#sorry the fates ptsd kicked in

[writingwisterias]

Okay so hear me out ( hello first, where are my manners )

but rly hear me out : Leon and the reader, the reader is pregnant, and the baby is born on September 30th. Like I can’t be the only one who thought about it ? Anyway, please don’t die I love your stories.

stay hydrated folks

Hello!

I actually love this, I could feel the angst and fluff. I will try not to die 🫡 I hope you enjoy and have a good day! And everyone that sees this is your reminder to drink water or anything please (Not proof Read I'm sorry it posted before I got the chance!)

I'm so sorry for how late this is please forgive me! I wanted to flesh it out a bit

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Pregnancy, Child birth (Not graphic), PTSD, Establsihed Relationship

ID!Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader

The red circle on the calendar was just a constant reminder to him. Not only because of the impending arrival of his child. But also of that one fateful night -- the day that changed his life. He would spend the entire year trying to forget about it and think of anything other than this. It was the devil's work he swore in that doctor's office when the date was announced. He watched you freeze, a fake smile now replacing the real one you had when you entered the office. Leon hated that one date could still have so much effect on the two of you. 

You grasped his hand during the rest of the appointment, and you watched as he sunk into himself, his eyes turning hazy as he dissociated. Your fingers squeezing his desperately trying to get him to come back. You would never blame him, the horrors he had been through were enough to break a thousand men and he was still here. You had asked him years ago to explain everything to allow the secret he had kept so long to be heard by someone he trusted to help him heal. Since then the pregnancy had turned into a nine-month countdown to the date. The small kicks he felt every night fought desperately against the feeling, the reminder. The life you were carrying to involve him in a never-ending circle of happiness was already trying to heal their dad. Leon was too good of a man to let this affect the relationship with the child, besides due dates can be wrong all the time. Sometimes the baby will come later, he might be lucky.

You watched him become nervous as the countdown began as you were in the final weeks of the pregnancy. It became a routine for Leon to stare at the red circle every morning as he made breakfast and coffee. Only getting worse since the date was only a few days away at this point. The nursery was completely decorated with things you had both collected yourselves and had been given in the baby shower. All of the baby grows were washed and put away, a large stockpile of diapers in the changing table ready to be used up. You were both just waiting on the baby. 

“Good morning” You spoke softly as you entered the room. Your voice is now the only thing taking his attention away from the calendar. Leon smiled at you, his oversized shirt draped over your body. “Morning” He mumbled, hand instantly smoothing the fabric smiling at the little kicks that greeted him. It wasn’t unusual for him to be awake early, his military timer being one of the things that never left him. Despite your attempts to train it out of him in favour for a few more hours in bed. “What’s for breakfast today? It smells good” You hummed sweetly looking over at the hob. 

You tried to hide it, you really did but Leon didn’t miss the twinge of pain in your face. The small adjustment you gave yourself as pain washed over you. “Are you alright?” He asked ignoring your previous question entirely. His touch was gentle a simple reminder of his support. You nodded muttering a small ‘yes’ despite your features clenched together displaying otherwise. His hand moved gently on your lower back, the movements distracting you from the pain. You knew what the date was but you also knew what the pain meant. You just didn’t have the heart to tell him yet. After spending the whole night hoping that maybe it was just a Braxton hix and they would fade away eventually. However, the world wasn’t that kind. “Love, please don’t lie to me. Not when you are this close” 

“The date-”

“I know the date…I don’t care not right now. Tell me what’s happening” 

You turned to him, finally able to stand up straighter now the pain had subsided. Leon knew what you were getting at, he’d read all the books and leaflets the doctor recommended. All to be able to recognise the signs. Leon ensured that he was as prepared as he could be but now it was happening he froze. Panic rose in his system as you had yet another contraction in front of him. The timings were too close together, you had waited for hours as he slept. Hoping it won’t fall on this date. For his sake. 

“Do we need to leave?” He asked, his voice catching in his throat. You nodded a soft chuckle leaving your lips as you held onto him, fingers digging in his arm as you let the pain subside. To his credit he worked quickly, gathering the bag and items you had prepared and putting them into the car. He was careful as he led you towards the car. One eye on the road and the other on you, pride swelling in his chest at how well you were handling yourself. He thought he would be more lost today, that the date would distract him from being present with you. It did occasionally, every time someone would remind you both of the fact the baby was arriving on your due date he would go silent. Get lost in his mind again. Only to be brought back by a softer comment from you or your touch. The same way you would normally bring him back after spending years with him.  

When getting himself coffee or ice chips for you; he would make sure to avoid the ER, the screams triggering his flashbacks. You were proud of him, he never let it show. Despite the circumstances, you knew he would be the best partner you could get in this situation. 

You tried to hold back from making any sound but the more you needed to push the louder you got. He didn’t blame you, he could see that you were trying for his sake. The hospital was already proving to be challenging with all of the other mothers throughout the day going through the same process just a few rooms down. Leon could feel your attempts to be silent in the way you gripped his hand. You saw Leon wince at every moan and flinch at every scream you made. It didn’t help the baby was progressing slowly meaning the process was dragged out. It seemed like the entire day was attempting to make this harder for him. 

Yet despite everything he still helped you through it, complimenting your progress and how well you were doing. “You can do it, You are doing so good” He whispered in your hair, placing kisses not caring for the sweat that coated your skin. His kisses were cold and welcomed against your sweaty skin. You shook your head exhaustion lingering in the corner ready to take over. The final moments were the hardest for him. Leon tried so hard not to let it affect him but the room was suddenly too loud as it now filled with the baby’s cries, the nurses praising you as you also cried. The wails reminded him of all the distant ones he heard as he ran around the police station, of all the people he couldn’t save as he was trapped inside. Your deeper groans of pain sounded similar to Marvin’s as he spoke helping Leon out of the station. 

You felt his presence, but he wasn’t there, his eyes watching over you with that hazed look again. You wouldn’t hold it against him; it was enough that he was here physically. You knew he hated the hospital, the sounds of everyone injured and in pain. You’ve spent countless times trying to force him to get his sickness checked out by doctors instead of googling the symptoms. However, you knew that once the noise reduced, he would come back, and he would enjoy the moment. 

Guilt washed over him as he held the baby the small bundle watching him with curious eyes. You were asleep, having some well-deserved rest. The machines beeped around him, the noise of the hospital fading as he looked back into those blue eyes. They were so small in his arms, their head cradled perfectly in the palm of his hand. This is what he endured and fought for that night, the chance to have a life at the end of it. To have happiness and love surround him in even the smallest ways. Leon didn’t know he was going to be tracked down and blacked mailed by the government for just surviving the events of Raccoon City. Neither did he know that he was going to have to sign his life away putting what he assumed as pure luck into training. He had just watched you champion this for 9 months, endure days of morning sickness, all of the growing pains without a complaint. Looking forward to the future when you can finally hold the baby. He supposed in his own long-winded way he did the same. 

All the nightmares suddenly didn’t matter anymore, not when a positive thing overtook them. Soon to be interrupted by softer cries in the night. The small bundle he held in his arms wasn’t just a new birthday to celebrate for them but for him as well. For the new Leon that wouldn’t let that one night dictate the rest of his life, haunt him forever. It was his chance at a rebirth, at a new beginning. Not only as a husband and father but just as himself. 

[neuvilette-tea-party]

₊ ˙ ⊹Tiens ma main ₊ ˙ ⊹

Steb x F!reader

The war ended, Piltover and Zaun are being rebuilt, but the war took without mercy

Tags: PTSD, wounds, swimming, Steb is non-verbal, reader is pregnant, kinda hurt/comfort, fluff, Female GN reader, I just wanted to write something soft for best boy Steb 🥹

You turn the page of your book, entranced by the text, savoring one of the first silent and peaceful evenings since the war. You readjust your position against the pillow and wince as one of your scars decides to burn you. Next to you in the bed, your beloved Steb is sleeping, bandages around his chest and a riffle on his side of the bed. 

Survival instincts die hard. 

What Piltover and Zaun went through will remain deep inside every habitant, like scars and wounds for some but like trauma for all. Citizens of both cities are working hard to rebuild them and erase the damages of the “incident”. Many do not know what truly happened and will remain in the dark for the rest of their lives… Too many factors and players… 

You shudder when you receive a kick in your stomach, making you lightly chuckle, perking up Steb’s ear. You gently caress your pregnant tummy with a smile when the door of the bedroom cracks open an inch... 

Steb reaction is immediate. 

Before you can react he jumps into a crouching position on the bed, riffle aimed at the door, all his scales tensed like a bow string, his powerful muscles contracted under the pressure. 

Your cat meows in fear and decides to flee to the living room, leaving the door ajar. 

‘’It was only Compote.’’ You try to appease your lover. 

Steb releases his breath and slightly relaxes, lowering the weapon. He passes a hand in his hair as you caress his shoulder blades. He sits down with a low head, lays his gun against the wall, and turns toward you, eyes agitated and worried. 

‘’Are you alright?’’ He signs. 

‘’I am. It was just the cat.’’ You comfortingly smile at him. 

‘’Sorry.’’ he signs again. 

Your heart clenches. 

He had a voice before. He used it rarely, he saw talking as unreliable, vastly preferring action to sugar-coated words, but he used to talk. 

Another thing the war took. 

So now he signs, and in some ways, he never talked so much ! 

‘’Why are you sorry for? For trying to protect us?” You giggle, pressing one of his cheeks in your palm lovingly. ”Compote has a worse memory than fishes, he will come back to snuggle with us in ten minutes.’’  

Steb delicately takes your hand off his cheek to tenderly kiss its palm several times, his cheek scales waving against your skin. He then lowers himself to press his cheek against your stomach, waiting for a fated punch or kick of his baby, hugging your hips with his careful hands. 

He closes his eyes, breathing steadily as he brushes his cheeks against your swollen tummy, like an encouragement for your baby… 

Sure enough, you feel a small punch inside of you, against Steb’s cheek and for a second you are sure he is about to purr from relief. 

You smile, caressing his temple and hair tenderly as he snuggles against you. Your other hand caresses his shoulder and back but… 

‘’Steb? You need a bath. You are dehydrated, I have dead scales all over my hand.’’ 

His grip tightens around you. He is not disposed to leave you alone, without him watching over you. You do not fault him for that, after the war, the blood, the ruins... Everyone is under pressure and the timing of your pregnancy did not help at all. 

‘’Come on you silly fish. I’ll bath with you’’, You propose warmly. 

He looks up to you, blinking his third eyelid in a mute question. 

“Come on. You watched over me like a shark circles its prey, you forget your own needs. I’ll join you in the pound.” 

He abdicates and leaves a kiss on your stomach before standing up and heading outside. You put a bookmark where you stopped and follow your new husband. Every Aquatic Vastaya’s home comes with a large and deep pond for them to swim and reconnect to their aquatic origins, and Steb parent’s wanted to accommodate their family after immigrating to Piltover, Steb was still young and they wanted him not to feel restrained in the water.  

Any other species would pay a higher price for a pond with such dimensions as it would be considered a luxurious pool for them, but for Aquatic Vastaya it had been ruled a basic necessity accommodation and necessary for their dignity, so Piltover offers financial assistance to help their construction and favorising immigration. Steb’s parent still paid a huge price for this one, but judging by Steb’s childhood pictures, it was worth every cent. 

You go down the four steps of the wooden patio, crossing paths with Steb’s pants as he expertly dives into the fresh water. You sit down at the edge, letting your legs float in the cold water lazily as his head pierces back the surface energetically. 

Steb, ever the stoic in the streets, looks like a kid when he swims, warming up your heart with undying love. 

He turns to you with a silent question in his turquoise eyes, closing the gap until his hand rests on your thigh. 

“I would prefer not immerge myself completely, I am afraid this is a bit cold for the baby.” You lie. 

Steb cocks his head. 

“My kin strive in cold water.” He signs. 

Oops. 

You roll your hands into fists, you earned several scars and gashes during the war as you defended the city, and while they are healed now, they are still visible and .... disgraceful. You did not display your body to Steb’s eyes since that day, preferring to hide the hideous wounds from his gaze. 

What if he finds you ugly now? 

You’re still too self conscious about it. 

His cheek scales wave and his ears perk up, catching up with your inner feelings. His dripping hands come to hold yours, squeezing it gently. He takes support on the edge to lift himself up and your lips meet in a tender kiss, leaving you breathless, his second hand coming to caress your lower back, gently rising up, slipping under your night shirt, exploring your naked skin. 

You wince in the kiss, pulling away. 

Steb considers you, trying to get you to open up, his delicate fingers caressing your jaw. 

“No...” You just respond, unable to look into his piercing eyes. 

“Why don’t you want to join me?” He signs. 

“I am not comfortable.” 

“Is it because of your scars?” 

You turn your gaze back to him, your nostril flaring. 

“I am a medic. I know when people get hurt.” He signs again, “I am used to scars and wounds.” 

“You never saw them on my body. This is... nasty.” You counter, your eyes drowning in the surrounding water. 

He raises back up to recapture your lips again, softly. He then presses his forehead to yours, his hand caressing the back of your neck, letting water drops trickling down your back. 

“Nothing about you is nasty. It pushes me to take care of you more. Join me, love.” 

You look away but he takes your chin between his finger, forcing you to look at him, meeting his assured and comforting gaze. You deeply exhale and nods, abdicating. 

He gently pulls on the hem of your shirt to take it off, leaving you in your bra, and takes off your shorts, leaving them on the edge of the pound. You close your eyes as you feel his arms circling your body to gently pull you into the pond. You bury your head into the crook of his neck and let him take you into the cold water. 

You shudder when the cold wraps itself all around you and you circle Steb’s chest tight. You both reemerge to the surface into each other arms, hugging each other tight, his hand caressing your hair as you nudge against him. 

His second hand caresses your entire naked back, tracing the gashes and the scars, discovering your wounds for the first time. 

“I should have told you... I am sorry...” You admit,  your cheek pressed against his shoulder. 

For sole response he tenderly kisses your temple, pulling you closer in his embrace, lazily floating with you in his arms under the starry sky, gently caressing your back and hair like a first time... 

[mrsaltieri-real]

A Bad Feeling

Mickey Altieri X F!Reader

Warning/s: language, mention of murder, mention of injuries, (reader was attacked by Billy Loomis in Woodsbro) Mickey being a dick, fluff, angst, reader has PTSD from previous murders, reader has scars from previous attack

This is all a week before the first Windsor college murders

You couldn’t stop shaking.

He stood in front of you now as you stared into the black eyes of that stupid Ghostface mask, stumbling backwards as he stalked you as if he was a predator and you were his prey. The memories of two years ago started filling your head, flipping through each moment in half a second.

You felt yourself stumble over your own feet but quickly regained balance, clinging to the edge of your dresser.

“Please.. please don’t!” You begged with him, trying to plead with some kind of humanity this psycho may have, although perhaps it was in vain. The first two had none. He stopped then and let out a low chuckle, the sound disguised by his voice changer.

The voice changer suddenly stopped and you instantly recognized the all too familiar laugh. “Mickey?”

He took the mask off, showing it to be none other than exactly who you thought. Mickey fucking Altieri.

“Oh, come on!” He said, still laughing at your fear stricken face.

“Mickey, I told you it’s not fucking funny.” You snapped, smacking his arm. He pretended to wince and rub his arm.

“Your reaction says the exact opposite of that, baby.” He smirked.

“You’re a real fucking asshole, you know that? You break into my room wearing that dumbass costume- wait, where’d you even get that thing?”

“Oh please,” Mickey scoffed, rolling his eyes, “they sell this thing everywhere. People want to wear them to the Stab premier next week, will probably want to wear them for Halloween too.”

“Yeah, that’s not sick at all,” you muttered sarcastically, glaring at your boyfriend who was still wearing that annoyingly dazzling smile. “Take that thing off now, Mickey. I’m serious.”

Mickey rolled his eyes yet again but did as he was told, pulling the robe off and throwing the mask onto your nightstand before plopping himself on your bed, kicking his feet up.

“Shoes, asshole.” You muttered but he ignored you, studying your slightly still shaken expression.

“It was just a joke, baby.” He said to you, his cocky smile disappearing as he reached for your hand. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“It might be a “joke” to you Mickey, but it’s real life for Sid, Randy and me.” You snap at him, arms folding across your chest as you ignored his outreached hand. Instead of dropping it, he pulled you closer to him by your elbow before moving to rest his hands gently on your hips, moving his thumb in small circles on your exposed skin.

“I know, I’m sorry. You know my sense of humors sort of twisted, but I shouldn’t have scared you like that.” He said it sincerely, his beautiful brown eyes looking up at you, deep like pools of honey.

You sighed and sat on his lap, his arms now wrapping around you as he nuzzled into your hair.

“I’m just excited for the movie, wanna see what actress they got to play you.” His teasing tone was back and you scoffed, pushing his head back. “Because-“ he continued, “whoever it is isn’t going to hold a candle to you.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes, but you wrapped you arms around his neck and kissed him lightly on his soft lips before moving slightly to hug him, pulling yourself as close to him as possible.

You glanced at the Ghostface mask, the memories flooding into your brain. You felt Mickey’s finger lightly graze the healed over but still prominent stab wound, a lovely permanent reminder of that fateful night in Woodsbro, when Billy Loomis had stabbed you in the stomach as you tried to protect Sidney Prescott from him. You remembered almost bleeding out on Stu Machers kitchen floor, Sidney applying pressure to your wound until the ambulance arrived. You remembered your mom sobbing in the hospital when she found out what happened. You shivered slightly at all of those painful memories and Mickey pulled back, cupping your cheek gently in his large, rough hand.

You glanced at him, your sweet, affectionate, mischievous boyfriend and felt tears sting your eyes. You weren’t sure why, but looking at that mask, him wearing that stupid costume even if it was just as a joke… it didn’t sit right with you. It didn’t sit right with you at all. It definitely should’ve been your first red flag that something wasn’t quite right with Mickey. What kind of boyfriend wears the same outfit as the guys who tried to kill you? The guys who did kill your friends? What kind of boyfriend laughs at your fear?

“You alright?” He asked you anxiously, trying to study your features to see what you were thinking about.

“Yeah I just… promise me you’ll never wear that stupid thing again?” You pleaded, gesturing to the mask still sat on your nightstand.

“Yeah of course, baby,” Mickey lied, smiling at you and looking practically angelic. “I promise.”

[mrsnancywheeler]

(warning this may seem vv incoherent because i just woke up LMFAO)

Ooo while you’re working your magic for the next chapter of the river, I wanted to word vomit a bit about ch.4 LOL

I remember that the thing that absolutely broke me while reading mockingjay was after he was hijacked, Peeta had to fall in love with Katniss all over again. and the same is true for reader and Finnick, except with trust (his sweet girl still loves him even though she thinks he wants her dead☹️).

We alr knew reader was a #paranoid girlie, and snow completely exploited this in her hijacking. But another thing that hurts is realizing how he also reinforced her belief that she deserves to be punished for what she did to Conway. From the moment she won her games, she immediately told finnick that he should have let her die in that arena:(( and despite enduring so much suffering post-games (PTSD, trafficking, and sh tendencies), the guilt still, at least partially, drives her to volunteer for the quell. SO THE THOUGHT OF ALL THIS GUILT BEING AMPLIFIED BY THE HIJACKING IS ACTUALLY DEVASTATING.

And Finnick having to witness all of this :(( he was there for her for everything she went through post-games. He was able to help reassure and work through it with her. But now, he can barely help her like how he was able to before :(

AND I STILL THINK ABOUT WHAT SNOW SAID TO READER WHEN SHE WAS BEING CROWNED “You’ve really proven what these games are about” WHAT💥DO 💥 YOU 💥 MEAN 💥 I thought that he was projecting LMAO. Like he was referencing to how (according to snow) Lucy Gray manipulated his feelings as a survival tactic. Or if there’s another meaning that my brain can’t comprehend at the moment LOL

Ok my thoughts were all over the place so sorry if it was hard to read HAHA. Very excited to see what’s to come🫶

-🦅

yes yes yes, I'm sorry I'm so slow with this one, my schedule has literally been jam packed and I've been falling asleep nearly instantly when I get home 😭

yes and reader can still love finnick even though part of her thinks that he wants her dead, because she thinks it's the kind of fate she deserves. she wouldn't hold it against him if he did so that. she'd deserve it for being so manipulative and callous which inherently makes her untrustworthy. but there's still a level of subconscious preservation that kicks in to make her scared. finnick knows that he's never, for a second thought about anything even close to wanting her dead and now has to watch her own insecurities eat her alive.

because he knows that she's been self destructive since her games, that's why after it was announced the quell would be reaping from the pool of victors he felt so angry and instantly left to try to convince other people to volunteer for her. he knew that she'd see it as yet another opportunity to atone for her so called sins. even if he'd been able to live a mostly happy life with you in the chunks of time you were both left alone to be in the Capitol, he knew that at your lowest lows you'd reject the comfort and refuse to be told otherwise. until he'd basically corner you, love on you, tell you how worthy you were until you cracked enough to open up and accept his help. but now it's clear you want help, but the paranoia makes it so hard to accept it from him.

yes that's one of the meanings for what snow says, but also when gaul asks snow what the games are really about in the end of tbosas, how the games show you who we really are, how fast we go from being prey to the predator in situations like that. our true nature. and she essentially did that, she's just a child, a young girl from district 4,scared she might die, but she has a survival plan. she kills, she manipulates, turns against people, she plays conway with all she's got in order to win, her over him. she preys upon conway, she becomes the predator in her calculated game.

thank you, love you so much 💋💋💋💋

[majesticwren]

The Hanging Tree (Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley x OFC)

Summary: Are you, are you comin' to the tree? Where they strung up a man, they say, who murdered three — She is on a path looking for war as her fate foretold. And he has war within him. Both, thirsty for vengeance, justice and blood.

Words: 10k. Trigger Warnings: Mention of Canon Violence, Mention of Fighting, Mention of Paganism, Mention of Past Trauma, Mention of PTSD, Toxic Working Out as a Coping Mechanism - please kids don't do this at home, Valkyrie is as unhinged as a broken door in this chapter, sorry, she isn't having a good time, Semi-Public Smut (?), Mention of Sex. Tags: my lovely @hirunoka and honorary mention to @literaryuppsala, thank you both for all the support 💕Let me know if you'd like to be added 🌻

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Chapter 4 - Dust to Dust.

Part I.

Valkyrie kicked open the men’s commune locker room, unconcerned and unbothered by the reaction people might have. Some didn’t even react, looking at her barging through their private space with cocky smiles and curious gazes. Others quickly covered themselves if they weren’t wearing clothes. Someone booed her. Someone else whistled, and, overall, everyone was just shocked by her arrival into the room without a single care in the world.

Only a few people were left anyways. The arena has been emptying for a while now and some of the athletes had already left to go back to their hotels. But she really couldn’t care regardless, she would have acted exactly in the same way even if she found herself in a room full of naked men.

Her sterile, detached gaze crossed the room specifically looking only for one man, everyone else who was there could have been part of the furniture and she would have given them the same level of attention.

"Where is he?" She wondered casually, approaching Roman. He was one of the men who quickly slid into some clothes as soon as they saw her, but again, it wasn't like she noticed there was anything wrong with her behaviour.

Thing is, she knew perfectly well that it wasn't socially acceptable. And she knew she could have been reprimanded. But again, it didn’t matter. It wasn't like it was as important as seeing Dean right that second.

She didn't just need to see him; it was vital that she saw him. It was as important as breathing. She was done having her bones so rattled by a simple man. And she was done waiting around, living every second being frustrated and uncertain. She was the one in control. And after their clash in the corridor before his match, she had decided that she wouldn't let him get away again.

She didn't even have the patience to wait for him to be done showering and changing. 

Roman cleared his voice, awkwardly looking around. "I don't think-"

"No," she shook a finger in front of his face, "I'm not asking your opinion. I'm asking you where Dean is."

Roman still fidgeted with his t-shirt as someone walked by, ass naked, "Hey, who misplaced the chick?" wondered the nameless guy Valkyrie didn't even care to look at. Roman, though, did and choked on his own breath. "You know you risk causing mayhem just by being here?"

"Why? It's not like I've never seen a naked man before." It was the most natural thing in the world, and yet, the way she shrugged it off still surprised Roman. It was as if she had just spoken gibberish to him.

"Yeah? Make sure to tell him that, so that he can fucking lose his temper because you decided to get in here and happened to see some naked men. Who he will reduce into a pulp. The poor bastards."

Valkyrie was already rolling her eyes at Roman’s dramatic words. It wasn't like he was wrong. She knew what Dean was capable of. She knew he didn't know patience. And he had been vocal about how easily his jealousy was woken. Gods, only thinking about that gave her a shiver.

And that specific reaction was the exact reason why none of it mattered.

She needed to see Dean because whereas every other man surrounding her was nothing more than that, with very little value to her interest, he was the magnetic pull she was gravitating around. Like the Moon around the Earth.

"Why don't you wait outside? I could send him to you," As Roman attempted to make her reconsider her ways, Valkyrie lifted her chin proudly, crossing her arms to her chest.

“And give him the chance to choose to avoid me?”

“He won’t do that.”

She simply shrugged. “Well then, might as well go to him.”

Roman rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "You are fucking mental, you know that!?" Even if he was shaking his head, a tiny smile still crossed his lips. The second he realised she didn’t intend to give him an answer, still standing there with her proud, determined look, a sigh left his chest. “You waited an entire week and now you can’t wait a minute?”

“Precisely, Roman. I waited too long already.”

“Truly made for each other,” now his smile grew. He didn’t mean those words with the slightest intention of being disrespectful. A sigh still left his chest, as he shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Alright, he's in the steam room.”

Before she moved, Roman did grab her arm, sending her the quickest side eye, his lips still curled in a genuinely amused smile. “One second, sweetheart,” his eyes then crossed the room, “is Bryan out of the steam room yet?”

“Here.” Called a guy from the other side of the room. Her gaze crossed his only for a moment and a nod of recognition was exchanged. He was one of the men she had helped in the past, one of her first. And he was also the first one who had accepted to repay his debt without even a doubt, treating her right and with the respect, any man would get from the very beginning. She had always liked him. Men like him deserved to be blessed by her Gods.

As Daniel’s attention got caught, probably thinking she needed him, he approached them. Differently from Roman, he didn’t even bother to put clothes on, still only wearing a towel around his waist.

“Aren’t you a naughty one?” He wondered with an amused smile growing on his lips.

“Only when I try really hard.”

Daniel offered her a soft smile, completely different from the look he exchanged with Roman. “Is everything ok?”

“Yes, thanks, Dan. Just need to speak to Ambrose.”

Daniel nodded and then pointed just behind his shoulder. “He is still in there. He is in a major shit mood though. Took a hell of a beating out there. I wouldn't go too close.” He chuckled, looking up at Roman, almost as if he was taking it as a joke, ignoring Roman’s serious and opposite opinion.

Valkyrie wasn’t amused either. The serious beating Dean had taken in the ring that night and the fact that she had to stay back, fighting by her teeth against her need to go and protect him, was one of the reasons why she had no intention to wait for a second longer to see him.

Before any of them could say more, Valkyrie slipped away from Roman’s hold and approached the steam room, ignoring whatever both men were mumbling regarding her behaviour. Roman still tried to keep hold of her as Daniel just chuckled. She didn’t care. She had a goal and she was determined to do everything in her power to get there.

Entering the dark steam room, she was met by the heavy curtain of steam that filled the entire small space. The air was dense and hot and it quickly stuck to her skin. It was difficult to breathe or see, and it was uncomfortable, but she did not care.

Valkyrie stood by the door, her hands still on the handle, as her eyes slid across the room, to Dean’s figure. Apart from the towel around his waist, he was naked, and that was the first time since she stepped into the locker room – probably in her entire life, in all honesty – that such a thought had so much power to shake her.

In any other case, it was natural. Nothing to see that would have either shocked her or attracted her attention. But in Dean's case - only the thought was enough to drive her insane. And knowing he was flesh and bone, in front of her, basically one step away from being exposed completely, made her choke on her own breath and salivate like a wild beast.

“You shouldn’t be here.” His deep voice echoed through the empty room, right to her belly. It was everything he had to say on the matter though. His gaze had lazily moved on her, crossing her figure from head to toe, but he didn’t even try to prevent her from doing what she wanted.

“I don’t care.” She whispered softly, locking the door behind her.

Only silence came from Dean, as he just watched her move through the room. He didn’t try to reason. He didn’t try to object. Maybe he was too tired for it. And she surely hoped he was done arguing.

He sat with his back leaning against the wall. His hair was wet, pulled back in a way that only made her wish to slide her fingers through it. She observed the lean edges of his muscles, avidly studying his pink skin pearled by the steam. She didn’t even try to stop herself from thinking he looked delicious.

"Are you going to fight me on this?" She wondered, approaching him.

Dean hadn't lifted his attention from her for one second. It wasn't entirely mistrust, but it wasn't only curiosity either. He still shook his head in a no as his body language appeared welcoming.

"What would this be?" He wondered, genuinely puzzled.

Now that she was close enough, Valkyrie did exactly what she had been thinking to do since the very beginning. It was impossible, after all, for her to be in the same room with him and not feel the visceral need for physical contact.

She slid one of her hands on his shoulder, barely touching his skin with her fingertips. And yet, that was enough for him to react. Filling his lungs of steamy air, as if her touch had just woken him after a long slumber, Dean welcomed her between his arms, indulging her and helping her to sit in his lap holding her firmly by the hips.

A large smile appeared on her lips as she straddled him. Immediately giving in another thought, Valkyrie slid her hands through his hair, loving to see how he moulded under her touch, looking for contact.

"This is me telling you I'm done trying to stay away from you," her tone was low and gentle as she pushed herself closer to him, daring to kiss his forehead. Dean released a pleasureful sigh, letting her do as she pleased and relaxing under her touch. So, she was pushed to kiss him again, this time on the cheek.

"I need you," she began tracing her lips to his temple, and then to the side of his nose, "I want you."

His hold around her hips became tighter.

"You shouldn't." His tone was barely audible as a shiver crossed his figure. Despite his words, he didn't oppose her in any way. "I'd only hurt you."

She kept holding him tenderly. Their actions couldn't be further from their words. "Hurt me then." She whispered, kissing the tip of his nose.

The chuckle that rolled out of his chest surprised her. "I guess I am too tired to fight you, angel. Want it? I'll give it to you. But I warned you. Don't wanna hear it from no God when things will turn out sour."

"Ruin me, Dean Ambrose. I don't care."

He looked up at her. His gaze has never been as soft as it was then, as he cruised on her features.

He looked tired. But not physically. His body was as strong as ever. No, there was something inside his spirit that bent and cracked. He was done keeping her away.

Valkyrie moved her hands around his face, gently caressing his jaw, holding him like he was a precious, fragile thing. Her thumb crossed his lips.

"Can I kiss you?" She wondered looking down at him.

Dean looked at her completely carried away, hesitating only a second. "I should be the one asking." He mumbled, still not moving away from her hold. Still completely carried away by her gentle ways.

"What? Can I not be sweet with you?"

"Careful there. I'll get used to it. And then it will be your problem."

Valkyrie smiled. Making him lift his chin, she softly pressed her lips on his. "I want you to be my problem."

When she kissed him again, Dean was ready to catch her lips. His arms curled around her, as he wrapped her in a tight hug, pulling her towards him. His lips were so surprisingly soft and welcoming as he let her decide the pace. A soft, satisfied groan left his chest as soon as he had a taste of her tongue. She could barely think by then.

Tugging gently at his hair, she broke their kiss, catching her breath and trying her best to regain her mental faculties. “Will you come looking for me, later?”

“Oh, angel,” he whispered gently rubbing his nose against hers, before giving her another kiss, “yes.”

She felt so extremely lucky right there and then. She just got to see the soft, more vulnerable side of him, which was something she decided to consider so precious. He was dangerous and he was unstable, considered crazy by most, violent and chaotic by nature, and still able to lovingly hold her and to let her slide right through the cracks of his broken soul.

“My room number is five-five-three. I’ll be waiting for you.” She whispered close to his lips, unable to resist, giving in another kiss. She had to force herself to drag away from him before she could catch the chance of being too lost inside his arms to even think it possible to get away.

Part II.

“Right,” her manager whacking a fat folder full of pages on the table startled her back to focus, “you need to start listening to me, Val.”

She kept stuffing her bag with her stuff, as she packed. “Can we do this tomorrow, Sylvia?” A tired sigh left her chest.

“No. This can’t wait, sorry.”

Valkyrie looked back at the woman and then her eyes crossed the empty room as a hint of frustration started to slide under her skin.

She didn’t care about it. Any of it. The only thing she wanted to do was get out of there and meet with Dean to finish what they started. The hell she would have let him slip through her fingers again. And damned was every single second they spent apart.

She was still too deeply shaken by what had happened with Dean. Their kiss was on constant rewind in her mind and her senses were still filled with the memory of the man.  And the longer she was kept away from him, the worse the symptoms of her longing were becoming.

“Ok, out with it then. I don’t have all night.”

“Randy Orton is calling foul play on you.”

Valkyrie shrugged. “And? The match was last week. Why shall I care?”

“You should start giving a shit about how this gig works. Everything you do and who you chose to help impacts the audience and so your career here. Nothing stops at the end of a match-”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember the training. I know.” Valkyrie regretted the way she rudely dismissed her, knowing Sylvia had the best interest of their brand in mind and was only doing her job. At the same time, though, she was too tired to deal with any of that.

Sylvia sighed, doing her best to ignore Valkyrie’s behaviour. “He wants a rematch against you.”

Valkyrie cursed between gritted teeth. “Why? That motherfucker-”

“You even have to ask why?!”

“He had it coming. And I will only hand his ass back to him again.”

“Do not underestimate him. Randy Orton is a hothead. He is fucking dangerous and he has won the Championship multiple times. And you appear to have fallen right in the middle of the biggest, hottest feud in WWE in recent years.”

Valkyrie bit her tongue before replying anything. The look she shot her manager should have been enough. But instead of indulging her, Sylvia was just as pissed. She took a step forward, pointing a finger towards her. “You know that, right? You know that helping Dean Ambrose meant that shit hit the fan for you, don’t you? Tell me you’re not that stupid.”

“I didn’t have a choice.” She growled dangerously. Sylvia was pressing all her buttons and she surely didn’t have enough patience for that.

“Oh, but you did when you decided to be publicly seen hanging out with Reigns. Or when that silly squabble happened at breakfast? And don’t you think people are being blind in front of your behaviour? You are not hiding it as well as you think you are.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“If tonight you had just intervened to Seth Rollins’ aid and behaved-”

“I said I do not have a choice! I go where the Gods send me.” She squeezed her fists trying to calm her quickly raising temper, sedating it with the pain her nails digging into the skin of her palms gave her.

“But you did! You did have a choice. And you chose to publicly refuse to accept Rollins's gratitude and went against him as well. The audience loved it. Oh, how they adore feeding on this dramatic crap. But it doesn’t matter what the crowd thinks when that gets perceived as you so clearly picking a side. Right?”

Valkyrie bit her tongue so hard she could taste blood in her mouth. Though not even the pinch of that pain could distract her from her raising anger. Only, now, she wasn’t mad at Sylvia, but at herself. She had been so stupid. It was true that she hadn’t even tried to hide her interest in Dean. And surely, before then, she never thought she should have kept it a secret.

A shiver crossed her as she wondered what would have happened when the rumour of her barging through the men's locker room only to get to spend some time locked inside a steam room with Dean came out.

Stupid.

“Can you see my point?”

“What is your point, Sylvia?” Valkyrie sighed, rubbing a hand on her face.

She was so tired.

“They think you are involved with Dean Ambrose and that will be enough for their shit show to hit you. Orton, Kane, Triple H, Rollins. You will pay for everything Ambrose has done or is doing. Do you understand?”

Valkyrie shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“Of course, you don’t.”

“No, what I mean is that I am not afraid. Let them bring it.”

“Yeah? And what? You do not want to be on the wrong side of this dispute.”

“Fighting is what I do. That’s why I am here. That’s why people love me. If Orton wants to fight me let him fight me.”

“And what will happen when you’ll get jumped? These guys do not play safe or clean.”

“Well, from my perspective there’s not much we can throw at it, is there? I crossed Orton. He is now throwing a tantrum about it. I’ll give him more if he wants more.”

“You are ignoring the main problem.”

“What is the main problem.”

“Ambrose.”

“What about him?”

“He is not good for our brand. You can’t be associated with him. He is too dangerous and has fought with too many people. It would ruin you. Do you understand me?”

Valkyrie didn’t reply. She bit her tongue again, harder.

Sylvia sent her a sharp look, studying closely her reaction. “Why are you not denying your involvement with Ambrose?”

“Why shall I deny it?” She did her best to appear as innocent as she could, but it was as if Sylvia could read right into her.

As soon as she spoke, the other woman gasped, her eyes widened as she was crossed by realisation. Shock took over her. “Oh my God, Val. What did you do? You are already involved with the man, aren’t you?”

“I haven’t said that.”

“But it is the truth. I can see it now so clearly. God, this needs to be fixed. You need to fix it.” Sylvia trembled, looking around, genuinely panicking. “Dean Ambrose is bad. He is bad for business. But most importantly he is bad for you. You can’t-”

One second, she was trying her best to control herself, and the second later her anger spilt. Valkyrie punched the wall releasing a grunt, welcoming the pain that spread through her knuckles. The look she gave Sylvia was a clear warning that the punch wasn’t for the wall. “I’ve got a problem with you slandering him. Let’s begin from there. I am involved with the man. There. I’ve said it. So what? And I like hanging out with Roman Reigns, got a problem with that? Go tell him. And you keep saying our brand as if you have anything to do with it. This is my brand. My name. My legacy. I am the one who gets out there. I fight. I bring you money. So, with it, I’ll do what I want.”

To Sylvia's speechless reaction, Valkyrie dared to point at the door. “You are free to go if you do not agree.”

“This will be your undoing. I hope you know that.”

Valkyrie swore in old Norse, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “Why?”

“Don’t you understand what I’ve just said? You’ll become a target.”

“And do you understand what I’m saying when I say I do not care? Let them bring it.”

Sylvia rolled her eyes, loudly grumbling. “You are so stupid-”

“Careful there.”

“It will be your funeral. They will get Bray Wyatt involved. You know that, right?”

Valkyrie choked into a forced silence as soon as she heard that name. Sylvia wasn’t at all wrong. It was a risk. The worse part of it all was that it was a risk she hadn’t thought about. And then the clutch of fear grasped her crushing her chest and making her feel suddenly so small and helpless. It took only a second for her to be thrown over the edge, spiralling into an abyss with no way out. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t run. She couldn’t stop it.

And she had no time to catch her breath. She had to keep running, she had to keep fighting if she wanted to survive.

Sylvia shook her head, grabbed her folder and headed to the door. “And if you don’t want to think about yourself, then think about what will happen to your Dean Ambrose the moment Wyatt will find out he is dear to you.”

Part III.

She was burning through her pain, anger and fear, pushing all those feelings into her muscles. Her hands were clenched around the handle of the barbell, as she pushed, and pushed as if the pain of an exhausted, worn-out body could somehow cover up the magnitude of the storm going on inside of her.

She was drenched in sweat and so tired she thought she could have passed out. Though every time she thought she could stop, thinking that maybe she had enough, her emotions would overwhelm her. Tears always followed. Only to make her start all over again, trying to sink her despair into physical stress.

It was late and she had been hiding at the hotel gym since she came back from the arena. She didn’t have the heart to face Dean. She did not know what she could have said to him to effectively convince him without hurting him badly and she wasn’t ready to make that move. And still, after that, then what? Sleeping wasn’t an option and thinking to spend time tormented and awake in an empty room was unbearable. She knew she would have ended up going insane and breaking things. So, training was her only option. Self-destruction was still a pretty damn good way to unload anger.

She did her legs and lifted some weights. Then she spent some time punching a sack. Her hands were now bruised since she didn’t bother to wear gloves or protective bandages. And now she was laying on the training bench, lifting, checking her breathing, ignoring her pain as if nothing had happened.

She didn’t know how long she was going to last. But she surely wasn’t ready to retreat to her room yet.

Background music played loud in the room, echoing through the white walls, and she was extremely grateful to it and to the room's soundproof walls because she knew she couldn’t stand silence. Not that night. Not when everything seemed to collapse on itself. She wasn’t even listening to it, but it was noisy and that was good enough.

Until it wasn’t when the gym sound system was turned off abruptly.

She felt choked by the wave of silence that surrounded her. Her thoughts were suddenly as loud as ever. Anger quickly followed. She was ready to jump on her feet and fight whoever decided to invade her space, not caring much for the consequences.

“Been looking everywhere for you.”

Everyone but him.

Valkyrie released a small sigh, almost risking losing her breath and getting squeezed under the barbell because of the surprise. As soon as she recognised his voice, a wave of warmth surrounded her. Her stomach vibrated, and her muscles relaxed, as a soothing feeling cradled her. But that feeling was part of the problem.

Actually, that was the entire problem.

He was her weakness.

She thought she wouldn’t care about those things – nothing else mattered, but being between his arms. And yet, now there was something that mattered more. And it was that if she continued on that path, he would have gotten seriously hurt.

And she couldn’t allow it. She needed to protect him at all costs.

One thing was looking for allies. Another was being attached to one of them. Pawns weren’t sparable anymore when they became important for the game.

A lone existence. That was her fate. She wasn’t allowed to desire to have her life filled with something more. How dare she think, even for a second, that any of that could change? That she could do anything to stop her nightmares from taking over?

She didn’t have the courage to meet Dean’s gaze, but she knew he was looking at her. She kept her eyes pinned to the ceiling struggling now more than ever to breathe. She pushed the bar back into the safety pins with a groan. “Been here the whole time.”

“Are you ok?” He wondered moving closer, his tone immediately softer. It surprised her, she was expecting him to be confrontational and angry.

She couldn’t stand it. It made her feel so desperate to just get lost in him. And it broke her apart, ripping her chest into pieces, knowing that it could never happen. She wasn’t allowed. Her only option was to end it there and then. For his sake. For both of them.

She sat up, so well acquainted with ignoring the physical strain she had just put herself under that she barely felt her muscles ache. Nothing hurt her as much as knowing what she had to do.

The only way to push Dean away was to hurt him. She was the only one that could do it and knew that had to go straight for the throat, clean cut, if she had any hope to save him from what was going to come.

Valkyrie dropped her arms to her knees, keeping her head low. “Please leave.” She whispered weakly, barely able to breathe. Barely able to feel anything but the clutch around her chest and throat.

She knew what she needed to do. But she didn’t have enough strength to do it.

“I can’t do this now.” Her voice gave off the broken notes of her pain and she should have known that Dean wouldn’t have been deaf to it. Stopping her tears from crossing her face was impossible, but she still tried to hide them from him.

Instead of listening to her plea, he approached her. “Angel,” the second he realised she was crying, he was on her knees, right in front of her. His big hands cupped gently around her face, bringing her to look at him. And worst of all, she didn’t oppose him.

As he inspected her features, locking his eyes with hers, she fell into his blue irises.

She knew better. But she couldn’t fight him. Not now. Not when he was showing her such devotion.

“What happened? Did someone hurt you?” His expression switched from soft and concerned to angered and, as seriousness took over him, she knew he was ready to fight.

Oh, if only he could know.

Valkyrie dared to reach out, unable to resist the powerful magnetism that always pulled her towards him. She touched his face, at first only testing the edge of his jaw with her fingertips, before pushing her hand around his cheek. “You need to go,” she simply stated, trying to encourage him with a nod. “We can’t do this. Please.”

He pushed himself closer to her, caressing her features with such kindness that surprised her. And may the Gods damn her since she so easily moulded herself under his touch. “What are you talking about?”

“Just forget this thing between us ever happened-” the pain that choked her was almost unbearable, “it doesn’t mean anything after all. You’re free of your debt. I am releasing you of it. You don’t have to-”

He frowned as confusion took over him. “Tell me what happened. Now.”

“I am telling you what is happening.”

“You can’t decide that for me.”

“Dean, please. I am begging you.” Valkyrie gathered all her strength and slid her hands around his wrists. She held him a second, before pushing his hands away.

“And I am telling you to tell me what happened. What changed?”

“Dean-”

“You were throwing yourself at me a couple of hours ago,” the tiny smile he tried to pull, attempting to ease the situation as he tried to read into her, broke her heart in a million pieces, “what is it now?”

“I just can’t. Please, trust me.”

“Was it Seth?”

“No. It wasn’t Seth.”

He pouted, weighing her words, trying to read her expression. She could see he was calculating the risk of trusting her. And she damned herself for it, she could have lied. She could have broken his heart. It would have been such an easy excuse. Cruel, but easy.

“I care.” He suddenly said, “I care about you,” Dean grabbed her again, this time his hand slid through her hair, “is that what you want me to say? Ruin me, if you want."

The way he said that repeating the same words she used earlier, was solemn, like a promise made in front of the Gods.

"I don’t even know your name, angel. You fucked my life upside down-”

She quickly stopped him from saying anything more, gently pressing her fingers on his lips. “Please, don’t. I can’t take it.”

Every single word that slid out of his mouth was exactly what she so desperately wanted to hear. But there was no joy inside of her to welcome it. His words were only torture. Only condemning them both. And every emotion that burned through his wild, beautiful eyes was a new tear inside of her chest.

Dean didn’t seem much interested in being on the cusp of Hell. Instead, he challenged fate, ignoring her words. As he wrapped his free hand around the one she had in his mouth, he pressed her fingers against his own lips in a soft kiss.

The shiver that crossed her was so violent that it took her breath away.

Why did he have to be so attentive and sweet? Why now, when she had absolutely no strength to resist him? How was she supposed to get through a clean break with him, when the only thing she wanted was to find refuge in his arms?

He moved her hand from his lips and pushed himself even closer to her. At this point, his torso was between her knees. Again, she could have fought him, or she could have said something, but she didn’t. She let him handle her as if she had no will of her own.

Dean kissed her cheek ever so softly. “You don’t want me to leave.” He whispered so close to her.

It wasn’t a question. 

She leaned against him, inhaling deeply his scent. Her hands moved with a mind of their own over his arms and shoulders as she studied the edges of his muscles under her palms. “No, I don’t want you to.” She whispered, unable to fight any longer.

He was too close and too real.

The peace he brought to her soul was too soothing. Her world had stopped spinning. Her fear was quiet.

She had dropped her sword. She accepted her weakness. There was nothing else that could have been done. She had lost that battle and she was fine with it because thinking to stay away from him was more painful than anything else. Thinking to hurt him just to protect him was unbearable.

And she decided to be selfish.

Valkyrie looked him in the eye only for a moment, both hesitated a second as expectation raised between them. And then she gave in.

She kissed him.

Dean was more than ready to embrace her. His arms moved around her figure and pulled her down from the bench into his lap, caging her in a hug she had no intention to refuse. She was so ready to nest on his thighs, legs bent to his sides. Holding herself tight to his shoulders with one arm, she pushed her other hand between his hair grabbing it to the base of his skull, gently tugging at them.

He let a low growl escape his chest, it was a noise that resonated through her and wiped every thought out of her mind.

Valkyrie abruptly broke their kiss, pulling his hair and imposing herself on him. He let her. As soon as their lips separated, she looked down at him, diving into his glimmery, blue eyes. He looked so beautiful with his pale skin and reddened cheeks. His lips were puffier because of their kisses.

“You are making a mistake.” She whispered, still trying to clutch on some common sense.

The mocking smile that appeared on his lips, sweet and honest, showing his dimples, drove her insane. “Is that what you think this is? A mistake? I thought you liked making those.”

His voice was low and soft. Even his sarcasm was somehow sweeter. And it made her heart flutter.

She was too weak to be able to use words and lie right to his face. She knew what they were doing was a mistake, but, at the same time, she didn’t think it to be. Not entirely. Because she had wanted to be that close to him for far too long now. Finding herself at the moment, even after everything and well knowing all the consequences, was inebriating. And so right.

She shook her head. “I didn’t say that.”

“And what are you saying?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you. You should have left-”

“Oh, baby, if you think I’ll be going anywhere soon instead of being right here between your legs. Think again.”

A shiver crossed her. There was something in the confidence that poured out of him as he spoke. It was as if he mirrored her feelings and hadn’t wished for anything better himself.

“Dean,” she tried again, but before she could say anything, he pushed against her hold and shut her up with a kiss.

Valkyrie immediately melted between his arms, relaxing against his chest. She slid her arms around his shoulders, pushing a hand down his back only to feel the edge of his spine through the material of his t-shirt.

As their tongues crossed, this time, she was the one who released a small moan. That seemed to unleash something inside of him. There was something primal and hot in the way his grab around her became tighter.

Dean’s hands crossed her back, unconcerned by her sweaty skin, and wrapped around her waist, solidly holding her hips in his palms. His fingers were digging into her skin, filled with the soft edges of her curves. Without notice, he guided her to grind herself against him. Both released a moan.

She had never felt anything like it before. She knew desire. But she didn’t know what it meant to feel it like hunger. Like a painful ache to her core. She felt like she would have gone mad if she hadn’t found a way to satisfy her need right there and then. And he was the only one who could have helped. That only made her rub herself against him more.

One of Dean’s hands quickly followed her queue and grabbed her ass, giving her a strong squeeze, pushing her against himself in a way that made her core rub directly on the bulge in his jeans.

Another soft moan left her chest as a thick wave of pleasure crossed her.

It was unbelievable. She was already in shambles and they were only kissing.

This time, Dean’s lips weren’t as soft. His kiss was demanding and famished. And she was ready to match him because there was nothing else she desired more than being devoured by that man. She felt like she would have gone insane if she hadn’t given in to her desire. She had never wanted something as much as she wanted to be close to that man. It seemed ridiculous. It seemed like a joke. Like a mistake.

Gods, she desired him more than her own freedom.

That thought scared her and, at the same time, gave her new life altogether.

She broke their kiss again and, this time, she wrapped solidly a hand around his neck, making him listen to her. “I’ll give you tonight,” she whispered, trying to find some resolution, “tomorrow you’ll need to be gone.”

The way he was looking at her like she was something so precious. Like she was gold and he was a greedy dragon. “Be mine. Because I’m sure yours, angel.”

She nodded. It was as if they had just stipulated a promise. She would have thought about responsibilities, consequences and heartache the next day.

“Tell me what you need, baby girl.” He whispered on her skin, tracing her jawline with his lips all the way to her neck. 

“I need-” the kisses he started to place around her sensitive skin broke her train of thought, “I need you.”

“Tell me what you need me to do to you.” His deep voice vibrated through her skin, leaving her deeply shaken by a shiver crossing her back. “C’mon, don’t get all shy on me now.”

“I need you to fuck me,” she didn’t care about how explicit her words could be and he only seemed to like it.

He pulled away only enough to look her in the eye. “Do you need to have control, or do you need me to take care of you, baby girl?”

She was already nodding even before he stopped speaking. The pet’s name he decided to use for her was making her stomach curl in ways a simple word shouldn’t do. “I need you to make me forget everything else, can you do that for me, Dean?”

And he was ready to give her everything she had asked for.

Dean grabbed her hair and gave her a pull. Gentle enough not to be painful, but firm enough to have her lean her head and expose her neck completely to him. When he passed his tongue on her skin, from her collarbone to her ear, tasting her sweat in such a feral way. “God, you taste so good, angel.”

She jerked, trying her best to suffocate a moan, as she arched between his arms, giving him as much access as he needed.

"Do you intend to take me on this dirty floor, baby?" She wondered playfully, only because he didn't seem to have any intention whatsoever to let her go. Part of her was serious. She was so taken by the entire situation that she wouldn't have cared if he actually did decide to fuck her there and then.

He purred tracing a trail of kisses to her chin. "I'll fuck you whenever you want me to, angel." He looked up at her with utter devotion, "call me baby one more time and I'll do anything for you."

"You like that?" She wondered pecking at his lips. "Baby?"

He groaned, pulling her tighter into his lap. "I like it a lot." His head fell into her neck socket, as he assaulted her skin once more, this time, pushing himself all the way across her shoulder and chest, just under her collarbones.

Rolling her eyes to the ceiling, her gaze lazily crossed the black glass eye of a camera. She immediately froze. "Dean, there's a security camera."

"So?" The lack of fucks given by that man gave her a shiver. "I bet we could give them a show that they would remember for the rest of their life." Since he didn't even bother to stop nibbling on her chest, Valkyrie didn't know if he was joking or if he was serious.

She decided for him the moment his lips travelled too close to the helm of her sports top. Giving him a firm push, she escaped his hold, getting up.

"Or you could take me upstairs." She suggested, daring to smirk. The look he sent her from his kneeled position was sharp and determined. It was as if he had accepted a challenge, though she could only hope she understood the terms of it.

As soon as she turned to walk to the door, Dean grabbed her and pushed her against the wall, not letting her get away. Taking advantage of the camera blind spot.

She should have expected it, after all, she did challenge him. And maybe, part of her even wanted him to react that way. As if he was a famished wolf ready to attack his prey.

Dean suffocated anything she could start saying with a famished kiss. His hands were immediately all over her.

She welcomed him between her arms, wrapping them around his large shoulders. Unable to fight him off. His scent went to her brain and his ways just made her lose her mind.

"One word from you, and I'll stop, baby girl." He whispered close to her lips. His eyes crossed her face, as he left her space and time to object.

She didn't.

Valkyrie slid her fingers through his hair and leaned against the wall, in a submissive, encouraging pose. Gods, what was that man doing to her?

She would have let him do whatever he wanted to her.

It was as if she had spread fuel on fire. She recognised the exact moment Dean lost his mind and went completely feral.

"Such a good girl," he praised her with a kiss on the neck. As his voice spread through her skin, she replied with a small whimper, liking hearing him talking to her like that so much that she felt it deep inside her belly.

"Do you like being praised, angel?" He wondered, looking her in the eye as if he really wanted to see that same reaction again.

Valkyrie nodded. "By you? Yes." Batting her eyelashes, she slid her hands on his chest and pulled them down, across his abdomen, softly caressing him with her nails. On purpose, she pushed her fingertips to the edge of his jeans. And then moved back.

"Fuck-" he gasped, out of breath, leaning heavily against the wall, holding himself up with an arm.

Even though he appeared to like what she just did, he still grabbed her wrists in one hand and trapped them on top of her head, pinning her against the wall. Valkyrie gasped, surprised and excited, suddenly electrified by his move. His grip was soft but firm, and he pushed her arms high enough to bring her to stretch between him and the wall.

With his other hand, he held her steady by her hips. He dawned upon her, diving into another famished kiss. His demanding lips made her feel electric. Knowing how much he wanted her made her feel alive.

Dean pushed a leg between hers, encouraging her to spread her thighs for him with a nudge. She easily followed his queue, immediately rubbing herself against him, releasing a soft moan against his lips.

He traced the edge of her hip with his free hand and followed the outer side of her thigh. With a gentle nudge on her knee, he guided her to curl her leg around his hip, as he supported her with his own body. A moment later his hand was back on his hip, only so he could follow the helm of her gym trousers with his fingertips. His touch was so attentive it drove her insane, to the point she squirmed under him.

"Remember," he began breaking their kiss, looking down into her eyes but not looking for much more distance than that, "you can stop me any time, angel. Just say the word," he kissed her lips and chin, "but I'll reward you if you'll be a good girl for me."

She whimpered, answering him with a small nod.

Dean shook his head, forcing her to keep her focus on him. “Say it. Say you understand.”

“I understand.”

“Good girl.”

He then pushed his hand inside her trousers. His fingers easily found their way through her underwear right to her hot, drenched core.

“God, you’re so wet angel,” he groaned breathlessly, “is it all for me?”

She nodded, looking right into his eyes. She wasn’t shying away. On the contrary, she adored seeing him puff his chest with pure satisfaction, as his eye glimmered, still lit by the feral shade of his desire. And she wanted to remember it.

She wanted to remember it all.

“Fuck,” she gasped, trying to catch her breath, the moment Dean pushed his fingers through her wet folds. “This is so much better-” She had to force herself not to release a loud moan.

“Better than what, baby girl?” He wondered studying her features as pleasure bent them.

“Better than I imagined,” Valkyrie rolled her hips, rubbing herself on his hand, unable not to move, even when she was still pinned solidly by his hold, “when I touched myself.”

Dean choked on his own breath. “Did you touch yourself thinking about me?”

As she nodded, trying her best to keep quiet, Dean’s strength seemed to abandon him. “Oh, baby girl,” he released a groan, pressing his face against her neck, inhaling deeply her scent, “how many times?”

“Every night. I did it every night.”

“Darling,” he was in awe, and at the same time the look he sent her was guilty, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to take care of you.”

“Take care of me now, baby.”

His spirit bent under her request. Not that he needed her to ask him twice.

Dean’s touch was demanding but not as rude as she would have expected him to be. No, he seemed to know how to handle a woman. She wondered how many lovers he had in his past, to be as skilled.

And then, as anger grew inside of her, she quickly realised it was a thought she better forget. That wasn’t the time to be possessive; he didn’t belong to her.

He quickly stole every single one of her thoughts, as the pleasure started to grow inside of her. Her muscles tensed up as she stretched against him, trying desperately to find release. When she couldn’t control herself anymore, he suffocated her moans with kisses.

“C’mon baby girl, give it to me.” He encouraged her as she came, unravelling against him. This time it was she who dug her face against his neck, suffocating her cries on his skin and T-shirt material. “Such a good girl,” he kept praising her, guiding her through the violent waves of her orgasm.

She couldn’t think clearly. Her mind was clouded by the fog her orgasm had left behind. Just then, as she collapsed on him, Dean finally let her go, releasing her from his hold, only to guide her arms around his shoulders, so she could have something to hold onto. He kissed her temple, genuinely grateful.

When she caught her breath and was finally able to regain her motor functions, she looked back at him, offering a tired, satisfied smile. “Remind me why you didn’t do this to me the first night we met.”

“Because I am a damn son of a bitch.”

She nodded, agreeing with him, they both smiled, acting so sweetly, like nothing else in the world was a concern.

Dean leaned in kissing her softly.

“Now,” she wondered crossing his jaw with a soft caress of her fingertips, “can you take me upstairs?”

He nodded, happy to oblige.

They sneaked out of the gym and moved quietly through the silent hotel corridors.

She expected to be stopped, knowing they had just acted indecently in a public space, but she also couldn't care less. Her chest was so filled with adrenaline that she felt like she could have eaten the world.

Like teenagers, they stole each other kisses on the elevator and on the way to her room. And it was nice. It made her feel all fuzzy and warm, her heart was lighter, free. It made her feel like they were only regular people.

Once they got to her room, Valkyrie stood back, leaning by the door, watching Dean move inside her space. He curiously looked around, studying every detail of her room, hungry to discover everything she could consider personal.

Not that there was much around to find regardless. She rarely unpacked her bags and didn't own anything personal because she knew that like she arrived, one day she would have left and didn't like the idea of leaving stuff behind. Or getting attached.

Though, now, as Dean peeked in the opened bag in the corner, Valkyrie realised how terribly wrong she had always been.

Her chest ached at the idea that, regardless of her best efforts, she still managed to get attached to something, after all.

She moved closer to him and slid a hand on his shoulders. Like a hint he could not refuse, Dean turned towards her. They moved like they were made for each other, naturally attracted to embrace one another.

As soon as he faced her, Valkyrie wrapped her hands around his face. “Last chance.” She hinted with a quick nod. Dean looked above her head, in the direction of the door. The grin that grew on his lips, making his dimple pop, was as amused as ever. It was as if he liked the idea of challenging whatever ill fate she was promising.

“Angel, I’m already elbow-deep into this.” He grabbed her chin, making her lift her face and bend as he looked right into her eyes. He wasn’t much taller than her but Gods, she liked being handled by him. “You could tell me that you intend to slit my throat right after we're done as mantises do. I’d still fuck you with everything I’ve got and I’d die a happy man.”

His words hit a spot deep inside of her. There was something twisted and yet so beautiful in the way he spoke. Both so wild and violent and as soft as a promise. But besides his determination and courage, she now wanted to know more. Much, much more. With that, she was officially done trying to push him away.

“How would you like to fuck me?” She wondered, still hanging in his hold. 

Dean smiled at her; his dimples distracted her for a second. There it was, the smile of a hungry wolf. “Let me show you, baby girl.”

Part IV.

She had never known pleasure before. Nothing like what Dean offered her that night.

He was as skilled a lover as he was a fierce warrior. Unafraid and demanding. He could be selfish at times, but never as much as he was generous. His sole purpose was to satisfy her. His only goal was her pleasure.

Never once he had been afraid to be vocal with her. And she had more than one hint to know it drove him insane when she asked him to satisfy her desire in specific ways. And he was always happy to oblige.

He was able to be both gentle and rough.

Gods, it made her lose her mind when he looked at her devotedly, holding her tenderly. Still now, only remembering the look he would give her any time he nested between her thighs, with her legs thrown over his shoulders, pleasuring her with his mouth, gave her a shiver. It was as if his entire world rotated around her. As if he wasn't able to worship anything else as he did with her. Not even his battles.

It was intoxicating.

But not as much as it did when his hands became heavier and his thrusts deeper. Nothing could compare to the feeling of knowing he wanted to leave marks over her, branding her as his with scratches, bite marks and hickeys. Nothing was as ravaging as knowing she pushed him over the edge of insanity, enough so I'd lose control, becoming an animal.

And his stamina was enviable.

He quite literally lasted all night. And they hadn't given in. Not even a moment. They hadn't stopped a minute to catch their breaths, they hadn't wasted any time at all. And she was ready to match his seemingly limitless hunger with equal endurance.

Though now, she was completely satisfied and barely able to keep her eyes open. Every muscle in her body was relaxed, but she suspected she would have struggled to move later.

But that wasn't entirely Dean's fault.

A peaceful smile crossed her lips as she abandoned herself into Dean's arms under the shower. Her back was pressed against his chest as he held her exhausted body. The water was warm and welcomed as he took care of her, washing her hair and skin.

He was so strong, handling her like she weighed nothing wasn't a problem.

"Good?" He wondered, kissing her temple.

She had barely the strength to nod, reclining her head on his shoulder.

Dean brushed a smile on her cheek. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise you were so tired."

"Don't be sorry," she whispered, running her hands over his arms that he had solidly wrapped around her, "I'm not sorry one bit."

"I bet you're not."

He turned off the shower and moved to get her a big towel to wrap her into, just so he could take her between his arms again. It was as if his own well-being wasn't important. Only hers.

Just after, making sure she could stand on her own, he then took a second to grab a towel for himself.

"Can you walk?" His voice was as soft as a lullaby.

Hearing it so close, so low and so intimately made her chest tremble. He was hers. All of him. Even if only for a bit. What they were sharing would have been something she carried with her forever.

"Angel?" As he called her back to reality, she didn't even realise she had drifted off.

"Sorry - uh, no." She simply said and not because it was true. Not entirely anyway. She felt like she could have walked on her own if she wanted, but why do that when Dean was more than ready to lift her between his arms?

He carried her back into the bedroom and to the bed, depositing her between the messy pillows and sheets. Just to follow her immediately back into bed.

She knew she should have told him to go. That was the moment she had tried to ignore. That was the sensible thing to do. And yet, snuggling against his chest, inside his welcoming arms, was way easier.

Dean kissed her forehead. "You have been so good to me, baby girl."

"I hope you're joking. When you give a woman the best sex of her life - especially someone like me, who's been around for a long time - you become the one who deserves a kiss on the forehead."

"Go on then." His chuckle gave her enough energy to push herself up, kissing him right between his pale eyebrows.

"There you go."

"Best sex of your life?" He wondered after a while with a cocky smile growing on his lips.

"Wouldn't have gone on as long as I did if it hadn't been so good. Freyr must have blessed you."

"Who's Frey?"

"Not Frey," she giggled, "Freyr." She made sure to let the name roll out of her mouth as clearly as she could.

"Ah- well, how's the guy?"

"He is my God of fertility and manhood."

"Shit. Thank you, angel, I'll take it as a compliment then."

"You should." She smiled proudly, pressing a kiss on his lips and then on his chin.

As she settled between his arms, silence fell between them as their intimacy grew.

There was no need for words and no space for timidity or pride, not after they spent the last few hours knowing each other’s bodies and respective sexual appetites. And especially knowing that it would have lasted only for a time and that time was quickly running out.

Valkyrie was trying her best not to notice how bright the sky outside her room window was becoming as sunrise approached. 

She tried to lock everything she had learned about him inside her memory, so as to keep it safe and warm, not accepting the idea of forgetting anything. Though the thought that she had only a few hours to know him for a lifetime was destructive and dangerous.

She wasn’t done. She would have never been done. If she had learned something from the few hours of bliss spent in his arms was that it wasn’t enough. And that deciding to cave, giving in to her desire to be as close to him as possible, had been the biggest mistake of her life.

It simply wasn’t fair.

Dean held her tight against his chest. A soft brush of his lips on her temple brought her back from her thoughts. “I’ve never asked you, what is your name?”

“My name?”

“Yeah.” His curiosity was soft and genuine and still hit her like a spear right through the heart.

Never, before that moment, she had thought something like her name was an important detail to share. With him or anyone else.

She had always been Valkyrie. At least, always since she had been trapped in that world by human hands. She was only known as Valkyrie as she fought. And she fought all the time.

Her name, like many things that came from before, was something she hadn’t thought about in a very, very long time. To the point it became a foggy memory, almost forgotten, unimportant. Like forgetting the flavour of your favourite dish from childhood or the smell of a particular place. It was like forgetting the name of someone else she used to know so well, someone who had to be left behind and now became only a reflection in a mirror.

“Eir.” She whispered, hesitating a moment before pushing out those words of a knowledge she didn’t even know she had left. Yet, knowing her name came back to her, as naturally as reciting a poem one once knew by heart.

“Eir,” Dean repeated after her, doing his best to imitate her accent letting the r at the end of her name roll on his tongue, “I like it.”

“Haven’t used it in a long time. Not sure I’m used to it anymore.”

“Would you mind if I used it?”

“No. You can use it,” she nodded looking up at him, “I do like it when you call me by pet names though.”

“Oh, that won’t change, angel, that won’t change.”

[ficrecsbybu]

WinterIron fic rec 2021: Part I

Note: this fic rec consists only of Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark fics. the only Stucky & Stony you might see is as past relationships but that’s it. it’s also complete works ONLY. also - no underage stuff 🔪.  if you have any requests for Winteriron fic recs (for e.g non-superpower au, only one shots, series, hardcore smut, post-tws, college au, not team cap friendly fics, bodyguard au etc.) you can send me requests ^^. anyway... enjoy 😉 

✨ The Guiding of Death by RayShippouUchiha

“That whole Merchant of Death thing,” someone off to the side faux whispers, “makes a lot more sense now.”

It echoes across the bridge like a gunshot. 

Rated M, Hades & Persephone AU, Canon Divergence, always female Tony Stark, not Team Cap friendly. word count: 41391

(note: listen... I know het pairings and/or gender bend is not popular and I never really read those in general BUT this is straight up one of the best fics I have ever read so I NEEDED to share this with y’all...✌️)

✨ Forms of Love by bear_bell

Tony's the bad guy, after all. He's used to it. He's fine with it. He's good at it.

Only now, there's something far worse loitering around the tower - The Winter Soldier. No one notices the guy at first, but when they do, Tony figures that he should have the soldier's back.

Birds of a feather should flock together, and the bad guys should start a book club.

Rated E, Post-CW, Bucky Barnes & Winter Soldier are Different Personalities, Team Iron Man. word count: 33591

✨ Looking at You by NotEvenCloseToStraight

Bucky looks for so long that now all he wants to do is touch and hold and fix everything. But Tony can barely be in the same room as Bucky, cant even look him in the eye. So Bucky doesn't know what to do about Tony, but he is determined to do something. Because all he wants is to look at Tony, and see Tony looking back with a smile.

Rated E, Post-CW, PTSD, team heals, mental healing, forgiveness, angst with a happy ending. word count: 28,168

✨ I'll Be Your Bodyguard (If You'll Be My Security Blanket) by NarutoRox

When one of Loki's pranks gone wrong leaves the team with a young Winter Soldier in their care, they know they're going to have their hands full. Especially since this newer, tinier version of Bucky seems to have a bodyguard complex - and a particular attachment to Tony.

Rated T, kid fic, age regression/de-aging, de-aged Bucky, tiny bodyguard Bucky. word count: 4,993. 

(note: finally something CUTE. Im so sorry for being such a slut for angst and heavy stuff 😅)

✨ Fate Strings Not Required by Akira_of_the_Twilight

Tony took the hint.

Tony wrapped his hand around the new guy’s elbow. He kept his touch light and breakable in case he’d misread the cue.

“Just some guy claiming to be my soul mate, babe.”

The new guy’s eyebrows rose to his hairline in surprise. He chuckled and gave the first guy a smirk. “Strange. Last time I checked we were soul mates.”

Rated T, AU - no superpowers, AU - soulmates, Bodyguard Bucky Barnes, age difference. word count: 7,032.

✨ Shameless  by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)

Tony isn’t actually sure which of them starts it—he’d like to take credit, but if he’s learned anything it’s that Barnes is by no means a wilting flower. Besides, the start doesn’t matter as much as figuring out who’s going to actually finish it.

rated M, flirting, dirty talk, sexual tension. word count: 2,560

✨ Winter Wooer by salytierra

Winter may not be the most pleasant guy to live or share your body with, but he isn't nearly as destructive as everybody expected him to be either. He likes to brood in the corners, watch British TV, and freak people out. And Tony. He really, really likes Tony Stark. There's just one problem – Bucky's pretty sure he doesn't feel the same way about the guy.

Rated M, Bucky Barnes & Winter Soldier are Different Personalities, team as family. word count: 8,726

✨ Even Darkness Must Pass by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)

“Fake it till you make it,” Bucky whispered to himself, swallowing around his panic. Sam had drilled the idea into him, and it had become a mantra of sorts, something to hold onto when all he wanted to do was blend into the shadows and disappear.

“You’ll be fine.”

Steve placed a warm, strong hand on Bucky’s shoulder and squeezed, his super soldier ears having picked up Bucky uttering the now familiar saying.

Bucky nodded, tried to believe his own words, and followed Steve onto the common floor, a wall of sound hitting them as they entered.

rated M (but mild sexual content), parent Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes recovering, team as family, of love and hobbits 🧝🏻‍♂️. word count: 15,289

✨ Paths Are Made by Walking by Potrix 

The road to recovery is long, winding and a different one for every person walking it. Bucky chooses to help himself the only way he knows how; by doing what he does best.

Or, alternatively; the one in which Tony is a mess and accidentally kick-starts Bucky’s protective mother hen instincts.

rated T, post-TWS, fluff, humour, getting together, idiots in love. word count: 4,744.

✨ Rise In Perfect Light (Be Not Fearful Of The Night) by RayShippouUchiha

At first, the new element singing in his chest, Tony doesn’t understand what he’s done.

Doesn’t understand the full consequences of his actions.

But, to be fair, there’s no way he really could have.

Not even a futurist like him could have ever seen this coming.

rated G, post-CW, past Stony, angst with a happy ending. word count: 3,589.

(note: this fic is SO BEAUTIFUL. lemme just asjkdjnsjkdm)

✨ and amidst the ruins, there was you by TheKitteh

With everything resolved - post the Berlin conflict, Siberia and the rogue Avengers' return - Tony relishes in the clarity of what the team is now. He can finally see the well-defined lines, he can rely on solid rules and the chain of command. He's settled into his life like never before.

That is, until one day, an unhinged sorcerer with no grasp on his magic shatters that new-found balance.

As a result, half of Tony's soul is now gone, but he's willing to do anything to get it back.

rated T, post-CW, canon divergence, au - Dystopia, Dimension Travel, magical accidents, slow burn, getting together. word count: 36,976

✨ and so we unfold by TheKitteh

Senbazuru. Thousand Cranes.

An ancient Japanese legend that promises anyone who folds a thousand origami cranes will be granted a wish by the gods. Some stories believe you are granted happiness and eternal good luck, instead of just one wish, such as long life or recovery from illness or injury.

Bucky’s not big on believing in any legends, not after all that has happened. He just wants to create something for a change, not destroy.

He needs to prove himself that he can be trusted to handle something delicate. He doesn’t need a promise of a wish come true. He just,- needs to do this for himself.

He doesn’t need noticing how sad, tired Stark looks. Doesn’t need to want to do something for the man, when he can barely do anything for himself.

rated T, CACW canon divergence, getting together, reconciliation, POV alternating, Bucky Barnes recovering. word count: 14,449

✨ Spilt on the Ground like Water by tisfan

Tony has been black-bagged and illegally held at the Raft. Steve has no intentions of going to rescue him.

But the Winter Soldier isn't going to leave him behind.

rated E, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, implied/referenced torture, frottage, dub-con, mention of part non-con (HYDRA trash party), not Steve friendly, suicidal thoughts, touch-starved. word count: 10,853

✨ Norns, Save Us (From Ourselves) by phlintandsteel

It’s been ten years since half the universe was dusted.

rated E, post-IW au, A/B/O verse, Omega Tony, Alpha Bucky, Soulmates, Peter & Harley playing matchmaker, still recovering Bucky Barnes, not Steve Rogers Friendly, angst with a happy ending. word count: 37,324.

✨ Change You Like A Remix by ficlicious 

No one ever said Avenging would be easy, but Bucky could have really used a memo about the weeks where the hits just didn’t stop coming. He’d probably still have signed his soul away to the gods of spandex and paperwork, but a heads up woulda been nice before he nodded and smiled and took up residence in the house sanity fled when the Avengers moved in.

---- Soulmates, misunderstandings, snark, genderswap and sleep-deprived Avengers abound. Tony's a woman. Must be Friday.

rated E, AU - soulmates, established relationship, temporary gender swap, jealous Bucky Barnes, misunderstanding, miscommunication. word count: 10,494.

✨ Getting to Know You by orbingarrow

It had been an adventure, navigating the sweetly apologetic Bucky Barnes, who haunted the tower most days, and the the Winter Soldier, who occasionally inhabited Barnes’s body. The Winter Soldier was not apologetic; he was scary. And he was currently chilling out, uninvited, in Tony's lab.

“Leave,” Tony said, because Tony was either a dead man or not, and there wasn’t much he could do about it before coffee.

“Or you could give me permission to be here,” the Winter Soldier suggested.

“I don’t let strangers poke around my stuff,” Tony grumbled, as he walked past the Soldier to take a seat at his workbench.

“Easily solved,” the Soldier deflected. “Get to know me.”

-This is what happens when Tony does.

rated G, Bucky Barnes & Winter Soldier are different personalities, fluff, Clint Barton is a good bro. word count: 9,470

✨ Safe House by ali_aliska

For years, Tony had successfully kept his secret. Neither the world nor his team knew he was Iron Man and as far as he was concerned, everyone was better off that way. On his best days, Tony Stark was not someone people liked and trusted, so the last thing Tony wanted was to tarnish Iron Man’s good reputation by revealing the truth.

But then SHIELD falls, the Avengers face disarray, and a stray Hydra assassin forces Tony to go into hiding—and where better than the safe house he had just crafted for the Avengers and their own ex-assassin ready to come in from the cold?

Tony plans to hide away from everyone in his makeshift workshop until the coast is clear and he’s safe to go home. No one would care to spend any time with the reclusive, arrogant billionaire anyways, right? Iron Man is the one everyone wants around.

Bucky Barnes, on his own journey to reclaim his life and identity, seems to disagree with that sentiment.

rated T, post TWS, canon divergence, au - Secret Identity, mutual pining, team as family, slow burn, misunderstandings. word count: 89,533

✨ Versace on the floor by withered

The modern man’s armor is his clothing, and Bucky wants Tony out of his.

rated T,  post CW, Bucky Barnes & Winter Soldier are Separate Personalities, Barnes & Soldier & their hard-on for Tony, not team cap friendly. word count: 2,127 

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 58, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

STORY WARNINGS: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering

First rewritten reworking 06/20/2023

Second rewritten reworking 11/01/2024

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 1587

I woke up the next morning to my phone gently trilling. I grabbed it from under my pillow and glanced down at the screen.

CHARLIE

 I opened mt texts and saw that she had sent me a hey, I heard about what happened last week, are you alright? I smiled as I quickly typed out a replay and hit send before curling back up into Peter’s chest.

 “Who was that?” he mumbled sleepily, cupping my head as it came to rest over his heart.

 “Charlie,” I answered. “I forgot I had her yesterday. Our sessions are normally every Wednesday.” I tucked myself in deeper to him, cooing softly when he adjusted his arms to sit up partway with me.

 THUD THUMP

 THUD THUMP

 THUD THUMP

 “What do you want to do today, sweetheart?” Peter asked me, poking his nose at the mermaid tattoo that was behind my left ear.

 “I don’t know,” I answered in a tiny voice, shifting so that I could toss my leg over his hip. “Just be held by you, I guess?”

 “Okay.” Peter kissed me gently, tracing my facial features with his nose as his hand hovered over my stomach. He glanced over at Mittens, who was sound asleep on my other side before resting it there. “Are you hungry? There’s leftover pizza if you want me to heat it up for you.”

 “I like my leftover pizza cold,” I told him, sighing as little girl gave out a sleepy good morning kick right into Peter’s hand. “Good morning to you too, little girl.”

 “Good morning, little girl,” Peter repeated, pressing a smiling kiss to my stomach. “Come with me now, my woman.” He lifted me up out of bed and carried me into the kitchen, setting me onto the counter before opening the refrigerator and pulling out a pizza box. “How many slices do you want, sweetheart?”

 “Two, please,” I politely requested, smiling as he loaded up a paper plate with two slices of pepperoni pizza and two garlic knots. I held out my hands, making grabbing motions and he chuckled, playfully holding the plate out of my reach. “Peter!”

 “Sorry, sweetheart,” he chuckled, picking up the pizza and holding it up to my mouth for me to take a bite from.

 “Pizza is better the next day straight from the fridge!” I declared through a full mouth. Peter chuckled, placing a sweet kiss to my cheek.

 “If you say so, sweetheart,” he hummed, his nose pressed to my cheek as he fed me. “Hey sweetheart, are you going to want your own bedroom?”

 “Hmmm?” I asked, not fully understanding his random question.

 “A bedroom of your own- well, more of an office, I suppose,” he corrected himself. “Just a place to get away from me when I get to be too much.”

 “Sure, that sounds like a good idea,” I said. “I keep odd hours when I’m writing a book- I think my biggest record was fifty eight hours without sleep- I just get so into the zone that quite literally nothing else matters! I kept up a religious diet of hot cocoa and Goldfish too, by the way!”

 “Absolutely not.” Peter’s face was stern as he pressed the last mouthful of pizza into my mouth. “Sweetheart, you are getting at least eight hours or more of sleep once we’re settled into our new home.”

 “But Peter,” I looked down as I finished my mouthful. “What about when I started having your kids? Our sleep cycle will be all messed up for sure!”

 “Fuck.” Peter’s eyes dilated and he gripped my hand close to his thundering heart. “Sweetheart, are you making plans for that already?”

 “I can’t help it,” I breathed, leaning into his hand that was cupping the side of my face. “I constantly feel like I need to be a dozen steps ahead of fate. It’s how I cope with my anxiety.”

 Peter only pressed our noses together, stepping in between my knees and setting my now empty plate into the sink to be washed and put away. He wrapped his arms around me and tugged me into his firm body.

 “I love you,” he muttered, kissing the top of my head. “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

 “I love you,” I whispered, raking my fingers through his jet black hair and gripping at the natural roots.

 “Are you doing anything this coming Tuesday?” he asked me. “Because the band and I are going to be filming a music video for one of our new singles, Kiss Me to Death.”

 “Yeah sure, why not?” I grinned. “And I also have faire for the next five weekends. So other than that, I’m good.”

 “I want you in the music video,” Peter surprised me with. “I’d feel weird doing it with another woman.”

 “Oh- okay,” I stuttered, hiding my face once more, getting a soft tutting from him as he redirected my eyes to meet his.

 “Sweetheart,” he cooed, placing a chaste kiss to my mouth. “What’s got you acting all flustered?”

 “What does me being in the music video entail?” I asked, nuzzling into his heavily callused hand. “Will I be asked to do a sex scene or bare skin?”

 “Whatever you’re uncomfortable with doing, we won’t do,” he murmured, pressing an opened mouth kiss to my neck, brushing his fangs over my jugular vein. I shuddered at my soulmate’s nonverbal words expressing his love for me as I wrapped my arms tighter around his shoulders. “I’m not going to have you be totally vulnerable for everyone to see- that part of you is for me and me alone to bear witness to.”

 “I don’t like being vulnerable,” I confessed, tucking my nose into the apex of his neck and shoulder and taking a deep inhale. I smelled Peter- pine, campfire smoke and male musk, the only thing that I could ever associate with him, along with the color green, blood, fire and heavy bass music. “It’s just an invitation for people to take advantage of me. I had to be strong, I practically raised not only myself, but Jackie and Sammi since we were eleven years old.”

 “Where were your parents?” Peter asked.

 “Well, mom intercepted the call about Eric and she didn’t tell daddy until they were on their way back home from Paris near two weeks later,” I chuckled humorlessly. “Us girls stayed with our Aunt Janet and Uncle Clyde, he’s FBI and he was granted leadership over the case when it switched jurisdictions. He and Aunt Janet were pissed at mom and were granted temporary custody over the three of us. I can still remember having the girls camp out with me in the same bed when we would go to sleep.”

 “Fuck,” Peter snarled, pressing me in deeper to him. “Your mom was toxic.”

 “Well to be fair, she did lead an abusive childhood,” I shrugged. “Nana wanted a boy after she married Grandfather, because she already had my Uncle Tony and Aunt Cheryal, but she instead got mom, followed by Uncle Robbie.”

 “That’s still no fucking excuse.” I didn’t have to look at Peter’s face to see that he was seething mad. “I’m so sorry sweetheart. CPS wasn’t called or anything?” I shook my head, sighing as he picked me up again and walked me back over to his bed. He set me down onto the mattress, pulling up the blanket and tucking me under before crawling in after me.

 MEOW

 Mittens jumped back up onto the bed, resuming her place of honor next to little girl. She purred and she happily settled into a ball, tucking herself into the space.

 “Good kitty,” I murmured, twisting around to place a kiss to the top of her head. “Good Mittens.” I reached out and grabbed my knitting needles and ball of gray yarn. I then settled myself in and began to work the magic wands, crafting a teddy bear.

 Peter smiled, also settling in next to me, but with a book on Harriet Tubman. He wrapped his arm around my waist, carefully placing his hand on the side of my stomach, all the while eyeballing Mittens, who was still sound asleep.

 “I love cats, but I don’t like how territorial of you she’s being,” he whispered into my ear.

 “She’s not being territorial of me,” I corrected him, stretching my neck to kiss the underside of his chin. “Mittens is being territorial of little girl.”

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[reyeslonestar]

Question what are some things you wanna see in season 3 of lone star? Character development, plots, anything

I want to see Tonya Kong write every episode. that's all. thanks for asking!

-

sadfkja I joke, I do have other ideas, but that is definitely high on my wish list! i'm gonna go through by character and talk about what I'd like to see for them, so this is gonna get quite long whoops...

the main thing that I'd like to see overall, though, would be evidence of an overarching season plan or arc - it doesnt necessarily have to be a plot that stretches through all the episodes or anything major, but I'd love them to have plotted out the season before they start. from watching this season and then reading interviews after the finale, they dont appear to plan many things from the start and end up throwing in ideas as they go along. if they plan it from the start they can foresee how theyre going to affect character development more, and they can have a bit more balance in the types of episodes they have, so that the season is less insane and more naturally ebb-and-flow with a few light episodes to break up the drama.

okay, onto the characters! just going to do this in billing order for simplicity's sake. customary reminder that these are just my own opinions and thoughts, and this is more of a wish list than a realistic expectation.

if you want to search for a specific character, ctrl F for one of these terms including the dash at the start:

-Owen

-Tommy

-TK

-Grace

-Judd

-Marjan

-Paul

-Carlos

-Mateo

-Nancy

press “j” to skip the whole post.

-Owen

okay so I'd love to see them actually develop his character. Owen has been given a lot of backstory with lots to play with development-wise, but to me it feels like the show never goes anywhere with it. he's got a lot going on what with 9/11, feeling responsible for the fates of his fellow firefighters, the codependence of his relationships etc. I'd like to see him go to therapy and see him grow some self awareness and seek to manage himself better, rather than all his screentime devoted to him being a hero when other characters have the situation handled. it would really show him as a good leader if he drew on the skills that his team has and refer to them for advice/ideas. realistically he is the main character, so I'd like them to develop him like one.

also, I kind of love the chief role for him? I think it would suit him really well. but it would drag him away from the 126 and split up the dynamics too much so it would make for bad tv and I wouldnt actually want to see that. good for his character though.

-Tommy

I love Tommy :) just wanted to say that.

so obviously Tommy's got a lot of grief to handle next season, and I don't want them to shy away from that. I want it acknowledged and processed. (I'd also like a little bit of seeing the twins' grief too, because they're also suffering a massive loss). maybe something with Judd helping Tommy learn to manage her grief with his own experience of losing the original 126, encourage her to go to therapy, plus Tommy, Grace and Judd all feeling the loss of Charles together. after all, Grace and Judd were his friends and they will be grieving too.

I'd also kind of like to see Tommy have something outside being a working mother. obviously we're going to need to deal with that a lot especially now that Charles is gone, but I feel like she's been assigned the Character TraitTM of being the working mum and I'd like to see them give her a hobby or something. idk. and give her a night off with Grace or something. give her something just for her.

-TK

okay so I think theres a fair likelihood that theyre going to return to looking at TK's addiction next season which im not averse to. I think him struggling with his sobriety would be worthwhile to see for his character and to show that its not a straightforward path, plus it makes sense with all the insane stuff they've thrown at them in s2. however, Id like to see it in the context of his friends and family rallying around to help and support him and show him that he's got people to rely on, and that he's allowed to rely on them, plus the support of his AA meetings and therapy. I also need them to lay the groundwork for him struggling, so putting in signs of him deteriorating so the situation makes sense. this storyline doesn't need surprises to be interesting or good, and frankly it shouldn't have any.

as for him and Carlos, I definitely want to see them househunting! I'd like to see the combination of househunting/Carlos with Tommy's kids/Grace and Judd having their baby have an impact on their perspectives regarding their future and spark that conversation (like, looking at houses with more rooms and thinking about kids, future, marriage etc). I think that maybe one of them, probably TK, or maybe both of them those boys have way too many parent issues having anxieties about being a dad could be an interesting way to add tension without being too drastic, and then that can be resolved in a way that reassures them of their relationship and reaffirms their strength as a couple. the talk about the future would also lay the groundwork towards a proposal at the end of s3.

-Grace

grace :) my love :)

I could watch episode after episode of Grace kicking ass and saving people over the phone. I'd love to see an episode set there? like, some kind of story within the call centre with all the handlers having to resolve that between them, but also tie in the first responders, so we see the fire team, the paramedics and Carlos all working but we only see the bits that Grace and the other call handlers hear, if that makes sense? also an actual Grace/Carlos team up where they are coming in from the different angles with different amounts of evidence and figuring out the best way to solve something together. plus I'd like to see her maybe get some recognition for being awesome at her job, maybe another handler coming to her for advice on how to solve something.

of course we've got the baby Ryder on the way, and I want that to go comfortably and smoothly for her. she deserves that. lots of wholesome excitement for her and Judd from the whole extended firefam, baby shower, gifts, the full works. pamper grace please.

-Judd

judd4captain2k22. please.

yeah I know its not gonna happen, but I loved judd stepping in as captain this season and I'd love to see that continued with him taking more leadership, and Owen deferring to him for advice/council in a work environment rather than personal life. maybe set up a long term idea about judd being a captain someday.

he's gonna be a dad :') so what are his anxieties about that? why were they putting it off before? was it related to his PTSD? he's got lots of people relying on him now, how does that make him feel? what if his kid loses him? id like to see him still using therapy as a tool to help himself deal with everything. lots of meaty questions to dig into there :D

-Marjan

I'd quite like to see more of her balancing her daredevil nature with the impact of that and realising how much danger she puts herself in sometimes. or on the flip side, maybe the team is dealing with a really dangerous situation and they utilise her fearlessness to save people. her relationship with social media could also come back? but bring in the development they gave her this season, and her Firefox presence is more serious, less flippant?

I think that theres now a space for her to explore her sexuality/romantic experience now that she hasn't got her engagement with Salim as a kind of failsafe. maybe she wants to put herself out there and date, but thats really daunting as shes never really had to do that before? personally I think this could tie in really well with a self discovery/exploration regarding her sexual orientation, but I doubt they’d go there with her, so thats just my headcanon.

-Paul

I want them to draw on Paul’s observational skills and perceptiveness more, especially on calls and in emergencies. I remember someone (sorry I cant remember who) pointed out that he would have been a great character to centre the arsonist plot around in terms of noticing the clues etc, so id love a storyline that revolves around him dealing with an emergency like that. I also really want a Carlos and Paul friendship so maybe them collaborating on a call to solve something, that’d be cool.

can we give Paul a girlfriend please. if im not complely insane, there was a reference to someone in like,, 2x04?? someone who put mayo in his sandwich? idk I havent checked (edit: it was aioli in his banh mi! thank you @meneatyoghurt), but if there is someone can we show him having a fun and loving relationship please. I dont need there to be any drama. just them having fun on a date or something.

-Carlos

so I know that some people are keen to see him in his police role more but I really don't need much of that. on calls with the 126 I'd like to see him be the officer in charge more, but I don't need police-exclusive storylines. I've talked about it here if you want to know why.

the only area that I'd like to see would be in the direction of reform/addressing the flaws of the system, and I think they can do that on a personal level for him, because he and Mitchell need a chat. if they'd gone with her decision in 2x08, he, Mitchell and the bank robber would all be dead, and I think thats gotta have some impact. also the fact that he was suspended for trying to preserve life. theres a lot they could work with there and maybe have him thinking about how he can do good and how he can effectively protect and serve. not to mention, the opportunity that would provide in terms of addressing his relationship with his dad and how he maybe sought approval by pursuing a police career?

also I’d like him to learn that he doesnt need to accept blame/preemptively put blame on himself and that he doesnt need to apologise when someone else hurt him. kind of want to send him to therapy. kind of want to send all the characters to therapy. but yeah, him learning that he can accept apologies and understand that he doesnt have to make people feel better for hurting him. hes allowed to be hurt and feel pained about it. and that can tie into his relationships with Mitchell, with TK and with his parents.

I think I mentioned most of the tarlos stuff in TK’s section, but I wouldn't mind at least one instance for them where we see it all from his perspective instead of TK’s.

finally ive mentioned above how i’d like a team up with Paul on a scene and both of them figuring it out together. I'd also like them having a friendship outside work, just the two of them, bonding over books and being relatively sane people compared to the rest of their friends.

-Mateo

Mateo is so sweet. I loved 2x14 and the recognition he got, more of that please! also theres still so much I want to know - one of the more consistent things they set up for him in s2 was his faith, so I want to know more about that. what's his relationship with religion and God? he's pretty isolated from his family so how does he feel about that? is his religion something that helps him feel connected to them? maybe the church helped him find a community when he first came to the states, before he got settled with the 126, and he finds reassurance in faith that God is looking after his family while he cant be there? I think maybe there's scope for a conversation between Marjan and Mateo about that, about that distance and caring for their families through faith and prayer.

also, if he's still with the horrible firehouse, I'd like to see the other firefighters being won round by his resilience and stepping up to look out for him, and someone backing him up against the captain. Mateo is used as the butt of the joke most of the time, but I'd also like to see a bit more acknowledgement of things like losing his house and the bullying hes going to get more of from this firehouse.

-Nancy

I think that her speech to Tommy in 2x14 was really telling, and I'd love to see them expand on that a bit more. first on the loss and fear of losing her friends and coworkers, but then also on her hopes and aspirations - she said she wants to be a paramedic captain so lets see her working to take her exams and qualifications, and showing initiative on scenes etc.

id like to see more of her being integrated into the 126 group. she and marjan turned up to the hangout together, so lets develop that relationship more. I would love it to be romantic but I'd also love to see that as a friendship. but also her forming bonds with others in the group as well as more of her and TK being a chaos duo. I love that they stole the ambulance, more of that insanity please!

-

I think thats it? if youre still reading, youre insane and I appreciate you a lot! honestly im open to all sorts of things in s3, this isnt a prediction or anything, its just stuff I think would be interesting based on where the characters are now. 

[daydream-hobii]

Hybrid Heart Attack | Chapter 16

Genre: Poly!AU; Hybrid!AU; Fluff; Angst

Pairing: BTS x Female!Reader; Human!Seokjin x Human!Reader; Eventual relationship with Snow Leopard!Yoongi, Red Panda!Hoseok, Koala!Namjoon, Calico Cat!Jimin, Husky!Taehyung, Doberman!Jungkook

Summary: Y/n finds her current fiance during college, his name is Seokjin. They fell in love and dated for three years before he proposed. Now, Seokjin is a lawyer for hybrids, and Y/n, well, she has the perfect stay at home job. When Seokjin invites her to move in, she wasn’t expecting that he has six hybrids. She doesn’t know why a hybrid lawyer wouldn’t have hybrids, she just didn’t think about it…. Y/n is petrified of hybrids, something happened to her when she was little…. Guess she’ll have to adapt… or leave.

Warning: Mentions of Animal Attacks, Abuse (Physical & Mental), Depression, Anxiety; Possible PTSD mentions; Suggestions of Smut; Read with caution. <3 This one in particular has Mentions of Violence, Attacks, Etc. Slightly Graphic. Read with Caution. <3

Word Count: 1,281

// Previous // Next //

Author’s Note: Welcome to Chapter 16! Okay! So, halfway through, it will switch to Seokjin’s POV! I was gonna make it Chapter 16.5, like I did in Shelter of Hope, but this chapter would’ve been too short! I hope you all enjoy it!! ^_^

       I went straight to the park, it wasn’t too far from our house. Well, was it really my house anymore? Seokjin pushed the last button, how could I go back to a man who did such a thing? I couldn’t! I wouldn’t.

       But… there was still my love, so strong. My heart felt broken, like it was all a lie. My Seokjin wouldn’t do this, he wouldn’t say that… but he did…. Was the engagement really a mistake…? He’s been so patient with me since I moved in. Patient with me warming up to the hybrids, patient with me needing him… why now? Why would he be so obsessed with Sooyoung when I’m right here? Am I not good enough?

       I shivered, the cold night making me wrap my arms around myself. I felt numb, my heart heavy in my chest. Salty tears rolled down my cheeks. My heart was literally broken… Seokjin was my soulmate, my everything….

       I heard a rustling not too far off, making me jump and look towards the bushes. I huffed, glaring at the noise and crossing my arms.

       “Boys, go home, I want to be alone,” I warned.

       My heart sank as four hybrids emerged from the bushes, but they weren’t mine…. They all looked threatening, making me go wide eyed. One smirked, walking closer to me as I stepped back. In my rush out the door, I forgot it was late at night and I should bring a weapon, so I was completely vulnerable.

       “Think we were someone else?” One asked, flashing a toothy smile. 

       “Yes,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m sorry for the intrusion.” I turned around, about to walk back towards home, but another stepped in front of me.

       “What’s the rush?” She asked, smirking. There were three men and one woman. My heart began to beat fast, old fears resurfacing.

       “I need to get back home,” I replied, trying to step around her, but she shoved me, making me fall to the ground in horror.

       “You aren’t going anywhere,” Another man said, making me gulp.

       “See, you don’t know us, but you may know our owner,” One said with a smirk. “Met at a grocery store not too long ago. Your fiance knows him a bit better than you, though.” I went wide eyed, my mind flashing back to that day months ago.

       “You’re the lawyer's wife,” A man growled out, making me pale slightly. “The one who took away my hybrids!”

       I gulped once more, remembering what Seokjin told me about the case. He was taking away his hybrids because he used them for cage fighting. These must be that man's hybrids….

       “You see, we like our owner, we like to fight, so you could imagine our disappointment when another man came to take us,” He said, bending down to my height. He pushed a piece of hair behind my ear, making me shiver in fear. “So, we decided we need to make him pay for it.”

       “What better way than to take it out on his fiance,” The woman growled, making me wide eyed.

       I tried to stand, I tried to get away, but the one who seemed to lead this pack bit my arm, making me shout in pain. I felt fists hit my body, feet hit my stomach. There would be an occasional bite, and it would seep through my skin. I curled up, trying to protect my body, my face, keep them from hurting me further, but to no avail. Memories from when I was younger came flooding back, and for a second I thought I was there.

       One of the hybrids grabbed my chin, making me look up as he growled. I felt woozy, they had made so many wounds that I lost some blood. This hybrid seemed to open his mouth, going in for my jugular. This was it, this was the end… but he dropped me. My vision was blurry, but I could’ve sworn I saw four more people join us, hybrids. I wanted to shout, to ask them for help, but one of the hybrids attacking me kicked me in the face, making me lose consciousness.

Seokjin’s POV

       My anger was so strong, but hurt filled my body as well. Why would she do this…? It’s never been like this before…. Back in college, we were apart for weeks at a time and there was never a problem…. I felt so hurt, but at the same time, I understood what she was saying. I had been away from her for a long time, and I hadn’t seen her for a while, and we live together.

       I pulled up to Sooyoung’s house, turning off the car and sighing. I got out, walking to her door and knocking, tears rolling down my cheeks. When she opened it, her smile disappeared. She pulled me into a hug, her hand twisting through my hair as her other rubbed my back.

       “Jinnie, what’s wrong?” She asked, grabbing my hand and taking me to her living room where we sat.

       “Y/n and I got into a pretty bad fight,” I mumbled. She looked surprised, but I noticed a glint in her eyes.

       “About what?” She asked.

       “You,” I replied, sniffing and rubbing my face.

       “Oh, honey, I’m so terribly sorry,” She replied, hugging me. “Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be…?”

       “But it was,” I replied, pulling away. “She’s always been so funny and outgoing, except when she gets shy and blushes. She’ll wrinkle her nose when she gets annoyed, but it’s all fun. She’s so beautiful and…” Something in my mind clicked, making my heart sink further. “Oh my god… what have I done…?”

       “Jinnie, please,” Sooyoung asked, making me look at her. “Maybe this is fate! Maybe we’re supposed to get back together. I miss you so much, I just want you and the boys back.” My eyes widened when she leaned in, making me stand as she opened her eyes, looking hurt. 

       “Oh my god…. Sooyoung, you’re the one who broke up with me. You moved away, for your work, I wanted to try long distance, you didn’t,” I said, my brain creating memories and realizations at rapid speed.

       “Jinnie, come on,” Sooyoung begged, standing. “She’s not the right one for you.”

       “You got into my head,” I said, wide eyed. “Oh my god, Sooyoung, what did you make me do?! I was hanging out with you because I missed you! We were best friends before we were dating!” I paused, stepping back in horror. “Was this your plan…? You don’t know what’s right for me! I haven’t seen you in years!” I yelled.

       “Jinnie,” Sooyoung started, but I cut her off.

       “Don’t call me that!” I screamed, walking towards the door. “I have to go find Y/n. You stay away from me and my family from now on. I don’t want to see your face ever again.” I slammed the door, letting out a heavy sigh. I had to find her, I had to apologize. I knew I was going to have to beg to get her back…. God, I’m such an idiot…. 

       I ran to my car, getting in and opening my phone. I had missed text messages from all the boys, they must be looking for me. Just as I opened the phone app to call Y/n, my phone began to ring with a mysterious phone number. I squinted my eyes, thinking maybe it was for work. I answered it, listening to a new voice on the phone. My heart sank, eyes widening and tears dropping.

       “What…?” I whispered, heart breaking. “I’m on my way.”

[pinkykitten]

everything stays

chapter 1 - blood on her hands :: gisela klein [ an aot oc story ] 

note: hey guys i know its been a rlly long time since ive posted anything and u may be rlly let down and underwhelmed that ive chosen to write a aot oc instead of fanfic but its what i want to write and i rlly love my oc and wanna give her some love and some praise and let u a little in how i see her. im sorry i havent posted a lot im going to try to write more and who knows i may or may not finish this but its ok imma try lol but life sometimes is a butthole. i hope you love her as much as i do an tysm for taking time out of ur day to read this story. enjoy!

Even though she knew that this day would have to come and that it was near, it still was a surprise for her. She was taken aback. It didn’t make sense and add up to her; she was trained for this since she was little; preparing mentally and physically for phase one of the plan; and the day appeared through the trees; past the wall; the opportunity was present; the fate of the people were waiting in their hands; and yet she felt a sense of evilness within her heart. Was this right? But there was no time. 

The day was written down in history. The stories were spread around like a disease. Heights, jaws, teeth, feet, stench, the screams. If they survived that nightmare they were seen as a tough soldier; as someone that was applauded because they probably had PTSD and had to see everyday as a reason within themselves or God that they were alive. That maybe just maybe they were saved for a reason; for a purpose. That is what Gisela Klein thought. Maybe there was something greater out there for her to do, to accomplish and that was why she saw another day; breathed another breath. 

But one thing was for sure. Forgiveness would never come her way; she would never expect it. To be a warrior she had to endure the horror; the pain; feelings of worthlessness; and friendships lost. 

This is the story of the 10th finding titan; the Slash Titan.

The pounding of her heart rang through her ears. It had taken everything for her to keep going on this journey; to continue on the path to and through Hell. She felt a loss within her and the light in her eyes died out. The loss of her friend made it hard for her to function. To keep her head in the game and in the plan. 

She sighed as she stared at her hands. Broken and bruised like her heart; scars and scratches scattered on her skin. Her bite mark deeply engraved into her flesh. She heaved a huge sigh. Ready to give death a handshake and make a deal with the devil. Panic was rising in her chest from her stomach, almost ready to throw up. 

As she thought about her family back home she realized there was no other way; she had to do this. In order to be with her family, to save them she had to do the one thing she was trained to do. 

Kill.

A lightning strike shot over the wall. The wall that kept the monsters away and at bay. Something was wrong; the air seemed to change. The lightning strike caused a boom, clap and the ground started to shake. 

Bertholdt drew his leg back and with full force swung his leg forward, knocking a hole into the wall that was impenetrable. Many people flew back from the wind of the blow and some were crushed by the debris of the wall. 

Many were going to die; but it’s what needed to be done. 

The titans were called. 

Finally the titans entered the devils homes and started to rip up their lives. “This is right, this is right.” Gisela had to keep reminding herself. “For my family.” And something snapped within her. The image of her mother, tortured, flashed in her mind. And suddenly everything was worth it. “No regrets.”

Gisela eyed Reiner, an agreement, a sign. She exhaled and in a quick motion placed her hand to her mouth and bit into it. In a spark she transformed into her titan form. Her eyes were much like a cats, sharp. She was made into the slash titan, she was chosen for this program. Her titans fingers were like sharp knives, able to cut any object or person. They hung a little past her knees. 

Reiner then transformed and both stomped past the hole. Many citizens glanced up, horrified. Gisela and Reiner were titans never seen before. 

She nodded to Reiner, bent down and started to pick up debris and pieces of houses to throw over the bigger wall. The chunks started to smash against people. Blood splattering everywhere. Gisela almost wanted to close her eyes from the immense amount of dead bodies piled on top of others, graves upon graves. 

She was hauling boulders as high and fast as she could. Her titan held a high amount of power and strength. Being slim, muscular and as tall as the armored titan and female titan. Reiner took a step back and gained his speed to go onward to destroy the bigger wall. 

“Fire!” Their soldiers cried out. Fear evident on their face. They shot their cannons, not even slowing down Reiner. Gisela continued flinging, wanting to create a path for Reiner. She was faster than before and many of her hits flattened the men in the front lines. Their screams and cries loud. 

“Close the gate!” They tried, it was their last hope to save humanity. But it was not enough. Reiner broke the wall and killed those running and they went flying. They reached even higher than Gisela. It astounded her almost, they seemed like helpless birds flying high in the sky; but that thought was quickly wiped clean because the second they flew up in the air they came straight down with much force that many parts of their bodies broke. 

Reiner did what he needed to do, he opened up a way for the titans to get in and they were swarming by the bunches. 

In the distance, the survivors fled in boats across the river to get into the other walls. Gisela put herself in their shoes for a second. They had reason to be scared. Everything they have ever known was gone; their houses, loved ones, food, a place to feel the most comfortable you can feel despite situations; it was all gone. Gisela shook the thought out, not caring about these cruel humans feelings. They had none. No emotions. Gisela had to believe that thought; what she was told, she had to believe it with all her heart, or else what was real?

They waited till they were able to not be seen and Gisela turned human first and then so did Reiner. The four of them hopped on the boat. Talking amongst themselves. The wind howled through the vacant homes. Destruction everywhere. Gisela looked around her setting and saw a little girl had been crushed because a tree fell on her, her doll mere inches away from her grasp. She died with her eyes open; almost looking into Gisela’s soul through the eyes. Gisela’s body trembled and she threw up. 

“Don’t.”

Gisela looked up to see Reiner wiping blood and debris off his clothes. He picked his sleeve and turned Gisela’s head to look away, he wiped her chin and mouth off the puke. He saw the trauma in her eyes and felt guilty. But it’s what needed to be done. He kept telling himself that the more he did this the more he would understand and get used to it. It was still all new to her and he had to be strong for her. He knelt in front of her small frame. “It’s not your fault. They needed to die. We are in this together. You don’t need them. Look at me.”

Gisela looked into his eyes, away from the sadness. His eyes carried the feeling of wanting to be wanted. That was always what Reiner wanted. But they also had fear in his eyes. 

“Stop acting like you’re in control when I know how sick you feel. I know how afraid you are Reiner.”

He paused and took a look at his hands and others surrounding him. “You’re right. But I made a promise to Marcel.”

They joined the other citizens arriving at the food reserves. The master of disguise was needed in this mission. People needed to see four hungry, depressed children that survived the fall of their homes, not mass murderers. 

Annie was only able to fetch two loaves. “Alright, who's the most hungry?”

“You girls should eat, you’re more feeble.” Bertholdt sat on a crate, pointing to Gisela and Annie. 

Annie tsked, moving a bang from her eyes, “who says girls are more feeble? I recall kicking your ass all those times in training.”

“You guys can eat it, I’m not hungry.” Gisela sat on the other crate and saw the chaos of the crowds. A boy caught her interest. He had dark brown hair, tan skin, and light blue green eyes. He was having bread shoved in his mouth and he seemed to have such a strong personality to him. If only Gisela felt so strongly about her motive and her placement in this life. 

“You really should eat, you need your energy after all you did.” Annie broke all the loaves in half and shared it amongst the four of you. “It’s not much but at least it's something.”

Gisela sighed, “you’re right. Thanks.”

After that day there was land given to only a few refugees but there were too many of them. Luckily the four of them had a piece of land that was enough until further inching themselves within society. Through that whole span each day was getting easier and easier living with the lies and day by day Gisela felt more at sure with herself and knowing that she could fulfill this mission. Pills and alcohol helped the pain and ease the thoughts. She taught herself to put a gap between what she came here to do and feelings. She told herself every day that nobody else mattered except her family and Reiner. She trained her brain to not care, to not have strings attached or any love for anything. It was all a play, all a rehearsal for when the curtain would fall. She was readying herself for that fall. Everyday she educated herself more on these scums. What they liked, wanted, needed, craved for, and what they craved more than ever in their life was freedom. 

She trained her body as if it were her last day, barely getting sleep. The face of her mother haunting her every night making her get up at three in the morning to do pushups or sit ups. Not only was her mind getting stronger but also her body. Even Reiner would make jokes noticing the muscles that would appear. The six pack that formed on her stomach. Her thighs growing tight and firm, her arms growing stronger. The sweat growing on her forehead longer. 

With her body growing her relationship with Reiner also changed. They no longer were the tiny children that didn’t understand anatomy or the air between two people. Reiner and Gisela’s relationship was of being flirty, sharing a few kisses here and there, trying to be a couple but then yelling at each other and breaking it up and realizing maybe this isn’t right a million times. Even Bertholdt and Annie were getting tired of their outbursts. But each time they made up to be friends only and then the cycle started where the feelings came in the way and they wanted to be more. They would tease each other, especially Reiner. They were each other's best friends. Gisela was like one of the boys, loud, obnoxious, burping all the time, Reiner would get a look at her and smirk thinking he taught her well. When Reiner looked at her he felt at home and that everything was going to be okay. Her nightmares continued and each time Reiner would come to her room and hold her, let her cry into his arms. She felt he was the only person that knew her pain. 

Gisela understood many things in life and for once she understood her life here, she understood why she was born and chosen. 

It was the following year and in order to get closer to finding the founding titan the four became part of the 104th cadet corps. 

“Are you ready to train more?” Gisela nudged Reiner, eyebrow raised.

“What do you mean train more? This is going to be a new but scary experience honestly.” Reiner spoke as if he was a different person. As if he didn’t have a life outside of the walls. 

“Reiner?” Gisela placed her hand on his shoulder, steadying him. He looked fine on the outside but Gisela knew the issues were inside, his mind. She knew this was becoming disastrous to him, he was starting to have almost two personalities, two lives, two worlds, two people. Gisela tried to tell Annie or Bertholdt, they saw it too but there was nothing they could do. 

All that Gisela could do was smile as they made their way to the first day of training. 

note: again ty y’all sm!!!! If u liked it lmk and this is kinda new for me cuz I usually don’t post my ocs stories here or much at all but I’m rlly excited for y’all to see her and for y’all to know this oc of mine and hopefully accept her ❤️

Taglist: @witchofinterest @chlobenet @eddysocs @fpxloomis @whctsherncme-archive @ocfairygodmother @fandomchick80 @ocappreciationtag

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Forty-Four) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of PTSD... I think that’s it???

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 9228

Timeline: Three months after part forty-three.

“Holden, if it’s a boy,” I offered. “Holden Hotchner.”

Hotch and I had been brainstorming baby names for the past couple of weeks. I was due soon, and we were practically racing against the clock to figure everything out. Hotch had practice with Jack; he knew what he was doing when it came down to naming, putting the nursery together, buying all the toys, diapers, medicines, clothes, and so on. He was being a total rockstar with how hands-on he was with prepping the house and helping me around while still balancing work.

We had decided that we didn’t need the home office at the end of the hall shortly after I left work for maternity leave. We knew that we couldn’t keep the cradle in our room all the time, and the baby would eventually need their own room, so the office had to go. We moved Jack into that room so that the baby’s nursery could be closer to us. With Jack’s nightmares nearly gone entirely, he wasn’t coming to our room as often in the middle of the night, which meant that he could afford to be just another room further from us, whereas the nursery needed to be close by.

Jack was excited to decorate his new room. He worked with Hotch to paint it a forest green color, and they put soccer stuff up everywhere. Hotch painted a soccer ball over the light switch next to the door, Jack put up posters of his favorite players, and I put all of Jack’s trophies and ribbons on a shelf next to his desk under the window. Jack put his cleats and favorite soccer ball on display, Hotch bought him a new soccer themed bed comforter, and I prayed that Jack wouldn’t start kicking the ball against the walls when he got bored. That wasn’t likely, however, because Morgan, in all his genius, had the bright idea to paint a soccer goal onto the wall… He was practically daring Jack to break my wall. I tried warning them against it, but no one was listening to me. Morgan wanted to help out, and painting that damn soccer net was somehow “helping”. I was going to send him the bill to fix the wall soon.

As for the nursery, Hotch was insistent on painting it blue, because he was convinced that it was a boy, and there was no changing his mind. I had to remind him about a thousand times that there was a reason we decided to not know the baby’s gender ahead of time, and that meant no painting the walls blue or pink. We decided fairly early on that we wanted it to be a surprise. The doctors kept asking if we were sure, or if we wanted someone to know so that they could buy clothes for the baby or paint the room themselves or just tell our friends and family; but we were adamant about no one knowing. This was the first good thing to have happened in a very long time, and we wanted to share this happiness and excitement with the team. No matter how much Morgan would insist that it was killing him to not know, we knew that they were just as excited as us to learn if it was a boy or a girl only after I would give birth. But Hotch still had to be reminded that even though he thought they were a boy and I thought they were a girl, we couldn’t paint the damn nursery blue.

He ended up painting it a light grey that made the room look bigger than it actually was. He bolted these wood shelves to the walls and stacked diapers and clothes on them. All of the toys we bought and had been gifted over the past couple of months went in a wicker basket that he slid into a two-by-two dark grey cubby organizer. He hung up pictures all over the room of us, Jack, the team, and even Haley. Hotch wanted to make sure that, no matter what, no matter where we were in the world, however long we would be gone for, whatever we were doing, however old the baby was, they would know that they had a whole village of people out there who loved them more than anything and would do anything to protect them. Our family was much bigger than just the four of us. There was a team of six FBI agents out there who would die for our baby, and Hotch wanted to make sure that everyone knew it. Nothing bad was ever going to happen to us again. Ever. The pictures on the walls were a constant reminder of that.

Hotch’s hand slowly rubbed circles on my stomach as we laid down in bed, trying to fall asleep, to no avail. It was uncomfortable for me to sleep nowadays, and Hotch could hardly close his eyes because he didn’t want to let go of me or lose sight of me. So, we spent most of our nights just laying like that, cuddled up against one another as we talked about work, Jack’s school or soccer, or the baby. We had started by talking about how Morgan kept trying to send us baby names throughout the day via text, as if we hadn’t already been thinking of some ourselves. He was going to be the worst uncle, I swear. He was going to be so… overbearing.

“What about Emily, if it’s a girl?” I asked.

Hotch tensed and stopped moving his hand on my stomach. I knew that it was still a sensitive topic for all of us. Most of us hadn’t really come to terms with what happened— Morgan and Reid most of all. But it was something that I had been thinking about for a while. Since Emily died, there was this… hole or darkness in the team, in our family. We all missed her, and we were all too scared to let go of her. We didn’t want to admit that she was gone, that she was never coming back. Something that had crossed my mind one night while Hotch was away on a case was how much she did for me. We weren’t as close as I was with Morgan, of course, but she was the only other one of the team that I spent the majority of my time with. When I wasn’t with Morgan, I was with Emily. She had my back countless times, and my biggest regret was not being able to have hers in the end.

I wanted Emily to be remembered somehow. I wanted her memory to be a big part of our lives because Emily was that important. She deserved to be a happy memory, not a dark hole that was silently killing our team. We needed good news, we needed something bright and happy— not to replace her, but to honor her. She always looked after me when she didn’t have to, especially since I was cold towards her at first because I felt like she had stolen Elle away from me— even though that obviously wasn't the case. But most importantly was that she had Hotch's back. They were close. Really close. When Strauss wanted her to help take Hotch down, Emily tried to quit rather than betray him. After Foyet stabbed him, she stayed with me at the hospital to make sure that we were both okay, and she helped Hotch by listening to him after Haley was killed and he couldn’t talk to me. Emily was always there, and she was supposed to be there forever… but fate hated us, it seemed, and she was stolen away from us. Emily Prentiss deserved to live on through something good that came out of this mess.

“Why don’t you keep looking for some other girl names,” Hotch recommended before carefully sliding out of bed.

My brows furrowed while I watched him grab his robe and leave the bedroom. What the hell was that about? I thought he would like the idea. I thought he would want to honor Emily, too. Was I missing something? Maybe he wasn’t as over Emily’s death as I thought...

----

In the morning, Hotch drove me to work for the first time in two months. Since Emily died, I had worked another few cases in the office before I finally gave in to Hotch’s wish for me to stay at home. The stress and depression was getting to me, which was making the pregnancy hard for me, so I just couldn’t find the will or energy to keep profiling. In fact, most days it was was hard to get out of bed at all. But that was why we were headed to Quantico on a random Tuesday morning.

Hotch and done grief evaluations with everyone on the team thus far, except for me. Since I was clearly not okay, and Strauss still needed a report on me, we had to go into the office to do an official evaluation. I disliked the idea. I disliked that my husband was going to be sitting across from me, taking notes on my responses to his questions about how I was doing since Emily died. And if I wasn’t honest, he would know. That was the worst part. He always fucking knew when I was lying, so I had to tell the truth, which was that I was miserable.

That was how I ended up sitting on the couch in his office, though, watching and waiting while he scribbled things down in my file. And then he said, “Why did you immediately think about naming our daughter after her?”

“What?” I questioned, baffled.

“The two of you weren’t necessarily the closest—”

“Maybe Strauss should do my evaluation instead.” I reached for my purse so that I could head down to her office.

“I’m sorry—” Hotch insisted, holding his hand out to stop me. I froze. “I’m sorry. Just… Sit down and give me another chance.”

I stared at him, trying to get a read on the situation. If I were to sit back down, was he just going to ask that question again? It wasn’t that I minded the question itself, but the fact that I hated that it was the first thing he had the audacity to say to me during our evaluation—after dodging talking to me about it last night, I might add. I was understandably upset that he chose now, of all times, to discuss it again.

I sat back down cautiously. “Okay.” When I got comfortable on the cushions again, I cleared my throat so that I could say, “Emily and I weren’t as close as we should have been. I’ll be the first to admit that. But the two of us still came to work every day, and we put our brains together to help solve the cases, and I knew that I could trust her to have my back every time we were out in the field together.” I glanced down at my fidgeting fingers. “She was as much my family as anyone else. She was smart, loyal, and even funny at times. She loved us, and she died protecting us. I want our baby to know that she’s named after one of the bravest women I’ve ever known. Is that a crime?”

“We don’t even know if it’s a girl.”

“But I want it to be now… Because… Because I want there to be an innocent, happy reminder of Emily to bring joy to people whenever they get sad about missing her.”

“So, you’re doing it for other people.”

“No!” I insisted quickly. “I just feel like I owe it to her. And… because I blame myself,” I admitted quietly.

“Why is that?”

“Because I should have been there, Aaron. I should have gone in and helped her. I should have found Doyle. I should have saved her—I should have loved her more…”

“You didn’t know. None of us did.”

I wiped away a sniffle with the back of my hand. “It’s my fault for not doing more.”

“You’re pregnant, Y/N. You wouldn’t’ve been able to do anything.”

“But I could have tried!” I exclaimed angrily. He wasn’t hearing me. He didn’t understand what it felt like to know that I was sitting at home while Emily was running away, I was stuck on a plane when she was being tortured by Doyle, and…. and all I could do was watch as Morgan and Hotch held her as she died. He didn’t understand that feeling of helplessness. “Why don’t you ever cry about it?”

“What?”

“You heard me. Why don’t you cry? We’ve all cried since losing her… But not you. I don’t understand. You loved her, Aaron. I know you still do. We all do. So, how can you go every day without breaking down? How can you hold me every night as I sob and not shed a tear? What’s going on with you?”

He looked down at his notes as he swallowed hard, thinking about what he wanted to say; but nothing came. He only shrugged. I shook my head and scoffed. Out of everyone in the world, I should have been the one person that he could open up to, yet he was closing himself off to me. Again. That was what he did every time something in our lives went downhill. Sending Haley and Jack into WITSEC was a prime example of that. Foyet had taken everything from us, and instead of turning to me for comfort, Aaron shut down and ignored me, which created a crack in our relationship. But we had moved on from that, I thought. With wedding rings on our fingers and a baby on the way, he should have known that I wasn’t going to be scared off by him being honest with me. Was he angry? Was he sad? Impartial? Relieved? I didn’t fucking know! It was so aggravating that I couldn’t get a read on my own husband so that I could help him through all of this.

“This isn’t my evaluation, Y/N,” he answered quietly.

I shook my head. “And who is it that will be evaluating you, Aaron? Anyone?”

He didn’t respond to my question. Instead, he dodged with, “I think that’s everything I need to know. You should head home and get some rest.”

Honestly, I wasn’t looking to pick a fight with him about this any longer because I knew it was futile; but I didn’t want to be there any longer, either. So, I gave in. I agreed to ending my evaluation there, as short as it was, and heading home for the rest of the day. I picked up my purse again, lifted the strap over my shoulder, then quietly headed out of his office, closing the door behind me slow enough for me to gauge the atmosphere of the bullpen. It was so quiet without Emily. She wasn’t much of a talker, but Morgan was, and he brought her out of his shell. Normally, he would say something snarky, catching mine or Emily’s attention, giving us cause to poke back at him—or if he was picking on Reid, we would help. Emily would always laugh when that happened. Her smile used to light up the whole room, and that was just another thing about her that I always took for granted. That was one more tiny detail about her that I would have to miss for the rest of my life.

“Trouble’s coming through,” Morgan warned playfully, holding his hand out to help me walk down the ramp. I chuckled at him and accepted his polite gesture. “How are you feelin’, bubble?”

I squinted at him. “Ha. Ha.”

He chuckled back at me. “Seriously, how’s my future niece or nephew?”

“She’s doing fine,” I answered with a smile, running my hands over my stomach. Morgan froze, giving me cause for pause. “What?” Did I have something on my face? Was Hotch glowering at us from his office? “Morgan?”

“You said ‘she’—”

“–No, I didn’t—”

“—How do you know?” he questioned eagerly, practically jumping on his toes because he couldn’t contain his excitement. “Did you ask to know even though you and Hotch agreed not to? I promise, my lips are sealed!”

I hit his shoulder to get him to calm down. “Shush!”

“Tell me!”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s just a feeling. What do you want from me?”

He smiled and hugged me quickly, but still carefully. “A girl!” he cheered in my ear. “I knew it. Yes, yes, yes!” He pulled away from me long enough to a little dance in a circle.

“Smooth. Not noticeable at all.”

“I’m sorry, sunshine, but this is the greatest news I’ve had in a very long time. Let me have this.”

He was right. Since losing Emily, good news was hard to come by, and it just seemed like nothing could lighten up the office anymore. I couldn’t fault Morgan for being over the moon excited about a feeling I had. I didn’t even know if it was a girl for sure, but there was something since Emily’s death—some voice in the back of my mind that was telling me that she did what she did so that we could raise a perfect baby girl in this world. People always theorize that people leave our world in order to make room for someone new. Maybe Emily was just making room for our baby. I wished that it could have been anyone else besides her that made that sacrifice, but we didn’t get to make decisions about life or death at the end of the day, and that was the sad truth about our job.

----

Jessica had just gotten back to the house after dropping Jack off at school. She had come back to check on me one last time before heading out for work, which she didn’t need to do because I was going to be alright. I knew I was big at nearly nine months pregnant, but everyone was treating me like I was immobile. In a few days’ time, Hotch and I were going to head to the hospital to have the baby, as scheduled, and until then, I was ordered by the doctors and Hotch to stay in bed. So, Jessica checking on me felt… unnecessary.

In hindsight, though, it was a miracle she got back in time. Just as I was insisting that I would be alright on my own for a few hours until Hotch could come visit during lunch, my water broke. We hadn’t anticipated this happening. I mean, we thought about it, but the doctors thought that our “appointment” to have the baby would beat any natural occurrence. So, Jessica and I were obviously caught off guard when it happened. Hotch and I didn’t have a bag packed yet, and we didn’t have a plan for this. Jessica and I just had to wing it.

While I called Hotch, Jessica ran around to just grab an old go-bag of mine and stuff some baby stuff in it for the hospital. Hotch sounded breathless as he told me that he was on his way and started running through the office to get to his car. I could hear Morgan on the other end of the call ask him if everything was alright, and all Hotch could say was: “It’s happening!” Then, suddenly, the whole team sounded like they were running around to hurry to the hospital, too. If I weren’t freaking out, I would’ve laughed at them.

When we got to the hospital, the doctors and nurses raced around to help me. It took about twenty minutes after getting into a room for Hotch to show up. He ran into the room and stood right by my side the entire time. He held my hand, brushed my hair with his fingers, and kissed my forehead, cheeks, and lips as much as he could to distract me. The comforting part was hearing him tell me that he loved me over and over again. Him just being there on time was everything I hoped for. We were lucky that he was in town, and that he was close enough to get there to be by my side for every second of it. I loved him, and I knew that I couldn’t do it without him.

And then we heard that first cry. Hotch laughed happily before kissing my forehead and squeezing my hand. I sighed with relief when it was over. A smile finally appeared on my face once our baby was in my arms, pressed against my chest. It was a girl. Some part of me always knew that it would be, but finally holding her in my arms, seeing her face, even as she cried… It was the greatest feeling in the world. And Hotch was so happy, too. He was still laughing quietly while kissing me again and again. He was beside himself. I was, too. Cradling her in my arms, leaning into Hotch’s touch, crying as I finally got to relax somewhat… I was happy. She was finally there. She was finally with us.

“Hi, Emily,” I whispered to her. I hadn’t even realized what I said until I felt how tense Hotch was against my side. I looked up at him to see that he was staring at our daughter, his smile somewhat disappearing. “I’m sorry—”

“No,” he said to me. “Don’t be.” He reached down and wiggled his finger playfully in her face as she started to calm down. “Emily.”

It felt so right to name her Emily. After we first talked about it and Hotch told me no, I dropped the idea entirely, but once it slipped, we just knew that it was the only thing that felt perfect. It was meant to be. I loved Emily Prentiss the same way I loved Derek Morgan. They were both my partners in the field— and… she was… she was one of the greatest friends I ever had. I had to do something for her. I had to have a part of her with me now that she was gone. Our beautiful, perfect, sweet daughter deserved her name. She deserved to carry on the legacy of one of the greatest women I ever knew. Our daughter… Our little Emily… I loved her infinitely.

“She’s perfect,” Hotch whispered. “You’re both perfect.”

When Hotch took her in his arms so that the nurses could check on me, she slowly stopped crying. I looked up shortly to see that he was shuffling back and forth on his feet while bouncing her in his arms lightly. She was falling asleep— as if she hadn’t had all the time in the world to rest. I smiled. I couldn’t stop thinking to myself that she was perfect. She was perfect. Perfect. Absolutely, without a doubt, no questions asked… perfect. And she was ours. We did that. We loved each other endlessly, and from that, we got her. How could anyone ever possibly argue that she was anything less than perfect?

Later, once they checked on her to make sure she was healthy, and I had some time to rest and recuperate, I asked Hotch if I could see her again. She was in a small cradle on wheels next to him, and he couldn’t seem to leave her alone, even as she tried to sleep, and he was trying to keep an eye on me. The nurses told us that she was a perfectly healthy baby. Perfect. Because she was okay, they could leave her in the room with us for a little longer. But I wanted to hold her. I wanted her in my arms, and I never wanted to let go. So, Hotch cooed her back to sleep as she fussed when he picked her up and handed her to me. And then I asked if Jessica had picked up Jack from school yet.

Another slow smile appeared on Hotch’s face. “I’ll go get him.” He ran to the door and into the hallway, quickly retreating before he could spend another second away from me and the baby. “I love you so much.” He was right back by my side as the door opened again.

I peeked around Hotch’s shoulder to see Jessica ushering Jack into the room. Hotch pressed a finger to his lips to tell them to be quiet since she was sleeping, so Jack and Jessica cautiously approached. Hotch picked up Jack and put him on his hip. He was so big now— it was crazy to think that once upon a time, he was the same size as our baby Emily. I wished I could’ve been there to see baby Jack. He was already my precious little man, but he was probably the cutest baby— well, second cutest now. No one could ever beat my perfect Emily.

Jack stretched his arm out to poke her cheek, but Hotch pulled him away. He warned Jack that he needed to be careful. Jack dropped his hand, then craned his neck to get a better look at her. When she hiccupped in my arms, Jack jumped slightly. Hotch and I chuckled.

“What’s her name?” he asked me.

I looked at Hotch first, looking for a reassurance that he was really fine with this. If he had originally just got caught up in the moment and since decided that he didn’t want to name her Emily, then I wouldn’t’ve blamed him. But he nodded and smiled… So, I told Jack the truth.

“Like Aunt Emily?”

“Yeah, kiddo,” Hotch answered, wiping some mud off his chin from recess. “Just like Aunt Emily.”

“She’s cute.”

I laughed. “She is, isn’t she.”

“When do I get to play with her?”

“Not for a bit, little man.” I reached up to pinch his nose. “She has to rest.”

“And so does Y/N,” Hotch added, adjusting Jack on his hip with a groan. “Do you wanna do your homework here or at home?”

“Can we get McDonalds for dinner if I do it here?” Jack asked.

“No—”

“Aaron,” I squinted at him. I was still the cool parent— the good cop— so, of course, I was going to let Jack get something like McDonalds if he really wanted it. I was in a great mood. I would’ve told him he could get a freakin’ ice cream cone taller than him if he even asked. “You do all of your homework, and you can get McDonalds.”

“Can I go with Uncle Rossi?”

I laughed internally. I would have loved to see the look on Rossi’s face when Jack would inevitably go up to him and ask: “Can you take me to McDonalds?” I was pretty sure Rossi would have a full-on heart attack. Rossi, the self-proclaimed culinary master, probably never even glanced at a McDonalds. That was why telling Jack “yes, you can go with Uncle Rossi” was so funny to me. Also, the look on Hotch’s face was priceless. It was like he wanted to argue with me, but how could he when I literally just gave him the greatest gift of his life? He’d have a lot of thanking to do over the next eighteen years.

And then there was a knock at the door. We all turned to see who it was. JJ peeked her head in while keeping the door as closed as she possibly could. “Sorry, I don’t think I can hold Morgan back any longer. He’s getting antsy.”

I shook my head. “It’s fine, JJ. You can send them all in.”

“Y/N, are you up for that?” Hotch asked worriedly.

I nodded and shushed Emily as she started fussing in my arms again. With all of the excitement going on, she was waking up. Now that the team was trying to get into the room, probably all of them excited to get their chance to hold her, there was no way she’d keep her eyes closed much longer. My only hope was that she wouldn’t start crying or get hungry again.

JJ opened the door wide, and suddenly everyone was pouring in. Morgan was the first one inside. He was practically running towards my hospital bed, a grin growing on his face the closer he got. And then he came to a sudden halt before he could crash into me.

“Lemme see, lemme see,” he said eagerly, holding his arms out already.

“Calm down, Mr. Impatient,” I said. When he didn’t move, I passed Emily to him. “Careful—” I warned as she left my arms.

I knew that she was safe with him, but I was already worried. I spent the last nine months with her; even a few seconds without her felt unbearable. I wanted her with me all the time. I felt like I was the only one in the world who could truly protect her, though I knew that wasn’t true. There was a full room of people standing around me that would protect her with their lives. We all felt the same way when Henry was born. I knew that if anything happened to that baby boy, I’d risk my own life to help him— because that was what family did for each other. Seeing the whole team there, smiling at me, Hotch, and baby Emily… I knew that she would always be safe.

“Well, hello, there, precious,” Morgan said to her. She was awake now, and I could see how he was taking in every detail of her. “Hotch, she has your eyes.”

I snickered and reached up to brush Hotch’s hair back. He looked like a mess. I mean, we both did, understandably; but he hardly ever looked disheveled in front of other people. I bet if he knew that his hair was sticking out in all the wrong places, he would’ve been furious. But Morgan was right. She had his eyes. His perfect, dark, chocolaty brown eyes. They were so big, so full of life and curiosity whenever she was awake long enough for me to stare into them. She had Emily’s name, Hotch’s eyes, and she came from me. She was perfect. I could say it all day, every day. She. Was. Perfect.

“I wanna see her,” Garcia told him, approaching his side. She gasped, “Oh, heavens me… Look how cute she is!”

“Hey,” he hissed at her, “she’s trying to sleep.”

“But look at her—”

“Would the two of you stop fighting,” Rossi interrupted, stepping between them. “It’s my turn.” He was practically prying her out of Morgan’s arms just for his chance to hold her. “Morgan’s right, Aaron, she has your eyes… And she has your nose, Y/N.”

Great. I got the nose. Fingers crossed she’d at least end up with my hair. That was a nicer bragging piece than nose.

“What’s her name?” JJ asked, glancing over Rossi’s shoulder to get a look at her.

Hotch and I exchanged a stare. Telling Jack and Jessica was one thing, but telling the team was entirely different. For some reason, the prospect scared me. I was excited to tell them, don’t get me wrong; but I was somewhat terrified that they wouldn’t understand or accept. But as Emily Prentiss once told me: Screw them. If they didn’t like it, screw them. This was my family, my daughter, and the team would get over it if they didn’t like it. I liked it— I loved it; and I loved my daughter. I wasn’t going to change my mind.

“Emily Scarlet Hotchner.”

The whole atmosphere of the room changed. They were all already smiling before I told them, but once it dawned on them that we had named our daughter Emily, their smiles practically doubled. The room brightened, and it was like Emily—the real Emily Prentiss—was out there, watching us, and she was smiling, too. It was moments like these when I remembered Elle’s stories about loved ones turning into stars. I knew that Emily was out there. I knew that she was proud of us, and she was excited that we named our daughter after her. I missed her dearly… I missed her more than anyone could possibly know… But seeing how the room lightened up as our little ray of sunshine started giggling in Rossi’s arms, I knew that everything was going to be okay.

“May I?” I heard Reid ask shyly from the back of the group. Everyone split apart and turned to face him. Rossi nodded. “Thanks.” Reid smiled and carefully took Emily in his arms. And then I heard him let out a quiet sob. He was still smiling, but a tear was slowly sliding down his cheek. “Emily…”

Everyone knew how close Prentiss and Reid were. Morgan and I were close because he was the first person to get to know me when I joined the team, and from there we became partners in the field, and we practically spent every second of every day working and teasing each other. Rossi and Hotch were close because they were old friends who understood the pressures of the job and all of the politics that came with it. They were the best of friends because they were perhaps the only people who could understand the kind of stress they were both under. And they were also the two profilers with the most experience on the team. In the field, that made them valuable. Out of the field, it made them the best of friends. With Reid, he lost practically everyone that meant something to him. First, he was close with Elle, but… She left, and no one was really sure why. So, Reid leaned on Gideon. They were as tight as could be because of their father/son dynamic. Gideon challenged Reid’s intellect, and he was the only one who could actually beat Reid at chess. But then Gideon left, too. Reid only had JJ and Prentiss left. JJ was the one constant in his life, but then she got busy with her family. Prentiss was the only other person Reid had to turn to. She was the only one who hadn’t paired up with someone on the team—and that had a lot to do with the fact that she closed herself off from all of us in order to protect herself. But somehow, she opened up to him. She recognized that he needed someone in his life who would always be there. He needed something more than the big brother attitude Morgan gave him. He needed more than the push back that I supplied. He needed more than the smile that had been slowly fading from Hotch’s face since Haley’s death. Prentiss was there. She could give him that— she did give him that. Then, like everyone else he ever relied on in his life, she was gone.

We all missed Prentiss. We all wished that she could still be with us; that she could be standing next to Reid and Morgan as she smiled and begged to hold my daughter. Whenever I dreamed of this, I imagined Prentiss being there. Her absence was noticeable, and it was painful, but knowing that there was a new Emily there to bring us sunshine even in the darkest of times… I think it broke Reid in a good way.

He and I were never close. We didn’t hate each other, of course, but we didn’t click like I did with Morgan or he did with the rest of the team. It just came down to the fact that we spent most of our time doing wildly different things. He would stay in the offices to build the profiles during cases, meanwhile I’d be out in the field with Morgan trying to connect all of the dots. There just wasn’t much time for me to sit down with Spencer Reid and get to know him. That was no one’s fault. We both recognized that we loved each other, and that we were still family, but we were like those two estranged cousins who didn’t know what to say at family reunions. But the one thing that we did connect through was our heartbreak over Prentiss.

It was a silent thing between us. I would catch him crying in the bathroom on the jet or staring at the wall while whispering her name under his breath or staring at her desk in the bullpen when he was supposed to be doing work. Yet, I never said anything. He caught me doing all the same things, too, when I was still working. Yet, he never said anything either. We were both suffering, and we were doing it alone. We understood that about each other.

But now that he was there, holding baby Emily in his arms, whispering her name over and over again with a hint of hope and love in his voice, I knew that things were going to be okay. I knew that he’d slowly stop crying in the bathroom on the jet because now he’d have a ray of sunshine in his life to remind him of the good that was still in the world. I knew that because he was crying while standing there and holding her in his arms, and yet all he could do was keep smiling and laughing. Hope. Sunshine. Perfection. That was what she was. That was who she was always going to be.

“We’ll, um, let you rest,” Rossi said to me quietly. He patted Spencer’s shoulder before leading the rest of the team out.

“Wait, Morgan—” I stopped him. I looked at Jessica, “Do you mind getting Jack started on his homework?”

She caught the hint quickly. “Sure.” After Hotch let Jack down, Jessica took his hand and started walking out with him.

Reid looked up from Emily to glance at me. “I’ll go, too.” He stepped forward and leaned down slightly to give her back to me. “Could I…” He cleared his throat as he stood tall. “Could I come back later?”

I smiled at him. “Of course.”

He tucked his hair back. “Thanks.”

When Reid left the room, he closed the door behind him. Finally, it was just me, Hotch, Morgan, and Emily.

“We wanted to ask you something kind of important,” I said to Morgan as Hotch leaned down and kissed my temple, still petting my hair soothingly. “You should probably sit down first.”

He did so. “The answer is: no, I will not babysit on Fridays or Saturdays,” Morgan playfully responded before I could even ask him what it really was that Hotch and I had been considering.

I chuckled and hit his arm gently, careful not to move too fast to wake up Emily. Morgan threw his hands up in surrender. My eyes shifted from Morgan to Hotch quickly, a silent question to say: “Are you sure about this?” Hotch nodded and kissed me again. I turned back to Morgan, adjusting Emily in my arms as she started to hiccup again. 

“We’ve been talking about it for a bit now, and we were just wondering if you would like to be her godfather.”

Morgan’s eyes shot wide. He looked between me and Hotch for more answers, or maybe to see if this was all a joke or prank and he was just missing the punchline. There wasn’t any joke, though. We wanted Morgan to be the godfather of our daughter. He was my closest friend, and he always took care of us. I knew that if anything were to happen to me or Hotch, I could trust that Morgan would always be there and he would protect our family with his life. That was how good of a man Derek Morgan was. He saw the value in other people’s happiness and safety, and he made sure that everyone around him was wearing the brightest smile imaginable because that was how he knew he was making a difference. I wanted our child to grow up with Uncle Morgan around. I wanted him to bring a smile to Emily’s face whenever she would start running around the house and he’d go to chase her. I wanted him to bring a smile to her face when he would show up to school events when she got older. I wanted her to know that he was a huge part of my life, and that I wouldn’t trade him for the world. Derek Morgan was the kindest, bravest, and, frankly, sassiest soul I knew. There was no one better for this job than him.

“You don’t have to answer now, if you want to think about—” Hotch began but was cut off by Morgan.

“Of course, I’ll be her godfather.”

I smiled at him. “Really?”

“Yes!” He was a little too loud, making Emily squirm in my arms before I started bouncing her back to sleep. “Sorry,” he whispered, chuckling quietly. He leaned forward in his seat, pressing his chest against the side of the bed, reaching out so that he could grab onto one of Emily’s tiny hands with his index finger and thumb. “I’m going to spoil her.”

I laughed at him. Him and everyone else, it seemed, including me and Hotch.

----

When the doctors released me from the hospital, Morgan was there to help get us settled back in the house, though we really didn’t need him to be there. While Hotch was worried about me, Morgan was worried about Emily. It was the funniest thing. In the car, Morgan was holding Emily in the backseat, still cooing and baby-talking with her as she giggled and wiggled in his arms. Hotch had one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding mine on the arm rest between us, his thumb rubbing slow circles over my knuckles. Then, when we got home, I took Emily while Morgan and Hotch grabbed the carrier, diapers, food, and all the other bags we had brought with us to the hospital and carried them inside. It was a relief to be home finally. I liked sitting on my own couch, even though Hotch was trying to pull me upstairs to the bed since I was on “bed rest”, according to the doctors. But I was fine where I was. If I went upstairs, I knew that I would inevitably fall asleep, but I didn’t want to yet. I just wanted to hold my daughter in my arms.

Finally, though, about two hours later, after Hotch went to pick up Jack from Jessica’s house, and Morgan left to go take care of Clooney, I headed upstairs. Hotch had put the nursery together, of course, but it seemed that he had put a cradle in our bedroom just in case. Honestly, I was grateful. I wasn’t ready to part from her just yet. And… to be fair, I was sure that she wasn’t ready to part from me yet either, so having a cradle in our room made it easy whenever she would start to cry or scream. It made life easy. Before laying down, I set Emily in the cradle, then just simply… plopped down.

Hotch chuckled at me as he laid down next to me. “You’re gonna get sick of this bed eventually.”

“You’re insane if you think that I’m actually staying here for the next few weeks,” I told him while laying on my side, my back to him.

“And you’re insane if you think I’m not going to make you.”

“Try me.”

“I’ll tie you to the bed.”

“Mhm, sure. Your empty threats mean nothing to me, love of my life.”

Hotch laughed and kissed my cheek. “Mmm, and you, love of my life, are going to stay here and rest until you are all better because you did your job of bringing our perfect daughter into the world, and now it’s my turn to do my job. Got it?”

“I’ll fight you on it when I wake up…” I answered tiredly. He kissed my cheek again before relaxing behind me, wrapping his arms around me so that he could make sure that I was safe and peaceful with him.

I fell asleep almost immediately. Without anyone coming and going, trying to visit me and Emily, I could finally just relax and focus on healing. Hotch was holding me, Emily was asleep, Jack was in his room playing games, and I was absolutely content. Nothing could bother me. I hadn’t even noticed when Hotch slid out of bed because Emily was fussing. I was in the middle of dreaming about Prentiss finding out that we named our daughter after her when it happened, I think. But I only woke up an hour later, and it was natural. No jumping up to calm Emily down, no waking up suddenly when there was a knock at the door from a visitor, and no worries about work and the team.

When I happened to notice that Hotch was gone, that was when I sat up in order to get a good look at the room. He had closed the drapes to make sure it was dark for me, and the door was locked to make sure that Jack couldn’t disturb me, and Emily was gone from her crib. I cocked a brow. Had he taken her to her nursery? Did she get hungry, so he made his way downstairs with her to heat up some breastmilk? I didn’t understand.

I rolled out of bed, then opened the door so that I could go check the nursery and Jack’s room first. Nothing. Both were empty. Confusion struck me, so I turned to make my way downstairs, and what I found made my heart swell. I could see the back of Hotch’s head as he was sitting on the couch, looking down at something. When I moved closer, I saw Emily in his arms, sucking on a bottle. I smiled.

“You are always so hungry,” he said quietly to her. “I can tell that you’re already going to be a handful for me and your mom.” She reached up for his face, to which he leaned down and kissed her itty-bitty fingers. “Especially if Uncle Morgan’s always around…” he chuckled. “He’s a troublemaker, and so is Mom, so… you’ll grow up to be a lil’ trickster, too, I’m sure.”

I shuffled closer. “You okay in here?” I asked, leaning in to kiss the top of his head.

He craned his neck after I moved away to get a good look at me. “Yeah. She started crying, which I figured was because she was just hungry. I didn’t want her to wake you up, so I brought her down here, and we’ve just been hanging out.” He looked at her again. She reached up to touch him again as he pulled the bottle away because she needed to breathe. “Jack’s outside playing soccer.”

I nodded as I sat down beside him. “How long has he been out there?”

“About twenty minutes.”

“Are you worried?”

“No. I think he’s just bored.”

I ran my hand through his hair. “We can’t let him feel neglected. We have to really keep an eye on him.”

“I know.”

“Do you want me to feed her while you go play with him?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. I want you to just have a break for a little longer.”

I rested my head on his shoulder. “This is perfect.”

“I know.”

And that was how the next few days went. Every time Emily started crying, I made a move to help her, but Hotch insisted that I just stay in bed and rest. Arguing with him was futile. At one point, I tried getting smart by offering to take turns looking after her—and Hotch gave in at first. I managed to get to her once in order to coo her back to sleep, but after that, Hotch just kept beating me to it.

Not to mention, Hotch had decided after bringing me and the baby home that he was going to take time off of work in order to look after us. He was so overdramatic. I didn’t need a babysitter. Yeah, I was tired, but I could look after my daughter during the day while he was supposed to be gone at work. But he was adamant.

Finally, when I started feeling suffocated in our bedroom—and in the house, in general—I asked Hotch if we could visit the team at the office. He tried lying that they were gone on a case, but Morgan via text disproved that. Sucker. He really had no choice but to take me in. Honestly. If he didn’t drive me there, I was going to do it myself one way or another; and he knew it. So, we swaddled the baby in a blanket, put a beanie on her head, made sure we had a full bag of toys, pacifiers, diapers, and food. She fell asleep in the carrier before we even made it to the car. Babies. She was lucky I loved her, otherwise I would’ve been furious about the fact that she could cry and scream, ruining mine and Hotch’s whole day, then just fall back asleep like nothing happened.

When we arrived at Quantico, I unbuckled my seat and beat Hotch to the carrier, reaching to pick Emily up out of it instead of schlepping the whole thing with us through security. On our way in, we ran into Anderson. I stopped and smiled at him. He stopped, too, and he turned with a bright face that welcomed the newest member of the BAU family. As she started fussing in my arms, Anderson approached to come say hi.

“Look at her,” he said, wiggling his finger in her face playfully. “What’s her name?”

“Emily,” I answered.

He looked up at me with the same wide, yet still shocked smile that everyone had when I told them that news. He smiled back down at her. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re feeling alright and everything?”

“As well as I can be,” I responded through an exhausted chuckle. “The plan is to get back to work as soon as possible, though.”

He stood up tall and switched the files in his left hand to his right hand. “That’s good. We miss seeing you around the office.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Anderson.” I started walking towards the front door that Hotch was holding open.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” he called to me while backpedaling into the parking lot. “I’ll see you around.” He waved to us before turning to head to his car.

Hotch led me through the lobby and security, stopping long enough for the guards we knew to say hi to me and the baby while congratulating us. It was so… weird to have people coming up and congratulating us for something that was just a little piece of each of us. I mean, no one patted us on the back for the first part, which was the sex. In fact, most people seemed to forget that was how this happened in the first place. To each their own, I supposed, though.

In the elevator, Hotch rested his hand on the small of my back, tucking me against his side so that he could kiss my temple. He was never, ever this handsy at work. At least, not in this way. There were moments of weakness with the two of us, like the jet ride that I would never forget on the way to St. Louis three years ago; as well as when he held my hand under the roundtable just a few months ago as we sat around worrying about Prentiss. I pushed off the thought.

As the doors to the elevator opened, Hotch and I stepped out onto the sixth floor, immediately being greeted by Rossi, Reid, and JJ who had been waiting around for us. Hotch must have let Dave know that we were on our way. Within an instant, Reid stepped forward and asked if he could hold her, just as he had always raced to volunteer for. Spencer was twenty-seven already, and it seemed sometimes like life was passing by him even though he didn’t want it to, even though he would have been the best partner for someone and an even better father. There was something about watching him with Emily that reminded me just how much I wanted to see him succeed in life. Out of everyone on the team, Reid was the one person besides Morgan who was constantly asking to hold Emily or see pictures of her from Hotch because he just couldn’t get enough of her. I knew in that moment that he was going to be the best father one day.

Suddenly, the glass doors of the BAU opened, revealing Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia who had just become aware of mine and Emily’s presence in the lobby that they had not been made aware of sooner. I could see the hurt on Morgan’s face from across the room. Despite that, however, I smirked at him and took Emily back from Reid carefully because I knew what was coming.

“Everyone, move!” Morgan exclaimed, pushing through the crowd. “I want to see my goddaughter.”

I chuckled and already started holding her out so that Morgan could take her when he was finally standing in front of me. His tunnel vision was focused solely on her as he smiled and cradled her in his arms. He cooed and used his baby-talk voice to tease her. While he wiggled his finger in her face to see her struggle to grab it with her tiny hands, Garcia leaned over his shoulder to watch.

“How are you feeling?” JJ asked me.

“Tired,” I admitted with an exhausted laugh. She nodded knowingly. “Hotch has been good, though,” I complimented, reaching out to run my hands through his hair. He blushed at me while wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me close. “He’s probably more tired than I am.”

He nodded. “Probably. But it’s worth it.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek.

“You two are disgustingly adorable,” Garcia teased giddily.

Hotch and I chuckled.

“So, I get her on weekends, right?” Morgan teased.

I furrowed my brows. “I don’t recall making any kind of custody agreement.”

“Sundays?” he bargained.

“Sunday afternoons.”

Morgan smiled down at baby Emily. “I’ll take what I can get.” He gave her a light eskimo kiss, their noses touching as they both giggled. “I love you.” Garcia scoffed and hit Morgan’s arm. Morgan looked at her with wide eyes. “Baby girl, you know you’re my forever love, but… look at her.”

Garcia wiggled her finger in Emily’s face, too. “You’re right.”

“I love you,” Hotch whispered directly into my ear, just barely loud enough for me to hear.

I turned my face to look at him with a smile that was so thankful for everything he had been doing for me and our baby over the past few days. “I love you, too.” I leaned up on my toes and kissed him.

----

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @desperately-bisexual​  @sunshinepower17​ @weexinling​ @pettttyyyc​ @Braty-angel

[msmarvelwrites]

The Winter Ghost - Part 12

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn’t and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: swearing, ptsd, agnst

W/c: 2k

A/n: I want to personally apologise for this. But honestly, this was the most fun chapter to write. I’m in love with this and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. As always, thank you to @cutie1365​​ for all her help with this one! Also the POV between Bucky and the reader jump back and forth alot through this one I hope it makes sense! 

The several punching bags Bucky had mutilated last night lay in the corner of the gym, now collecting dust as he bandaged his bloody knuckles. He hadn't stopped thinking about you all night... Hadn’t stopped thinking about the Winter Soldier who fired those three lethal shots into his mission's chest. The Soldier he once was, fighting the monster he knew he’d always be. They could take his trigger words, but they'd never erase the incoherent and disjointed memories of the gruesome acts he had so willingly performed.

He tried to piece together that fateful mission. How could he forget? He could still see the twisted look on the man's face as his eyes rolled back into his skull, falling off the bridge and into the murky water beneath him, slipping farther and farther from view. At the time, he remembered thinking how easy it would be to dive in after him. He wondered if he hit the water, would it kill him? Surly not. Most likely, he’d survive… But a guy could dream. Sinking deeper and deeper into the cold waters would be so peaceful. He almost did it. But the blood curdling screams from behind reminded him of the task at hand. 

He forced himself to relive that moment, over and over until the ringing of bullets in his mind became melotic, trying desperately to remember her face. Every time, drawing a blank. His memory of her, nothing but a tangled mess of wires, too rusted and corroded to connect. A headache pounded behind his sleep deprived eyes, scolding him. But he couldn't stop. 

How could he not remember your face. Or the sound of your heavy sobs as you crumbled into a hollowed out version of the woman he’s now so fond of. You begged him, he remembered that. Your screams only to be washed out by the sound of his pistol. The drum of bullets used to be the only comfort to him, but now he would easily trade it for your laugh. The way you sigh, soft and smooth when he says something that makes you smile. The way your eyes crinkle when you're happy, or how your hair always falls in perfect ringlets around your face. He knows he shouldn't have let it get this bad, but it's too late now. You've ruined any other woman for him, and for that he was grateful. But now, as fast as you had stolen his every thought, you were gone.

Truly the better criminal. 

He saw you, only in passing as you walked by the kitchen. Your eyes fell to his and he could see the hurt behind them. He wanted nothing more than to run to you, explain, apologise- but Nat stopped him before he could. 

“Not like this, Barnes. Not like this.” She solded. He knew she was right. If you were to ever be able to look at him again, he needed to give you space to breathe. But Bucky was at a loss.

With Steve away doing God knows what, he wasn't sure who to turn to. It had been over a week since he had exchanged words with his best friend and though he missed him, he also hated what he had done. Deep, deep down, Bucky knew he was trying to protect him, but that didn't dismiss the complete and utter mess he had made. 

So there he sat, battered and panting on the gym floor as he tried to fight the urge to run to your room and beg for forgiveness that would never come. He knew it. Perhaps that was for the best. You deserved more than a ghost of who he once was. 

…………………………

Dirty plates and empty liquor bottles scattered your coffee table. You sat up, noticing Nat fast sleep on the small sofa in your room. Sam was sprawled on the floor with an old teddy bear Tom had won for you at Coney Island years back. He cradled in between his arms, soft snores slipping from beneath his lips. 

You spent the rest of the night eating contraband snacks and watching some gorey action movie you picked to drown out your inner dialogue. It didn't really work, but Sam’s earth shattering snores that came half way through the movie helped in its place. As you listen to his staggered breathing, you wonder about the girl you left behind all those days ago. The one who forgot everything, but your mind tormented you with the memory of. You wondered if there was still a piece of her hidden deep down inside of you, waiting to spring forth at any moment. She wasn't broken. At least not the way you are now and you wondered, only for a moment, if maybe you liked the pathetic person she was. If only because she had no recollection of her duty, her honour, and could run back into his arms and forgive him.

But that's not who you were anymore. 

Quietly, you snuck out of bed and ransacked through your dresser drawer for something to wear. Nat and Sam had helped you put some of your clothes away between shots of tequila. 

‘That’s a lot of plaid’, Nat complained,  pulling yet another flannel out of your box of clothes. ‘And leather, did you make it out of the nineties okay, babe?’ Sam laughed. 

Grabbing your favourite jeans and vintage AC/DC shirt you stepped into the steam filled bathroom. 

After getting ready, you tiptoed out of your room, quietly closing the door and silently cursing when it slammed shut. 

Damn your super strength. 

You whipped around, ready to bolt down the hallway when you slammed into a tall hard frame. You looked up, hoping- no, praying it wasn't…

“Hi.”

You physically recoiled at the sight. There stood Bucky, hair pulled back off his face and a big lopsided grin on his lips. 

What the fuck? 

“Hi.” You deadpanned, pushing past him and trying your very best to not run away screaming. You were stronger than that. You were the youngest in your graduating class, hired by S.H.I.E.L.D, trained by the best agents in the field, and a goddamn Super Soldier. You weren't running from Bucky Barnes. You did however turn quickly on your feet and briskly walk passed him.

“Hold up a sec,” he started.

You froze. Why did you freeze? You didn't need him to say anything to you. The damage was done, and yet, there you were, breathless on his every word. 

“What?” You spat through a clench jaw. 

“Uh, I need to talk to you…”

“Well, good for you.” 

“Yeah, uh- Listen, I know you remembered everything and I just wanted to say that...” His words faded into the background as you began to see nothing but red. He was really doing this right now. Apologising for murdering Tommy, for dragging you back to Hydra, kicking and screaming, for being the sole reason you're in this mess.

Okay so you created the serum against your better judgment… But you weren’t the one on trial here. 

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” You sneer, cocking a brow. 

“I- I just wanted to-”

“And I just wanted to have a fiance that wasn't dead. What did you think? You’d apologize for what you did and everything would just go back to the way it was. Huh?” He gaped at you in shock, “That I’d just forgive you and jump back in your bed? Did remember me, Barnes? Did you get off on kissing me after you shot him in the chest?” Your voice began to falter at that. Hurt and betrayal clouded your brain. 

“No, of course not.” He finally spoke. 

“No what? No that doesn't do it for the Winter Soldier?” You shouted. So much for quietly sneaking out. 

“Y/n, listen to me- that’s not who I-.”

“Show him to me.” You took two wide pases so you were close enough to smell his body wash as you clenched your fist, digging it so hard into his chest you were sure you’d leave a mark. “Show me the Winter Soldier. Show me the ghost story they tell their children so that they’ll behave. I know he’s still in there. Cumon, Buck. You can't honestly believe he doesn't control your every move. You're a monster, you're just too much of a pussy to admit it. But I know-”

In seconds your back hit the wall, his metal arm crushing your windpipe as he held you there. If it weren't for your strength you were sure you would have passed out from the sheer strength of his blow. He was seething, eyes dark and all emotion washed from his face. 

You tried to look scared, you really did. But there was something about that hollow stare that sent a shiver down your spine. Maybe you were the one getting off on the Winter Soldier?

“There he is.” You choked out. His face softened at the sound of your broken words, but before he could slip back to Bucky Barnes your bedroom door flew open. Sam and Nat came barreling out, guns drawn and ready to attack. When Nat realised what was happening she gasped. 

Bucky involuntarily dropped you, eyes wide in shock. You tumbled to the ground, finding your footing quickly and taking the opportunity to send a sharp kick to Bucky’s chest, rocketing him back. 

“Y/n I’m so sorry I don't know what happened.” A rouge tear escaped and rolled down his cheek only making your rage intensify. 

“Oh, but I do. You may have everyone fooled around here. Hell, you had me for a moment there. But that's gone now. Dead. I see right through your act. It takes a monster to know one.” You scoffed, driving your point. And boy, was it a home run.  

“Bucky, what the fuck!?” Nat snapped

“Are you okay, did he hurt you?” Sam was at your side, checking your neck for any injuries. You healed quickly, and so only a faint pink line wrapped around your throat, the only reminder of the scene that had just played out. 

“Fine.” You mumbled, brushing the dirt off your pants. 

“Y/n, let me explain-” 

“You're still here? Nah, man, stop talking. Get the fuck out of here.” Sam scoffed, looking at Bucky's broken frame. You didn't need the Falcon to fight your battles, besides you had won this one already. 

Bucky signed, knowing this was over. Nat eyed Sam while she walked the damaged man out of the hallway. 

“You sure you're okay?” Sam spoke when they were finally out of sight. You nodded, feeling your heart begin to pick up speed at the distance that was now between you and Bucky. 

“Okay, let's get you out of here for a little bit.” 

You followed Sam through the compound and out into the scorching African heat. Your mind was still fuzzy from your moment you had shared the Winter Soldier, your legs feeling like jelly. Maybe you should have taken your doctor's advice and kept up with those therapy sessions because God damn if that wasn't the hottest thing that anyones ever done to you. 

Like you said, it takes a monster to know one.

…………………….

“What the hell were you thinking?” Nat snapped, shoving Bucky into the kitchen. He didn't stumble, not like when you pushed him. 

She wanted to see him. He thought, but did not dare utter the words. 

“I don’t know Nat. She pushed a button, I lost control.” 

“Lost control? You almost choked her to death.” 

No he didn't. It takes six to seven minutes for brain cells to start dying. Ten for the eyes to start to pop out of their sockets before they would gasp their final- 

No. God no. He could hear the monster's voice in the back of his head. Always lingering. You were right, he was always there. Always watching. 

“But I didn't. So just drop it.” Bucky tried to change the subject but Natasha wasn't having any part. 

“You need to get your shit together. What the hell is going on with you? First Y/n beats you within an inch of your life and now-”

“You don't know?” He was shocked. All this time he thought they were both in on it. He thought at the very least you would have told her. 

“Know what?” She pressed. 

“I did it. I killed him.”  Natasha gapped at him so a moment before she cringed and looked away.

“Oh, god.”

......................................................................

A/N: Thank you for reading! And also shout out to @whateveriwant​​ for her support and all her amazing advice. If you haven't already, go check out her work. I feel like I drew a little dark Bucky inspiration from a few of her fics. As always feedback is welcomed! Reblog and like if you feel so inclined! 

@kalesrebellion​

@projectcampbell​

@calwitch​

[spooky-luvur]

Hi! So i was the anon who requested the Dutch with a male s/o who had a abusive family. Can you do a part 2 with the reader just having PTSD and cuddle/fluff shit ensues

Hi!

I told myself I would start working on this right when I got it, like I did with the first part, but I got distracted replaying Oblivion all day, so I felt bad and put this together after that

Forgive me if I get something wrong. I personally don’t have PTSD, but my sister does, so I hope I have enough to go off of

-

(Warnings: ptsd, mentions of abuse, language)

(Sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes)

-

At first, everyone was skeptical. But after seeing how you flinched at nearly every sudden move and have to constantly be by Dutch or else you start panicking, they decided to lay off.

Dutch had taken you in, brought you to his camp, introduced you to his family, and told you no one would ever touch a damn hair on your head again or he would bring them hellfire.

He’d saved you from a fate worse than death. You owe him everything. (suppose we can guess what choice (m/n) makes at the end of chapter 6)

Everything was fine, but...there were a few members you were more wary of than others.

Micah Bell and Molly O’Shea.

You and Dutch hadn’t...done anything...to make it seem like you were together. But the way he’d talk to you...look at you...it made those two stare. For different reasons.

The ladies of the camp had told you before you got here, Molly and Dutch were together. But just the day before, that ended, for reasons unknown to the camp. Now, the woman would give you odd stares from across camp. It made you tense, but Dutch would lay a hand on your shoulder and steer you away.

Now, Micah, was a different story.

Sometimes he would follow you around camp, just to see you duck and hurry away. It would make him laugh to see you scared.

He was like pa.

Today, Dutch and Hosea, another kind soul, had gone into town to attempt to rob some other poor fool. It was the first day without Dutch, and so at first, you only stayed in the tent. Until there was a voice from outside.

“Mr. (M/n)?”

You perk up. It was the young boy, Jack.

You see he’s holding something colorful in his hands once you exit the tent.

“Hi, Jack.”

“Hiya (M/n). I was gonna make necklaces. Do you wanna help me? You looked sad. Is it because Uncle Dutch isn’t here?”

“I’ll be okay, Jack. Don’t worry,” you give the boy a smile. “Now how about those necklaces?”

“You gotta twist the stems like this, see?”

“Got it.”

You and Jack sit by the fire in peace for a few more minutes, twisting and twirling the flowers around each other before there’s a loud scoff. Both of you look up, but you immediately duck your head back down.

Micah narrows his eyes, looking between you and the boy. His lips curl intro a mean grin.

“Careful Jacky boy, I wouldn’t spend too much time with ol’ (M/n) here. Wouldn’t want him to *rub off* on you the wrong way.”

Jack looks uncomfortable, and so you glance up and do something you know you’ll regret,

“Leave him alone, Micah.”

He laughs, loudly, attracting the attention of nearby gang members.

“Finally grew some balls, did ya??”

Jack stands, you following a moment later. The boy glances at you before running to get John.

“Didn’t think you’d have it in you to do much of anything, ‘specially since Daddy Dutch isn’t here to baby you.”

He steps closer, nearly making you fall back into the fire.

His hand suddenly snaps up as if he’s about to hit you, and this time, you do fall back. But strong arms catch you before you get burned, pulling you away.

You don’t feel it. You can’t hear the yelling around you. Your ears are ringing, everything’s muffled like a shot just went off right by your head. Your arms are wrapped tightly around your head, blocking off anything and everything.

When Micah raised his hand, you saw your Pa. In that split second, you saw all the times when he would do the exact same. Heard all the yelling, all the cursing. Felt all the beatings. Felt all the blood. The bruises. The cuts, the scars.

For several moments, you thought you were back there. Back at that horrible place, surrounded by those horrible people. Someone yells your name. A hand grips your arm, and you let out a terrified shriek, curling up tighter, away from the touch.

A choked sob leaves your lips as your arms are pried away and warm hands grip the sides of your face.

All the fear melts away once your eyes meet Dutch’s. He’s talking, his lips are moving, but you don’t hear it. All you can focus on are his wide, brown eyes.

“...kay, son, you’re okay.”

You blink, eyes overflowing with tears. It takes you several moments to regain yourself. It also takes you several moments to realize you’re no longer in camp, but further away, surrounded by trees.

“(M/n)? (M/n),” you’re lightly shaken.

Eyes still wide and brimming with tears of fear, you finally face Dutch, his name leaving your mouth, sounding like a kicked puppy.

He only looks at you with a tight face, but before he can say anything else, you slump against him, sobs racking your body. He sits back against a tree, pulling you between his open legs. He lets you bury your wet face into his chest, one hand stroking your back and the other buried in your hair.

You stay like that for several minutes, no words being exchanged.

After a long while, you stop crying. Your breath is still ragged, and you feel weak and tired, but you have enough strength to lift your head.

“I’m so sorry, Dutch, I-“

“No, son, don’t you be sorry,” he lets your head, being uncharacteristically gentle and kind. “Your reaction, with what you went through, was natural. I...apologize for Mr. Bell. I will speak to him.”

You sniff, pushing your face into the mans neck. He smelled of whiskey and cigars.

Dutch sighs. “I promise you, from now on, you’ll have a good life. Not always an easy one, but a better one.”

“Thank you, Dutch.”

“Of course, son.”

————

posted 7-1-20

————

[emachinescat]

Febuwhump day 25 / alt. 8 - allergies

Once again, I tried to write a story today, and because I’m sick with Covid, didn’t have the energy to finish the whole thing.  I do plan on finishing this up and posting the full thing once I’m recovered enough to do so.  Until then, I want to post what I have so that I can still claim victory for Febuwhump! :)  Please be aware that I wrote this while having a low-grade fever and that it’s not been edited, so if it is clunky or has issues, that’s why.  I’ll fine-tune everything when I finish writing it.  In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the rough product I have for you so far!  TW: PTSD

Mac + Allergies + The Goodest Boy

Angus MacGyver hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in over four weeks.  He’d tell you otherwise if you asked, of course, but the evidence was overwhelming.  Every day, Mac's face grew paler, the darkness under his eyes deepened, and the look in his eyes became more distant.  Jack had seen this happen to many soldiers – hell, it had happened to him.  This tour hadn’t been as bad as some of the previous ones Jack had experienced, but in the past … 

Well, suffice it to say that Jack Dalton knew a thing or two about PTSD.

And as ugly of a look as it had been on him, as it was on anyone else, nothing had prepared him for how much it would hurt to see it on his little burger buddy.  Shoot, when Jack had signed up for another tour to keep an eye on the kid, it was to keep him safe in the Sandbox, but now that he was home, Jack felt like Mac was in just as much danger of losing himself here as he had been losing his life in Afghanistan.  That was part of the reason Jack had found a place in L.A. instead of going straight back home to Texas.  That, and a potential job for the two of them he was investigating at the DXS, but ultimately, it wouldn’t have mattered where the jobs were.  Jack had already decided to locate himself wherever Mac was.

Jack had tried to help the best that he could.  He’d been on call all hours of the night, had had Mac over at his place when the nightmares got too bad, had crashed at Mac’s place whenever his roommate was out of town and Mac couldn’t be alone.  He’d tried to get Mac to talk many times, but one thing he’d learned about the kid was that although he could go on and on for hours about geek squad science stuff, he was a master at talking a lot without actually saying anything important.  And he didn’t talk about himself at all.

Jack knew there was a lot to unpack.  Hell, Mac’s C.O. had been killed in front of him.  The kid had screamed awake from many a nightmare about that one.  He’d nearly been killed multiple times, been under fire, disarmed over a hundred IEDs in a single day, had been through hell right alongside Jack in the Sandbox, and Jack sometimes had to remind himself that the kid was still, well, a kid.  Fresh out of school, hadn’t even finished college before joining the army.  He’d seen more violence and bloodshed than most people twice his age.  His skill set put him right there in the middle of the death and danger, a twenty-year-old bomb nerd with a glowing neon target on his back.  

And now he was back home, and everything was different.  Jack knew this because he had been here too, once, not because Mac talked about it.  He understood exactly what his friend was going through – he was home, but home wasn’t the same.  He smiled when he spoke to his friends, his roommate, even Jack, sometimes, but the smile was hollow and so were his eyes.  The nightmares followed him wherever he went and he couldn’t adjust, and he kept all the turmoil to himself, not wanting to be a bother, not thinking he deserved sympathy or whatever help his friends wanted to give him.

Finally, Jack reached the point where he had no idea what to do.  What had ultimately pulled him out of his own personal hell after the worst tour of his career had been a very good friend, but no one, not Jack, not Bozer, not Mac’s childhood friend Penny, seemed able to penetrate the layers of protection that Mac had built up around himself.

Maybe, he thought, as he stared pensively at the computer screen, Mac needed a friend who didn’t try to get him to talk at all, one who would just be there for him and listen and drool all over his hand and tak dumps in his backyard.  Maybe, Jack ventured, the light bulb going off in his brain at the ad for the Battle Buddy Foundation and their service dogs for vets, Mac needed a dog.

.

Bozer was out of town at some movie convention the next weekend, so Jack put his plan into motion.  He hadn’t had a chance to run it by Mac’s oldest friend yet, but he knew that if a dog would help Mac, then Bozer wouldn’t mind a new addition to the household.  Bozer would just be in for a surprise when he got home.

It had taken a lot of trips to animal shelters to find just the right fit for his partner, but Jack had been determined.  He’d tried the Battle Buddy Foundation, but since he wasn’t looking for a service dog for himself, that had been a no-go.  Plus, there were just so many hoops to jump through and qualifications to meet and interviews to be had, and Mac needed help now.  So he had scoured shelters and rescues, looking for a dog of just the right size and temperament for his buddy.  The next two weeks were going to be a trial basis, and if Mac and the pup clicked, Jack would seal the deal.  If not, then there was already another interested party lined up for the adoption.

The dog’s name was Cheese, and he was a four-year-old golden retriever mix who loved cuddles, thrived on attention and exercise, and even looked a little like Mac with his long, flowing blonde locks.  Also, Jack couldn’t get past how perfectly the names synced up – how could he pass up the possibility of Mac and Cheese?

.

As Jack had predicted, Mac fell in love with Cheese the moment he laid eyes on him.

“Jack!” Mac grinned, falling to one knee right in the middle of the sidewalk.  “Who’s this?”  Jack let Cheese wag his little tail happily over to Mac and watched with rising excitement as the pooch immediately began nuzzling and licking a laughing Mac all over.  He watched as Mac scratched Cheese’s furry head, found the sweet spot behind the ears, and buried his hands in the fur around the dog’s neck.  

“This,” Jack said, “is your new best friend.”

Mac looked up from having his face licked off and narrowed his eyes.  “What did you do to Bozer?”

Jack tried to act like he wasn’t offended that Bozer had been Mac’s go-to on the “best friend” front.  “Nothing.”

“Then are you leaving me?”  Despite the joke, a bit of uncertainty had wormed its way into Mac’s voice, and Jack could have kicked himself.

“No, man, I don’t mean it like that!  Cheese ain’t replacing anybody, he’s just the newest member of the family!”

A hesitant half-smile pulled at Mac’s lips.  “You got me a dog?”  He cocked his head.  Cheese mimicked him, ears flopping as his head tilted adorably to one side.  “I’m sorry – did you say his name is Cheese?”

Jack nodded proudly.  

Mac kept scratching Cheese behind the ears, but he stared at Jack suspiciously.  “Did you name him that?”

Jack’s nod turned into a vigorous shake.  “No, that’s what he was called at the shelter, man.  It helped me pick him out for ya.  It was like fate.”

“Fate?”  Mac looked like he really didn’t want to know.

“Mac and Cheese, hoss.”

“No,” Mac said shortly.  “Just… no.”

.

Mac ended up keeping the name.

It wasn’t that he liked the lame pun or anything, but Cheese had apparently been called Cheese for a long time and refused to respond to anything else.  Mac wanted to call him Fibonacci, but one look into those big brown eyes that lit up when Mac said Cheese, and one glimpse of the way his tail flopped around excitedly at the sound of his name, made Mac change his mind.  Cheese obviously liked being Cheese, and who was Mac to try to change him?  

“Besides,” Jack pointed out no less than five times on the day he introduced them, “Mac and Cheese belong together, man.  Cheese without Mac is pretty good, I’ll admit, but Mac without Cheese is just a noodle.”  He shook his head sadly, and Mac couldn’t help but grin.  “Just a limp noodle.”

.

Cheese slept in the bed with Mac that night, curled up close beside him, warm and big and furry.  Mac didn’t have nightmares, mostly because he didn’t sleep.  He couldn’t sleep.  He could feel a cold coming on, and the persistent scratch in his throat kept him firmly tethered in that awful middle ground between waking and sleeping, where sleep is the most appealing thing you can imagine, but it is also the most unattainable.  It would have been a thoroughly miserable night, except Cheese was wonderful company, and his soft snores, twitchy feet, and dog dreams were a balm to Mac’s sleepless jitters.

Despite how much Mac loved Cheese already, he spent a large portion of the night thinking of reasons why it wasn’t practical for him to have a dog.  Bozer didn’t know about Cheese, for one.  Jack claimed that everything was fine, that Boze would be completely on board once he got home.  But Mac didn’t just want to spring a pet on his roommate.  Having a dog was a huge responsibility, one that wouldn’t affect just Mac, but anyone he lived with as well.  Of course, there was the fact that Mac himself wasn’t prepared to take care of a dog at all, either, even if Jack had taken it upon himself to buy half of Pet Smart on his way back from the shelter.  Mac felt like he could barely take care of himself half the time; what made him think that he could keep another creature alive and healthy?  

Peña had died on his watch, after all.  How long until his dog got hurt because of him?  

It was at that thought that Mac realized he was spiraling into very dangerous thought patterns, and he only managed to drag himself away from them by distracting himself with the snuffling noises Cheese made while he slept and by feeling the soft warmth of his fur.

Maybe Jack was right – maybe a dog would do Mac some good.

Of course, there was the one problem that Mac found himself avoiding more earnestly the more attached he found himself growing to Cheese.  It was perhaps the most glaring reason for not having a dog, but it was also he one Mac avoided acknowledging at all costs, and yet he knew full well that he was not getting a cold as he had told himself when the symptoms first started.  He recognized that tell-tale itch at the back of the throat and the heaviness of the head all too well, though he’d held out hope he’d grow out of it someday.  The truth was in the sneezes, though, which started after midnight and only got more numerous and violent as the night progressed.

No, there had been a reason that Archimedes had been an outside dog.  There was a reason Mac felt like he had a head cold coming on.  And there was a reason that he should have told Jack no the second his friend had made it clear that Cheese was to be his dog.

Angus MacGyver was allergic to dogs.

[christinesficrecs]

This trainwreck of a post is dedicated to oodball-faerietales for being a kind and generous soul. You are appreciated always. 💖

Every single one of these fics is a gift which I have opened multiple times and enjoyed them every time! I did not include any fics I’ve already mentioned this year and it was SUPER hard! But you can find more favorites here. 

Wait by cutloosemcgoose | 23.4K | Explicit

Sitting on his couch, staring at the wall, it feels like Derek is watching his whole, miserable, lonely life flash before his eyes. He’s twenty four and he’s alone. No family, no friends, no real pack. He’s six days away from spending one of the most family-oriented holidays of the year trying to avoid any human interaction. If anyone could see him right now, they would tell him he looks pathetic. If Laura could see him right now, she would probably beat the crap of him and then tell him he’s a loser.

I am a HUGE fan of the woke up married trope but this fic is so much more than that!!! I should probably say that I wasn’t that impressed with the movie The Family Man but this AU is 20 times better!!! So even if you don’t care for Nick Cage or kid fics, this fic is still worth a read. Why you say?!?!! Stiles is THE perfect husband through and through. He is EVERYTHING Derek deserves and so much more! Also, I was just chatting up @dearericbittle about how much I love a great epilogue:

“Are you ready?”

“Jesus, Derek,” Stiles says, turning around so quickly that his foot catches on the rug and he almost goes flying. “You’re not supposed to see me before the wedding, it’s bad luck.”

Derek rolls his eyes at Stiles and they stare at each other for a second, wordless, before Stiles cracks up.

“Yeah, I know,” he says. Derek used to think that Stiles was mildly psychic, maybe an empath or something because of the spark, but he’s since realized that Stiles just knows him—knows all of them—so well that’s it scary and a little out-of-this-world.

“Are you ready?” he asks again. Stiles straightens the lapels of his tux, frowns down at it.

“I feel really silly wearing something so fancy to be married by an Elvis impersonator, I’d just like to say.”

“Write your congressman,” Derek advises. “Come on, we gotta go.”

Big Days by crazyassmurdererwall ( smartalli) | 9.6K

It’s an impulse really, inviting Derek to spend Thanksgiving with him and his dad. The Sheriff. Who once arrested him. It’ll be fine. Stiles is sure it’ll be fine.

This is pure gold. EVERY single thing about this fic is a gift! 

“I might have invited someone to spend Thanksgiving with us.”

He lifts one eyebrow. “You might have?”

“Yeah, no. I absolutely did.”

He may as well own up to it. Besides he’s not sorry he did, he’s just sorry he has to have this decidedly awkward conversation.

“Okay…” John says slowly. “And do I know this person?”

“You do.” Stiles nods back, slowly. “Sort of.”

“Sort of.” His hand grasps the edge of the counter as he says, with a saintly patience born only out of years of being Stiles’ dad, “Does this person have a name?”

“They do.”

“Excellent. And their name would be…?”

Saturday Night At The Movies by aussiebee | 7.3K | Explicit

After running into Stiles at the late night movies, Derek realises just how badly Stiles is handling the post-nogitsune fallout. He knows the feeling.

Derek healing post-nogitsune Stiles with saturday night movie dates is perfect! 

Derek didn’t see much of Stiles in the days after that, but it was hard to be disappointed about it when he drove past the café on Fourth St and saw Stiles and Scott sitting inside, talking over coffee, or when he came out of the bank diagonally opposite the sheriff’s station to see Stiles and his dad sitting on the bench beneath the tree outside of it eating lunch together, both of them looking lighter than they had in months.

But then Saturday arrived again, and Stiles was letting himself into the loft, settling in against Derek’s side in his customary spot, bogarting the remote. “Spaceballs is on in twenty minutes,” he said, smelling of nerves and hope.

“I’m so excited I couldn’t hold my oil,” Derek quoted, making Stiles chuckle, the sound light and at ease.

“May the Schwartz be with you,” he responded gravely, then leaned into Derek and snuggled up close when Derek lifted an arm to drape around his shoulders.

A Walk in the Clouds by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 13.9K

The one set during WWII where Stiles is a pregnant grad student and Derek is a PTSD riddled soldier, both of them looking for a better life.

I love crossovers and AUs. Jill did such a great job with this film reboot!! 

Mieczysław couldn’t help the small smile on his lips. “You can call me Stiles,” he offered.

Derek sighed. “Stiles is certainly different than Mischief,” he stated.

“A nickname,” Stiles replied.

“Well, Stiles,” Derek started. “What if you brought home a husband?”

Stiles looked confused by Derek’s suggestion. “How could I do that? There is no one—”

“There’s me,” Derek replied.

“I— I couldn’t ask that of you,” Stiles began. “I already ruined your trip to San Francisco.”

“Maybe I was meant to be here,” Derek offered. “There seems to be a reason for me bumping into you on the train—exchanging our tickets. Getting kicked off the bus.”

“Those were all my fault,” Stiles dejectedly replied.

Derek shook his head. “Or it was fate knowing that you needed a husband for a day.”

Call Me (Cliché) by SomewheresSword | 84.6K | Mature

When the sheriff's sister ends up in a wheelchair for the duration of summer, Stiles' dreams of three months full of pack bonding, late-night video games and bro-time with Scott come crashing down. He's temporarily relocated to Redford, a three hour drive away, and he can already tell he won't be getting many visitors.

Sure the pack will forget about him while he's gone, Stiles is determined to make the most of his summer of isolation, training his body and mind - and his magic - so he can come back with a bang, and maybe catch a certain Sourwolf's eye.

Then Derek shows up at his window one night with a flimsy excuse about needing research done. Suddenly, his summer away is looking a whole lot more interesting.

When I was a young fangirl there was a series called Ever Fallen In Love With Someone. This is not that fic but the initial plot is similiar especially with the S2 vibe which gives me all the feels! 

“So, there’s this guy,” he began, anxiously reaching for a cookie and nibbling at the edge. Hannah nodded in a wordless ‘go on’ motion. “He’s… older. Dad wouldn’t like it. Or him.” Very firmly didn’t like him, as a matter of fact. Hannah’s grin widened.

“Ooh, a bad boy?” Stiles nodded — that was a bit of an understatement. “Sexy. Tell me about him.”

“He’s got these really dumb, scowly eyebrows that are about ninety percent of his facial expressions and at least fifty percent of those expressions threaten murder,” he said, the words coming before he could think to stop himself. “But he’s such a marshmallow and he doesn’t seem to realise that I can’t take him seriously anymore because I know he’s got all of the emotions. He’s so damn overprotective and sweet and he pretends like he doesn’t care about anything but it’s all lies and I just wanna give him a hug so bad because I honestly don’t know the last time someone hugged him for real.”

Tell Me, So I Know by TroubleIWant | 7.4K | Mature

It took years for Derek to finally confront the way he felt about Stiles, and even after he figured it out he could only explain in Spanish. It took them two years more to get to where they were now. Only with neither of them quite willing to commit, where exactly is that, anyways?

Well, for Stiles it’s a deserted stretch of road behind the Hale house, half trapped in a car wreck after being abducted by hunters. Frankly, he could really use Derek’s help if he’s going to get out of this alive. Mates are supposed to be able to tell when the other is in pain, right? As Derek would probably say, 'querido, no.'

Or, a love story in two parts... and two languages.

I love everything about this fic. It’s hot and beautiful with mates and polyglot Derek. So perfect! 

He trails off, knowing he can’t say amor in the next line without Stiles realizing exactly the sort of thing he’s being told.

“Holy hell,” Stiles rasps, his voice heavy with lust. Even in the low light Derek can see the pulse in his neck, the rabbit-fast tick confirming exactly how attractive Stiles finds his bilingual skills. “What was that?”

Derek shrugs. “Just something I memorized once. It reminds me of you.”

“What’s it mean?”

“It’s a parable about a sheep who pesters a wolf with too many questions and gets eaten for being so annoying.”

“Liar,” Stiles says with a smirk, but he leans back in his chair and doesn’t press the issue for the rest of the meal.

[parismemes]

SENTENCE STARTERS FROM RED VS. BLUE SEASON 15

“you touch my baked beans, i put dog shit in your pillowcase.” “every other person in this miserable place is literal garbage.” “books on tape? what's the appeal of that? don't the pages get stuck together?” “when in doubt use a confusing acronym. military types love acronyms.” “FML. that stands for fu--” “i’ll bend down and kiss your boots, how’s that?” “i wanna know every step you take and how much shit gets stuck on your shoes and in-between your teeth.” “you know, i think i'll probably move to LA, but that's like what everyone does. i mean, what do you think?” “i’m gonna skin your cat for this.” “i’m actually thinking of adopting a stage name.” “i’m gonna smash cut your empty skull against that rock if you don’t shut the fuck up!” “i wanted to call it desert titties, but that shit was taken.” “ah, there goes the bechdel test.” “you should interview the illuminati!” “real talk here: i'll be your genie in a bottle, i'll do whatever you want, but after i grant you your three wishes, you gotta do something for me, whaddaya say?” “my ceaseless existence is an eternal torment!” “next time he calls you please, just, let it go to voicemail. don't transfer to me. okay?” “i can’t even hear myself think in this blizzard of idiocy!” “did you attempt to witness any other particular individuals in the general vicinity of the area in which the crime scene was alleged?” “i just wanna be included!” “funny, the vultures usually show up after the slaughter.” “you’re a little bit crazy, aren’t you? i like that.” “consequences... don't always take the shape we expect them to, do they? they're funny like that.” “...are we still married?” “people are quick to jump to conclusions. they see something, or hear something, and fit it into a preconceived emotional box.” “please don’t make me regret what i’m about to tell you.” “whoa, hold up--i just realized how much i don’t care.” “SUCK IT, NEWTON!” “we said we wouldn’t talk about that!” “help me be the best at being lazy.” “it was a simple mishap with my vanilla-satin scented candles!” “why is he naked?” “HOW DO YOU BURN DOWN A WATER PARK, ___?!” “we’re definitely not just saying that because she could kill us.” “for far too long our people have been oppressed, crushed, under the weight of ourselves! if we don't start standing up to our mortal foe gravity, by god, who will?” “we’ve never needed intelligence before!” “why doesn’t anybody die and stay dead?” “oh, cool! foreshadowing.” “who wants a poisoned pumpkin frappuccino?” “i quit. i’m not going. i’m staying here.” “you’ve always been selfish, but this is bullshit!” “you know, i liked them better when they were funny.” “it’s a bop-it.” “sleep. means. death!” “i know ___ said we should split up, but i was thinking maybe we split up together, you know, because it's scary!” “you talk about ___ a lot.” “this is a big city. so many places for snakes to hide. they could be everywhere all around us. watching us... licking their snake lips...” “jesus, doesn’t anybody speak esperanto?” “err is not a word.” “why do you look alone?” “why don't you tell us what's going on, and we can decide whether to kill you or not?” “looks like we've got quite the sticky mess on our hands!” “oh, i know all about sausage parties! uh, wait, that came out wrong.” “when I least expect it: whambo! you pry open my mind prison and suck out my brain beans!” “i realize now that i’ve just spilled all my brain beans.” “we're just a bunch of dumb rejects hurling ourselves against impossible odds.” “i’m only saying something because i’ve been used enough times in my life already.” “nice! super awesome of you guys! that was sarcastic.” “don’t care. just help me with my dramatic exit.” “that's a great idea! i was just about to suggest it.” “i always say a marine without a code is like a car without a road.” “i always say the best defense is a really tall fence.” “i always say a good soldier is like a rollin’ boulder.” “i always say a mantra a day keeps death at bay.” “i've grown soft around these uncultured philistines.” “goddamn, i can’t believe i have to hear this shit in stereo now.” “you two look cozy.” “i didn’t realize you two were close.” “you’re being too hard on yourself. you’ve changed over the years, i’ve seen it myself.” “i've grown from being a dishonorable killing machine to an honorable killing machine. that's quite the journey.” “i changed my mind. you are evil.” “you don’t have to destroy the past to have a future.” “strategizing can wait until breakfast, at least.” “i killed them. i MURDERED them. i set my vengeance free upon them and it felt so good!” “are we gonna do some snooping around?” “have you ever considered a life in showbusiness?” “try harder, fuckface!” “can we please just bury the hatchet and focus on what's important?” “your mother’s lasagna is mediocre!” “if you guys had to get shot somewhere in your body, where would you do it?” “i can't hear you because some idiot shot my ear off!” “this whole situation is garbage enough to begin with, but... at least we're in it together.” “no plan survives first contact with the enemy.” “the only thing that would make this better is some music.” “we were pawns in their game. but the thing that I love about chess is that sometimes pawns kill kings.” “no, actually, i was raised by wolves. in the forest.” “sometimes i feel like people barely acknowledge my presence.” “something weird might be going on around here.” “anyone who's acting that squeaky clean must have some deep dark secrets.” “ha! gotcha! that's exactly the kind of things bad guys say!” “they used us, they destroyed our lives, and they haven't been made to pay for what they've done.” “you obviously love the sound of your own voice, so why don't you use it to tell its where the fuck our friends are?” “i’m going to kill you so hard, you’ll wish you were dead.” “we fought alongside each other for fucking years. how can you just turn your backs on us like this?” “you don't get to give orders if you're on the bad guys' side!” “now I have gonorrhea and a dead friend.” “stop. touching. my face.” “buckets! oodles! oodles of noodles and toaster strudels! tiempo de mucho. mucho de tiempo!" “yeah, well, i don't remember you being anything but a huge dick, but here you are being cool, so people change.” “yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers!” “but.. i never got to say goodbye. or thank you for being my friend.” “i'm gonna need a week at the chiropractor when we get out of here.” “is it possible to hallucinate with your ears?” “i’m not here to kill you.” “uh-oh spaghetti-o’s.” “fuck me! fuck all of this!” “you should totally kill me if it strikes your fancy! no pressure!” “the world's best swordsman doesn't fear the second best. He fears the worst, because he can't predict what the idiot will do.” “i can't imagine us doing anything but making this all worse.” “shit, dude! you’re the best we’ve got!” “i like pushing small children down wells.” “can we please settle on a consistent denomination? are we using cardinal directions or are we using clock positions?” “i'm so sneaky. they don't even know what's happening. you can't even see me right now, ___. you're so confused.” “shut up and help me punch this fucking tank!” “as far as days to die go, it's a little overcast. so let's check our corners and make these bastards pay!” “let's light the fires and kick the tires!” “let’s dance with these monkeys and give ‘em what for!” “let's put the pedal to the metal and the rubber to the road!” “let’s get jiggy with it!” “let’s shoot this monkey full of heroin and put it on youtube! actually, let's not do that, it sounds completely horrible.” “let’s teach these midgets how to tango!” “honor, schmonor.” “scout's honor! except I was never a scout because I'm afraid of badges.” “why are we here?” “we don't know why we're here. it's still one of life's great mysteries, isn't it?” “i’m sorry i tried to kill you, it wasn’t personal!” “you'll be stuck between a rock and the frying pan.” “if i said that i would weep for them, would it make you feel any better?” “best friends should be able to say goodbye.” “i think you are cool. like, super awesome, amazing, cool and... i, i always felt like really awesome too, when we were hanging out together.” “i know with my other friends--who, even if you add them all up together aren't really cool as you--i know we're all gonna be okay.” “if you kill me, you'll just perpetuate this never-ending cycle of revenge and retaliation!” “he asked us to deliver an important message to you all. but then he just sang the ducktales theme song and fell back to sleep.” “you know i’ll never forget this, right? i mean, PTSD is forever, isn’t it?” “it’s not the sum of your parts that makes you who you are.” “these people have shown me that real heroes are not born, they're forged. a friend told me once that there's no fate but what you make. and i think he's right.” “alright, well, i'm just gonna try to forget that ever happened and never bring it up again.”