mind? One slip and falling back into the hedge maze Oh what a way to die

'Guilty as Sin?' by Taylor Swift

You felt the hot water cascade down your body as you stood in the shower; aimlessly staring at the tiled wall. Everything that happened today ran through your head over and over again like a movie right in front of your eyes.

It had been quite early this morning as you made your way into town. Heavy-hearted, though, because you knew that today was Daryl's last day in Montana, before he needed to return to Georgia. Of course, you wanted to say properly goodbye to him and talk about the future; already considering to ask him to move to Miles City - or you to Georgia. Hell, you'd drop out of university for him and throw over your plans. This man made you question your future within a heartbeat.

Parking your car on the motel's parking lot Daryl stayed in, you turned off the engine. Then you made your way inside the motel, greeting the kind receptionist and walked straight to Daryl's room. As you rounded the corner, a frown immediately appeared on your forehead.

The door was wide open. Cautiously, but also curiously, you approached the room - and saw a chambermaid working on changing the bedsheets. Daryl was nowhere to be seen. Your frown even deepened and an uneasy feeling spread within your body. Did you miss him? Were you too late?

Not hesitating, you quickly walked back to the receptionist; planning on asking her if your suspicions were true. She already saw you approaching and gave you another friendly smile. "Hello, can I help you?" You nodded and bit your lip. "Yeah, um, room thirty-three... Did the man already check out? Could you look that up for me, please?" The receptionist gave you a smile, "Sure. One moment, please." and redirected her gaze to the old computer on her left. "Room thirty-three... Ah, yes, Daryl Dixon, right?" "Yeah." She nodded; looking up at you again. "Yes, he checked out about fifteen minutes ago. You just missed him." "Shit..." A sigh left your lips. "Thank you." You wanted to walk away as the receptionist stopped you. Apparently, she noticed your sadness about the information she had just given you. "Hey, um, I don't know if it helps, but... If I remember correctly, he was on the phone and said something about needing to gas up." Your eyes widened a bit; hope blooming within you. "Really? Thank you!"

You never drove quicker to a gas station; speeding down the street and hoping to catch Daryl - and indeed... He was on the parking area and knelt besides the vehicle; seemingly adjusting the straps of his bag.

Your heart almost did a three-sixty out of happiness. You didn't know what you would've done if you had missed him. It would have probably ate you up inside.

Once again, you parked the car, got out of the vehicle and almost sprinted over to the man. "Daryl!" At the sound of your voice calling his name, he lifted his head and looked up; seeing you approaching him. He got on his feet. Slight confusion was edged on his face. "Y/N? Whatcha doin' 'ere?" You giggled and quickly threw yourself into his arms - what took the biker a bit off-guard. "What does it look like? Saying goodbye, of course. Can't let you just leave." Daryl huffed; his arms slowly encircling your body. "Thought ya were kiddin' yesterday when ya said you'd get up tha' early jus' for this."

You scoffed and backed up slightly to look inside his beautiful blue-grey eyes. "Definitely not. What do you expect? That I'm going to just let you go? Ouch," you said in mock hurt. "Besides, I wanted to talk with you." "Talk with me? 'Bout wha'?" He asked you; completely oblivious. "Well..." You smiled softly. "I was asking if you, uh, if you'd want to move to Montana. O-Or I could move to Georgia. I, uh, I don't want to be a two days ride away from you. Not anymore, I... I can't go through this a second time," you happily chattered and did not notice Daryl's confused expression. But when you did, all your facial expressions derailed as you saw the frown on Daryl's forehead.

"Y/N, wha' 'r ya talkin' bout?" You blinked; swallowing hard. You clearly didn't understand the situation. "A-About us. A-About our future together." The biker's frown deepened. "Our future? Ya think we are a thing now?" Wordlessly, you nodded; still hanging onto that beautiful bubble you were living in the past two weeks. Daryl scoffed and shook his head. "We ain't a thing, Y/N. Told ya from the beginnin' tha' I ain't doin' stuff like tha'. We had some fun, yeah, but nothin' more. Thought ya knew this was all 'bout the sex," he stated and shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

The words hit you like a freight train and managed to (finally) burst the bubble you were in; rose-coloured glasses shattering to the ground and bursting into a trillion pieces. You fell from cloud nine - and fucking hell was the impact hard.

"W-What?" You whispered. Tears already started to blur your vision. "A lil' fling, Y/N. 'S wha' this was." You swallowed hard once again; mouth agape in sheer endless disbelief. "I-I mean nothing to you? T-This meant nothing to you?"

Daryl shrugged his shoulders and donned his black helmet and sunglasses, before he mounted his bike. "It was sex."

You stared at him for a moment. You were speechless. "So that was it? Y-You're just make me fall in love with you and then disappear from my life again as if it was the most normal thing ever?" Daryl chew on his bottom lip; letting your words sink in. The last small fragment of hope inside you flickered to life - but got quickly strangled to death.

Once more shrugged the biker his shoulders. "Sorry. Didn't mean ta make ya fall in love, but like I said... 'M not doin' relationships. 'S not my thing."

He started the engine of his bike then - and you knew it was over. He'd leave you just like that, within the blink of an eye... A picture of misery with a broken heart - and suddenly came your sister's words rushing back; hearing her voice echo inside your head over and over again... Gods, Y/N, wake up. Time to get rid of the rose-coloured glasses. He won't. I know guys like him. All he wants is your body. Once he's had enough and is bored of you, he's gonna throw you away like garbage.

You were wide awake now.

"You're an asshole, Daryl Dixon," you spat bitterly; still suppressing the tears as you watched him drive off. You wouldn't give him that satisfaction. "Tell me somethin' new," Daryl just simply answered as if he was doing this every day - breaking a women's heart, revved his bike's engine and drove off; out of your life - a second time.

As you watched him speed down the road and vanish into far distance - not even looking back, it came all crashing down on you. The dam broke and tears rolled down your cheeks like waterfalls. They dripped on your jacket and the concreted ground beneath you. In that very moment, you didn't care that you were at a public gas station. All you felt was pain, sadness and anger. Tess had been right all the damn time. You were nothing more than amusement for the biker from Georgia - and it wrenched your heart. You failed to wrap your head around the fact that such a seemingly wonderful man was able to do something so cruel.

You wanted to scream and shout, but all you could do was cry, while you broke inside.

Silent tears streamed down your face and mixed with the warm water cascading from the shower head above you. Tears you didn't even notice where falling, until a harsh, loud knock against the wooden door catapulted you out of your thoughts. "Y/N, for Christ's sake! How many times did I told ya to not waste water like that! Turn the tap off or daydream somewhere else, please!" It was the voice of your uncle which caused you to jolt and turn off the tap with a shaking hand. "S-Sorry, Joe!" You yelled back, but he was already gone.

You sighed and felt the coldness enveloping your naked form, now that the hot water wasn't there anymore to warm you - just like Daryl's-

No.

You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to switch your brain off; searching for way to just make the pain stop.

Quickly wiping the water mixed with your tears from your cheeks, you reached for your towel and dried yourself off, before blow-drying your hair and getting dressed again. Then you exited the bathroom and were on your way to your little two-room apartment upstairs, when you almost crashed into someone right at the foot of the staircase.

"Woah there, Y/N!"

Tess was quick to clumsily reach for your hand, before you could stumble back. "Thanks..." You just mumbled and wanted to quickly pass her by, when she stopped you. "Why are you here? Shouldn't you be at the bar or screwing your loverboy? It's his last day today after all, right?"

You stopped dead in your tracks; back towards Tess and swallowed hard. That was exactly what you wanted to prevent. You weren't strong enough to face this - face your sister, were you?

"N-No, I... He... He's gone, Tess," you whispered and fought once more against the upcoming tears. "What do you mean gone?" You could clearly hear the confusion in her voice, but Tess was a smart woman. She quickly put one and one together after processing your words. "Where did he- Oh... Fuck..." Steps approached you then, before familiar arms enveloped your body and hugged you tight.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie..." Tess spoke after a while and wiped your tears away with her thumbs; a compassionate look on her face.

She wasn't angry. She wasn't judging you and she wasn't putting you in your place - but she should.

"N-No, no, don't be, please..." You shook your head. "Y-You told me... You tried to warn me, you-" You cut off your own sentence in order to swallow the lump in your throat. "I know, but that doesn't matter now. It happened," your sister jumped in and took your hands in hers; giving them a squeeze. "What matters is, that this guy is the biggest asshole in America and that we patch up your heart again, okay?" You nodded as another few stray tears escaped the corners of your eyes.

"C'mon," Tess said in a gentle voice and tugged at your intertwined hands. "I think I have the right medicine for your broken heart." You just looked at her for moment; pondering if you should agree or not. "No, sis, it's not an option to barricade yourself in your room and cry," Tess added, as if she could read your thoughts.

Maybe she could. Who knew?

"C'mon..." Giving in, you let yourself get dragged up the stairs to Tess' small apartment.

She gently nudged you to sit on the small sofa, before she vanished for a few minutes, only to return with two big bowls of ice cream and other sweet and savoury treats. "What you need now..." Your sister started, while she put all the things on the little coffee table in front of you and switched on the TV. "...is a lot of sugar and silly teenage romance movies. Believe me, I've been there before. It helps." She handed you one of the ice cream bowls and plopped down beside you. "T-Thanks, Tess, for..." "You don't have to thank me, sweetie. That's what siblings are here for. Now c'mere."

You smiled weakly at your sister and rested your head against her shoulder, while shovelling spoonfuls of ice cream in your mouth and watching the high school movie she put on.

It didn't heal the oozing, gaping crack in your heart, but it made you feel at least a little bit better. Like a clumsily applied plaster.

Tags: @dixons-sunshine @angelwings-crossbowstrings @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @imadisneyprincessiswear @loz-3 @fictive-sl0th @erebus-et-eigengrau @belitoxx @coleigh-1205-blog @chaoticevilbakugo @dixonsdarkelf @ffsjustletmesleep @marvelcasey05 @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @cakesandtom @mayday2007 @huntedmusicgardenn

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[darthannie]

assess and discuss

part three of thesis statement

(part II here)

Pairing: professor!Jim x f!reader

Word count: 2,860

Warnings: 18+ please for the love of god, age gap (reader is 24, Jim is 43), fluffy, kissing, mentions of submission

a/n: Happy Valentine's Day! Here's my gift to you. Sorry updates have been slow. I'm really trying! There's not really any smut in this one. It's all plot and fluff baby! I hope you enjoy.

It’s been a week since your’ve seen him and a week since you’ve spoken to him. You’ve been counting the days on your calendar as they went by. 

You skipped out on class yesterday, deciding you couldn’t face him just yet. But, there was no way of avoiding him today. That was one of the benefits of taking both of his seminars this term. Usually seeing him twice a week made getting up in the morning worth it. Now, it felt like a death sentence. 

He’s texted you since you last saw him. He asked how you were and if you’d thought about what he said to you. Then it was radio silence. In all honesty, you had thought about it and you wanted to take him up on it. Setting boundaries was important, you thought and that could only happen if you sat down and laid it all out. You felt you had to tell him in person. So here you were, on campus on a Friday morning, coffee in hand and ready to mention having that conversation. Having that conversation in the classroom was a bit uncooth, so you thought it better to ease into it. You didn’t want anyone suspecting anything. Not admin, not your classmates, not even Nadia but you knew that wasn’t an option. She was the first person to know what was going on. You told each other everything. 

You walked into an empty classroom and took your usual seat. After a few minutes you were finally all set up and were browsing on your laptop. Nadia arrived a couple minutes into you scrolling on Etsy. 

“Hey! I thought you fell off the face of the earth I haven’t heard from you.”

“Hey, Nadia. Sorry, I’ve just been kinda preoccupied.” In reality you had been isolating. The time you spent with Jim left you with a large weight on your conscience. Not only did you have your heavy course load to keep in mind, you had this force looming over you. Him. You had no idea what to make of it. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” She was always genuine when she said things like this. She missed you and hated when you pulled away but she knew it was better to give you space. 

“God, yes, I need to talk about it.”

“Spill.” 

In a hushed voice you began. “We saw each other and we...”

“You and Jim?” Yiou nodded at her words. The excitement on her face was easy to place. She was thrilled for you. 

“No fuckin’ way.”

“Yes fuckin’ way.” 

“Is that why he cancelled class?”

“Yep.” 

“YOU’RE KIDDING.” Nadia’s eyebrows rose and she leaned forward as the door behind her opened up. Jim walked in wearing a white oxford shirt tucked into tailored pants. He looked rather put together, and you couldn’t help but swallow nernously. Your attraction to him was undeniable. 

Nadia turned to see who walked in and faced you again, covering her mouth, and noting that she was a bit too loud. 

“Oops,” she said. 

“Nadia…,” I replied, less of a warning and more of a suggestion to keep it cool.

“Good morning, ladies.” Jim nonchallantly addressed you and Nadia as he settled in. 

“Hi, Jim,” Nadia chirped, “Was everything alright last week?” She asked it innocently enough, but you knew she was trying to rustle your feathers. 

“Oh, yeah, just a family emergency.”

“Oh no, is everything alright?” Nadia elbowed your arm and smirked. You hit her arm and he turned around to face the two of you. 

“Yes, everything’s alright now. Just had to help my sister with her kids.”

“Right, well I’m glad to hear it’s everything is alright.” Nadia smiled at him politely. 

He smiled back and then turned his attention to you. He said, “And, how are you?”

“I’m good, thank you.” Your skin felt hot. He looked nervous.

“Listen, I was reading over the piece you sent me and I have some suggestions. I think with a bit of work we, you, could submit for publication.” You had forgotten that you had even sent him your work. He reminded you to before you left his home and now you were glad that he did. 

“Really?”

He nodded. “See me after, we’ll go though it quickly.”

“Well, alright.” You sank into your seat and looked at Nadia. She gave you a knowing look as more stidents started to file in.

What followed was an hour and fourty-five minutes of avoidance. You participated as usual but there was no usual back and fort between the two of you. The bare minimum was what you wanted to give and it was what you achieved. 

Class ended and a couple peers stayed after to discuss their notes with Jim. You and Nadia milled about talking about going out later that night. You got distracted and watched as Jim talked to his students about their work. His passion for teaching was so apparent, it made you feel almost proud watching him. You smiled to yourself and turned your attention to Nadia again, agreeing to a time to meet for pres at a local bar before going dancing.

She left and the student who was talking to Jim left right behind her. Jim walked over to the door and looked through the window. There was no one in the hall. You were stood away from the door and as you began to speak about the essay you sent when you felt his hands grab your face and pull you towards him. He laned a small kiss before you pushed him away slightly. 

“Cameras,” you whisper shouted.

“Old building. There are none in this room.” 

You stared at him, sedated by his kiss. When his words registered it was your turn to pull him in, wrapping an arm around his neck and kissing him hard. He walked you backward until your back hit the wall. Jim’s hardening cock pressed against you. He pulled away and clearned this throat, realising he needed to calm down.

“You, um, wanted to talk to me about my work?” The eye contact you held was sharp, intimate. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I did,” he stepped back and walked towards his things, grabbing a manila folder and handing it to you. My annotations and comments are all in there. All five essays. They’re good. Really damn good.”

“Thank you. I’m excited to look over them.”

“I look forward to reading the next drafts.” 

You stared at each other for a moment before you both developed smiles. You were almost to the point of giggiling. This was fun. It had never occured to you that what you two were doing could be fun. Genuine fun. A small laugh escaped your lips and you looked towards the ground. 

“Jim, we need to talk about this.” You looked back up at him, hopeful that he would be receptive. 

“Come over tonight. We’ll be able to talk all about it.” Jim chuckled and got close to you lifted your chin so your eyes met his. 

“I’m seeing Nadia tonight. We’re going out.”

“See me before you go out then. We’ll have a good time.”

“Doing what?” You tried to bait him by getting close to his face, your lips almost meeting his.

“Just talking.”

“Right. Just talking.” You rolled your eyes and he moved his hand to caress your neck. 

“I’m serious. We’re just talking,” his thumb smoothed over your cheek as he continued, “I’m not going any further until we decide on what exactly this is and how we’re going to go about it. Is that okay?”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you replied, “Yes.”

Then, rather nonchalantly, he replied, “Good girl.” He pecked you on the lips and pulled away from you, turning to grab his things. 

“I have office hours now, so I’ve got to run, but I’ll see you later.” He gave you a smile and walked towards the door. He paused right as his hand reached the handle and turned back to you, rushing over and kissing you again. 

“Bye,” he whispered against your lips.

You kissed him again and let out a laugh, “I’ll text you.”

He kissed you once more and replied, “Good.” He turned again and, this time, allowed himself to exit the room. 

Later that night, you knocked on his door wearing a black halter top and short skirt. Around your waist was a thin silver chain belt that laid perfectly over the dark red skirt. You and Nadia had decided to go to a local club for “Latin Night”, which meant Ireland’s finest (you and Nadia included) would be drunkenly attempting to keep up with Bad Bunny’s cadance. After a couple drinks your words weren’t as coordinated as your hips. Nadia left the club with an old flame, but made sure you safely got into a car you called. Now, here you were, sobering up in front of Jim’s door. Hoping he opened it soon because you didn’t feel like waiting on the club’s bathroom line. 

The door opened and he was still wearing the clothes you saw him in earlier. “Are you drunk?” He cocked his head to the side. 

“I’m halfway to sober. Can I use the bathroom?” You held in a giggle, you didn’t know why you wanted to laugh. Perhaps part of it was the fact you imagined kissing him, but the idea of him tasting the liquor on you made you stop. 

He moved out of the way and you practivally ran by him and towards the bathroom.

“Do you have mouthwash?”, you shouted as you jogged to the bathroom and closed the door. 

“Yes, I do. In the cabinet. Why do you need mouthwash?”

“Don’t worry about it.” 

After a couple minutes of making yourself presentable again, you exited the bathroom and made your way towards Jim. 

“So, how was your night out w-“ You cut him off with a hard kiss, lacing your fingers into his hair.

He pulled away after kissing you back, “Is that why you wanted the mouthwash?” You nodded and hummed “mhm” before trying to kiss him again. He pulled back. “You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Well, you’re not sober.” He walked into the kitchen and poured you a glass of water. “Drink.” He placed it down on the counter in front of you. You looked between him and the glass. He pushed the glass towards you. “I said, drink.”

You smirked and grabbed the glass, chugging half of it. “Happy?” 

He leaned with both his hands bracing on the counter. “We’re not having the conversation we need to have until the morning. I need you one hundred percent sober.”

“Fine.” 

“Finish your water.” 

“Jim, I’m okay, seriously.”

He walked around the bar in the kitchen and grabbed the glass on his way towards you. He held the glass against your lips. 

“Drink.”, he whispered. You placed your hand on top of his and tilted the glass. You drank every last drop. 

“Good girl. Now come, you can’t be comfortable in that dress and those shoes.” He went to the dresser in his bedroom and dug around for some pajama pants and a t-shirt for you to wear. You followed him and leaned against the door frame. 

“Do you like taking care of me?” You tilted your head, challenging him.

A blush started to grow on his cheeks. He placed the clothes on the bed near you and stood back. You put your bag down on the floor, kicked off your shoes, and started the take off your shirt. “You don’t want to do that in the bathroom?” He couldn’t bring himself to look away. 

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” You finished taking of your shirt and you reached over to grab the t-shirt he picked out for you. It was a Fleetwood Mac tee. You pulled it over your head and removed your skirt before grabbing the black lounge pants he gave you. He watched your every move, studying how steady your movements were and how you lost your balance slightly while putting the pants on. 

“You’re staying over, if that wasn’t clear already.” 

“How chivelrous.” 

“I’m serious. Do you need anything else before getting into bed?”

“I want to wash my face.” You started walking towards the bathroom. “Do you have any face wash?”

“In the shower, love.”

“God, of course you fucking do.”

As much as he wished he could have that conversation with you, he loved seeing this side of you. He found you curt and pointed in the best way possible. Upon your arrival back to the bedroom you found him fixing up the bed, more specifically your side of the bed. He had set a bottle of water and pain killers on the bedside table. For when you wake up, he said. 

You hadn’t expected him to take this much care of you. You think he found pleasure in it, and yet he ignored your question about it when you asked. You got into bed without a word and he followed on the other side. 

“Thanks for setting up my emergency morning kit.”

“You’re welcome,” he chuckled, “I don’t want you to suffer in the morning.”

“Well, you know, I don’t get hangovers. I think it’s impossible for me.”

“Oh, that cannot be true.” He turned on his side to face you. 

You stayed on your back, looking up at the ceiling, “No, it’s true, I never do. I guess I never drink enough to get hungover. And I have people forcing me to drink water constantly. Not just you, Nadia too.”

He hummed in understanding. Silence covered you both, only your staggered breath could be heard as you gave into rigid stillness. The reality of what was happening was starting to set in. You were fucking your professor and now he was taking care of you after a night out. “What the fuck am I doing?”, you thought. The moral implications of what was happening seemed more real now that you felt him reach for your hand. He squeezed it to try and get your attention. It was only now you realize that he had been saying your name repeatedly, trying to get your attention. It startled you and you pulled your hand away. 

“What?”, you sounded scared when you asked. 

“Tell me what’s running through your head.” He sat up now, trying to add a bit of urgency to his soft command.

Your mouth opened and no words came out. You shut it.

“I need to hear what’s going through your head.” He took a chance and reached out to caress your cheek. You leaned into his hand.

“I just,” you started, “I feel weird. Like I’m dirty and doing something wrong. I’ve never been with someone older than me and I’ve never been cared for or told what to do. It’s all new to me. Too new. But, the issue is that I love it. I want it more than anything.”

“Come here,” he gestured to his lap, “and don’t worry, no funny business. Just come here.”

You stratled him and met him face to face. He held your face in his hands. “Look at me,” you tried your hardest not to, “Hey, hey, look at me. I need your eyes on me.” You squeezed your eyes shut before opening them and being drawn in by his. 

“I will never force you to do anything you don’t want to do, and if you feel uncomforable with me in the bed tonight just say the word and I’ll sleep on the couch. I… I understand your apprehension. But give us- this a chance.”

You took in his words before nodding slowly, “Okay.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I want this. Really, really bad.” You started to move your hips and his hands left your face, and firmly stopped your hips.

“Not now, this isn’t what this is about.”

You looked down at your arms, now crossed over your body, feeling slightly repremanded. If he didn’t want sex from you all the time, then what did he want?

He pressed his forehead to yours and whispered only for you to hear even though not another soul ever would, “I want you to submit to me willingly. Not because you feel that you have to.”

You felt your eyes water and a single tear fell. You pulled back and quickly wiped it away. 

“Sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“Don’t apologize. I get it. It’s a lot.”

“It feels like more than hooking up with my professor now.”

“Good. It should.”

You pressed a soft kiss against his lips, “Can we cuddle?”

“Of course, love.” 

You got off of his lap and he reached to turn off the only lamp on in his room, the one on his bedside. He laid down and opened his arms for you. You fit perfectly against him. You laid a hand on his chest and got comfortable in the crook of his neck. He held as if you would run away. 

“Thank you, Jim.”

“For?”, he stroked your arm before wrapping his arm around it. 

“For caring.”

[lottielovelace]

princess — chapter two

(ghost x könig's-sister!reader)

summary: Finally you get a chance to visit Simon. You just hope he hasn't forgotten about you. (aka two people trying their best to hide how incredibly into each other they are)

originally posted on ao3 (chapter length: 1,318 words)

Rating: M

Relationships: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader, background platonic relationships

Ao3 Tags FOR THE FIC AS A WHOLE, bolded is for this specific chapter: Past Rape/Non-con / Rape Recovery / Male Victim of Sexual Assault / Canonical Rape/Non-con (Simon's) / First Time / Getting Together / Manchester as a setting / disclaimer: author has not been to manchester / Simon does bare-knuckle boxing as a hobby / Sparring as Flirting / wrestling as flirting / Identity Porn / Non-Explicit Sex / reader is konig's half sister / Unmasked Simon "Ghost" Riley (while on leave) / reader knows that simon is in the military but doesn't know he’s ghost / medium speed burn

this is a part of a series and a multichapter fic (Ch1, Ch2)

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine's! I did promise more Simon this time

The next day, you headed to Stuart's bright and early. You didn't want to spend any longer in your crappy hostel than you had to.

You got off the tram, walked a couple blocks, and flashed a friendly—if nervous—smile at the secretary. She returned it with an encouraging thumbs up and beckoned you to enter the training area.

Only one figure stood in the ring, his back to you. The workout garb revealed so much more than the heavy winter garments he had worn undercover in the prison.

You let the door slam behind you.

He whirled around: hair rustled, undereyes dark, sweat sheening over scarred skin. God, he was beautiful.

"Hi," your voice was breathless.

“I thought I saw you earlier,” if Simon was surprised, he didn't let his voice betray it.

“Where?” you asked, tilting your head inquisitively.

“Yesterday, on the street.”

You tried your best not to visibly wilt as you began your retreat.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Simon squinted in confusion, “What for?”

"I didn't realize you didn't want me to— and then I go barging in on your life like—"

"No, no," Simon interrupted, realizing what you were trying to stammer out. “I wasn’t avoiding you. I just—“ he tensed for a moment, conflicted as he found his words. "The only reason I didn't talk to you was I wasn’t quite sure whether you were real or not.”

Oh. Right. You knew Simon wasn’t normal, but this was a harsh reminder that he was a soldier, with all the messiness that came along with the job title. You felt so silly for forgetting. Soldiers came with body counts. Baggage. Ghosts. You knew firsthand from your brother and Horangi that it could make things, relationships, life… difficult. Worth it, but not easy.

“Does that happen often?” you kept your voice light and airy. He trusted you enough to confide this, you didn’t want him to regret the decision or fear that he'd scared you off.

“Not when I’m on the right meds. Glad to know you’re real, means I don’t need a new prescription.”

A devious smirk emerged on your face, “Only happy at that?”

“No… it’s just—“ After all your angsting over seeing him, it was nice to see someone else do the squirming for once. It was also kinda cute. There was a power in your words having this man, this killer, damn near flustered. “It’s good to see you. Really good.”

You cocked an eyebrow, “Likewise.” You approached him slowly, gently placing your hands on his forearm. "See, real as can be."

Ghost's expression remained unchanged, but his pale face flushed.

"Good. Did you come here just to see me or…"

"Or what?" you asked, curious as to his suggestion.

"Well, I am supposed to be supervising open gym. Did'ya want to spar?"

You pondered for a moment. "I wouldn't be against it."

"Any experience with hand to hand?"

You shrugged off your sweater, "I've taken a couple of self defense classes." You kept your answer purposefully vague. He didn't need to know that you'd received many a private lesson from a former ROK Special Mission Brigade member (one who wanted to ensure no harm came to his 여동생). "But not bare-knuckle boxing."

Simon chuckled lowly, "Yeah, 't's not the most practical style."

"Then why do you…"

"On the battlefield, you do what you have to to survive. Playing dirty isn't just allowed, it's required. I'm used to taking any advantage I can. It's… nice to not do that for once. To let my skills stand on their own." A wry smile. "Make sure they haven't atrophied too much." His smile dropped, "But let's not box."

"Why not? Think I can't handle it?"

"It's not… I just, I don't want to hit you." There was something in his tone that hinted that striking someone he—well, you didn't know if "loved" was the right term yet, but someone he cared about hit a little too close to home. "Let's…" he thought for a moment, "wrestle instead. Would that be alright?"

"Sure."

"Let's try starting with a simple lockup. Normally I would try to pair you with someone closer to your weight class but," he gestured at the empty room, "not really an option right now. Don't worry, I'll go easy on you."

He wasn't lying. His grip was gentle, with no force or malice behind it. Arms wrapped around each other, he offered little resistance as you twisted, catching him off guard and knocking him down.

Simon was pleasantly surprised.

"That's good," he said from the ground, still flat on his back. "Solid form."

"Beginner's luck," you responded bashfully, bending down to look at his face. The same eyes you saw at the prison stared back up at you.

Getting to his feet, Simon ordered "Another."

While a little more cautious, he still wasn't fully on alert. This was a mistake.

THWAP!

Once again, he hit the mat first.

This time, Simon stood up with a dangerous look in his eyes.

No orders this time as he wordlessly commanded you to lock up again.

His grip still wasn't entirely engaged. You assumed that he still hadn't learned his lesson. You were wrong.

He didn't try to overpower you, use his size or use his muscular advantage to force you to the ground.

He just moved, darting with a quickness unfathomable for a man of his size. You blinked, and it was your turn to hit the floor. Looking up at the ceiling, you could see Simon's shit-eating grin staring back at you. For such a quiet man, he really did have an expressive face. You wondered how that worked on the field. Maybe he mostly did stuff over the comms.

You got up carefully, a plan blooming in your mind.

"I want to go again."

Simon happily obliged you, locking up. He gave you an opening to attack. When you did nothing, he went for a repeat of the last round.

Only this time you knew better.

This time, as your body fell, you tucked and rolled: resulting in you on top, triumphant. Simon seemed a little impressed. You were about to brag when— BAM! He used your distracted state to flip you, now pinning you beneath him. You squirmed trying to get any leverage, to no avail. His weight was enough to trap you. His unmoving weight. Simon had frozen, going deathly still.

Why— oh. Oh.

Simon was the first one to break the silence.

"Do you know how to get out of this?"

"I have a guess."

"Guessing isn't good enough," he chided. "Not when somebody wants to kill you. Or—" he inhaled sharply. "Worse."

You didn't like that you couldn't see his face right now. Using Horangi's training, you strained against him as if trying to brute force your way out—only to juke him, suddenly striking the other way, and driving your elbow into the soft of his solar plexus. He fell off you with a low groan at a timbre that made you blush.

Finally you could see his face. Despite now grimacing from the pain, he also appeared to be… relaxed by it and its grounding familiarity.

"Good practice," he declared, still a little weak.

"You're a good teacher," you sat up beside him.

"I'm afraid I didn't teach you very much."

"A good partner then,. Simon's demeanor seemed to ever so slightly brighten at your words. You laughed, leaning back. "I need a shower."

He winced.

"The ones at the gym are broken."

"Shit!"

Simon raised an eyebrow as if saying that was a bit of an extreme reaction, innit?

"What's wrong?"

"The hostel I'm staying in doesn't have a shower."

Simon's nose wrinkles, "Doesn't sound like it'd smell all that pleasant."

"It really isn't."

A beat.

And Simon spoke up, voice as fragile as his hopes.

"You could come to my place."

[vividiana]

wip whenever 📝

thank you so much to @xxnashiraxx @deadly-diminuendo @hellethil and @khywren for tagging me over the past week or so 💕 I've been feeling very uninspired lately so I didn't have anything to share

but! yesterday in a flash of fever-induced genius I had an idea for a modern au involving Eve and Astarion that I'm very excited about. I don't want to spoil things but the very basic premise is that Eve is in a witness protection program and she had to uproot her life and assume a new identity (for... reasons... don't worry about that yet.) and Astarion is, well... running from his past, let's say.

here's a draft of the not-so-cute meet-cute:

The white-haired man doesn’t look up when she stands before him, seemingly lost in thought as he scribbles something fervently in a journal in sweeping, messy handwriting. Through the scent of stale beer and fried food, she singles out a hint of his cologne—citrusy, fresh, and far more pleasant than anything the men around here usually wear, if they even bother. “Hello, my name is Eve–” He startles at the sound of her voice. There is a trace of panic in his eyes as he looks up, one that he instantly tries to cover up by straightening in his seat and donning a forced smile. The moment their eyes meet, Eve gets the strangest feeling of déjà vu she’s ever experienced. There is something familiar in that shade of blue, in the way his hair curls behind his ears. It catches her off-guard, the rehearsed introduction dying in her throat mid-sentence.  “I’m sorry, do I know you from somewhere?” she asks instead.  The man instantly tenses up with a loud scoff.  “Of course you would know me from somewhere. What else did I expect?” He gestures animatedly as he speaks, Eve blinking in confusion as she listens to his rant. “You move halfway across the country to finally get a break for once and– Are you one of those true crime freaks? Do you want to ask me how I did it? Do you want to know all the gory details? Fucking hell…” He drops his fountain pen on the counter with a loud thud and slips his glasses off to massage his temples, eyes shut tight in frustration. A couple patrons turn their heads to look in their direction, Eve’s cheeks growing hotter at the sudden attention. And perhaps, after this hell of a shift, that was simply the last straw. “Do not raise your voice at me,” the words slip past her lips before Eve can think better of it. The man seems genuinely taken aback and he opens his eyes, brows furrowed when he asks: “Excuse me?” “You seem to think you’re someone important. Sorry to burst your bubble, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. And no matter who you are, you shouldn’t speak to people that way, but especially not to those who handle your food and drinks.” She didn’t mean it to sound like a threat, but she has no emotional energy left to dull the edge of her words.  Maybe getting fired wouldn’t be so bad. Then I’ll never have to come back here. For a moment he just looks at her wide-eyed, opening and closing his mouth a couple times. Eventually he clears his throat and puts his glasses back on, sounding genuinely embarrassed when he admits: “You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just– It’s been a long day. But still, that’s no reason to– I’m sorry.” The anger pent-up in her body starts to dissipate at his tone. He sounds… tired. In a way she recognizes all too well. “It’s been a long day for me, too,” she says. “Maybe we can try again.”  She turns away and takes a couple steps along the bar, then returns with a polite smile on her face to say: “Hello, my name is Eve, I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Can I get you started with something to drink?” He chuckles softly and now that his face is more relaxed, Eve can’t help but think that he is quite handsome, in a manner that feels utterly out of place here. “That depends,” he says. “Are you going to spit in it or poison it?” “You’ve apologized, so neither. But you’re on thin ice.”

tagging: @verbenaa @funniestbitchinfaerun @obsessedwhyyes (word on the street is you have some Bloodweave cooking 👀) @roguishcat @olivedrop if you have anything you'd like to share ✨