#the 'soaked in the rain and catching cold' trope is so good

[prythiansprincess]

CHAPTER TWO

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🤍 pairing: theodore nott x reader.

🤍 song inspiration: somewhere only we know by rhianne.

🤍 author’s note: losing my mind because i'm in dire need of a theo nott italian summer.

Step 2 of Pansy Parkinson’s Perfect Plan of Plotting

Forced Proximity — : A circumstance or situation that forces the two main characters to spend time together (whether they want to or not).

After watching a horrendous amount of muggle romantic comedies — thanks Granger — I have come to the conclusion that the best way to squeeze a confession out of two lovestruck idiots is by forcing them to share the same space for an extended period of time, like say, the honeymoon suite in a romantic villa by the Italian coast. Never mind that I had to bribe stupid Malfoy with fancy imported French cologne to achieve it. It was worth every galleon to shove Theo and Y/N into a space designed for newlywed couples, complete with a heart shaped tub, champagne on ice, and a balcony that overlooks the stars at night. There’s a reason why forced proximity is such a popular trope. It’s effective as all hell, plain and simple. 

Second Year, The Black Lake

A misty fog cloaked the Scottish Highlands, bringing a dark and dreary atmosphere to Hogwarts and its surroundings. Back at the castle, your friends huddled around the hearth in the common room, drinking Zabini’s fancy imported hot chocolate and catapulting marshmallows at each other across the velveteen couch. On any other day, you would have welcomed the warmth and comfort on a rainy Sunday, but today you were needed elsewhere. 

As you trudged through the black sand, the coins in your raincoat pocket clinked together. You brushed your thumb over the raised surface and willed your heart to stop beating so erratically. There was no reason to be nervous. Yet here you were, dragging your feet as a familiar figure came to view.

On the shore of the Black Lake, Theo hugged his knees and stared out into the water. The raindrops gathered on his lashes and drenched his hair, bringing out the waves he stubbornly gelled back every morning. 

“I like your hair better this way,” you said softly, smiling down at your best friend. 

Theo smiled shyly as he brushed his hair back. “I look like a drowned rat.”

“Just a little,” you teased, pinching his cheek. “In any case, you make a cuter rodent than Malfoy.” 

“It’s about time someone knocked him off his high horse,” Theo retorted before tugging you down next to him. 

The sand shifted beneath you as you settled in. Theo pulled the hood of your jacket up, frowning when he noticed that the rain had still soaked your hair. “What are you doing out in the rain, anyways? You’re going to catch a cold, fragolina.” 

“Says the boy who’s soaked through the bone,” you replied with an eye roll. “You really shouldn’t be out in this weather, you know. Godric forbid you come down with something. Nonna would be furious.” 

“Good thing she’ll never find out,” Theo said, nudging your shoulder. “Because I have a best friend who’s great at keeping secrets.” 

“For now. Though I’m not opposed to selling you out for the right price.” 

“Fair enough.” 

A comfortable silence settled as the two of you gazed at the murky waters. As Theo contemplated the cloudy horizon, you rubbed the coins in your pocket. For good luck or comfort, you weren’t sure. 

“You didn’t have to come out here,” Theo whispered. His hands shook as he reached out for yours. “But I’m glad you did.” 

A heavy weight settled in your chest, but you forced yourself to smile softly as you squeezed his hand in reassurance. “I didn’t want you to be alone.” 

The look that Theo gave you was heartbreaking. His gaze was full of pain, those familiar watercolour eyes lined with unshed tears. “I never am when I’m with you, Y/N.” 

Tears pricked behind your eyes, but you tampered it down and allowed Theo to lean against your shoulder. 

“Do the others know?” 

You shook your head. “No, I didn’t think you wanted them to. Not yet, at least.” 

“I’ll tell them one day,” Theo said. “When it doesn’t hurt as much. But for now, it’s enough that you know. I think she would have liked it that way.”

“Just me and you against the world,” you chuckled. “The way it’s always been.”

“The way it’ll always be.” 

“I miss her,” you confessed. Speaking the words felt like bringing heartache to life, but you knew that it was important to keep her memory alive. The anniversary of Evangeline’s death was full of sorrow, but there was also joy if you looked past the pain. Your mum always reminded you of that. “The other day, I saw a patch of daffodils out by the forest. They were bright and sunny, impossible to miss in all this dreariness. It felt like an act of rebellion. It reminded me of her.” 

Theo released a choked laugh. “She would’ve loved that.” 

“Mum thought so too,” you said in agreement. “I wrote to her the other day. She knitted you another pair of socks, by the way. Before you ask, yes, I have matching ones as well.” 

Your best friend snickered. While you adored your mother, knitting was definitely not her strong suit. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that though. 

“It’s a bit ironic that the head of the Department of Mysteries can’t solve the mystery of knitting, isn’t it?” 

You stifled a laugh. “I’ll be sure to mention that to mum in my next letter.” Theo chuckled as you crossed your legs underneath you. “She told me something interesting though.” 

“Yeah?” 

The coin seared into your skin as you gripped it tightly. You could hardly get the words out because you were so choked with emotion. “The last time she went to Fiera with Auntie Eva, they visited this temple. The Temple of Cupid.” 

Theo nodded, enraptured. “Mum told me about that too. There’s a legend about a fountain in that temple. La Fontana Dell’amore.”

“The fountain of love,” you continued. “It’s said that if you toss a coin into it, Cupid will grant you a wish. The two of them both threw their coins in there when they visited.” 

“I think I remember this story. Mum said that they both wished for true love. Your parents met on that same trip, right?” You nodded in confirmation. “I’m happy for your mum. Especially since Zio Alistair is my only ally against all you crazy women.” 

In response, you smacked him on the arm. Theo protested, biting back a smile. Your best friend blinked at the horizon, deep in thought. “Mum’s wish didn't come true, though. I don’t think anyone would ever call my father her true love.” 

“That’s the thing, Teddy,” you said softly. “Auntie Eva was already married to your dad when she made that wish.”

Theo turned towards you. His nose crinkled in confusion. The trait was so uniquely Theo that it softened something within you. “Then why did she toss the coin?” 

You brushed a wet strand of hair out of his eyes and smiled. “Because she was wishing for you.” Theo took a sharp breath as he gazed up at you. You felt your heart shatter into a million pieces as the first tear fell down his cheek. “Mum said Auntie Eva’s wish came true the day you were born. You are, and always will be, her true love.” 

All the sarcasm and smirks — the armor that Theo had built around himself cracked. Suddenly he was sobbing, launching into your arms and clinging onto you for support. You bore the weight of his grief, so dense and tangible that you could feel it permeating the air. It wasn’t fair that your best friend was already acquainted with this earth-shattering pain at such a young age. If you could, you would bottle up his sadness and pour it into yourself just so Theo would be spared from ever feeling it again. 

“I miss her so much,” Theo whispered. 

“I know, Teddy,” you replied, rubbing soothing circles onto his back while you rocked him. “Just let it out. I’m here for you.” 

Theo pulled back, sniffling. “I’m here for you too,” he rasped. “I know you’re being strong for me like a good best friend, but you lost her too.”

The words unlocked a fresh wave of grief within you. All this time, you tried your best to keep it together. You wanted to be there for Theo. You couldn’t afford to fall apart. It wasn’t something that he’d ever asked of you, but you thought it was the right thing to do. 

“You’re allowed to mourn just as much as I am.” 

A deep, wracking sob rattled through your chest. You missed your Auntie Eva. You missed the way she braided flowers into your hair. You missed the way she snuck you gelato before dinner, knowing that your mum would have a fit if she found the two of you scarfing straciatella down in the kitchen pantry like criminals. You missed the way she told you and Theo about the stars, pointing out the different constellations as you lay on the roof of Nott Manor. 

You slumped into Theo’s arms, burying your face in the crook of his neck as the two of you clung to each other like a lifeline. It was you and Teddy against the world. The way it always was and the way it’ll always be. 

Day Two, The Temple of Cupid

The sunshine was blinding as you blinked yourself awake. Across the terrace, Enzo and Mattheo were cuddled up underneath a blanket while Draco and Blaise curled up on opposite sides of the sofa, clutching the ends of their shared knit throw in a power struggle. Thanks to the sangria, the lot of you had fallen asleep drinking and gossiping the night away. 

Beside you, Theo stirred and snuggled closer, his arm draped around your waist possessively. Sometime in the middle of the night, you had seemingly pulled the bottom half of the blanket over to your side, leaving his long legs exposed. Theo always complained that you were a notorious blanket hog, which you vehemently denied. Given the proof, you doubted that you could refuse it now. 

As you adjusted to the light, the double doors flew open, revealing a fresh-faced and well-rested Pansy. You had no idea how she managed to look so pulled together when you could barely see through your sangria induced headache. Her lips curled into a satisfied smirk when she spotted you and Theo tangled together. Out of instinct, you flipped off the smug looking witch. 

“Is that any way to treat your savior?” Pansy asked as she set down a tray full of sparkling vials. She clapped her hands, the loud smack echoing through the terrace. The boys startled, groaning about their hangovers. “Good morning, heathens. As always, I brewed a special batch of anti-hangover potions mixed with a little hint of pepperup to get you lot going. Drink up, we’ve got a long day ahead of us.” 

In true Pansy Parkinson fashion, the witch managed to wrangle everyone out of the villa and into a private yacht with minimum complaints. The potion was certainly doing a lot of heavy lifting, but even without the aid, it was hard to be annoyed when you were too busy marveling at the charming coastline. 

Vallara was a wonder. The hills rolled over the horizon, kissed by the bright sunshine. The colorful tiled villas dotted the sky with cotton candy hues, which grew smaller and smaller the further you ventured out into the water. The sea was calm this morning and the cerulean blue waters sparkled as the yacht cut through the waves like butter. 

At the bow, Enzo and Mattheo peered over the railing, giving you a pang of anxiety. You already warned them to stick close to the deck, but it fell on deaf ears. You yelped as Mattheo dangled Enzo backwards off the rails. Blaise and Draco shook their heads as they each claimed a spot by the sun deck. Just as you scolded the boys again, Pansy and Theo came back up from the bottom deck carrying trays of food. 

“Enz! Matt! Food is ready,” you shouted, heaving a sigh when the two of them finally stepped back from the rail. 

“Were they doing Titanic again?” Pansy asked with an eye roll. 

“Worse, they were trying to dangle each other over the water,” you responded as you handed each boy their breakfast trays. 

“We were trying to look for sharks,” Mattheo countered with a pout. “Until you started yelling at us.”

“Yes, so sorry for stopping your extremely idiotic behavior. I suppose I should’ve just let you throw yourselves overboard.” 

Enzo grinned like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He took the breakfast plate from your hands and kissed your cheek. “Sorry, Y/N. We just got too excited.” 

You sighed and ruffled his hair. “One of these days those puppy dog eyes will stop working on me, Berkshire.” 

The brunette beamed brightly. “Not today, though.” 

“You spoil him, you know,” Theo said as he handed you a glass of orange juice. 

“I can’t help it. He’s like the little brother I never had.” 

“More like a pet you never wanted.” 

“Hey!” Enzo protested as he waved a piece of bacon in the air. “I heard that, you twat.” 

“See?” Theo said with a sigh. “Your beloved Lorenzo is not as innocent as he pretends to be.” 

You chuckled, watching Mattheo and Enzo wrestle over the last waffle before Pansy stepped in to straighten them out.  

Scooting into the seat next to Theo, you took a sip of the orange juice and balked at the taste. The bubbles were enough to make you want to spit it back out. The drink was more champagne than juice. After the sangria, you weren’t prepared for alcohol so early in the morning. Theo snickered as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Keep up, bella. Where’s the Y/N that used to double fist firewhiskeys at the common room parties?” 

“She’s still asleep, Theodore. For Merlin’s sake, it’s not even noon.” 

“Fun waits for no one,” Theo said before snatching the glass out of your hand and downing the entire thing in one gulp. 

“Oh, you’re going to regret that. I don’t want to hear about your tummy ache ten minutes from now.” 

Theo stuck his tongue out and continued scarfing down his breakfast. You finished yours slowly before joining Blaise and Draco out on the sun deck. According to Pansy, it would be an hour or so before you reached your destination, which gave you plenty of time to tan. Stepping out of your cotton dress, you adjusted your bikini and laid out on the beach chair. 

“Pans, will you put suncream on me?” Mattheo whined from the next seat over. 

Pansy twisted her nose up in disgust before sighing in defeat. It was easier to get it over with than argue. The two of you learned that the hard way over the years. She lathered the suncream on Mattheo’s back, half-heartedly patting it on. When she saw Theo step out into the deck, you saw the gears turning in her head. 

“Theo, will you put suncream on Y/N?” Pansy asked with feigned innocence as she handed the bottle over to him. 

You flushed as Theo looked over at you, his gaze sweeping over your tiny scarlet polka dot bikini. The tips of his ears turned just as red as he swallowed. 

“Um, I don’t know if that’s — “ 

“Pans, it’s really not necessary. I’m fine.” 

“Nonsense.” The witch shook her head, dismissing your statement. She leveled Theo a calculated gaze. “You wouldn’t want her to burn, would you?” 

“Of course not. I just —” Theo tripped over his words as he turned to you. “Is that okay with you?” 

“I’d be more than willing to rub you all over if Theo isn’t up for the challenge,” Mattheo said slyly. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Theo snapped. 

Mattheo and Pansy smirked at each other, watching as Theo carefully approached you. Clearly, they were both rather pleased at baiting Theo into reacting. Your best friend perched on the edge of your lounge chair, looking bashful. 

“May I?” 

Without a word, you nodded shyly. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. Not when he was this close. His hands hovered over your back, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours. Theo gently applied the suncream on your shoulders, massaging the product in with care. He averted his gaze while he worked, the tips of his ears burning the longer he touched you. 

You felt just as flushed as you forced yourself to sit perfectly still. This was ridiculous. It wasn’t like you and Theo rarely touched. In fact, you were quite affectionate, as every single one of your friends loved to point out, but it was different when you were practically half-naked. Squirming in your seat, you waited until Theo finished massaging the cream all over your back. 

“I think that’s good,” Theo said softly. 

You nodded, placing your hands in your lap. Mattheo cocked his head, a smirk forming on his face. “Do you want Y/N to do you next?” 

Theo looked panicked. “What?”

“The suncream, mate,” Riddle replied with a shit-eating grin. 

Fortunately, the captain announced your arrival before Mattheo could insinuate any more innuendos. As the ship docked, you peered at your gorgeous destination. The island was straight out of a storybook. The lush green jungle surrounded the base of a volcano, which spilled out to the white sands and turquoise shore. Instantly, Pansy called the group to order and announced the itinerary. The plan for the day involved dolphin watching, cave exploring, and a picnic by the beach. She ordered the boys to set up in the private cabana she rented, which they did so begrudgingly. 

Theo began to follow them, but Pansy stopped him short. “Not so fast. I booked something else for you and Y/N. You can join us afterwards.” 

Without further explanation, Pansy handed Theo a map, a blanket, and a picnic basket. You began to protest, but your friend merely waved off your argument. “Trust me, it’s worth the trek. You’ll thank me later.” 

As Pansy walked off, you and Theo were left to stare after her. You grabbed the map from his hands and squinted, gauging how far this little side quest was going to take you. 

“It doesn’t seem too bad,” you mused. “Just a little bit over the hill and we should find whatever it is Pansy has in store for us.” 

Theo nodded. “You know I never back down from an adventure.” 

“Not true,” you corrected. “You refused to go to the Forbidden Forest with me in third year.” 

“That’s not fair, bella. First of all, Sirius had just escaped Azkaban and sure, we found out that he wasn’t a psychopathic murderer later on, but how was I supposed to know that at the time? Second of all, he was hardly the biggest threat out there. Need I remind you of the spiders? They’re horrid little beasts.” 

“All I’m hearing is that Theodore Perseus Nott is a chicken.” 

“You take that back, Y/N.” 

You stuck your tongue out before breaking off into a sprint. Slowed down by the blanket and basket, it took Theo a few seconds to catch up with you. Alongside the hill, you followed the winding staircase that you assumed led to the peak. Theo shouted after you, promising to tickle you to death as punishment. 

“You’ll have to actually catch me first.” 

The taunt was short-lived as you reached the final step, turning around to gloat only to lose balance. Out of instinct, Theo dropped everything and reached out to break your fall. His strong arms wound around your waist, holding onto you for dear life. You clutched onto his shirt, the very breath leaving your lungs as you looked up. Theo stared down at you, his expression full of worry as he scanned over you. He released a sigh of relief when he determined that you weren’t hurt or injured. 

“Dio mio,” Theo exclaimed. “Don’t scare me like that, bella.” 

“Sorry Teddy,” you murmured, shakily regaining your balance. Theo brushed your lower back as he helped steady you, sending shivers down your spine. “I got a bit distracted.” 

His short-cropped waves tickled your cheek as he held you a beat longer than necessary, his blue eyes imploring. There was something alluring about them, like hearing a siren’s song after years and years of being lost at sea. Up close, you could map the constellations of freckles on his nose, brought forth by the Italian sun. Growing up, Theo detested them, often deeming them girly, but you always thought that they were cute. 

Your gaze fell to his lips, which you now realized were moving. Presumably asking you a question. “Hm?” you responded absentmindedly.

“Stick close to me, yeah?” 

You nodded as Theo guided you by the small of your back, leading you up the halfway point. From your vantage point, you could see the yacht docked on the shore. The boys were running around and playing in the water while Pansy lounged under the cabana. 

Up ahead, the path grew more narrow, forcing you and Theo to press up against each other. The summer heat beamed down on you, its warmth heightened by the boy leaning over your shoulder. Theo squinted at the map, his breath cool on your neck while you shifted your weight from one leg to the other. 

“This place looks familiar.” 

“I was just about to say that.” 

As you examined the map, Theo stalled to a halt. “I think I know why,” he said as he gestured to the entrance up ahead. “We’re here.” 

Atop the hill sat a beautiful garden, flanked on four sides by trimmed hedges that led into a labyrinth. The front gates shimmered golden in the sunlight, the curlicue letters spelling out a familiar name — Tempio de Cupido. You scanned the map in your hands, astonished that you hadn’t realized where you were until this moment. 

This was Fiera island. The same exact place that your mum and aunt Evangeline visited all those years ago. No wonder Pansy wanted the two of you to go alone. Theo picked the blanket and basket back up, staring at the entrance in awe. You reached for his hand and squeezed. 

“Shall we?” 

Theo swallowed thickly, his gaze heavy with emotion as he followed your lead. Together, the two of you made your way through the labyrinth, marveling at the sweet smelling flowers weaved into the lush walls. The path underneath you was white marble, surprisingly untouched by the dirt and grime. Vines crawled on either side, the green ivy moving on its own accord as if to guide you to the center. 

The temple stood proud and tall, its pillars looming overhead like a marble sentry. Inside was a statue of Cupid, his wings draped behind him as he held his bow taut. Heart shaped arrows littered his feet, flowing right into the fountain that took up the middle of the temple. 

Theo’s eyes widened as he turned to you. “Is that what I think it is?” 

You nodded in confirmation. “La fontana dell’amore,” you murmured softly, tracing the plaque beside it. “We have to make an offering.” 

“But we didn’t bring any coins.” 

The map in your hands glowed, revealing a secret message. Shake me. You followed the instructions and shook the paper, finding two golden coins sitting ready in the palm of your hands. 

“Leave it to Pansy to think of everything.” 

With a grin, you handed Theo a coin. He held your hand tightly and watched as you brought the coin up to your lips, kissing the edge of it like your mum told you she did during her last visit. Theo did the same, his eyes glassy and far away as though he were thinking of his mum too. 

“Make a wish, bella.” 

You closed your eyes and spoke your wish into the silence before tossing the coin into the fountain. The coins clinked together before hitting the water, shimmering iridescent as it sank down to the bottom. Theo gripped your hand tighter, a reminder of what this moment meant to the two of you. You squeezed back in reassurance, not needing any words to communicate the charged emotions surging through you. 

After a moment, you looked up at him and smiled. “What did you wish for, Teddy?” 

He grinned slyly. “If I tell you, then it won’t come true.” 

“Fair enough.” 

Beyond the fountain, depictions of the lore of Cupid were carved into the marble walls. The great love stories of mythology filled the labyrinth. Orpheus and Eurydice. Tristan and Isolde. Achilles and Patroclus. Finally, Cupid’s own story with Psyche. Each couple was in their own way, a tragedy. 

“Isn’t it strange that the god of love fell in love with the woman he was meant to curse?” 

“Ordered by none other than his mother, no less. Mythology does love its convoluted tragedies.” 

The irony of Cupid’s mother Venus commanding her son to strike Psyche with one of his infamous arrows so that she’d fall in love with a hideous beast only for the god to then fall for the young princess himself wasn’t entirely lost on you. Despite the trials and tribulations they faced, the dreamer in you admired their story.

“Still, Psyche persevered through the trials Venus put her through and became a goddess. In the end, her and Cupid reunited and solidified their union. It’s the story of immortal love.” 

As you spoke, you traced over the ancient script craved underneath the depictions of the couple. 

“Love wounds and inflames the heart.”

“I disagree,” Theo said. “Love isn’t supposed to hurt. It heals, it stitches your wounds back together, it mends the pieces of your broken heart until it’s whole again.”  

In that, you found no argument. You could feel Theo’s gaze landing on you. Those watercolor eyes that you knew better than your own. Those freckles that you traced over and over again until you committed them to memory. Those lips that spoke soothing words in your ear after a nightmare. 

The gods and goddesses may have their ballads and tragedies, but you had something far greater. 

With a smile, you nodded. “Love feels like home.” 

After exploring the temple grounds a bit more, you found the perfect spot for a picnic. One of the acolytes pointed you to a massive lemon tree, encouraging you to use the shade for an afternoon snack. 

You thanked the young woman for all her help. “Grazie mille.” 

She clasped your hands and smiled. “Mi scalda il cuore vedere l'amore giovane abbellire questo tempio. Possa Cupido benedire la vostra unione.”

As she walked away, you asked Theo for a translation. You understood a bit of Italian, but it required close concentration and the acolyte had spoken far too quickly for comprehension. 

“She said you’re welcome.” 

“Seems like she said a bit more than that.” 

Theo shrugged nonchalantly as you narrowed your eyes in suspicion. He rounded the lemon tree and spread the blanket underneath its shade. In turn, you began unpacking the food that Pansy had so graciously prepared for you. Theo sat cross-legged beside you while you prepared him a plate of bruschetta. Thanks to magic, everything stayed perfectly fresh. 

The two of you ate under the shade of the lemon tree, the citrus breeze ruffling the flowers before you. You wondered if your mum and aunt sat here in this very spot, admiring this very same view. 

“It’s strange, isn’t it? Being here, I mean. I almost feel like we’re seeing a glimpse of the past.”

Theo nodded, taking a sip of his limoncello before handing it over to you. “Maybe they saw a glimpse of our future. You think they knew that we’d make our way down here someday?” 

You took a generous gulp, indulging the tanginess of the drink. The view was picturesque with the temple standing tall above the peak of the hill while the sun rose high and bright over the labyrinth. Beside you, your best friend leaned back on his elbows and drank in the sight. 

“I think so,” you murmured softly. “Though I wasn’t quite prepared for how beautiful it all is.” 

Theo glanced over at you, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. It really is beautiful, isn’t it?” His voice was thick with emotion as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “I’m glad that I’m here with you. I think mum would’ve been, too.” 

“Me too, Teddy. I feel her here. Watching over us.” 

You could’ve sworn that the sun shimmered a little brighter and the flowers bloomed beautifully, confirming Evangeline’s presence. This seemed exactly like the kind of place that she’d love. Out of the two of them, your mum always said Eva was the more adventurous one. You always thought that it was because she was a little bit like magic herself. 

“I feel her everywhere, but especially in this place. It’s like fate brought us here.” 

The words brought a smile to your face. In your friendship, Theo tended to lean on logic. His pragmatism was the balance to your constant daydreaming, but in this place, it was impossible not to believe in things like fate. 

“Don’t tell Pansy that, she already has enough of a god complex as it is.” 

Theo chuckled. “I don’t think she was alone in orchestrating this. I’d bet a billion galleons that nonna helped plan this.” 

“Wow, a whole month’s worth of your inheritance? How generous of you.” You giggled as Theo dug his fingers into your side, viciously tickling you. Gasping for air, you swatted his hands away. “Plot or not, I’m glad they schemed to make this happen.” 

A comfortable silence fell as the two of you passed the limoncello back and forth. Down in the gardens, the acolytes tended to the flowers, pruning each one to perfection. Their sheer pink gowns shimmered in the sunlight and on each of their chest was an embroidered scarlet heart, surrounded by golden arrows that signified their patron. 

“Teddy,” you whispered softly. “Do you truly believe in fate?” 

A soft breeze ruffled the lemon tree as Theo shifted beside you, sending his waves to flop right over his eyes. “Yes, but I haven’t always.” 

“What changed your mind?” 

“Second year,” he replied matter-of-factly. “That day at the Black Lake. Do you remember?” 

You nodded. It was the first anniversary of Evangeline’s passing. One of the toughest days in your young life. “Of course, Theo. How could I forget?” 

“Before you came, I asked my mum for a sign. Something to tell me that she was watching over me somehow.” Your eyes welled up with tears as he smiled to himself. “Then you came and found me. You told me that story and I knew.” 

“You knew what?” 

“I don’t know if it was fate or my mum or the universe, but someone sent you to me.” Theo’s eyes shone with emotion as he tucked you close. “I think they knew how much I needed someone like you in my life. Whoever or whatever it is, I’m thankful. You held me together that day. If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I would’ve made it this far. Thank you, bella.”

You sniffled, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “Me and you against the world, right?” 

“The way it’s always been and the way it’ll always be.” 

After soaking up the sun a little while longer, it was finally time to head back. You offered to help Theo carry the supplies, but he wasn’t having any of it. Instead, he tucked the blanket into the handle of the picnic basket and held out his hand. 

“I don’t want you to fall again, bella.” 

With a shy grin, you intertwined your fingers together. Theo led the way, making sure to carefully guide you through the winding path. He toyed with the emerald ring on your finger as the two of you walked, his own rings clicking against yours. 

When you joined the others, your friends were back aboard the yacht. Pansy explained that you would be going to the other side of the island to sightsee the dolphins. After helping her herd the boys, the two of you finally had some peace and quiet as you settled on the lower deck. Pansy pushed her sunglasses down and raised a brow at you. 

“So, how was it?” 

“It was beautiful,” you said, already missing the temple. “Thank you for setting it up. It really meant a lot to Theo. To both of us.” 

“Anything interesting happen while you two were at the temple of love?” 

“I know what you’re getting at, Pans,” you said as you shook your head. “But Theo and I just talked about our mums. How great it was to do something that they did together all those years ago. It was special, you know? I’ve never felt closer to Aunt Eva.” 

“Good, it was meant to be a bonding experience. Nonna said it would bring you closer together.” 

“It has.” You side-eyed your friend. “So you did plot with nonna to make this happen?”

Pansy didn’t even try to deny it. “Mhm, she says she doesn’t have long on this earth and that you two needed a push. She’d like to meet her great-grandchildren while she still has her strength.” 

You flushed deeply. “Pans! You can’t just meddle in our business like this.” 

“Of course I can.”

“How many times do we have to tell you? Theo and I are just —”

“Friends?” Pansy finished with a scoff. She nodded towards Theo, who was looking up at you with a huge smile. He flushed when you met his gaze, shielding his eyes from the sun but refusing to look away. “Yes, because friends sneak pining glances at each other all the time.” 

“We’ve known each other since we were children.” 

“And?” 

“What if it messes up our friendship?” 

“You never know if you never try.” 

“Yes, but —”

“What did you wish for in that fountain, Y/N?” 

At that, you fell silent. Pansy crossed her arms, a satisfied grin tugging at the corner of her lips. Fortunately, you were saved from further interrogation when the boys squealed at something up ahead. 

“Fragolina,” Theo called from below. He waved excitedly, nearly tossing his binoculars over the railing. “I found one for you, come look!” 

Pansy shot you a knowing look, which you pointedly ignored. She followed after you as you joined the rest of your friends. On the lower deck, Theo beckoned you over to him. You allowed him to position you behind the railing, holding the binoculars for you as he pointed out into the horizon. 

To your delight, you saw a dolphin breaching the water. It flipped gracefully into the air before diving down into the depths again. Theo talked your ear off and you listened to every word, mesmerized by the random facts that he was spouting. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw Pansy shaking her head at you before she mouthed exactly what she thought about the sight of the two of you getting lost in your own little world once again. 

Just friends my arse.

The waves crashed against the craggy rocks as the boys headed for the caves. The stalagmites jutted up from the earth like daggers, dotting their path with its sharp edges. Inside, a magical ball of light guided their way. Mattheo led the pack while Draco grumbled at the thought of getting his brand new boat shoes dirty. 

Theo rolled his eyes. “Who buys three hundred galleon shoes just to go cave exploring?” 

Mattheo snickered. “You know how Malfoy is. He’s a fussy little git through and through.” 

His friend climbed the slippery rock, dangling overhead. Theo followed suit, never one to be outdone by his best mate. Like clockwork, his idiotic stunt hadn’t gone unnoticed. Somewhere behind them, Theo heard your voice echo through the cave. 

“Teddy, don’t climb on there. You’re gonna slip and get hurt.” 

“I’m a grown man, fragolina. I’m fine!” 

Beside him, Mattheo dangled towards another rock and swayed towards Theo. “Soooo,” he said in a sing-songy voice. “You two were gone for a while. Have you finally manned up and made a move?” 

“No, you prick. We visited this temple that both our mums went to years ago. It was actually really nice.” 

“Oh yeah,” Mattheo drawled. “Pansy told me all about that. The Temple of Cupid, right? You’re telling me that you and Y/N went to the temple of the literal god of love and nothing happened?” 

“It’s not like that between us.” 

“But you want it to be.” 

Theo remained silent as he climbed higher to catch up with Mattheo. In the distance, he heard the sound of rushing water. He followed it, catching a glimpse of the blue lagoon that twisted all along the cave network.

“For fuck’s sake, mate. We’re in Italy. This shit is romantic as fuck. What the hell is holding you back?” 

“I don’t know. We just graduated and there’s a lot of things going on.” 

“That’s the same excuse you’ve given since I’ve known you,” Mattheo said with a frown of disapproval. “You know she’s not going to wait forever. Even when we were back at school, there were already plenty of blokes interested in her.” 

“Like who?” Theo asked in a dead serious tone. 

Mattheo shrugged, purposely staying silent to annoy Theo. He hauled himself over to the next rock over and crouched. “Weasley, Diggory, Pucey. Hell, I had a crush on her at one point.” 

“What?!” Theo exclaimed. 

At his outrage, he missed his step and slipped. Theo hissed when his back scraped against the rock. Even through his shirt, the rough, jagged edges stung against his skin. 

Mattheo chuckled. “You’re too easy, Nott. I was just fucking with you. Of course I never had a crush on Y/N. She’s like my sister. The others, though. Them you need to worry about.” 

Theo fought the urge to smack his friend as Mattheo hoisted him up. He debated tripping him over to see how he liked it, but the others had already caught up with them. Too many witnesses. 

You bounded up to him, concern marring your expression. “What did I say?” 

Despite the scolding that Theo knew you were dying to give him, you gently lifted his shirt up and examined the scrape carefully. “You’ll be fine,” you murmured. “I’ve got some healing cream we can apply when we get back and you’ll be good as new, okay?” 

Theo pouted. “Okay.” 

Finally, you sighed and relented. Theo grinned as you leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Just be more careful next time, okay, Teddy?” 

He nodded and smiled. “Okay.” 

Behind you, Mattheo smirked and made kissy faces. What an immature twat. 

Theo responded by giving him the middle finger. 

Later that night, Theo returned to the villa feeling weary yet glad. While he certainly had fun dolphin watching and cave exploring, nothing topped visiting the temple. Theo wished you could’ve stayed underneath that lemon tree forever. It was a memory he’d cherish for the rest of his life. 

As he washed away the remnants of the day, Theo found himself thinking of you. The way you looked at him underneath that lemon tree. Today was special for the both of you. A turning point in your friendship that was impossible to ignore. Even the acolyte commented on the obvious connection between you, cooing over young love. She wished Cupid’s blessing over the two of you, but Theo knew that you didn’t need it. He had known it for some time now. 

With a smile, he dried off and slipped into his pajamas. “Y/N? I’m ready for your expert healing now.” 

As he walked out into the suite, he found you curled up on the love seat with an open book in your lap and the healing cream curled around your fingers. You must’ve fallen asleep while waiting for him to finish showering. His heart softened at the sight. The day had been long and eventful, no doubt tiring you out. 

Wordlessly, Theo put away the book and carefully carried you to the bed. Earlier, you insisted on sleeping there instead of the bed, which Theo vehemently opposed. There was no way he was letting you sleep on the bloody sofa. You stirred in his arms, burying your face in his neck. Theo smiled softly to himself before he set you down. Instantly, you curled up against the pillow. Theo tucked you in and pulled the covers over you as gently as possible. 

Leaning down, he kissed your forehead and smiled. “I wished for you, bella.”

[anika-ann]

Caught (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, fluff, they were roommates and idiots trope

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 8,2k

Summary: You hadn’t exactly planned to get caught in the rain. Then again, people rarely do. But you did.

You hadn’t plan to get caught in the soft spiderweb of feelings for Steve Rogers when your friend had set you up as roommates. Then again, people rarely do. But you did. It was impossible not to.

Arriving at your shared apartment soaking wet sees Steve springing into action to warm you up… and send you falling deeper in love with him with every passing second. But hey – what else was new, right?

Warnings: tooth-rottng FLUFF, idiots-in-love trope, they were ROOMMATES trope, brief mention of PTSD and its symptoms, one gratuitous 'fuck' and French

A/N: cross-written for the Winds of Autumn challenge hosted by @the-slumberparty and for @elixirfromthestars ' writing challenge. Thank you ALL for hosting and breathing live into the community 💕 for WoA I chose 'caught in the cold rain' for the WChallenge I chose “ Why don’t you tell me what I can do to make your day better?” 

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @steviebbboi ;enjoy y'all 🥰

This was all your fault; it really was.

There was no one else to blame for your current state.

Soaking wet, hair and clothes dripping alike, shaking so hard you nearly dropped your keys when trying to fit it into the keyhole.

A few minutes was all it took.

And yes; it was all on you.

You had practically been praying for a sweater weather. You had been so fed up with the unbearable summer heat still gripping the reigns even mid-September that you prayed and begged and swore you might be able to kill a man for a single breath of autumn.

So clearly, you had called this upon yourself.

In all fairness, you had wished for Indian summer; the normal late September weather. The light sweater weather. You certainly hadn’t been hoping to be thrown into the weather of seasonal depression, the temperature drop equalling a time machine bringing the end of November to the air and people’s hearts alike. Unforgiving icy wind, endless downpours, poking umbrellas all around, ever-present grumbling as one’s coat brushed against another, the dampness and cold seeping into yours and everyone else’s bones.

Nothing nice and prayers-worthy about that.

The thing was, this had been a daily reality for about a week now – and so one would think you were well-equipped to deal with the weather at least.

Except like the fool you were, you left your waterproof jacket at home, because you had believed today’s weather forecast, confident that the desired sweet and slightly crispy autumn was coming at last.

You and the meteorologists had been wrong.

But that wasn’t the worst part, no – the worst part would be your giddy optimism in the face a sudden NY underground failure.

Taking the ride home from work, you had nearly slammed into people surrounding you in the train at the sudden slam of breaks. A system failure, apparently. Caused by the damage to the network due to previous intense rains. A mishap stopping the trains in their stations, forcing people out.

And like the optimistic half-wit, trying to find a bright side and making the most of a miserable situation, you had thought, hey, it’s only a few blocks from here! No rain on the horizon for a change. What an opportunity to soak in the lovely autumn weather! The buses and taxis will be packed, and walking is good for health anyway.

And sure it was. And you ended up soaking indeed.

The brutal downpour and icy wind caught you in about ten minutes after you had taken off to your brisk walk.

You seriously doubted there was any benefit to your health at all, safe for maybe points to your mental resilience and an excuse to stay in bed with a book and a cup of hot chocolate next week, because you were about to catch a grade-A case of cold.

By the time you got to your apartment door, you were ready to flop on the floor the moment you’d stumble inside, uncaring for the wet smack you’d make against the hardwood or the carpet should you make it further into the apartment.

Except you knew the floor would be unforgivingly hard either way, and cold and you first had to get out of your dripping shoes and then the drenched clothes sticking to your body like a second skin and it would take you forever to strip with how shaky and numb your fingers had turned, the only sensation being cold and stiffness bordering on pain and for god’s sake could you at least stick the damn key into the goddamn keyhole-

You finally opened the door with a gratuitous ‘fuck’ on your lips, practically throwing the door open.

And were met with a surprised sleepy supersoldier blinking at your owlishly, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his white sleepshirt crumbled, the perfect case of bed hair and confused expression completing the most telling startled-from-his-sleep-but-not-Avenger-level-alarmed look.

Even in your state you had to admit he was adorable in a way men built like mountains shouldn’t.

You stared at each other mutely for several seconds, as if both surprised by each other’s presence – or at least state – processing.

You, drenched from rain and puddles, cold-dried by the wind, shivering all over and barely keeping your teeth from clattering as to hold onto the last shreds of your dignity and sanity.

Steve, still slightly disoriented, having just been woken up. Woken up by you, most likely, you thought regretfully, cursing your life-choices again. He was a light sleeper – a mere jiggle of keys would have interrupted his slumber, let alone your endless fumbling around the lock.

You spoke at the same time.

“I’m sorry for wak-” “What happened to you?”  

Your voice trailed off, a chuckle of irony echoing in the back of your head.

What happened to you?

That was a question a lot more loaded that it might seem.

What had happened to lead you to this place, facing a sleepy Greek-godlike figure with a concerned look on his face?

A whole lot of coincidences; a whole lot of fate, maybe.

Sam Wilson, a friend from childhood, with whom you had only reconnected a few years ago.

You, having been looking for an apartment ever since your landlord had announced he planned to sell the building to a huge corporation which would, from then on, only rent the apartments to its employees.

Sam again, looking to move in with his girlfriend, claiming he was leaving a roommate behind, who would appreciate a kind, trustworthy and reliable replacement.

Your ‘Gee, thanks’.  

‘Wait, no, he didn’t word it exactly like that,’ Sam had assured you. ‘I promise, he’s a real stand-up guy. Sure, a guy, but a respectful one and a neat one, with a sprinkle of a neat freak on top. He’s a great roommate and one of my best friends – I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t believe it could work.’

That was what your friend had said. And you believed him.

One thing led to another.

What Sam had conveniently failed to mention was that his real stand-up guy was a hulking drop-dead gorgeous supersoldier with the sweetest soul on the damn planet. Or maybe in the universe – what did you know? The universe had got a lot bigger ever since you found out it was perfectly possible for aliens to rain down from the sky through some kind of a hole in spacetime.

What Sam had conveniently failed to mention was that your future roommate was one of the heroes from the superhero band that had stopped these very aliens from taking over planet Earth.

After processing – even though you weren’t sure you’d ever finish processing – that you would share an apartment with Captain America, you accepted.

After all, you certainly weren’t one to look a gifted horse in the mouth; experience told you that could have done a lot worse than landing a person vetted by Sam Wilson and by a potentially world-ending event for a roommate.

In fact, you soon learned you couldn’t have done any better.

Steve was all the things Sam had promised.

And besides being the perfect person to share an apartment with, besides being the paragon of justice itself with a sprinkle of neat freak on top, he was also shockingly human.

Steve was a guy who had a routine until he didn’t, his schedule a little funny. He split housework with you in a way that left both of you content even as you felt he was doing a little bit more than his part whenever he could. He enjoyed cooking and baking and drawing and generally working with his hands, fixing any household issues before they could develop into a problem. Sometimes, nights found him in the living room with a book in his hand and quiet movie for a background when he couldn’t sleep. Sometimes, he left dirty dishes in the sink and a toothbrush on the basin instead of putting it into the holder and sometimes he forgot to put the toilet seat down. He was painfully respectful of your privacy and of your sleep alike whenever he was coming back at strange times, almost absurdly so for a man who seemed to barely fit in a doorway.  

He had a sharp mind and a subtle but deadly sense of humour on a good day and a quiet demeanour on a bad day, usually after a sleepless or nightmare-filled nights, which were always followed by him walking around the apartment with his sweats tucked into his socks because the draught and the cold on his ankles clearly bothered him. The list could go on and on and it was rather embarrassing for you, the idea for just how long you could keep listing things you observed about Steve and his habits and him; but the point was that he was a guy who was absurdly ordinary guy and extraordinary in about everything at once.

He had introduced as Steve the very day you had met, clearly not standing for any of your Captain, Sir, Captain Rogers nonsense.

He became Steve to you soon after.

He turned dear to you just as fast.

You weren’t sure when it happened; when your relationship shifted from sharing an apartment to sharing a life. It happened gradually, through dinners and breakfasts and films watched together; through nights he found you on the couch, barely awake or already sleeping after having been waiting for him even as he had told you not to; through late-night talks, about both things you were passionate about and things you wished you could forget.

You weren’t sure when this man, larger than life in both frame and heart, became your close friend.

You weren’t sure when the small butterflies that appeared in your stomach every time he smiled turned so all-consuming, spreading their wings through your whole body, circling around your heart.

It must have happened somewhere between his first smile and the sparkle in his warm blue eyes, between the tear-streaked cheeks when you found his shaking breathless body curled on the floor, between a hug and holding your hand when he drove you back from your wisdom teeth removal surgery because no one else was available, between every single minute you had the fortune to spend in his company and those you couldn’t, longing for him instead.

Somewhere in between, you must have fallen in love, the urgent feeling in your chest slowly turning unbearable and heavy. It burned, to stifle it inside, the one secret you wouldn’t share for the fear of breaking something as precious to you as your peaceful life with Steve the friend.

You weren’t sure when exactly it happened, but it got you there.

It got you here; into this very moment, just like many others, facing him and rendered speechless for a breath or two, because god, was he handsome and lovely and sweetly worried and an image of domesticity at once and you were hit with a sharp tug of a feeling whispering of coming home.

What happened to you, Steve had asked, his gaze turning more concerned by the second as you remained silent safe for the rustle of your soaked jacket you had started to strip at some point and the one clatter of your teeth you failed to stifle.

What did happen again?

“Got caught in a rain,” you rasped, stating the painfully obvious. “Underground broke down. Thought I’d walk…”

Steve frowned, sleepiness wiped off his face to give way to compassion and sternness at once, a sigh leaving his lips as he slowly neared you.

“Seemed like a smart idea at the time…” you continued when he didn’t say a word, just gently – always so gently dammit – pushed at the door to get it closed at last, his arms quietly coming around you, engulfing you in his embrace. Your heart startled at the gesture. “Steve, no, I’ll get you all we---wow okay, this is nice, you’re really warm-“

He chuckled sweetly above your head as you babbled, protests dying on your lips with a sound resembling a whine and moan as his warmth enveloped you, so relieving and inviting, prompting you to melt against his firm and yet painfully soft body.

His voice carried an admonishing note as you trembled against him, his warmth and pleasant scent of comfort seeping into your body while the cold and smell of rain soaked him in return. You did not care for the scolding; it was a kind one. And Steve still was still holding you – that was the important part.

And the most painful one.

"You could have called,” he said, like a sweet, even if already lost bargain. “I’d come get you.”

You pressed closer to him, clearly having a glutton for punishment.

Those few innocent words burned through you like the most tender wildfire. An inflection and tone that couldn’t have been good for your heart and yet you revelled in them; a statement that felt like an oath:

I‘d come get you.

I’d always come get you.

I’d do anything for you.

Something so close to love, in your reach and yet untouchable, because he didn’t mean it – he couldn’t mean it, because Steve Rogers had a large heart, but surely would have told you if you had occupied space in it that way.

And yet he held your own heart in his palms and he didn’t even know. Was it wrong you let the gentle words wash over you and let them warm you just as much as Steve’s arms, even if they meant something different than you’d wish?

You gulped, a shiver that had nothing to do with cold running down your spine.

“You only got in like three hours earlier,” you reasoned, forcing yourself to focus on the practical matters as not to slip into whispering a true confession; and perhaps doing so anyway along the way. It was true, however; as per habit and your request, Steve had texted you he was home safe and sound barely few hours ago. Knowing that led you to immediately weed out the mere idea of calling him to pick you up as it appeared in your mind the moment the downpour started. You were aware, however bittersweet the knowledge was, that he would come – that was why you hadn’t called. For his benefit. “You needed to sleep.”

Steve sighed again. And you needed to be picked up, you heard in the weary and yet somehow fond sound.

He didn’t argue, however; his hold grew tighter, appreciative, his broad hand, oh so warm, running up and down your back, pressing a little stronger than he normally would in a hug; allowing the heat of his body sink deeper, into your very bones, sending you sinking deeper into the warmth blooming in your chest as well.

Pressed against his front, you couldn’t but breathe in, allowing everything that was Steve overwhelm over your senses. The woodsy notes and musk of his cologne, the soft material of his sleepshirt burning almost too hot as it clung to his body, the smooth movements of his rough hands, his warm breath brushing your scalp, the image of his minute smile behind your closed eyelids, his voice humming in his ribcage and filling your ears like honey.

“Why don’t you tell me what I can do to make your day better?”

His question was so genuine – and a little wavery in a way that made your belly tingle in response. Tell me what I can do and I will do it. Just say the word, it seemed to whisper in your head, your heart protesting and fluttering in your chest.

You already are, you almost replied as the shudders subdued slowly despite both of you now soaking. You’re back home. You’re safe. You’re with me. And you’re warm. And big. And strong. And you smell good. And you’re holding me oh so tight and gentle and it feels so profoundly nice and you really are warm and maybe this new shiver running down my back isn’t just that I’m cold, maybe it’s that naïve hope of which I should have let go of so long ago-

He noticed the fresh wave of tremble of whose origin you yourself weren’t entirely sure of – your weather escapades or the escapades of your poor heart – and the caress up and down your back grew faster, more of a rubbing to create warmth than a soothing gesture.

“Okay, doll, you’re getting into the bathtub right away. What can I do in the meantime?”

In spite of his words, a benevolent order one might say, he didn’t let go.

Despite his question sounding urgent, you took your time responding; because it took a huge portion of your willpower not to tell him to just keep holding you.

“…hot chocolate?” you suggested meekly, a shy but slightly mischievous smile tugging at your lips when Steve released you at last, those big warm paws of his settling on your shoulders for a moment. “And you should probably change.”

He glanced at his wet clothes self-deprecatingly, as if it was his fault – and in a way, you supposed it was. But you weren’t complaining. The wet fabric clung to his body in the most delicious way, no matter the scepticism he observed it with.

When his gaze met yours again, his smile was the sun itself; but you still missed the heat of his body against your skin.

“You got it, doll. Come on.”

Much to your regret and salvation, he released you completely. You still graced him with a grateful and once again shaky smile which you could and should blame on the loss of his body heat.

“Thanks, Steve. You’re the best.”

And he was.

And if that wasn’t becoming a bigger problem by the minute.

With some of Steve’s warmth lingering – mainly the one his actions and demeanour awoke deep within your body – you managed to get rid of your clothes with enough ease and patience to have the bathtub fill with steaming hot water before climbing in. Sinking into the water then felt about as pleasant as sinking into Steve’s embrace had been – except this time, it was the rest of your body which appreciated the heat, warming you from the outside, tension leaving your muscles, your brain relaxing and slipping into a mindless haze, an absent smile forming on your lips.

You soaked in the tub for long enough to almost fall asleep and slide under the water; the only thing convincing you to fight the slumber off – perhaps besides, well, drowning – was the premise of a delicious cup of hot chocolate made with utmost care and Steve’s company, all the more appreciated since you knew he’d stay for at least five minutes even as he was no doubt falling asleep on his feet himself.

Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, your climbed from the tub, rushed through your routine and emerged from the bathroom with steam following you, no doubt making for an image of cosiness with your blissfully dry comfortable clothes, complete with fuzzy socks.

Steve must have agreed with your assessment, because he greeted you with a grin.

He had left the two mugs of top tier hot chocolate with actual melted pieces of the treat and whipped cream on top on the kitchen counter, having brought two blankets for the couch, now fumbling with the tv remote. A quick glance around the apartment told you that while you were nearly nodding off in the bathroom, he had made a quick work of cleaning the mess you had left behind; electric shoe dryers already placed in your boots, your drenched jacket near the heating with plastic film spread on the floor as not to do any damage.  

You could kiss the lop-sided smile he gave you when you thanked him, your heart hammering in your chest with excitement and longing when he nodded towards the couch. To an outsider, the scene could easily appear as a quiet night in of a couple; a thoughtful beautiful man setting everything up for a date night full of seeking joy in simple domesticity and quiet intimacy.

One day, Steve Rogers was about to make someone incredibly happy.

The idea strung a sharp but brief note of jealousy in your chest, a lump growing in your throat as the rational part of you mocked you that the person wasn’t you. You would have known by now if you were; even though spending time with him did make you all kinds of happy.

You forced a smile through the light sting of tears, trying to stop your mind from racing and spiralling about the thought of having to move out to make space for the vaguely gorgeous and brilliant woman; or maybe sooner, just to put your heart at ease, because with every beat of it you felt yourself falling deeper into the trap of loving this man. It was beginning to hurt; and still, you approached him, smiling.

“Looking cosy. Feeling better?”

You nodded, unable to resist and placing your hand over Steve’s arm, his soft blues finding your gaze.

“Thank you, Steve. Really.”

The lopsided smile returned, his fingers brushing your shoulder. God, he was so close and all you’d have to do was to stand on your tiptoes. You’d kiss his cheek, a purely innocent display of gratitude of course, just to feel his smooth skin against your lips once-

You needed to get a grip. The brief hypothermia you had suffered was messing with your brain and was lowering your inhibitions and that was not good. 

“Anytime,” he assured you, nodding towards the screen. “We don’t have to, but I was wondering if you maybe wanted to watch a movie? I feel like we could both use that. But if you’d rather be alone-“

You shook your head quickly, your smile coming easier now because of the absurdity and thoughtfulness of his question at once. To be alone when he was there? No thank you. Who cared that the rational part of your brain huffed again, telling you that maybe that would be a better idea unless you wanted to torture yourself with false hopes.

Saying no was not an option.

You really must have had a glutton for punishment; but in some ways, you learned Steve suffered from the same condition. So maybe that was just his persona rubbing on off you… And thank you, brain, for the worst possible choice of words.

You cleared your throat.

“A movie sounds great,” you said, the mental image of you throwing its hands in the air, grumbling something about your poor old heart. Steve was still very softly holding onto your shoulder though, facing you, mere foot apart; who expected you to think rationally in these conditions? “Fair warning though, I almost fell asleep in the tub. Might fall asleep half-way through this.”

Steve grinned, stepping back to get the mugs and beckoning towards the couch again as to tell you to get settled. You obeyed without protest; you knew him well enough to be aware there was no point in trying to get your mug yourself.

He was the nurturing kind of friend.

“Does that mean I get to choose the movie so you can blame your social and cultural ignorance on my choices?” he teased.

He was also the loveable little shit kind of friend.

“Rude… and I would never,” you protested, accepting the offering of the hot chocolate, now indeed all cosy, tucked in a blanket, sitting comfortably and wrapping your hands around the mug to warm your palms further. “…but deal.”

Steve’s laugh was perhaps warmer than the mug and sweeter than its content, but you stomped at the thought as soon as it popped up in your head. You had no time nor capacity for nonsense. You had a nice evening ahead.

Better not to ruin it.

You weren’t sure what you’d expected, but this was not it.  

You had warned Steve about the possibility of you nodding off; after all, beyond having exhausted your body with the less-than-pleasant walk, nearly falling asleep in a bathtub and getting all comfortable on the couch, you had expected the large amount of sugar you’d consume to take its toll eventually and push you over the edge, the infamous sugar crash being the last straw.

You had expected to be out as a light in a matter of minutes, to be honest.

You had not expected the effect of all the warmth and sugars to evaporate much faster than that.

You were maybe twenty minutes into the movie and the anticipated sleep barely scratched the door of your consciousness; instead, the first reluctant shivers arrived. Blatantly ignoring Steve’s subtle side-eye and entirely obvious worry, you sank deeper into the couch, pulling the second blanket over yourself, tucking it all the way up to your chin, curling into yourself to preserve the warmth.

Thirty minutes in, you were shaking so hard Steve paused the movie, a crease forming between his eyebrows as he turned his upper body to you, right hand reaching out before pausing a few inches from your forehead.

“Can I?”

You hummed noncommittally, wondering yourself if maybe your grade-A case of cold was arriving sooner than expected and a fever already hit.

You were feeling just fine though; it was just the damn shivers which you couldn’t seem to stop.

Steve’s hand gently settled against your forehead, his frown deepening almost as if he could feel your heart speed up at the contact and didn’t approve. Which you knew was nonsense, because his whole mind was probably already consumed by the mission of assessing whether his inner Nurse Rogers should come out, but it worked well for cooling off your train of thought.

“It doesn’t feel like you have a fever, but we should probably check,” he hummed thoughtfully, shifting, prepared to rise his feet in search of the thermometer.

Your hand shot up from its safe warm haven, missing the target of his forearm but sending clear enough message to stop him.

He settled back down with a sigh, his hand sliding from your forehead over your cheek to the side of your neck, a delightful source of warmth spreading through your whole body and your suddenly deadly heartrate; a flicker of an image in which he’d place his hand exactly there and leaned forward, his lips brushing yours, nudged insistently at your brain.

You battled it with violent effort, refusing to even consider the soft look in Steve’s eyes was anything but concern for a good friend.

Because that was all it was: concern. What if you turned into an icicle, right? He had seen weirder things than that and he had spent whole seventy years frozen. He was naturally very worried about you having to endure the same.

“I’m fine,” you assured him with a smile that was shaky due to everything but cold. “Just my thermoregulation going haywire after all the excitement today--- Jesus how are you always so warm…”

Steve ignored your question, his hand still firmly set on your neck, the most delicious source of heat, his eyes roaming your embarrassingly shaking form.

“I’ve had a lot of practice with cold,” he said absently.

You could practically hear the wheels in his head turning, even as you were quite busy keeping your teeth from clattering. His eyes were so startingly blue, with the lightest speckle of green standing out for some reason, mesmerizing and warm as if to wreck the theory of these two colours normally belonging to the cold scale and you heart was positively about to beat your way out of your chest, because it appeared as if he was leaning forward a bit and maybe you were entering some kind of delirium, so it really was the time to move.

Move to kiss him, maybe, you bet his lips were warm too and yours were cold-

Okay, that was it.

“Okay, I think I’m gonna go for another soak-“

“Come here,” he muttered at the same time, effectively rendering you speechless when he released you only to scoot back a bit, his fingers beckoning lightly to himself, expression entirely serious.

What.

“I do run pretty hot and frankly I’d rather have you under supervision,” he said matter-of-factly, slipping into the Captain mode – managing to shoot your naïve hopes sky-high and shooting them dead in one sentence.

He was mission-oriented; that was all. He was worried, because frankly, your body was acting out and he was a good friend.

A good friend. A captain, responsible for his own.

There was nothing romantic about sharing body heat; he had probably done it dozen times on a mission.

He was simply concerned. And you should be and were grateful for that and for the practical and grounded approach to the matter at hand; you certainly preferred it to him rushing you to the doctor, because you were still pretty certain it was nothing to be worried about, nothing a good night’s sleep with loads of blankets on top of you wouldn’t fix.

So why the pang in your heart?

Why the regret and disappointment at him simply doing it to assure you’d feel better?

Because you were an idiot and you should have been so much more radical about forbidding yourself from catching feelings while living with Steve. But how could anyone blame you? He was just stupidly attractive and profoundly good and adorably ordinary in his extraordinariness, and you just wanted one touch, one taste, one moment of basking in his light and warmth and actual love.

Was that really so wrong of you?

You swallowed, voice set perhaps a little harsher than needed, the idea of him holding you out of pity making you a little sick to your stomach.

“Steve, you really don’t have to-“

“I want to,” he argued, voice so much softer in contrast to yours, and your body, that traitorous body acted, nearing to his despite your achy heart and hurting brain screaming at you to get to your feet instead, get to the bathroom or your room and lock the door and your heart and throw away the key to keep it safe.

“Steve-“

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he saw you wavering despite your verbal protest.

“Plus, I’m just doing my civic duty of protecting the innocent. You shake any harder, you’ll cause an earthquake.”

Deadpanning, you managed to stop your progress; in turn, your heart fluttered at the sparkle of mischief in Steve’s eye, that stupid muscle in your chest humming with fondness.

Godddamn him.

He knew exactly how to disarm you completely, to have you do his bidding, and he must have known of this power of his, blatantly abusing it for your wellbeing.

What a criminal behaviour.

With a sigh, you lifted your blanket a bit, scooting over to his open arms, carefully laying to his side as his arm slid under the blanket around your shoulders and pulled you closer; his warmth enveloped you in an instant, his hand rubbing gently at your arm, while his other busied itself with tucking the blanket around you to create a safe cocoon.

You felt yourself relax despite your better judgement, cheek laying on his chest, a steady thump-thump of his heart bargaining with yours:

How could you be short with him? Mad at him? He was just being the nicest person in the world, taking care of his friend, radiating warmth and smelling of comfort, selfless and without seeking anything but a simple thank you in return, if even that. And the charming bastard he was, he even tried to make you laugh.

It wasn’t his fault you had gone and fallen in love with him; it wasn’t fair to hold it against him that he was the best person you knew and your feelings were hurt just because he couldn’t think the same about you. Your mind understood that; it was your heart that was foolish.

You chased the thoughts away, only an echo of the ugly empty feeling remaining, giving way to a much more tender and insistent emotion; but mostly to sensation of your shivers subduing, almost as if they had been the trembles of an addict seeking their fix – Steve’s touch – rather than those of someone with messed up thermoregulation.

Maybe they were. But that wasn’t for Steve to worry about.

“Har har… how about your civil duty of being a sassybag…” you muttered in appreciation of his attempt, his chest shaking lightly with a chuckle.

“Oh, I’m taking that one most serious of them all.”

That he was.

The grin in his voice was infectious, however; you smiled against your will, poking his side lightly with your index finger.

“I noticed… but I forgive you.”

Because you’re really warm and sweet and for a moment, I guess I can indulge in the unhealthy delusion of you doing this because you like me close, postponing the ache of sobering up to reality for later.  

“I’m glad. How’s that feel?”

Like I want to stay like this forever.

Like I want you to want to stay like this forever.

You shushed the traitorous voice.

“Warm… comfy,” you added after a while, rewarded by a rub to your shoulder, being pulled impossibly closer. And it felt so good.

“Good.”

Simply holding you and sharing his heat indeed for a moment, he let you soak in the comfort. Seconds passed, maybe minutes; you didn’t count the beats of his heart, but heard every single one of them, soothing, whispering the little lie that maybe some of them were for you.

You didn’t argue; you didn’t quite give in.

When Steve lowly asked you if you wanted to continue the movie, you just nodded, grateful for the distraction of how incredibly right you felt in the little fantasy of yours that this, you being here in Steve’s arms, was exactly where you belonged.

As he reached for the remote, you whispered a soundless ‘thank you’.  

His ‘you’re welcome’ was softer and warmer than the blankets.

It was a herculean task to accomplish, fending off sleep, but having being in Steve’s company had rubbed off of you; you were anything but determined. Not knowing what the movie was about and what had happened on the screen in the past minutes – since the movie started, really – you still tried not to doze off at least.

You had a creeping suspicion Steve knew, deducting so from your silence or from the way your body was completely pliant against his, but he didn’t call you out, like the gentleman he was. Instead, he had simply stopped moving, safe from the periodical rise and fall of his chest, serving you as the most comfortable pillow you had ever had a chance of laying your head to, soft and warm and solid all at once.

And he seemed perfectly content to serve as one.

Just for that, you had stopped caring a while ago about his motivations. Had this been just a mission to keep a fellow human warm, so be it. He seemed pleased enough to do so and in your hazy sleepy mind, you knew one thing with absolute certainty – and that was that you did find this all kinds of pleasant too. Should the contentedness of yours come from a different place than his, well, you could deal with that later.

Or never.

You were just… happy and at peace.   

You weren’t sure when exactly you had closed your eyes, but you had; your voice was slurring a bit too, your determination to fight your exhaustion clearly not enough to win over sleep.

“Thank ya’ for takin’ care of me, Steve.”

At that, the soft statue under you shifted the tinniest bit, Steve’s thumb brushing your arm gently as his arm had remained around your shoulders. His heart was beating a little fast, you thought absently, lulled back into obliviousness by the vibration of his voice.

“You already said that…” he reminded you, humour and something else, sweeter, laced into his voice. “Anytime.”

You hummed in response, sinking deeper into the softness enveloping you.

“Hey… I mean it, okay?”

“Uh huh,” you muttered again, the dreamland already calling you, insistent and so inviting. “Same… arenchya sleepy? ‘m sleepy.”

Silence only sweetened by his still rapidly beating heart settled, another slow caress to your arm, Steve’s voice reaching you from tender proximity and endless distance all at once.

“Then sleep, doll.”

Mmm.

The dreams wrapped around your wrists like tender ribbons, coaxing you to follow them, pulling gently.

You could give in so easily. Letting the dreamland take you felt as simple as breathing; comfortable and warm, and feeling so damn safe that your heart, while peaceful, was aching a little.  

And maybe it was the tone Steve had spoken with earlier – so much emotion weaved into a few simple words, so much meaning – maybe it was the subconsciousness forming your dreams, but the memory of one of your favourites book which you had read multiple times flickered through your mind, making you smile. Or maybe it didn’t – you weren’t sure if you moved a single muscle, your body already floating.

Le sommeil partagé était le corps du délit de l'amour, the line read. A pondering of a man to whom sleeping with women meant nothing but entertainment, no feelings attached; not until he held a woman truly dear to him through the night, having fallen asleep peacefully, at last realizing that what he was feeling was love.

Sleeping with someoneor sleeping with someone, that was at the centre of his dilemma; the sharp contrast, one much more meaningful than the other. One a display of desire; the other, display of trust and love. A corpus delicti of love.

It was never like that for you – to you, the physical only came along with emotional, deep trust necessary to both. Having been learning about who Steve was, your mind argued lazily, there was no doubt in your mind Steve felt the same way about his relationships.

But the fact you could fall asleep right there, in his arms, and it felt like the safest place in the world…

It brought along a different memory; a memory of Steve’s large body curled into itself next to you on the couch, three blankets on top of him, your hands holding his, the contact seemingly somehow chasing away the demons of his past that had come to haunt his dreams. You had found him, lost in his own home, trapped in his own mind. He had agreed on a movie even as it had taken a long time to convince him that you weren’t going to back to sleep in your room while he’d try to fight off the invisible enemies his mind had created alone; so you had settled on a movie marathon instead. He had relaxed eventually, the dreamland taking him again, soft snores a lullaby to you – and you had never spoken about it again besides his quiet, ashamed and painfully genuine thank you the next morning. He had trusted you then, maybe feeling just as safe as you were now, despite you being nothing but an ordinary unenhanced human protecting him from evil.

It was a mirror image to how you were at this moment, you mused sleepily; you made him your pillow and a space heater and the source of comfort, while you tiptoed the line of reality and dreams.

His heartbeat thundered softly in your ear, calming but so vigorous and fast; and it slowly dawned to you that his body had stiffened under yours, the sensation nudging your consciousness and pulling you back, away from sleep.

Before you could voice your concern and confusion, his chest vibrated softly under you; his voice caressed you, tender with a hint of a rasp.

“…oui, c’est toujours vrai,” he whispered slowly, the words not making any sense.

Yes, that is always – still – true, you understood despite not being able to grasp at what he was saying truly or why, even as you knew French nearly perfectly, could probably speak it even in your sleep-

Your eyes snapped open, your heart jumping in your chest so fiercely it hurt.

Yes, that is always true.

It is true-

You had spoken out loud.

You had quoted one of your favourite books to him, out loud, speaking of shared sleep and love, and he had read that book too, you knew as much because you had talked about it before, he knew what that line meant, what it meant to you.

But it couldn’t be. He couldn’t be saying what you meant he was saying-

Except that tone. That soft, soft inflection to his voice, his thumb brushing over your arm again, reluctant but firm, his breath having hitched, awaiting your reaction to this… revelation?

And he got it; all sleep evaporating from your body, realizing you were basically lying on top of him – gods, you had no inhibitions in your semi-sleep state – your heart pounded so wildly your ribcage just might set it free. You gulped, shifting so you could look at him, the world slowly coming back to focus as your mind kept echoing the same words, over and over.

Corpus delicti of love. Corpus delicti of LOVE, c’est vrai-

You found Steve with his head bowed, observing you with patient and nervous anticipation, still holding you close to his body, something softly hopeful shimmering in his irises. Shadows of the evening had fallen over the living room but you could still see his perfect face so clearly, the depth of his blue eyes, the two beauty marks on his cheek, the pink lips looking so soft even as they were lightly pressed in a line – expectant of your response.

Your response to him indirectly confessing to---

Was he in love in you too?

The flicker of something you’d never dare to truly believe was real, because it appeared dangerously like adoration, lit up his eyes at your barely audible ‘really?’, a shadow of anxiety building behind the brilliant speckles of green in his irises when he nodded and waited.

As you processed, Steve never took his gaze off you in a display of bravery you were sure you would never have been capable of.

He had nodded. He had nodded.

Unless you were reading it completely wrong, unless--- unless this was just your fever actually taking over, Steve loved you, or at least was on his way to do so.

The overwhelming euphoric feeling rushed through ever nerve ending like a livewire, lighting your body up, your breathing hitching and expanding in your chest, something prickling in your eyes.

Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbed, gaze flickering over your face, appearing almost desperate to read your reaction since you couldn’t seem to verbalize how you felt.

But how could you let out a single word? He had romantic feelings for you too.

“We… we can talk later, if you’d like. You need your rest too…” he argued in a reluctant whisper.

There was no universe in which you were going to fall asleep, ever again and frankly you admired his self-restraint and willingness to wait after having just confessed he was interested in more than friendship and roommate-ship.

Steve Rogers, your Steve, was holding you in his arms, your bodies aligned, and he had feelings for you.

The soft expression – and the nervous energy radiation off him – whispered urgently of you not having read too much into his gestures, of your naïve hopes not being all that naïve, of all of this being true even as it left like a dream.

Maybe it was. But if it was, you’d cling to it and never let go.

And if it was by some miracle true, you sure as hell would never ever let sleep take you, because then… well.

The corners of your lips twitched minutely in an incredulous self-deprecating smile.

You were thoroughly warmed up, all shivers having subdued a long time ago, but something inside you trembled more than your voice.

“I can’t sleep now... I’ll think I’d dreamed all this up. That it wasn’t real,” you whispered hastily, “I… I want it to be real.”

Tension melted from Steve’s body at last, muscles having been tight as a bowstring easing into their mere usual firmness. His lips, those inviting lips, curled up in a smile, an echo of his eyes twinkling with something soft and exciting.

“Sounds like a dream to me too, yeah,” he admitted, your pulse nearing the speed that would sooner or later surely lead to cardiac arrest, your mind screaming with dozen of swirling thoughts.

He liked you. Steve like-liked you, perhaps maybe, just a little, on his way to love you, shared sleep, trust and love, he had dreamed of this too, he-

“How about…” he hummed, hand slowly cupping your cheek, tilting your head up and guiding you to lift it off his chest, causing your head to spin sweetly.

You could have easily escaped the tender touch; but you didn’t want to, not in a million years. You leaned into it instead, a pleasant twist deep within your belly, a shaky exhale leaving your parted lips, air swiftly drawn back as Steve leaned down, eyes roaming your face for any sign of protest. Finding none, his eyes earned a new kind of glow that warmed you up like no blanket or shower could, his lips neared dangerously, a silent wishful sigh as your fingertips stroked lightly over his chest.

“…we share a moment so real there’s no doubt left?”

There was no doubt left; and not a second of hesitation.

It occurred to you how absurd the reasoning was, to have a real moment, what a feeble excuse; as if you hadn’t dreamed of this before, as if the images of kissing Steve hadn’t haunted your nights, so vivid and so tangible morning had felt like razor tearing the masterpiece of a canvas apart; but that thought was but a silent voice in the very back of your mind and you did not care for it in the slightest.

On the other hand, Steve was right here and you’d do just about anything he’d suggest.

“Yes.”   

The second the breathless sound left you, Steve’s lips were pressed to yours, soft and warm and real, an electrifying sensation of right rushing through your very being, proving Steve’s damn point; your dreams could have never done justice to this.

Not to the way his lips moulded against yours, the tentative touch turning eager the very moment you pressed against him.

Not to the way he felt so perfectly solid and soft under your palm, against your side, against your thigh.

Not to the way his hand on your arm curled around your bicep and squeezed when your lips parted for him with a choked whimper.

Not to the way his fingertips caressed along your jaw to your chin, tipping your head back further to truly kiss you.

Not to the way you couldn’t get enough of it, of his touch, of his taste, chocolate and sugar and home, of his scent, invading your senses in the most wonderful attack you’d yield to with delight.

When your lips parted with a gasp, your name like the sweetest endearment on his lips, his forehead rested against yours, sharing your breath, your space, the wild beats of your hearts.

It seemed that some of those beats of his heart truly might be for you; just like quite a few of yours were for him.

And it was beautiful.

An unwitting chuckle spilled from your lips, the euphoria coursing your veins spilling over, rewarded by a soft stroke of Steve’s thumb over your cheek, a deep inhale, your eyes fluttering open to his soft but blinding smile you couldn’t but mirror.

God, he was the most stunning man you had ever seen in your life.

Had you not been rendered speechless by the kiss, his beauty would have done the job.

And if that hadn’t been enough, the way he was looking at you, as if you had hung the moon and the stars and he would have hung them for you if you had just asked – how had you never noticed it before? – now that would have done you for.

You had no words; but it seemed that for the moment, neither did he.

And so your gaze flickered down to his lips, now more tempting than ever, and you let action speak louder than words.

Cupping his face in return, you kissed him again, and let the coincidence or perhaps fate, that had led you to spill your secrets at the precipice of sleep, take reigns again, not at all protesting when Steve’s hands roamed to your waist, a silent invitation for you to move closer in any way you wished.

You let the moment take you wherever it would lead, quite happy if the half-wit you had called yourself earlier that day lost all her wits to Steve’s softly demanding mouth.

Maybe next time you’d get caught in the rain, he’d be there soaking with you; and maybe just like he hadn’t cared for getting his clothes wet earlier either, you’d both stand there in the downpour in an embrace of lovers, caring little for the water dripping all over you.

As long as he’d keep kissing you.

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Happy autumn, everyone 💕 I know I should be working on my longfic but my brain seems distracted by various short-fic ideas, often fullfilling writing challenges...

I really enjoyed this one 🥰 and I hope that so did you!

Have a lovely autumn!🍂

P.S. - For those interested, the quote comes from Milan Kundera's novel Unbearable Lightness of Being (L'insoutenable légèreté de l'être or Nesnesitelná lehkost bytí).

[hewsongf]

PERFECT STORM

pairing elijah hewson x fem! reader

trope established relationship

warnings pure fluff. nudity mentioned but not sexual

summary she gets caught in a storm and elijah helps her stay warm.

words 1.2k

Every part of her body was soaked. Her blouse had become see-through. Her skirt had become pounds heavier. Drops of water slid down her bare legs. Every time she walked, her Doc Martens squelched. Her socks were wet, and her feet were cold and pruny. She let out a shaky sigh as she walked up the stairs up to her apartment. Her soaked hair was in a clip that was digging into the back of her head.

He heard the sound of keys jangling. The door was unlocked. She came in and was already leaving a puddle of water on the wooden floor.

He chuckled. "What the fuck happened?" He asked, a bit amused but also concerned. He left his spot on the couch and walked over to her.

"I got caught in the rain. Didn't bring my umbrella."

"I told you to take an umbrella this morning."

"Yeah, whatever." She snapped. She dropped her bag on the floor. His mouth closed before making a snarky remark. She was obviously pretty annoyed. He watched her take off her boots.

"Come on." He said then took her hand and dragged her into the bathroom. He turned on the faucet of the tub. Temperature is pretty warm. "Sit." He commanded while motioning to the toilet cap. She did.

He pulled off her drenched socks. Then he unbuttoned her white blouse. He did everything tenderly. She kept staring at him. He looked tired. She knew he had been up very late writing. He took her bra off. Shame was no longer in the picture. He had seen her bare body many times. He wasn't even looking at her that way.

"You don't have to do this." She whispered to him. He finally looked her in the eyes as he pulled her up to take off her skirt. "I know." He replied, then unzipped her skirt. She felt warmth through her chest. That was in big contrast with the way her body felt. He always made her feel warm.

He helped her get out of her underwear. He also pulled her hair clip off and stuck his fingers through her scalp. He massaged her head, and she sighed. A moan escaped her, and he chuckled. Then he stuck the tips of his fingers in the water to check the temperature. It was a good type of warm now. He gave her a hand and helped her get in the tub. He caressed the top of her head.

"I'm going to go make you some tea. You're probably going to catch a cold." She was shivering slightly. Her nose was red, and she was sniffling. She nodded, and he stepped out of the bathroom.

He put the kettle on. He wasn't upset at her for snapping. Or the way she obviously was in a piss-poor mood. She tended to be a little moody. Whenever she ran out of patience or was annoyed at something, she was a bit intense. He never took it personal. It brought humor to him — which she hated. He usually got her to come around, though.

The kettle was taking forever. He heard the sound of the drain. Hopefully she was warmer now. She left the bathroom and went to their room. He messed with the settings of their stove. Increasing the heat. Her small frame came into the kitchen. Sweatpants, fuzzy socks, and a hoodie she stole from him on her body. He was leaning back on the counter facing her. She looked shy as she got closer. They didn't speak. She was ringing her hands. He grabbed one of her hands and pulled her into him. Her face nuzzled into his neck.

"Sorry, I snapped at you. She murmured into his skin. He scoffed, the sound vibrating through her body.

"That was nothing. It didn't bother me."

"Still. I don't like it when I'm mean to you."

"You're always mean. That's why I like you so much." He kissed her cheek, and she smiled. He looked down into her eyes lovingly. He could decipher anything she was feeling by looking at those gorgeous big green eyes of hers. "Are you warm? Your lips are still kind of blue."

"I'm good now." She nodded while looking up at him.

"Want me to warm them up?" He asked with a cheeky grin, and she chuckled. He pulled her in and placed his lips on hers. His lips were soft and warm against hers. She could taste the remnants of a cigarette in his mouth. He had probably had a smoke earlier. He cupped her face. Calloused hands against soft, cold cheeks. He slipped his tongue in her mouth, and she shivered. This time it wasn't from the cold. He tasted her. She was his favorite flavor. She hummed. His hands left her cheeks and settled them on her hips. Pulling her closer. He could do this forever. He ran his hands up her sides. The kettle whistled. It scared them both, and their lips separated with a smack.

"Shite." He cursed, then grabbed a handcloth and placed it over the handle. He poured the hot water into the two mugs. Her favorite mug. It read, 'Dibs on the lead singer.' His was a U2 mug with his dad's face plastered on it. It was a gag gift from her. He made both their teas how they liked it.

"Careful. It's hot." He warned before he passed the mug to her. She blew on the hot liquid. Smoke fanned her face. They moved to the couch and just sat there in comfort and silence. Elijah and her could always relax together. Especially when he's in vocal rest. She can tell what he wants without him even speaking.

He was being so sweet to her. It made her eyes burn. He wasn't looking at her, but she was looking at him. Sometimes when she looked at him, feelings would choke her. Sitting at her throat, waiting to be spilt. They had been dating for around 6 months. She hadn't said it yet. The word had always made her uncomfortable. She had warned him about it. He said it to her first. Sometimes he drops it in conversations.

Right now though. The words were at the tip of her tongue. Ready to stumble out.

"Eli..." She let out breathlessly. His head turned. He saw her expression. His brow raised in question. "What is it?"

"I..." She gulped. She didn't know why this was so difficult for her. She cursed. He sat up straight. He could tell her. He just knew. Taking a sip of his tea before speaking.

"You don't have to say it. I know."

"What?" Her mouth agape. Eyebrows furrowed. He couldn't possibly know what she was about to say.

"Oh, come on. Did you think I didn't know? I see it on your face every day." He chuckled at her face.

"See what on my face?"

"Love."

"Fuck off." She rolled her eyes. He laughed louder this time. She crawled towards him. He smirked at her.

"You're such a bloody eejit." She sat on his lap. A peck to her lips.

"That you love."

"Yeah, whatever, fucker. I love you." He smiled widely now. Almost giddy. His cheeks turned pink.

"Are you blushing?"

"Yeah, whatever. I love you more."

[forteafy]

3 + max!

MV1 x 'You and your stupid smile...Get that shit away from me.'

I've NEVER written for Max before, but I'm low-key in my enemies to lovers arc with him.

Loosing your paddock pass was bad; the rain tricking down the back of your neck was worse.

Working behind-the-scenes of Formula 1 came with some incredible perks; good pay, cooperate outings & the anonymity of your life; you’d seen it go really bad for some couples which had gone public. The same had gone for you and your ex-boyfriend, the golden child of Christian Horner. 

After a few weeks of cold stares and silence, the press had died down on your part, leaving you alone whilst the cameras were continuously shoved into Max’s face; his stance was to keep his head down, his target solely being his third championship. Eventually, you faded back into one of the unknown faces of Red Bull Racing, a whisper sometimes crossing from a rival team; you. It was you. The ex-girlfriend of Max Verstappen. 

Albeit, being well-known may have helped you in your current situation. Instead, you were stood in front of a security guard, arms folded as he waiting for you to pull out a pass. In all fairness, how many women showed up in team attire, playing the card that they had ‘forgotten’ their pass? Your phone was still at the hotel; a silent regret you had thought of, imagining your pass laid atop of it on your mad rush to leave that morning. Fuck Christian Horner for moving the meeting two hours earlier. 

You were on the verge of admitting defeat- you would have admitted defeat, if not for the sudden eyebrow raise by the security guard and the voice emitting from behind you. 

“She’s okay. She’s with me.” He nods, pulling his cap tighter to his head upon the weather becoming heavier. There’s a gentle pressure at the small of your back; after giving a thankful nod towards the security guard, Max leads the two of you through the barrier, waiting until you reached the other side to raise his eyebrows at you. 

“No pass? That’s not like you.” He hums; his voice seems almost a ghost, having barely spoken more than ten words to one another in the past few months. 

“No. Blame your boss.” You huff, feeling your clothes dampen by the minute. On top of the triple header, it seems you’re going to be carrying a huge cold through Austria and Silverstone. “Who moves forward a meeting at four in the morning?” 

Max can’t help the smirk settling on his face; he’d miss this. The upmost sulking. The sheer black-cat energy that emitted from you. Everybody had been used to seeing him as the grumpy trope, anybody who knew the two of you understood it was so, so different. 

“Don’t.” You snap, the wind only getting heavier, now soaking through the Red-Bull shirt you’d freshly steamed that morning. 

“Don’t what?”

“You and your stupid smile…get that shit away from me.” 

You’d not been able to get his grin out of your mind for weeks. Interviews, meetings, press conferences, nights out. It was always there, a reminder he wasn’t the cold, heartless brute the media could paint him as. 

Your mind is drawn out of its trance of thoughts when you feel a sudden warmth pressed around your shoulders, vision darkening as something covers your sodden head; Max had wiggled out of his own windbreaker, slipping it around your body, pulling the hood up to cover your head. The man waits patiently, and at this point your body is so cold, it will take anything. 

It’s clearly not thinking either, as once you’ve adjusted the garment, you automatically reach out to clasp Max’s hand, breath catching when you feel nothing but raindrops and cold air. 

You prey he hasn’t noticed, ready to simply thank him for his gesture and walk on. What you didn’t expect, was for his hand to find yours, motioning forward, hands interlocked for the first time in months. And you couldn’t be mad, not truly. Not when you looked up at the man whom sacrificed his warmth and dry for you. 

And especially not with that smile. A smile that emitted when Daniel walked past, eyes widening at seeing his favourite couple reunited for the first time in months. 

Max says nothing, but his smile says it all. 

[miupow]

── ★ ˙🍓 ̟ tubatu as fanfic tropes !!

TXT x GN!READER ★ sfw, fluff, lowercase intended, alcohol mention, drunk!yeonjun, talk of marriage, jacket sharing, shy!soobin, kissing in the rain, best friend!taehyun, mentions of fighting (not w txt), meet cute this is a repost from my old blog! reblogs and comments are appreciated ^^

yeonjun -> drunken confessions

"i like you.." yeonjun slurs as you deposit him on the couch, cat eyes half-lidded and unfocused, limbs sprawled out everywhere-- you giggle, push his hair back, pretend he doesn't give you butterflies when his head lolls back and he gives you a lazy grin. "you're drunk." you shake your head, turn to the kitchen to get yeonjun some water, but the boy stops you with a drawn-out whine; "nooo, don't go, i mean it! i like you so much, you're so pretty, we should get married,," "i'm sorry?" you turn back to face him and laugh, cheeks heating up against your will-- you couldn't take a word yeonjun said right then seriously-- "we should get married," yeonjun repeated happily, already half-asleep just sitting on the sofa. "i'll be a good husband, just for you... i'll tell you i love you every day..."

soobin -> take my jacket

"are you cold?" soobin asks gently, frowning as he took in the way you were shaking like a leaf-- you hadn't bothered to grab a coat before agreeing to walk to the convenience store with him, not expecting the dark seoul streets to be this chilly... "i'm okay," you insist, wrapping your arms tight around your middle. "no you're not-- here," soobin scoffs, quick to shrug off his puffy jacket and drape it over your shoulders, "you can wear my jacket as long as you promise to give it back." you opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat-- soobin's coat was warm, engulfed you completely, and smelled just like him. you felt so cozy and small, wrapped up and surrounded by soobin... "thank you," you mumble into the coat instead, blushing furiously. "you're welcome-- you could catch a cold, you know. you need to be more careful." soobin was quick to hide his face, turning away to look out at the street, but you could see his red ears from a mile away.

beomgyu -> kissing in the rain

"beomgyu, i--" "shut up," he cuts off, diving in to capture your lips with his-- the height difference made you dizzy, beomgyu's deft fingers tilting your head up to face the pouring sky, protected from the rain only by his body melding against your own... it was raining so hard it was difficult to see, your clothes soaked through completely, your body chilled to the bone; you were freezing, shaking violently, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. you dug your fingers into beomgyu's wet hair, deepened your kiss with a lofty sigh he tasted like fireworks. countless tiny explosions overwhelming your senses and like something sweet you couldn't name. "don't tell me to shut up," you retorted when you parted, breathing heavy, fingers still tangled in beomgyu's hair; "you shut up." "okay." beomgyu giggled, leaning in for another kiss.

taehyun -> friends to lovers

“you’re okay, i’ve got you,” taehyun murmured into your hair, holding you tight as you cried into his shoulder— this was the third time he’s been the one to console you after a fight with your boyfriend, and at this point taehyun was really starting to get tired of the guy. “you’re gonna be okay,” taehyun wished you could see how perfect of a boyfriend he could be for you, how much better he would treat you than that jerk… he rubbed your back as you sobbed into his shirt, trying his hardest not to show how irritated he was— how could anyone treat a person this perfect like this? you didn't deserve this, you deserved so much better! he would treat you like royalty, spoil you rotten... if you would let him. but he was terrified that he was one confession away from ruining your friendship. so he'd never say a word. at least, not until the timing was right. he was willing to wait.

hueningkai -> meet cute

"oh, i'm so sorry!" you squeak, disoriented and mortified beyond belief. "i wasn't paying attention--" you weren't even sure where to start, knocked clean on the pavement, contents of your purse scattered everywhere-- and worst of all, your iced coffee spilled all over a complete stranger. And he was so handsome, too!! "no, no, I'M sorry!" he replied, sounding just as flustered as you were. he helped you gather your things, looking so apologetic despite you being the one to bump into him. "i should have looked where i was going!" you couldn't fathom why he felt the need to apologize when he was the one who now had a giant stain on his light colored sweater. "i'm so sorry about your sweater--" you repeated, rummaging around in your bag. "i might have some napkins in here--" "don't worry about it, it's fine!" the stranger giggled, offering you a hand-- you took it hesitantly but gratefully, face heating up at his pretty smile and strong grip. "i'm hueningkai by the way, what's your name?"

[lotusbxtch]

Sunlight

Song: Sunlight Character: Joel Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x gn!Reader Summary: Joel Miller has avoided love, pushed it away at the first sight to stay in the darkness. But then he meets you, and he wonders if he was wrong after all. Word Count: 578 Rating: Mature, mentions of smut Warnings/tags: post-outbreak, takes place in Jackson, vague mentions of smut, angst, Joel hates feelings, everyone loves Reader, grumpy sunshine trope incoming, heavy use of Hozier lyrics, no use of y/n, not beta’d

a/n: This is my entry for @wannab-urs Hozier Drabble Challenge! This felt like the perfect pairing for the song, so thank you Gin! Hope I did it justice.

Ever since the outbreak, since losing Sarah, Joel has shunned the light of love of any kind. He preferred to stay in the cool, detached predictability of a life without it. It was dark, but it wasn’t dangerous for his heart. That was, until you showed up in Jackson.

A veritable ball of light, you charmed everyone in the settlement. Your bright smiles, cheerful demeanor, and deep kindness easily helped you become a pillar of the community. You helped out in any way you could, even if it was something on the more physical end, like construction. People asked you to teach them some of your hobbies: baking, knitting, painting. You helped every single one with a smile on your face. He knew you were nothing but goodness personified, and yet he shunned your light. He stayed cool and quiet, avoiding you just like he’d been doing for longer than he knew. Until one day, he witnessed your sunlight directed towards him.

It was a Sunday, and you’d snuck up on Joel on his porch late at night, strumming absentmindedly on his guitar, listening to the hum of night. Suddenly he heard “I didn’t know you played guitar!” come out from the dark bushes. He jumped slightly, startled, until you popped your head up, eyes shimmering with amusement. He sighed, disgruntled, and said, “Yeah, I don’t usually play for an audience.”

“How about an audience of one?” you suggested coyly, intertwining your fingers with each other, looking down and then back up at him expectantly but shyly. He searched your eyes, so bright. His defenses were screaming at him to be a jerk, to push you away as usual, but a small voice in him said, “play for them.” He swore it sounded just like Sarah. So he sighed, and situated the guitar in his arms. As he played, you slowly wandered up the steps to his porch, keeping your eyes locked on him the whole time. He finished the song and looked up, his breath catching in his throat. You had the most spellbound, enraptured look on your face.

“Joel,” you breathed, “that was so beautiful.”

He was at a loss for words, because he realized that for the first time, he was experiencing your sunlight for himself. He was lost to you, lost in your radiant sunlight, your bright effervescence of love and joy. And he realized he could not be without you for the rest of his life.

After that, he willingly drowned like a falling Icarus into the sea of your love, wax wings melting fast. He gorged himself on your light, drawn like a moth to the flame. You spent days in his bed over the next few weeks, the two of you unclothed most of the time, sighing and moaning and screaming in pleasure, learning about every cell in each other’s bodies. You bathed him in your sunlight, warming his weary bones, soaked in the cold rain of loneliness, bringing him back up to the surface. He let you crawl your way under his skin, living there, searing into his heart. Soon enough, you would rise with him each day, his home now also your home. 

He knew that love meant pain, meant hurt and suffering if it were ever taken away from him. But he was addicted to you, to your sunlight. He’d gladly put himself into a death trap for you, and he knew you’d do the same for him.

[shelikesorchids-archive]

Hi!!! Congrats on 50+ followers -- I'm happy to be one of them! (And happy early birthday! 🎂🥳)

Could I request prompt #18 (the one about dancing in the rain) from the Grumpy x Sunshine trope with Michael Kinsella? I just started watching Kin and I'm totally in love with Mikey already. 🥰

Thank you thank you my dear! It's hard NOT to fall head over heels for Mikey!

Also, you and @bellaxgiornata must be sharing a brain because you both requested the same prompt! But, do not fret, I have planned to make this a two parter, because I like to give the people what they want. Hope you enjoy!

No warnings, except for tooth rotting fluff.

The First Time You Danced With Michael Kinsella in the Rain...

One of the many things Michael loved about you was your zest for life. He loved that you saw the beauty in the mundane, and your uncanny ability to find a silver lining in everything. It annoyed him at first, but your smile and your joy were contagious, and he needed some unbridled joy in his life. 

The two of you were walking back to his house after dinner one night when the sky opened up and you were surprised with a torrential downpour. Michael was quick to offer you his jacket and his hand so the two of you could dash home, but you were content to splash in puddles and get yourself soaking wet. 

“What’re ya doin, pet? Yer gonna catch a cold!” Michael yelled. 

“Aw, come on Mikey! You remember how much fun it was to play in the rain when you were a kid?” you laughed. 

“Vaguely,” he retorted. “Now come on! I don’t mind takin’ care of ya when yer sick, but I’d rather not.” 

“Everyone should dance in the rain at least once in their lives! Come dance with me Mikey!” 

Michael couldn’t help but laugh as you started to waltz and twirl around with an imaginary partner through the puddles on the street. As much as he was not looking forward to taking care of you with the sniffles in the morning, he had to admit that you looked more beautiful than ever in the glow of the raindrops and the streetlights. He finally cracked, and took your hands in his as the two of you danced through the street in the pouring rain. 

You laughed as Michael tried, but failed miserably to waltz with you among the puddles in the street. He was very up front about the fact that he had two left feet, but you loved that he humored you and tried anyway. Once you had your fill of Michael stepping on your toes, you pulled him in for a kiss, and he wrapped his arms around you so that he could lift you slightly off the pavement. You carded your hands through his soaking wet hair, and you laughed against his mouth as he gently put you back down. 

“What was that for, Mikey?”

“I dunno. Just seemed right,” he said before gently pecking your lips again. 

“What do ya say we get home and get outta these wet clothes, pet. I’m freezin’!” he said as he hugged you tighter. 

“Sounds good love. And maybe I can put on a record and teach ya how to dance properly,” you said before bopping his nose with your fingertip. 

Michael feigned offense with a scoff and said “Are ya saying I'm a bad dancer?”

“Not bad, horrible! My poor toes have been abused,” you laughed. 

He held your hand tighter as the two of you made your way back to his place to get into some dry clothes, and in that moment, Michael knew he was deeply in love with you. 

[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 20 - Dying To Live

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 9k words. What happened? How did this all happen? Find out in todays chapter. Lot's of secrets coming out.

CW:  a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes, descriptions of injuries, mentions of death, PTSD, guilt, all hurt no comfort, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of abortion, Florida, depression, mental health, dead bodies, desecration of multiple corpses, blood, alcohol, description of human remains.

AN: This is the last chapter I am posting of this fic this year. I've been spending time on other things. I do have the next arc planned out and it's a juicy one.

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

enjoy <3

The rain is cold. 

The wind is cold.

There’s the smell of burning flesh in the air. Sulphur and smoke.

Her eyes open and there’s pain. 

So much pain. 

Even the rain stings as it hits her skin.

The wind sends shivers up her spine.

She has no idea how much time has passed. 

She should be dead. Whatever God let her survive was wrong. 

It hurts to breathe.

It hurts to move.

She should be dead. 

“Over here! There’s someone here!” The voice is muffled in her ears. She hears boots crash in the pools of water created by the rain. Rubble falling around her. There are lights now. More voices, more scents. She doesn’t need a rescue.

She should be dead. 

Voices ring in her ears as rubble is moved off her body, each piece causing her to grit her teeth, trying not to cry out. She won't look weak in the presence of her captors. They must have already moved some of the bigger pieces of rubble, the large walls that had fallen on her pinning her to the ground. 

She’s not sure how long she’s been here. It’s dark out. Is it a new day or the same late night? She can see smoke billowing up into the sky. The rain is relentless making her body shiver, her clothes soaked through. 

She hears more voices, and there’s more movement. Pressure being lifted off her body. For a second she hopes it's John and the rest of 141.

She doesn’t deserve that luck. 

“You’re going to be okay.” The voice is American, local. He’s bent over her shining a torch on her. “Can you hear me?” 

Yes. Yes I can. The words catch in her throat. Maybe she’s damaged her voice box. Maybe she’ll never speak again. The figure with the light vanishes, and she’s alone again. She blinks a few times, black spots coming in her vision. 

It’s like there’s a cloud over her vision. Maybe she’s lost more than her voice. 

“We need EMT’s over here!” the figure shouts. Piper looks as the figure comes back bending over her. He’s not military, he’s a local cop. He’s young, blonde hair, blue eyes. There are more people now, more people calling her demanding her attention. 

“Hey, my name is Craig. I'm an EMT. Can you tell me where it hurts?” he asks. His voice is dulled out. With more lights lighting up the area she realises she can only see out of one eye. She tries to move her head from side to side.

“No, keep still,” he says, moving around her body. “We need to secure her for transport, get a collar on her.” 

She tries moving her limbs. She can move her fingers, that's good. She tries to move her toes, but she can’t feel anything. Panic sets in and she tries to tip her head but someone grabs it holding it in place.

“I—I-.” She swallows hard, the words sounding wrong in her ears. There’s a ringing now. “My legs—I—I—can't feel them.”

 The EMT looks down over her body.

“HEY! Has anyone moved rubble off this person!?” he shouts as someone else comes down, securing a neck brace in place, forcing her head to sit in an uncomfortable position. More voices, more people. Loud voices. The ringing in her ears is louder. There is a new person with her now.

“Hello, I’m Alice, we’re going to get you out of here. What's your name?” She’s sweet. She seems young as she picks up Piper's hand, squeezing it. 

“Kate,” she manages to say. 

“Kate? Is that your name?” 

Piper wants to shake her head but she remembers she can’t.

She doesn’t deserve this rescue.

“No. Kate. Laswell.” Piper sucks in a breath of air. It hurts, it hurts so much. Her breathing becomes pants. Alice looks worried as her colleague Craig comes back. “Kate. Laswell. Emergency contact.” 

The EMT nods. “Don’t worry about that. What’s your name?” 

She doesn’t want to tell her. It doesn’t matter though because she can’t breathe. Panic rises in her as she tries to bring a hand to her chest. Alice’s eyes widen as she shouts for the other EMT. 

“Deep breaths. In and out,” Alice says, taking her scissors out her pocket and moving to cut her shirt.

“Oh my,” she says. “Craig! Chest trauma!” 

Chest trauma? That’s not good. She tries to suck in air but it hurts. She can’t breathe. Black spots flash across the vision. She can hear Alice calling but she can’t hold on. 

She closes her eyes as her lungs burn. 

…

When she opens her eyes again there is more pain, worse pain. 

“Nice and easy, there we go.” It’s Alice. She has her hands on Piper's chest. She groans in pain. She still can’t feel her legs. What if she’s paralysed?

“Hey, keep those eyes open for us, we're almost there,” she says, smiling. There’s an oxygen mask on her face. She blinks a few times. There is definitely no vision in her left eye. She can feel movement and hear sirens. She's in the back of an ambulance.

Pain in her chest is unbelievable. It makes her dizzy and she squeezes her eyes closed. 

She doesn’t deserve to be alive.

…

When she opens her eyes again there are new people around her. The pain is better, the sharp stabbing replaced with dull throbbing. Machines are beeping, and there is no neck brace anymore. 

“Hello, can you hear us?” 

She has to turn her head to see the person standing to her left. It’s definitely a doctor with a white coat and a stethoscope around his neck. 

She nods.

“My name is Dr. Smith. Can you hear me?” he asks. She nods again looking up at him through fuzzy eyes. “Okay. You’re at Seattle General Hospital. Do you remember what happened?” 

Piper nods her head.

“Okay, when you arrived at the hospital you were exhibiting signs of something we call crush syndrome. That happens when you’ve suffered extensive blunt force trauma.” He stops like he’s making sure she’s listening. Piper nods. She wants to tell him she’s a doctor.

Crush syndrome.

She should be dead. 

“We’re going to move you to the ICU for the next few days to keep an eye on you. You have a lot of broken bones and we need to make sure you don’t develop pneumonia while your collapsed lung stabilises.” 

Piper nods again.

Pneumonia. Pneumothorax. 

She should be dead. 

She doesn’t get to thank the doctor before she’s wheeled out of the room. She looks up watching the fluorescent lights flash above her head. She closes her eyes. Hopefully they called Kate Laswell. She’s her only hope right now.

The omega is safe though and that's what matters.

When Piper opens her eyes there is someone in her room. For a second she doesn’t recognise them. Then she does, the sharp facial details, the high pony-tail, the fidgeting. It’s Kate.

“You came,” Piper says as Kate leans off the wall. 

“I had to see for myself.” She walks over to the side of the bed. 

“The omega. Is she safe?” Piper asks. Kate nods. Piper lets out a sigh of relief leaning back in the bed. 

“It’s not everyday you get a call telling you someone is back from the dead.” 

“I thought I was going to die,” Piper says. She had come to terms with death. 

She should be dead.

“You got beat up pretty bad,” Kate says, picking up her chart. “Broken ribs, broken arm, both legs broken—”

“I did have a building fall on me,” Piper interrupts her. 

“How long do you think it will take you to heal?” Kate asks, putting the folder back down.

“A month or so. I don’t know. It’s a lot of injuries.” 

“I can get you out of here. New identity, fresh start,” Kate offers. Piper shakes her head. Kate sighs like she knew that would be the answer but it’s not the one she wanted. 

“Well you can’t stay here. We don’t need the doctors asking questions. You can come stay with me and my wife. At least until you’re healed,” Kate says. 

“Thank you.” Piper smiles at her. 

Kate shrugs. “Don’t mention it.” 

“Where is she?” Piper asks. Kate sighs quickly looking out the room and moving closer to her. 

“They’re in Canada. They’ll be leaving soon, they just have to wait for things to calm down,” Kate says. Canada’s not far. Maybe she could catch them before they went to the UK, if Kate could tell her where they are.

“What things?” she asks.

“The DOD are still investigating what happened. They’re hiding, laying low for a bit, and the omega was sick, from what I heard.” 

“Sick how?”

“She didn’t exactly take your death well. She had a miscarriage,” Kate says. 

Piper sighs, throwing her head back. Fuck, this was her fault. She should have sorted out the abortion earlier. She should have realised sooner. Of course you miscarried, your whole system is a mess. Hale knew that and he still tried to get you pregnant. His obsession with having a pureblood omega could have killed you. 

“That made her sick?” Piper asks.

“She was in hospital for a few days but she’s okay now. Just mourning,” Kate says. 

“Maybe I could catch them before they leave?” 

“They’re leaving tonight and you’re in no position to be following them across the world. They have enough to deal with the omega,” Kate says.

“What about Hale?” 

“Dead. They pulled his body out before they found you. He’s in the morgue. We’re waiting for the autopsy.” 

“Are you sure it’s him?” Piper asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Who else would it be?” Kate asks. 

“You really have no idea the type of stuff we were working on,” Piper says. Kate raises an eyebrow. 

“Would you be able to ID him?” 

“Of course.” 

Kate smiles leaving the room. She comes back a few seconds later with a wheelchair. She helps Piper get out of bed. She’s gentle, her movements slow as she helps put her legs up. Piper winces in pain as she moves her body. Kate reaches over, picking up the IV bag and hanging it on the pole sticking off the chair. She wheels Piper out the room towards an elevator.

“When did you hear?” Piper asks.

“Hear what?” 

“That I was alive?” 

“I was about to get on a plane back to DC. I turned around at the gate,” Kate says, pushing her into the elevator.

“Why?” Piper asks, watching Kate press the button to the basement. Kate sighs.

“I don’t know.” There’s silence as the doors close and the elevator starts to move. “I didn’t know what I was going to do. I just had to see for myself.”

“I thought I was going to die,” she says again. She doesn’t know if Kate is going to say anything and she doesn’t get a chance as the elevator stops and doors open. New people get in. Piper straightens up in the wheelchair. The rest of the ride goes in silence until they’re on the ground floor. 

“You didn’t have to come. You had no reason to come,” Piper says as she gets pushed out the elevator. Kate follows the signs for the morgue.

“I did,” Kate says without elaborating further. Piper stays silent as she’s pushed into the morgue. Kate talks to the doctor flashing her fancy CIA badge and before she knows it Piper is being pushed through to one of the main rooms. Kate stops her outside one of the fridges.

She goes over looking at the piece of paper in her hand before opening one of the fridge drawers. Kate pulls the tray out with a covered body, checking the toe tag. 

“Here,” she says, stepping back. Piper is holding her breath. She pulls the tarp back. She sighs as the face and chest is revealed to her.

“It’s not him,” she says. Fear rises in her. He’s alive, of course he is. Kate looks confused picking up a nearby chart.

“No look, the DNA and dental records match.” She shows her the clipboard. Piper nods. 

“It’s not him.” She wheels back in the chair using her free hand to turn herself. 

“Pass me a scalpel,” she says, pointing over at a table. 

“What? So you can desecrate a corpse?” 

“So I can prove this is not him.” Piper winces as she tries to push on the wheels to move herself forward. Kate sighs, putting her hand out to stop her. She walks over to the equipment pulling a drawer open and coming back with a scalpel and gloves.

Dr. Piper sighs, using all her energy to pull herself using the body tray. She stumbles and Kate reaches out to grab her.

“No!” she snaps, catching herself before she falls. Her eyes dart up to Kate. “Sorry, I got it.” 

Kate nods, stepping back to her original position. Piper steadies herself, straightening her body and pulling the gloves on. Pain radiates down her arms. This was going to hurt. She brings the scalpel down to his midsection. 

She presses it down and drags it, letting it dig into the skin. She looks up at Kate who swallows, bringing her hand up to her mouth. Blood pools down. She goes back to make the incision deeper, which is harder to do with only one eye and one arm. As soon as she’s through the skin and muscle she can see the organs. 

Stomach, liver, intestines. She sticks her hand in feeling round the stomach. There’s nothing there. She starts to feel round the intestines. She feels a lump and smiles. 

“You might want to cover your mouth for this,” she says looking up at Kate, who nods, stepping back. Piper holds her breath as she starts to cut through the intestine where she feels the lump. She can’t hold her breath for long and eventually she lets out a long breath. The smell of decaying flesh fills her nose. She reaches in and presses on the organ until something pops out. She smiles picking it up and holding the large tablet sized object between her thumb and finger.

“What is it?” Kate asks, trying not to gag. 

“Another invention of yours truly. It secretes the DNA of whoever you chose into your system. Can trick most coroners,” Piper explains, dropping it into a kidney dish.“What about the dental records?” Kate asks. 

“They’re fake records. One of the easiest things to do,” Piper says, sitting back down and rubbing her forehead with the back of her arm. “You really do have no idea what we were working on.”

“So what happens when the coroner finds that?” Kate asks.

“It’s a foreign object. That or try to explain the fringe technology inside it,” Piper says looking over at her. 

“How—what—how did this happen?” 

“You mean how did we create it or how did this end up inside him?” Piper asks, sitting back down in the wheelchair, her body throbbing from standing. 

“How did it end up in that body? Where is Professor Hale?” Kate asks, coming round the body towards her. 

“I don’t know. Hale must have managed to slip it into someone before he left the area.” Piper looks up at Kate and sighs. “We used to do it all the time, why do you think Hale managed to get away with all the deaths? How do you think Dr. Anderson managed to slip past the security checks and get on a military base?”

“Why?” Kate asks. She seems taken back by the whole thing. Piper shrugs.

She starts taking her gloves off. “Why was the DOD even willing to get involved in this project?”

“Honestly, Hale was a security threat. It was in the government's best interest to work with him rather than against him,” Kate says. 

“Other than the super soldier speech, what did he promise?” Piper asks. Kate looks around the room stepping closer to her.

“We really shouldn’t talk about it here. Let’s sort your discharge out.” 

“What about this?” Piper asks, nodding at the body on the tray. Her own body feeling suddenly heavy, her chest sore. She needs to stock up on some painkillers before she leaves

“I’ll need to make a few calls,” Kate says, pushing the body back into the fridge before coming behind her wheelchair and pushing her out the room.

“Is General Shepherd still keeping an eye on things?” Piper asks.

“Yes. He thinks I’m here to ID your body. He doesn’t know you’re alive. I thought if you had any chance of seeing the omega again, it’s best if they think you’re dead,” Kate says as Piper smiles, throwing her gloves in the medical waste. 

“Thank you.”

“I didn't do it for you,” Kate says. She walks around Piper pressing the button on the elevator. Piper swallows as Kate looks back at her.

“What about John? Does he know?” Piper asks. She feels like she’s not going to like the answer.

“No, the only person who knows is me, which is why we need to get you out of here quickly before people start asking questions. Like; who is the Jane Doe and why do her wounds heal so quickly?” Kate says, pushing her into the elevator. 

“I just need some crutches and pain relief, then we can leave,” Piper says feeling suddenly guilty.

“Okay, I’ll look for a doctor. You just get ready to leave. We’ve got a long trip back to Virginia,” Kate says, pushing her back to her room in silence. Both her legs are broken and she has no idea how long it’s going to take to heal. 

She’s lucky she’s even alive. She should be dead. Lost vision in her left eye, broken left arm and dislocated shoulder, both legs broken, 4 ribs, and a pelvic fracture. Honestly, considering she had a whole building fall on her, she’s lucky. 

The burns will take the longest to heal. Her skin is littered with them. Most of the damage seems to be on her left side. At least that’s her non-dominant side. She almost died on the way to the hospital, crush syndrome and a collapsed lung. A few more minutes and she would have been dead. 

She wheels herself to her chart at the end of the bed pulling it out. She can see her x-rays. Her whole body is fucked. This is going to take months to heal. Maybe her eye will never heal. She deserves that. 

She should be dead. She’s not dead and neither is Hale.

Her sacrifice was for nothing. 

She should have died, so should have Hale. You’re never going to be safe with him still after you. She needs to tell John.

2 weeks later

Kate’s house is nice. 

Kate’s wife is nice. 

Virginia is nice. 

She should be dead.

Her body is healing, slower than normal, but it’s healing. Her arm healed first and then one of her legs. Her other leg and ribs are taking the longest. The left side of her body seemed to take the worst beating. She has burns running up her arm and leg. Her stomach is covered in scars and bruises. 

She still cannot see out of her left eye, but she’s used to it by now. Kate and her wife—Hannah—are patient people, mashing up her food so she can swallow it better. Making sure she’s in the guest room on the ground floor. 

They’re too nice. She’s been trying to help Kate as much as she can. She brings intel from work. They’re trying to track down Hale but so far nothing. Piper had spent her time trying to figure out how this happened. How they both managed to survive. Hale was on the top floor, he only had the roof fall on him. Piper had 2 floors and a roof fall on her.

You’re in the UK, Scotland. You’re safe, safer than you’ll ever be. It’s good that they don’t know where Hale is. As soon as they find out and tell Shepherd, he’ll want to send 141 after him. Kate still seems to be confused why Shepherd seems to be so instant on 141 being involved. Hale’s not that big of a threat anymore. 

His houses have been destroyed. He can't start up another lab without alerting the US government. There’s no more chemical. The only way to get a sample would be to reverse engineer it, but that would require the omega and she’s safe. 

There is little news from John but the news she has heard has been good. She knew you would like Scotland. You love the outdoors, you love nature. You’re safe and you deserve to be safe. She knew John would keep you safe. 

Kate comes home around 6pm. She comes through to the kitchen where Hannah is cooking something she’s been working on for the last hour or so. They kiss, and Kate spies Piper out the corner of her eye. 

“Long day?” Hannah asks as Piper shifts at the kitchen table. She’s been surrounded by all the paperwork Kate has bought and there will be more. It’s a good thing though; the quicker Piper can figure out what’s going on the safer you will be.

“More for you,” Kate says, emptying her bag on the table.

“They still don’t suspect you’re stealing classified documents?” Piper asks. 

“You’d be surprised how easy it is if you know the right people,” Kate says, turning to go back to the kitchen. Piper is about as qualified to find him as the CIA are. They thought maybe he would go back to the bunker in Michigan, but nope. His apartment in Manhattan was seized and searched. Nothing. He hasn’t been back there since. 

Officially he’s dead; he and Piper both are. According to the CIA, the autopsies were enough for the DOD to wipe their hands with the matter. They both died in the building explosion. Unofficially they’re keeping tabs on him: he's faked death once before, and he could do it again. It sounds like Kate has been drip feeding Shepherd the idea of Hale surviving the explosion. The autopsy reports are valid though—well if you squint and don’t know what you’re looking at.

She looks over the documents. More random info, most of it useless data from tracking Hale’s personal devices, credit cards that sort of thing. Then there are the document’s Piper has come to call the pointless updates. Mainly contact with 141 or more specifically John. He doesn’t say much, keeps things as vague as possible. They’re only doing it so Kate knows where they all are. 

Piper soaks the words up though. You’re never mentioned, unless Kate is hiding something from her. It feels like things are moving in slow motion. She feels no closer to finding out where Hale might be hiding, or if he’s even still in the US. It would help if Piper could remember all the aliases he would use but that's a lot of information she can’t remember.

‘We’d know if he left the country,’ Kate said at one point. ‘Facial recognition.’  It doesn't give Piper much hope. There are plenty of ways to sneak out of a country. He could be half way across the globe, he could be closer to you than they think. Piper sighs, scanning over the pointless documents Kate bought. No activity on his cards, no use of his passport. Piper is pretty sure he would have a new phone by now. Looking at that page was not even worth her time.

Piper starts packing the documents away as Kate comes back over to the table with a bowl of salad. 

“What are the chances Professor Hale wants the omega?” Kate asks. Piper looks up at her. She hardly ever talks about work at home. Hannah tries to keep the house a work free zone. She went on a rant about not bringing work home with her when Piper first arrived. That made her feel like she was intruding on their personal space. She was, but Hannah didn’t seem to mind that much, at least not when it really came down to it.

“If he wants more of the chemical he needs her,” Piper says, keeping it simple. No need to spend the next few hours talking Kate’s ear off about reverse engineering a formula. Piper hands her the documents and she takes them, dumping them in a pile with the rest. 

“What makes her special? Why not come after you? Or John?” 

Piper hears Hannah audibly sigh as she places a plate down in front of Piper who thanks her while watching Kate’s eyes follow her wife back into the kitchen.

“She’s special, she’s an omega. The only omega,” Piper says. She’s not sure how much detail she wants to go into, especially around Hannah.  

“Why not make another one?” Kate asks, sitting down as Hannah comes back to the table with 2 more plates of food. Piper looks at her. She just sighs as she sits down pulling the salad bowl up to her. Kate nods like she’s just been given silent permission to continue the conversation. 

“He tried. Omegas are very rare apparently. Out of all the people he used the formula on, she was the only omega.” 

“There has to be more eventually though right?” Kate asks. Piper looks down at the food picking her fork up. Guilt washes over her. She hasn’t been completely honest with them. With the omega, John or any of them. She pushes the lasagna round the plate as she musters the courage to tell Kate.

“There was another. Another omega,” Piper says, looking over at Kate who spoons salad onto her plate. She frowns, tipping her head. Piper clears her throat. 

“Hale, he had a daughter, a biological daughter. She was the first. It was early days, so early that the formula was unstable. For Betas and Alphas it was fine but for some reason the dramatic physical transformation for omegas was just too much.” Piper looks over at Hannah whose eyes are digging into her. She looks back to Kate then to her plate. This isn’t exactly dinner time conversation. Not that Piper’s hungry anymore anyway.

“What happened?” Kate asks, encouraging her to continue. 

“He tried to stabilise it. We tried everything. By the end she was just too weak, her body couldn’t handle it. I think it was her death that broke him,” Piper says. She remembers her well. She was only 17 when she died, alone, scared and in pain. Piper spent years pushing her to the furthest recesses of her mind. She wasn’t going to let her death turn her like it did to Hale. 

“Vanessa. He named her after his first wife; she died in childbirth. After that something snapped in him. He left the bunker for 2 years. When he came back he had a new omega.” Piper clears her throat again. She doesn’t get to cry. She doesn’t get to mourn for Vanessa. She did that years ago.

“Does John know?” Kate asks. 

Piper shakes her head. She forks some food in her mouth but it tastes of nothing. Kate sighs. 

“So what happened then?” she asks. Piper looks back up at her. She can’t tell what Kate is thinking. Maybe it's best that she doesn’t know.

You’re not one of the good guys. She reminds herself. 

“He dedicated all his time to perfecting the formula. He thought the new omega would suffer the same fate but she didn’t. She lived and she kept living despite all the odds. He hated that. He despised the fact that she lived and his daughter died,” Piper says. She thinks back to you, how he would talk about you when you were not around. You would never be perfect for him. He would plan your death on a near daily basis but could never bring himself to do it.

Maybe that was the only mercy you ever got from him, his refusal to lose another omega. You were worth more to him alive then you were dead.

Piper fell in love with you though, so much so that as soon as Hale made plans to claim you she knew she had to get you out. 

“What happened to his daughter?” Kate asks. 

“Multisystem organ failure, her kidneys went first then—” 

“No I mean did he bury her? Cremate her?” Piper looks at Kate confused. 

“He buried her. In Florida, she always wanted to see—” Piper lets out a gasp. The fork falls out Piper's hand crashing onto the plate. Kate looks over at Hannah. “He’s going to dig her up. He can get a sample of her DNA. He could create a new formula.” 

There’s silence in the room. Piper looks round at Kate and Hannah. They’re both looking at her, waiting for her to continue. 

“Is that even possible?” Hannah asks, eventually snapping Kate and Piper out of their heads.

“Unfortunately yes,” Piper says, picking her fork up again even though she’s lost her appetite.

“Then he wouldn’t need to go after the omega right?” Kate asks. Piper’s not sure how to answer. He still needs you. Getting DNA from a corpse is not as easy as a living person. 

“He always needs her,” Piper says, forcing food into her mouth. “She’s never going to be safe until Hale is dead.” 

The Shadow digging dumps dirt at his feet. He kicks it off his shoes. There’s no way this was going to work. It was a long shot but it was easier than running round the world chasing after the omega. Cheaper too. 

It’s dark, late evening. Hale’s house is secluded on the coast a few miles away from anyone let alone a town. Deep through the Everglades on the west coast. He’s lucky the only way in is by hovercraft or boat, and the only 2 people who knew this place existed are now dead. 

It’s a good place to hide out. He’s not here to hide though; he’s here for something. Well someone. 

“Is there an institution you don’t have your fingers in?” Commander Graves asks, hanging up his phone call and walking to stand next to him.

“Scandinavia’s hard. So many rules, they like to follow rules,” Hale says. Graves chuckles watching his men work.

“Anything new with the CIA?” Hale asks. 

“They found Piper Montgomery’s body. Kate Laswell was there to ID it in person.” 

“Why?” Hale asks, confused, looking at Graves.

“No idea. We know it’s her though. They’re still under the impression you’re dead, too, by the way.” 

“Good, at least I know I’m getting my money's worth,” Hale sighs, crossing his arms. Graves moves over to look at the Shadows digging in the garden. Hale’s other homes had already been searched by the CIA and FBI. They didn't find anything of course; there is nothing to find. His labs have been destroyed. Now there is just his holiday home left, and he doesn’t even have a proper lab to work with. It’s going to make things a lot harder. 

He always wanted to bring Vanessa here when she was alive. She was always so sick though, it would have been too risky to move her from Michigan down here. She most likely would never have survived the journey.

She always wanted to see the ocean. 

“When do you think I will receive the rest of the compensation?” Graves asks as more Shadows come over with shovels. He should have marked her grave. 

“A few days. Still waiting for my accountant to move some pieces around,” he sighs. Of course he would be hounding him about money. 

“I lost good men that day, they had families too,” Graves says. Hale can hear the anger in his voice.

“You’ll get your revenge on 141. I already promised you that,” Hale sighs. 

“We know where they are now—” 

“Do you want the formula or not?” Hale snaps. He promised it to Graves and all of Shadow company as a bonus for keeping his ‘status’ secret. They just had to find the body first. 

141 did a good job of destroying everything he had. Blowing the place—that had to be Dr. Montgomery's idea. He didn’t think she would actually go through with it. He thought she would be too selfish, to want to survive for the omega. He judged her wrong. Doesn’t matter; she’s dead, but now he has no formula and Graves has to find more staff. 

“Here!” someone shouts from behind Hale. He turns around to see someone's head sticking out of a hole. As they both walk over he wipes his head with the back of his hand. Hale looks down into the hole. There it is, the wooden coffin. He looks at the Shadow and nods. 

Commander Graves starts shouting orders as Hale takes a step back. This is it. He has no idea the state her body will be in but he expects it to be a skeleton. At least then it might be easier to stomach. He reaches into his coat pocket pulling out a cigar. 

If there was one thing his holiday home had an abundance of, it was proper Cuban cigars and rum. He took his clipper out in his hands, shaking as the Shadows excavated the ground around the coffin. This wasn’t going to be easy. 

Hale watches, reaching into his pocket for his lighter as he sucks air through the cigar. He can taste the woody tones, the tobacco. It calms his nerves slightly. He lights it up just as the dirt is almost completely removed from the wooden coffin. 

Someone comes over with a crowbar. Hale is still shaking. He hears the sounds of the wood creaking as they break the top off. There are groans and moans, some of disgust as the lid pops off. Hale swallows hard and walks over looking at the remains. It's only the bottom half of the coffin that has been taken off but he can see the leg and feet bones. Some of the dress he buried her in is still intact, it was a nice summer dress with yellow flowers on it. In the spotlight it just looks like worn browns and greys. 

“If there’s a God, I would start begging for forgiveness,” Graves says as he crosses his arms. Hale takes a long puff of his cigar. There’s no God, and if there was he doesn’t want his forgiveness. 

He’s going to change the world, cure diseases, and create an unstoppable fighting force. His formula will change the world. The he’ll sell it for millions, tens of millions. He needs to perfect it first though. 

This is his last chance. If he can’t synthesise a copy from her DNA he has to go after the omega. He turns looking at more people coming over with a body bag and other tools.

“Try to keep her in one piece,” Hale says, taking a step away. Another long puff of his cigar to calm his nerves. 

“Think it will work? You’ll be able to recreate the formula?” Graves asks him. 

“Let me worry about the science. You keep track of the omega and 141. We still might need them,” Hale says, straightening up and turning to head back to his house. Graves follows him leaving the Shadows to continue to excavate the body. 

“Nice place you have here,” Phillip says, going to sit on one of the sofas in the living room. Hale sighs, walking over to the bar.

“What’s your poison?” Hale asks without turning around. Phillip closes the door muting the sounds of the ocean.

“Whisky,” Phillip replies. Hale picks up a bottle and pours them both glasses. 

“Single malt scotch. 15 years old,” Hale says, handing him a glass. Phillip straightens up accepting the glass. “I get it flown in especially, all the way from the Scottish Highlands.” 

“Can’t be cheap,” Philip says, holding his glass up before taking a sip. Hale takes a long puff of his cigar before taking a drink.

“141 have a scotsman. Sergeant  John MacTavish,” Hale says letting the alcohol burn his throat. “Maybe he’ll give me a few bottles before I kill him.” 

“You’re really going to go after the 141?” Phillip says, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m going after the omega. 141 are in the way,” Phillip sighs, finishing the rest of his drink and getting up to go back to the bar. He picks up the bottle, swilling it around before bringing it back over to the coffee table. 

“You’ve dealt with them before,” Hale says as he finishes his glass placing it down on the coffee table. 

“A couple of times. They know what they're doing. They have allies. I wouldn’t recommend fighting them on their home ground,” Phillip says, opening the bottle and refilling the glasses. 

“Where are they?” Hale asks. 

“Canada. At least that’s where they were before they got a flight,” Phillip says, closing the bottle and leaning back. Hale nods, taking a long drag of his cigar. 

“Where did they go?” 

“Back to the UK we think.” 

“You think?” 

“If they went back to the UK the last movement we have is Heathrow airport.”  

“London?” Hale asks, reaching over and picking up his glass. He looks at the dark oak coloured liquid swilling it around. 

“Yeah. I would send someone over but I don’t know where to start.” 

“How about London then work your way up,” Hale says a little harsher than he means. 

“You’re not paying me to find the omega or take on 141,” Phillip reminds him.

“What would that cost me?” Hale asks downing his drink. Phillip laughs.

“More than you could afford,” Phillip scoffs, shaking his head.

“Money’s no object,” Hale replies quickly. Graves sighs leaning forward in the chair. 

“We can protect you against 141. But if they want you bad then you better be prepared. I hope this omega of yours is worth it,” Phillip says getting up heading to the door.

“These violent delights have violent ends,” Hale calls leaning forward and stopping Graves in his tracks. 

“I flunked English,” Phillip says throwing his hands up, exasperated, letting out a long sigh. Hale gets up picking up his glass and walking over to Graves. He presses himself right up to his face but Phillip doesn’t flinch. It makes Hale smile.

He knew he picked the right guy.

“Get me the omega and I'll make sure the 141 are never a problem again,” Hale says, pressing a finger into his chest. 

“Give us the formula and I will deal with the 141 myself.” 

Hale chuckles, stepping back and taking a sip of his drink. They’re locked looking at each other eye to eye. Hale’s not going to back down, neither is Graves. 

“Professor?” A voice calls behind them. Hale turns to look at the Shadow standing in the living room. “Where do you want the body?” he asks, sounding nervous as Hale walks towards him. He looks back over at Graves, chuckling.

“In the basement, there’s a walk-in freezer,” Hale says, waving the Shadow away. He turns back to look at Graves downing the rest of his drink. 

“Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet.” 

“That ended in tragedy,” Graves says coldly.

“Exactly,” Hale replies looking back out to his dug up backyard. 

1 week later 

It had been a long week. 

Piper wanted to go to Florida straight away but her other leg needed to heal first. Her ribs were still messed up but at least she can walk without crutches now. Still no sight in her left eye, and at this point she’s convinced it's permanent. She’s also come to discover her hearing on her left side is also dulled. 

She could really use a trip to the hospital for x-rays at least. She can’t risk it getting out that she's alive though. The burns will take months to heal. Her skin will have to rebuild itself on top of layers of scars. At least when she wears long sleeves no one can see anything. According to some intel from Kate, Shadow Company are still after the omega. They’ve put feelers out for her and they’re keeping an eye on Kate.

‘Course they are, Hale’s still paying them,’ Piper snapped at Kate. It’s not her fault. There’s just not much they can do. Kate has a contact in Key West, someone who can confirm the rumours or not. No one but Piper and Anderson knew about Hale’s Florida home. Anderson is definitely dead, Hale is still out there. 

“What if he’s not here?” Kate asks as they’re driving the last few miles to the Naval base. 

“He’ll be here. He needs Vanessa. It’s the only way he can get omega DNA without chasing down the omega,” Piper says. 

“There was one Shadow in Canada,” Kate says, Piper's head snaps over to look at her.

“Do you think they will follow them to the UK?” Piper asks. 

“They could.” 

“Does John know?”  

“John knows Graves is still after them,” Kate sighs. 

“When are you going to tell him about everything?” Piper asks. John should know; he should know what they know at least. It’s been almost a month since they blew up Hale’s house in Seattle. 

“I’m not. Not until we have a plan. It’s best for everyone, it’s risky to try and contact them right now,” Kate says. 

“They should know. They can’t protect her if they don’t know what's going on,” Piper says. Would they care knowing she was still alive? Would they let her see you again? Piper looks over at Kate. 

“She’s safe. She’s in the best place she can be. If we try to contact them we could put her at risk.” 

“You said there were Shadows in Canada, they could be in the UK already,” Piper snaps.

“That's what we're here to find out,” Kate says back. Piper can hear the rising anger in her voice. “As soon as we can confirm Professor Hale is alive and your assumption is correct, then I will contact John.” 

“What if you’re too late?” Piper asks, gripping her seat belt. She doesn’t agree with Kate yet. Kate came when she asked, she looked after her but Piper wants to contact John. If Kate is right then she needs to wait. But if there are already Shadows on the way then you could be in danger. 

Piper lets out a long sigh. Kate is right. No one knows where you are. There’s no point in worrying you or your pack. They will protect you until the bitter end, there is nowhere on earth safer than where you are now. 

The car drives up to the entrance of the base. A soldier comes over and Kate rolls down her window handing him her badge and a letter. He looks over at Piper and after a few seconds nods handing everything back to Kate.

“First turn to the left and you'll see the visitors centre,” he says. Kate thanks him and they wait for the gate to open. 

“How do you know we can trust this guy?” Piper asks as Kate parks up. 

“We can trust him,” Kate says, getting out of the car. Piper follows, feeling exposed. Maybe someone would recognise her and give her away. She shakes her head. There’s no way anyone will recognise her. Piper follows Kate into the building as Kate introduces them and they’re given visitor passes. 

They sit down on some chairs. They’re not waiting long before a young looking man walks round the corner. Kate stands up as the man hugs her. 

“Good to see you again, Laswell,” he says, breaking from the hug and looking over at Piper. 

“Alex, this is an associate of mine, Laura.” Piper extends her hand so the man, Alex, can shake it. He nods at her and gestures for them to follow him. 

“How’s Farah?” Kate asks as they walk to an empty conference room. 

“She’s good. I was surprised you reached out. I was about to head back,” Alex says, closing the door behind Piper. Kate waits a few seconds letting Alex talk about his visit back home. Piper just wants to get this over and done with. The quicker they can get answers the quicker they can make a plan and tell John. 

“Graves is here,” Alex says before Kate can talk. “He’s been out doing training exercises in the Everglades.” 

Kate sighs. “Why?” she asks looking over at Piper. Alex smiles, turning around and picking up a folder.

“This is everything I have. I assume most of it you already know.” 

Kate takes the file flicking through it. Piper leans over to look, it doesn’t look like there’s a lot in there.

“I saw the bounty, you could do alot with 50 thousand,” Alex says. “It was sent internally, Shadow Company only.”

“Where is she then? This omega everyone is getting excited over?” Alex asks. It makes a pit form in Piper's stomach.

“Classified,” Kate says. 

Alex smiles, crossing his arms, he reminds Piper of Johnny. 

“How’s 141? I thought they would have been with you,” Alex says. 

“We’re not joined at the hip you know,” Kate says smiling and closing the folder. “They’re on leave.” 

“Well, if you need anything else you know where to find me. Why are you so interested in Phillip anyway?” Alex asks.

“It’s not him, it’s who he’s working for.” 

“Ah, I see, all I know is his name is Christian—” 

“Christian Lumbrage?” Piper asks, Kate shows her the folder. She can see the name. It’s him, it’s Hale, one of his pseudonyms. Piper gives Kate a glance, hopefully she will understand. Kate closes the folder, putting it under her arm. 

“You’ve been a great help. Next time you’re in town we should catch up,” Kate says, making a move for the door. 

“I would love to, Farah keeps me busy though,” he says chuckling as he reaches over to open the door for Kate. Piper follows them out listening to them talk about how things are going in Urzikstan. She doesn’t care though; she wants to get word to John. 

Kate shakes Alex’s hand and he turns to Piper. 

“It was nice to meet you,” he says, extending his hand to Piper who shakes it. He really does remind her of Johnny. She smiles then follows Kate back out to the car. Piper doesn’t say a word until Kate starts driving. 

“What now?” Piper asks. She hopes this is it. Now they can let John know what they know. But maybe Kate won’t tell him. 

“I’ll tell John what we know,” Kate says. 

Piper looks over at her. 

“Will you tell him about me?” Piper asks. She’s being selfish but she wants John to know she’s alive at least. 

“I’ll tell him but you’re going to go to them,” Kate says. Piper's breath catches in her throat and she snaps to look at Kate, her hands gripping the steering wheel. 

“Go where?” she asks but she feels like she already knows the answer. 

“To the UK, I’ll tell them you’re coming.” 

“Are you sure that's a good idea?” 

“I don’t know, but the omega needs you,” Kate says. 

“She has her pack, she doesn’t need me,” Piper says, dipping her head. She should be dead. She should have died in the collapse. 

“John needs you. She needs you.”

“They want a cure,” Piper snaps back. She’s not quite sure why she is so angry with Kate. Maybe it's the nerves. The nerves that John is going to find out she’s alive and what he will say or do. Maybe he won’t let her near the omega again.

“I didn't come back for you. I’m not doing this for you,” Kate says back. There’s hostility in her voice. “I did this for John and the omega. She deserves a chance at life. You’re the only person who can do that.” 

There’s silence in the car. Piper looks out at the road ahead. Maybe Kate was right but John did leave her to die. He has all her research. He doesn’t need her any more. 

“If it was up to me, you and Hale would both be facing punishment for the crimes you’ve committed,” Kate says. There’s definitely a spitefulness in her voice.

“We will. One day,” Piper sighs.

“If you live that long,” Kate scoffs.

She should have died. 

Piper thinks back to the building collapse. She doesn’t remember much, just being woken by the search team looking for survivors. She would have died if no one had come looking. Slowly and painfully suffocating, her organs falling one by one as she bled out internally. 

If they were just a few hours later, even just a few minutes later she would have died. 

“We’ll head up to Miami, I'll make the call, book the flight. When you land in the UK I'll give you their address,” Kate says, quickly looking behind her. “In the front pocket of the suitcase is your new identity.” 

Piper reaches back pulling out a brand new US passport and opens it up. 

“Laura Miller,” Piper says.

“Who’s going to see her extended family in Scotland. As soon as you get back to the 141 they’ll take care of the rest. Until then you’ll be on your own,” Kate says, 

Piper nods, closing the passport. 

“Thank you, really, for everything,” Piper says. She’s projecting her scent for Kate not that it matters; she won’t be able to smell it. 

“I didn’t do it for you,” Kate reiterates, letting out a sigh. At least she seems calmer. 

Piper smiles and looks out at the ocean as they drive back to the mainland. She’s going to see you again. At least there is one good thing coming out of this. 

John is woken by the buzzing of his phone. He turns. You’re sleeping against his chest. You’re still here, sleeping in his arms. He thought it would be months before you would forgive him, but you’re stronger than you think. He smiles, picking up the phone and squinting to see the name. It’s Kate.

He slowly pushes you off his chest. You mumble something incoherent before latching onto his pillow. He shushes you before tiptoeing out of the room as quietly as he can. As soon as he’s out the door he answers the call.

“How’s the vacation going?” Kate's voice comes through the line.

“Can’t complain.” He smiles looking through the crack in the door at you. 

“Got some news, you might want to be sitting down for this,” Kate says. 

John’s body tenses. There's silence on the line; he's not sure what to say. 

“Professor Hale is alive. The bounty on the omega—it’s from him. He’s working out of Florida with Shadow Company. Officially he died in the house collapse.” 

John lets out a sigh pinching the bridge of his nose.

“We knew something like this could happen,” he says in a low voice trying to keep quiet, quiet and calm. 

“I managed to get some intel from Alex before he went back to Urzikstan, I’ll send it over.” 

“Keller was in the US?” John says shifting his weight. It had been a while since he checked in with Farah. What if something was wrong? 

“Visiting family. He’s already on his way back,” Kate says. 

He lets out a sigh. The last thing they need is to be moving around right now, but if Farah needed help, they would have to drop everything and go. 

“Does Shepherd know?” John asks.

“No, no one knows just you. Alex got the intel on Graves for me, but he doesn’t know why,” Kate explains. She’s done good again, got the intel and kept it quiet. Now John will have something to work with. Any intel is useful at this point. 

“Good work. Do you think Graves is going to be a problem?” he asks.

“I think they have their hands pretty tied right now. They don’t know where you are, you’re safe, for now,” Kate says. John knows she’s right but at the same time he knows an invisible timer has started. At some point they will have to move. For now they need to figure out how much time they have left. 

“There’s one more thing John,” Kate says. He can hear a change in her voice and it makes the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. He waits for her to talk.

“Professor Hale was not the only one to survive the building collapse. Dr. Montgomery survived too.” 

John holds his breath, his eyes widening. She’s alive. 

“She contacted me while she was recovering in the hospital. She was the one who figured out where Hale is and what he’s up to,” Kate continues. John swallows hard looking back in his room. You’re still sleeping cuddling up against his pillow. 

It’s taken you almost a month to get over her death, and now she’s alive. 

“Where is she?” John asks, his voice hard as he takes in the information. 

“She’s on a flight to London. She should be with you within the next 24 hours,” Kate says.

“She’s coming here?” 

“Hale and her survived. They both officially died in that building explosion. We know Hale is alive but we assume he doesn’t know Piper is alive. We have an advantage here. She’ll be safer with you,” Kate explains. That is good news at least. John looks back at you. This is going to be rough. How will he explain it?  

“Tell her to go to the rendezvous location, not the house. I’ll pick her up,” John says. “Of course.” There's silence on the line again. John can hear his own heart beating in his ears. He looks behind him at Simon’s room. He almost wants to wake Simon up and tell him. Get his opinion on the whole thing. Shit. Simon liked her. How was he going to react? 

“I’ll go. You know how to contact me if you need anything. I’ll get those files sent ASAP,” Kate says. John can hear her mumbled speech and the clicking of a lighter. She must be away from home. 

“See you Kate, and thank you,” he says, hanging up. Now he wants a cigarette, a cigar, a glass of whisky, anything to quell the nerves. How was he going to break it to you? Piper is alive, Hale is alive. They had changed nothing. If anything, they just poked the hornet's nest. 

Piper is alive, Hale is alive but thinks Piper is dead. Legally they are both dead. That’s positive and John plans on taking full advantage of it. 

He toes open the door of his room. You’re still sleeping. You just got settled and now your world is going to be turned upside down again. At least this time you don’t hate him and he can be there for you. 

Next Beta reader and editor - rememberwren Dividers by gild-ui & plum98

[salamanderskin]

Looking Out

A Critical Role sickfic, Caduceus/Fjord because I will go down with this ship on their ship. 

Caduceus likes to make himself useful during the journey, while his Captain just wants to take care of him a little. 

Fjord opens the door of the Captain’s Quarters and ushers Caduceus inside. The firbolg has to stoop to miss the brass lamp that swings from the ceiling, giving him a crouched, apologetic look even without soaking wet clothes and obvious shivers.

“What the fuck were you-” Fjord hears the frustrated edge on his voice and tries again. What’s done is done. It isn’t anger anyway, it’s guilt. It was his unclear orders that had the firbolg standing watch in the worst of a freezing rain storm. “Never mind. You’re freezing, ‘Duceus. Let me get you dry.”

Caduceus stands passively, allowing the half-orc to fuss around him. He looks like a drowned rat. All that long, luxurious hair is plastered to his head and falls down his back in sodden tangles, meeting the fabric of his less-than-waterproof coat.

Fjord helps him to peel the coat off, asks, “You mind it I-” and waits for a nod before working on the fastenings of Caduceus' tunic. 

“I don’t think I could do it. My fingers are stiff.” Caduceus comments. 

Fjord catches the offending digits and clasps them in both his palms, pressing his own warmth into them. This makes Caduceus smile, so  he presses a kiss to the back of one to see the smile widen further. The firbolg flexes those long, slender fingers and seems to come back to life as the warmth of room seeps into him. He takes over undressing himself and stands in his smallclothes, which are mercifully dry, then turns from Fjord to give a full body shake, like a dog. Fjord narrowly avoids a mist of water. It’s surprisingly efficient given how short most of Caduceus’ fur actually is, but his long hair remains stubbornly sodden.

Fjord snags a towel and pats the edge of the bed for Caduceus to sit. He sets to work drying that long, silken hair and trying his best not to pull. He even remembers to blot rather than rub, lest he make the mats worse. 

“You really didn’t have to take that watch.” Fjord  comments as he works, summoning his ‘Captain’ voice. “We could have sent Frumpkin out, or literally anyone else on the crew-” He leaves “that I care about less than you” unspoken.

“I was talking to the gulls.” Caduceus shrugs. “And I’ve got the best eyes of all of us.” 

“Yes, but now you’re soaked and-” 

Fjord pauses in his ministrations when he feels Caduceus draw an uncharacteristically sudden, shallow breath. He removes the towel to see an uncertain, ticklish expression and sure enough, the firbolg ducks away from him with a sneeze.

“Hhh--ISSSHoo! …’scuse me.” 

“-and you’re getting sick.”He finishes. 

“I’m-” Caduceus begins, but is overtaken by another “Ussshue!”

 “I think I was already sick,” He adds appeasingly.

Fjord isn’t having any of it. “That isn’t better. You should have stayed in the warm.”

“Hmm but I’m in the warm now.” Caduceus shrugs off the towel turns to wrap his arms around Fjord, burning his face in his neck. Fjord can feel how cold his poor nose is still, but is distracted by the warmth of a kiss behind his ear. “And it feels so much better for having come in from outside.”

“If you say so.” 

The kiss deepens and they let their bodies collapse back onto the bed. It lasts a good long time and Fjord relaxes into the rhythm of it, relishing slow, shared breaths and contented noises. The moment cannot last, however, and his partner mumbles, “‘scuse me-” and turns away to direct a round of coughs into his shoulder. Fjord is close enough to feel his abdomen kicking with each, and the exhausted slump of his shoulders afterward.

Caduceus turns back but keeps a hand tucked over his face to worry at his nostrils. He sounds stuffy and miserable. Fjord presses a kiss to the broad bridge of his muzzle and sees his slit nostrils twitch like a rabbit’s under the attention. The effect is not unappealing. If anything, the anxious arch of brows and the uncertain little noise he makes are downright cute. 

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” He queries, leaning away from his love to take in the whole of him.

Caduceus considers, pausing to blow his nose. “M’ really cold. I should go get some dry clothes.”

“Borrow something of mine,” Fjord says at once, loathe to let him leave his sight, “or… just get under the covers. You may as well stay here tonight.”

Caduceus blinks and gives a grateful smile; they’ve not slept together, in either sense of the word, for a little while. Between Fjord’s duties as Captain and the need for him to project as air of authority while carrying them out, they have reached an unspoken agreement that it is unseemly for the Captain to be openly railing one of the crew.

Fjord takes the lead by climbing under himself and opening his arms to create a welcoming hollow.  Caduceus is truly cold though, waves of shivers seeming to spread from his spine and along his limbs, hard enough to make his teeth chatter.

“Ugh, s’freezing in here…” he grumbles.

“You don’t feel cold to me now,” Fjord frets. “Think you’re working up to a fever?”

“Could be.” Caduceus shrugs. “It’s okay.” 

“It’s not okay,” Fjord says, planting a testing kiss on Caduceus’ forehead. It’s hard to tell temperature and he resolves to keep a weather eye on it as the evening progresses. 

Caduceus’ answer is a happy hum and he wraps his limbs around Fjord’s and buries his face in the hollow between shoulder and neck. His grip relaxes as enough combined body heat pools beneath the blankets to quell the shivers. Fjord lets his hands wander, loving the contrast of fine velvet fur pulled tight over the firbolg’s lean muscular build. They settle face to face so that he can cup a hand to the firbolg’s cheek.

He’s still sniffling though; sad, irritated little snuffles as he worries under his nose with the back of his hand. 

“Leave that alone, you’re making it sore.” 

“Can’t.” Caduceus protests, the congestion thickening the consonants to cadt. It makes him sound soft and sleepy, a tone far more adorable than it has any right to be. His eyes draw into an irritated squint and he breathes a shallow, vulnerable little sound before collapsing into his cupped palms with a harsh sneeze.

““uh’HFFSCH”

“Bless you!” Fjord feels his partner’s whole body shudder with it, then the relaxation of an exhale afterward. Caduceus nods his thanks and thrusts forward again, too tired to fully turn his head. 

And again- he hovers between them, gaze cast somewhere near the ceiling and features in an expression of ticklish frustration. Fjord finds himself holding his own breath in sympathy, waiting, waiting and “- ISSshoo! Uh--IUSSShhoo!” 

“Melora bless you,” Fjord sighs fondly, gathering Caduceus to him again so he can rub soothing circles over his back. 

“Ughh… okay, that didn’t feel so good.” Caduceus admits. 

“Regretting going out in the rain now?” He makes a neutral noise. “I wouldn’t say that. There isn’t a lot I can do on the boat apart from cook, but I’ve got very good eyes. I like to look out for you.”

That makes Fjord’s heart flutter with warmth. “I know. I know you do. But you don’t need to be doing something for us all the time. We’re just glad you’re here.” 

“That’s nice.” Caduceus nods. His eyes are closing, shadowed underneath with tiredness. 

“Will you let me look out for you a little now?” 

Fjord doesn’t wait for an answer but shifts their position so that the firbolg’s head is resting higher on his chest, hoping the elevation might help with the congestion. Strong seaman’s fingers sift through Caduceus’ damp hair and press into the tightness he can feel in his neck and shoulders. Caduceus practically melts. Fjord doesn’t like the little wheeze he can hear out the outbreath. That’s another thing to keep an eye on. 

“Do you need anything? Water? Some tea?”

Caduceus shakes his head. “Just rest, I think.” 

The storm seems to be ending; the ceaseless pitch of the ship has settled to a familiar, rhythmic roll. Fjord finds it soothing. He knows Caduceus finds it less so and makes up for it by holding him more tightly and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. 

“You rest, then. I’m keeping watch.” 

END.

[earlgreydream]

mission.

| stucky x reader | fluff | smut |

oh no, there’s only one bed trope

“James!” You screamed, your voice getting carried off in the wind. You kicked backwards, knocking free from the grip of a Hydra agent. You ducked as a bullet whizzed past your head, slicing through the skull of your enemy.

A hand wrapped around your arm and dragged you forward, forcing you to break into a run. Blinded by the storm, your lost your footing in the slick mud. If it wasn’t for Steve’s grip on you, you would’ve fell face first into the ground.

“Be careful!” The shout was stressed, impatient.

You swore and ran through the field after the soldiers, nearly tripping over the uneven ground. Your muscles were burning along with your lungs, and the rain was so thick you couldn’t see.

“We can’t drive in this!”

“We don’t have another option!” Steve shouted back, his grip on you tightening as he helped you onward.

The mission had gone to absolute shit before it even started. Stark sent you, Steve, and Bucky to hunt down a Hydra agent, which you’d just taken out in the field. However, he’d gotten wind of your arrival, prepared with an elite security team you had to get through. They had nearly succeeded in killing Bucky, throwing the three of you off from the beginning.

The storm had made everything nearly impossible, and it wrecked any chance of you getting home soon. No plane, not even one designed by Stark, could fly you overseas when you couldn’t see two feet ahead of you.

You couldn’t see Bucky, or Steve really, only knowing he was there by the hand on your arm. You trusted Bucky was nearby, making his way back to the car with you to try to get out of the middle of nowhere.

You were exhausted, hardly able to stand, let alone run through the storm, covered in heavy mud and gear. You finally made it to the car, your shaking hands coming into contact with cold steel.

The three of you managed to get inside the vehicle, though it didn’t feel like it was going to do any good. You were soaked from the rain and covered in mud and blood, and you were shivering from the icy temperature.

Bucky turned the key in the ignition, deciding that you needed to drive to shelter, even if he couldn’t see the road ahead.

“Fuck! Bucky!” You yelled as cold air blew directly on you from the AC, making you feel like you were going to freeze death.

“I’m fucking taking care of it, Y/N!” Bucky snapped back, raising his voice at you.

“Hey, that’s enough, Buck.” Steve interjected, despite being on edge himself. Bucky turned off the air, pulling out into the road and blindly inching back toward the small eastern-European town.

“I’m sorry.” He finally said through clenched teeth, and you shook your head.

“It’s fine, we’re all just exhausted.”

You didn’t even realize you were clung to Steve until Bucky parked, somehow managing to get you three to a motel, alive. You muttered an apology, grabbing your backpack off the floor and running into the front office.

The desk manager eyed the three of you warily, and you sagged against the wall, struggling to stay upright. The floor felt like it was rocking under you, and you grabbed Steve’s arm to try to steady yourself. You were so cold, you felt like you were about to freeze to death.

Bucky started speaking to the main in fluent Russian, the conversation growing sharper and more annoyed as they argued. You didn’t understand what the problem was, and you started to cry, overly exhausted, dirty, and weak.

“Stevie,” Bucky whined at Steve to take care of you while he continued to deal with the manager.

“Y/N, take deep breaths,” Steve hugged your shivering body to his, and Bucky gestured at you and shouted at the manager.

He flashed his gun before he was finally given a room key, and he threw the door open, motioning the two of you to follow. Steve carried your backpack for you, gently pushing you after Bucky and praying you didn’t collapse.

Bucky unlocked a room, pushing you inside ahead of him, and you stared at the one bed. You were too tired to truly care, lethargy threatening to drag you under.

“It was all they had. He’d barely give me this last room.” Bucky’s tone was apologetic, albeit frustrated.

“It’s fine, one thing at a time,” Steve sighed, and you dropped to the floor, working your boots off.

“I need a minute, you can shower first,” you said hoarsely, and the boys nodded, Bucky tenderly touching your head as he walked to the small bathroom, tearing off his ruined clothes. He was quick, and Steve was in and out right after, both of them clean in under fifteen minutes. You sat on the floor, trying to catch your breath and drink the water bottle that Bucky had forced into your hand.

“Can you stand for a shower?” Bucky asked you, and you nodded, taking his hand as he helped you off the floor. You grabbed your one change of dry clothes from your backpack and set them on the sink.

“Don’t lock it please, Y/N,” Steve called, worried you would collapse.

“M’not!”

You stripped out of your ruined uniform, discarding it with the boys’. You stepped under the hot water, a moan escaping you as you finally got some relief from the freeze deep in your bones. You washed the mud off of your body and out of your hair, nearly crying from the relief of the hot water.

“Oh my god, fuck!” You shrieked when your clothes fell off the counter and onto the wet floor, the drain not doing much good.

“Y/N?!” Bucky’s concerned voice came as he cracked the door open.

“I’m fine, I...” you started crying again, feeling defeated and worn out.

“Doll, what happened...” Bucky’s voice was soft, the rare term of endearment making you cry harder.

“I dropped my clothes!” You shut off the water and peered around the dingy curtain. You grabbed a dry towel from his hand, staying behind the curtain as you dried off, the steam keeping you warm.

“Just leave your clothes. You can have Steve’s sweater. That’s all we’ve got, but it’ll be big, so...”

You were wrapped in the towel as you took the fluffy white sweater from Bucky, pulling it over your head once you were given some privacy.

It fell almost to your knees, the sleeves covering your hands. You wished you had something to put on under it, but this was the best you could do right now. You squeezed the moisture out of your hair before joining the boys in the small motel room.

“You okay?” Steve asked, and you nodded, thanking him for the sweater. They had only managed to raid a vending machine outside, and you were handed a package of crisps and another bottle of water. The television in the corner was playing some Russian telenovela quietly, the scratch of the fuzzy connection interrupting it.

You sat on the edge of the bed, eating the crisps and wishing you had some real food to satiate your stomach ache. You pulled an extra band from Bucky’s wrist, tying your damp hair up on top of your head, getting it off your neck.

Your two best friends wouldn’t let you lay down until you’d finished the second bottle of water, paranoid of your possible dehydration. You ignored their anxious nurturing, getting under the covers as soon as you’d finished it.

You had never felt so exhausted in your life, and your eyelids were heavy as they fell closed. The two super soldiers laid down on either side of you, surrounding you with warmth. They were like two individual heaters, pressed against your back and front in the small bed. 

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but it was pitch-black when you woke up. You stirred, your eyes still heavy with sleep. The storm was loud outside, covering the soft breathing of the soldiers.

You felt metal between your thighs, Bucky’s hand gently rubbing your inner thigh.

“James?” You murmured, stirring.

“Mm?” He was barely awake. Steve’s arm tightened around your waist, holding you closer. You rubbed your eyes, snuggling deeper into Steve’s soft sweater.

Your mind was thick with sleepiness, and you were still stuck in a half-dream state. It was warm, dark, and heady, surrounding you in a settled calmness.

You felt Bucky’s fingers trail higher, finding you bare after the clothing mishap. You didn’t register what was happening at first until you felt him sliding along your skin, finding your bundle of nerves. You whimpered softly, your mind melting and your legs parting even though you didn’t know what was happening.

“James, what are you doing?” you whispered breathlessly.

“I can’t keep my hands off of you, doll. You’re just too irresistible,” Bucky murmured into your chest, curling up closer into you. His lips ghosted over your neck, hot kisses dotting along your skin. Your body ignited with the touch, and you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away.

“Wanna feel you,” Steve’s sleepy voice hummed through your hair, his hand moving up your sweater up to your chest. A noise escaped you as you felt Steve slowly begin to grind against your backside, hardening against your soft skin. You realized they were naked too, and you began dripping on Bucky’s fingers.

“Sweet girl, does that feel good?” he smiled against your throat, marking you up with hickeys. 

You nodded, tipping your head down to kiss him. It was a bit hesitant at first, but you couldn’t keep yourself from melting into Bucky. Your lips molded together, his gentle movements easing any doubt in your mind. Steve squeezed your breasts, teasing your nipples and making you sigh against Bucky. He slid his tongue past your lips, the warm muscle exploring your mouth. Metal fingers pressed slowly inside of you without resistance, stretching you out and rubbing your velvety skin.

Your soft sighs and moans filled the motel room, and you reached behind you to pull Steve into a searing kiss. Bucky pulled your leg over his, giving them better access. You whined a complaint when Bucky pulled his fingers from your heat, causing the boys to laugh softly.

“I’m just going to get you ready for Steve, doll. Is that alright?” Bucky’s silver eyes locked with yours, searching for any hesitation.

“Yes, but... go slow?” you whispered shyly.

“We’ll be gentle, sweetheart,” Steve promised, and you leaned your head back against his shoulder. You trusted the men, knowing they’d never hurt you, not purposely. Steve’s hand smoothed over your side, kissing the skin of your shoulder that peeked out above the neckline of his sweater. 

Bucky’s slick fingertip traced around the tight ring of muscle before carefully easing it in. Your fingers snaked into Steve’s hair, tugging lightly as Bucky worked to loosen you up. 

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Bucky asked when your face squeezed up as he added a third finger.

“No, it just feels... strange,” you squirmed between the boys. Steve dropped his hand between your legs to distract you from the discomfort Bucky was causing. You slowly relaxed around him, smiling into Bucky’s gentle kisses. You adjusted your leg over his hips, pulling the soldier closer and smoothing your hands over his chest. 

You were restless, anxious for them to be inside of you. Your quiet begs sent shudders of anticipation through the boys, giving in without hesitation.

“I’m going to slide in first, it’ll go easier,” Bucky waited for your permission and you agreed, tugging on his long dark hair. He loved it, a deep growl coming from his throat as you pulled on the locks. Your giggles abruptly cut off as Bucky wrapped an arm around your hips, pulling you close as he sank inside of you. He mumbled profanities in Russian, overwhelmed by the feeling of your warmth surrounding his cock. Your leg draped over him allowed him to get a deep angle, feeling like he was splitting you open in the best way. He was bigger than anyone in the past, and you swore to yourself you could never go back after this.

“You’re fucking huge, James,” you whined into his ear, gasping as your words caused him to thrust against you, the friction sending electricity to your nerves. Steve laughed at that, waiting for Bucky to still before rubbing his leaking head against your other entrance. 

“Just breathe, okay?” Steve could see the nervousness in your eyes, even in the dark. You hid your face in Bucky’s chest as Steve pushed inside of you, squeezing your ass in his large hands. Bucky felt the friction against him, and he struggled not to thrust into you. 

The foreign fullness had your thoughts disconnecting, your body being overwhelmed with arousal. Your loud moans filled the silence, and you squeezed around them as Steve’s hips met yours. 

They only gave you a moment to adjust before both soldiers started moving, thrusting in and out of you, making you scream with mind-numbing pleasure. Bucky’s movements became more forceful, pulling sounds from the three of you. You couldn’t think or move, your only ability was to take it, soaking it up and igniting your body. You throbbed around them, throwing your head back against Steve. 

“You feel so good, sweetheart, you’re so tight and warm around us,” he praised, kissing your cheekbone. Your mouth opened with a choked moan, and he connected your lips, moving his tongue against yours. Bucky swore, even more turned on by the sight of his two lovers making out.

He lifted your knee higher, thrusting impossibly deeper. The pressure that had been building snapped, and you screamed as your orgasm hit you like a train. 

“Fuck, I’m so close, doll,” Bucky knew he couldn’t last long as you tightened around him like a vice. 

“Come inside of me, please, I want-” you didn’t finish your sentence as he came, throbbing inside of you as he filled you with hot ropes of release. You were reduced to mindless, incoherent begs, pleading for Steve to do the same. His strong arms held you still against him, keeping you from writhing as he came deep inside of you. Bucky swallowed your screams, and you sank weakly against them as you came down from the high that had all of you wrecked. 

You woke up slightly dazed from the post-sex sleep, exhausted from the mission and getting fucked by the two super-soldiers. You opened your arms with a sleepy whimper, making the boys laugh softly. Bucky pulled you into a hug, letting you drape your arms around his neck and cling to him. 

“How’re you feeling, doll?”

“Like I’ve had the life fucked out of me,” your voice was soft and amused, making them smile tenderly at you.

“In a good way?”

“In the best way,” you assured Steve.

“I want all of our missions to end like that.”

Bucky grinned cheekily, kissing your head and making you giggle. 

“The storm’s let up. I’m sorry, but we’ve got to get you out of bed,” Steve peeled the blankets off, making you cling tighter to Bucky in protest. 

“Your clothes are dry. C’mon, up, now.” Steve slapped your ass, and you slowly let go of Bucky.

“Help me, my legs are weak,” you held Steve’s hands as he assisted you in climbing off the bed.

“We break you?” Bucky teased, and you shook your head. You kissed Steve lightly before getting dressed, opting to leave his sweater on. 

Within an hour, you were on your way back to Stark tower, curled up on the private plane, your head in Bucky’s lap as he stroked his fingers through your hair. 

“So, everything went as planned on the mission?” Stark asked, debriefing with the three of you. You fought back a laugh, and Steve placed a hand on your back.

“Everything went great, Stark. We assassinated the target, and we all made it back alive,” Bucky confirmed.

As the three of you were walking out the door, Stark’s voice made you turn.

“Don’t think I’m stupid, I can tell what the three of you are up to!”

You squealed, running out the door with the super soldiers, away from Tony’s amused judgement. 

[littleoddwriter]

could i request a romantic trope w buck from 911, transmale reader and buck have an angsty kiss in the rain? maybe buck cheated and they share it one last time before reader leaves, idk creative freedom to you i’m just madly in love w romantic cliches so….

How Could You? | Evan "Buck" Buckley x Trans!Male!Reader

Hey there! Thanks so much for the request, I really hope you like this! (Thanks for the creative freedom, too, because I needed this to have a happy/hopeful ending, fhjsdhjlfh).

summary; You catch Buck kissing somebody else at the bar.

notes; Trans!Male!Reader; Kiss in the Rain; Misunderstanding; Cheating; Non-Con Kiss; Argument; Angst with a Happy/Hopeful Ending.

Taglist: @gnrlkenob @plat-the-cat Reblogs would be appreciated, thank you!

All you had wanted to do that evening was to surprise-pick up Buck from the bar, where he had been with the 118 to unwind from a hard day's work. It had been announced that there would be a nasty storm coming and you wanted to know he was safely getting home, so you had decided on a whim to come and get him.

You hadn't expected your well-intentioned plan to backfire the way it did, nor had you anticipated to feel your heart shatter in your chest as soon as you walked up to the bar.

At first you'd been happy because Buck was there, already outside, presumably about to call a Uber. But then you noticed that he wasn’t alone.

And the next thing you saw was Buck kissing another man, causing your breath to stutter to a halt as your heart hurt like it had just been stabbed and squeezed out.

"Buck?!" you called, completely shell-shocked, and standing frozen to the spot a few feet away from him and the other man, who whirled around in surprise.

Thunder rumbled loudly above you and lightning struck shortly after.

As soon as your eyes met Buck's, he pushed the other guy off of him and hurried over to you, but you wouldn't have it and turned around on your heel as you stalked away.

"Y/N! Wait!" he yelled after you, still hurrying to catch up with you, but his semi-drunken state made it harder for him to actually run a straight line; especially as fast as he usually would.

It started pouring down, soaking you to your bones in cold rain. You barely felt it, though, as the pain your heart caused you overpowered everything else.

Buck kept pleading with you, begging you to wait, but the rain and occasional thunder mostly tuned him out, making it easier for you to ignore him - not that it would have made much of a difference to you if that hadn't been the case, though. You were good at ignoring somebody when you were upset.

"I swear, I can explain. It's not what it looked like!" Buck shouted over the rain.

That, you couldn't ignore.

You stopped and turned to look at him with an icy glare.

"Oh, please," you said harshly, "You're really gonna use that line on me? I mean, fuck, how could you do this to me, huh? How? Why?"

You paused, inhaling sharply.

"Is it because I'm trans? Am I suddenly not good enough for you because of it, or what? Am I too much trouble because of it?"

As soon as the words left your mouth you knew you had hurt him. He's always worked so hard to assure you about your gender identity; especially when your gender dysphoria made everything so much harder for you, when it was so overpowering that you couldn't think clearly anymore. He had always been there for you throughout and helped you as best as he could.

So the fact that you were accusing him like this must have hurt him nearly as much as it did for you to say it.

Buck looked angry and heart-broken, which only made your chest feel even more painful as a result.

"No! You know that's never been a problem for me, Y/N. Please, just listen to me."

Resigned, you nodded curtly, "Fine, explain yourself then."

"This guy, Brody - I think - has been flirting with me all evening long. I kept saying that I already have a boyfriend and tried to let him down easy at first, but he wouldn't budge. And right now, I was trying to leave to come home to you. I didn't want to spend another minute there, trying to get this dude off of my back. But then Brody kissed me against my will after he followed me outside."

Buck was an open book to read for you. Always has been. And right now, his face, his demeanour, his voice, his eyes - everything showed just how sincere he was about what he said.

His face softened and he continued, "I love you, Y/N. I would never hurt you like this. I would never even think of cheating on you in any way. I'm so happy with you. This is the most fulfilling relationship I've ever had. Please. You have to believe me."

Gnawing at your bottom lip, you let what he’s said sink in and mulled it over.

Having made a decision, you took a step closer to him, cupped his wet face in your equally soaked hands and captured his lips in a lingering kiss that spoke volumes. This kiss told him that you understood, that you were still sad, but that you loved him too, and most of all that you believed him.

The rain was hammering down on the two of you, as you stood there in the middle of the parking lot and kissed for what felt like an eternity, and you wished it would never end. You were both shivering from the cold, but it didn’t matter. All that was important was that you had each other, still.

“I love you, Evan,” you murmured as you rested your forehead against his. “While I believe that you didn’t kiss him, I’m still hurt, y’know? It’s gonna take me a bit to truly forgive and forget that it happened. Okay?”

Buck sighed, sounding relieved, “Yeah, that’s cool with me, as long as you don’t break up with me. Take your time. If there’s something I can do to make up for it-”

“Just be you,” you interrupted him, “You have nothing to prove or make up for. I’ve forgiven you, babe. It’s the forgetting that will be difficult because every time I close my eyes, I see Brody kissing you. So, just be your wonderful self as always and we’ll get past it together, I’m sure.”

You leaned back and smiled at him as you gently brushed aside his dripping hair that clung to his forehead.

“Thank you,” Buck breathed, kissing you ever so gently yet passionately on the lips.

When you broke the kiss, you took his hand into yours and pulled him with you.

“Come on, we had better hurry to our car and home now before we actually get sick or something,” you told him with a slight smile still stuck on your face.

[darkisrising]

Cold as you, by DarkIsRising

Annnnnnd a VERY MERRY Steter Secret Santa to everyone, but most especially @theydraggedmein whose gift this fic is. I heard you like tropes so here: have as many as I could cram into 3k Cold as you

They’ve been walking in this pelting, slush-rain long enough that Stiles has stopped shivering. It’s not a good sign, neither is the fact that the toes in his waterlogged sneakers that have been aching for the past hour have gone numb and he basically can’t feel his face anymore.

Still, they keep walking. Not on the highway, of course, that would only attract attention. But beside the highway, in the slight coverage the treeline provides, they walk for miles together where no one can see the man in a soaked hoodie, a backpack, and a pair of jeans so heavy with wet they are sagging with it.

The man that may very well catch his death in this weather.

Oh, and the red-eyed demon wolf at his side, of course.

“Swear to God, Peter, if you…” Stiles says into the dark of the woods as he waits for a car’s headlights to pass up ahead. He’s slurring and that really, really isn’t a good sign, nor is the fact that he’s already forgotten what it was he was going to complain about pretty much the instant he began to speak. “Shit. Shit, it’s cold.” Read on AO3

[ayanna-wild]

Love Like A Story

Word Count: 2033

Pairings: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Warnings: angst, pining because that is definitely a warning lol, fluff

A/N: Request from wattpad

Summary: Love was a fairy tale, it didn't exist beyond movies and words on the pages of a book. With your fair share of heartache and break, you'd decided you were better off alone, but Lucifer's determined to show you love wasn't a trope for the story books.

Such a persistent devil.

..................................................................................

You stacked the books from your cart onto shelves lined with even more books. Some new, some old, all with a story or more to tell. This little shop was your own slice of heaven, your refuge from the world outside. You had no need to venture out when any adventure you could ever want was right here, between the pages of all these books. The bell above your shop door chimed faintly, and you called out to whomever it was.

"We're not open yet!"

The sound of footsteps grew nearer and a familiar man poked his head around the shelf you were stacking.

"I'm just here to pick up my order, assuming you have it?"

You smiled faintly, dusting your hands off from the older books that had collected more dust than the ones towards the front of the store.

"Mr. Morningstar, nice to see you again."

Lucifer was a regular in your little shop, always seeking to expand his library and occasionally asking you to find books you weren't sure even existed anymore. You always came through though, and you supposed that was why he kept coming back.

"How many times must I insist you call me Lucifer?"

His voice followed after you as you walked back towards the counter.

"You're my customer, not my friend." You replied, albeit a bit stiffly.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow leaning against the counter as you walked behind it, shuffling through a box.

"Shall I pretend not to be offended?"

You mostly ignored his comment, setting a very large and very old book in front of him. The pages were well-worn and bound in a material you suspected wasn't leather. Lucifer smiled and ran his fingers over the spine before open the book.

Words you couldn't understand were written on the pages, and he seemed even happier upon that discovery.

"You even got it in the original Sanskrit."

You shrugged a bit, although you did feel rather proud of yourself.

"It's what you asked for."

Lucifer pulled an envelope from the inner pocket of his suit and held it out to you. Another reason he was your favorite customer is because he paid handsomely for finding books like this. Honestly he was keeping your shop afloat. You grabbed the envelope but frowned when he didn't let go.

"Mr. Morningstar, you don't get the book until I get my money."

He tsked, still not letting go.

"It's Lucifer my dear, go on try it." He smirked.

You sighed, tapping your fingers on the counter. It was safe to say you were his match when it came to stubbornness. His hand brushed yours when he leaned forward a bit, and you tried to ignore the feeling his skin brushing against yours gave you. You stared him down before he let out a dramatic sigh.

"Very well if you won't say my name at least humor my curiosity for a moment."

You nodded, and he relinquished his hold on the envelope, which you tucked into the cash register.

"Do you ever leave this shop? You always seem to be here, don't you ever go out?"

"Why would I? I have everything I need here."

That answer didn't seem to satisfy him, and he frowned.

"Don't you have friends who miss you? Family? A lover to be with perhaps?"

He noticed the tense of your shoulders, your lips pressed in a thin line, and you pressed the book into his hands, causing him to fumble with it.

"I don't need those things. Have a good day, Mr. Morningstar."

He stared at you surprised by your sudden hostility, and he stood there a moment, holding his book.

"But my dear, surely you don't enjoy being so alone..."

"Goodbye Mr. Morningstar."

You turned away from him, busying yourself with marking the transaction down in your receipt book. Lucifer stood there a moment longer before leaving without another word. You waited until you heard the bell chime before releasing your breath, leaning back against the wall.

You didn't need anyone. It was never worth the heartache that followed after they left, you decided long ago being alone is what you wanted, and he wasn't about to change that.

Not if you could help it.

~

Although Lucifer continued to come as he regularly did, he noticed you grew even more distant than before. Which was saying something because the two of you were never very close to begin with. Not for a lack of trying on his part though, you stopped any advances of friendship he made. Now however, you didn't speak to him at all.

Not beyond a polite greeting, or the total of his purchases. He'd even accept you calling him Mr. Morningstar, as long as it meant you'd at least look at him.

"Are you alright darling? You seem very off lately."

You didn't answer him as you rung up the stacks of books he had sat down. Lucifer frowned when you wordlessly began loading them into a bag.

"Y/N..."

The provoked a small glance from you, he seldom used your name, preferring to call you darling, or dear, occasionally love if he was in an especially chipper mood.

"Good day Mr. Morningstar."

Lucifer frowned when you handed him the bag, his hand brushed yours as he grabbed the bag, and you jerked your hand back as if he had burnt you. He didn't leave though, continued to stare at you until you finally met his eye.

He studied you closely before leaning towards you a bit, with a wall behind you there was nowhere to run. You couldn't seem to force yourself to look away, eyes locked with his.

"Tell me darling... what do you desire most in this world?"

You didn't want to answer, really you didn't, but you found your lips moving before you could stop them.

"I want to be alone, completely and utterly alone."

Lucifer stood up straight, shock and concern written all over his face. You blinked rapidly for a few seconds, breaking whatever spell had fallen over you.

"Why would you desire such a dreary existence?"

You scowled, angry at yourself for saying that out loud, angry at him for asking.

"Everyone always leaves in the end, love is just a fairy tale, a story better left to empty words on a page."

Lucifer's heart ached to hear you say such a sad thing, it left him wondering who'd hurt you so. You didn't give him much of a chance to ask before opening your shop door.

"I have work to do, Mr. Morningstar, please leave."

Your cool tone left no room for argument making it clear you were telling him, not asking. Lucifer conceded, leaving you alone with your darkening thoughts.

~

You closed the shop early that night, locking the door behind you as the sun began to set. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Lucifer standing outside, smoking a cigarette. He put it out once he saw you though.

"Hello love, I was wondering when you'd come out!"

You stared at him confused and a frown tugged at the corners of your mouth.

"Have you been waiting for me out here this whole time?"

"Well yes, I wasn't sure if I'd be welcome back into your shop today, after what happened."

He said it so casually as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Why?"

"So I could walk you home of course!"

"I can walk myself, Mr. Morningstar."

You shouldered past him, but that phased him very little as he fell into step beside you.

"It's after hours, none of that Mr. Morningstar nonsense, surely it'd be appropriate to call me Lucifer now?"

You slowed to a stop, sighing as you turned to him.

"If I do, will you leave me alone."

"For tonight, yes."

"Then thank you, Lucifer, but I'd really like to walk myself home."

His excitement over you finally saying name canceled out your dismissal of him, and he smiled widely.

"Well then a deal's a deal, I'll see you tomorrow my dear!"

And just like that he was strolling away, you stared after him a moment before shaking your head and going on your way. That didn't stop the ghost of a smile that graced your lips though.

~

True to his word he did come the next day, and the day after that, and every day since. By the end of the month you'd gotten so used to having him around you began to look forward to the lunch breaks you'd take with him, the evenings he'd walk you home, and you'd pretend not to notice he guided you the long way just to talk longer.

It'd become so normal for you that when he abruptly stopped coming one day you grew worried. He'd never been late before, and you'd received no text nor call. Given your past, your thoughts began to darken, perhaps he'd decided to leave you like everyone had.

Really could you blame him?

It had to be you if everyone kept disappearing from your life. You were so lost in your harsh thoughts you didn't even realize you were crying until your eyes began to burn. You wiped the tears away harshly, scolding yourself for being so weak.

"You were fine on your own before, and you'll be fine now." You firmly told yourself, but you had trouble believing your own words.

When had you allowed yourself to start relying on Lucifer?

The bell above the door chimed, and you turned around surprised. Lucifer stood in the doorway, shrugging off his drenched coat to hang it on the hook in the wall. He fixed his hair with one hand holding a bag in the other. He was soaked from head to toe, probably from the downpour outside.

"I'm terribly sorry I'm so late darling, I wasn't expecting the rain and got- Oh."

You had abruptly hugged him, catching him off guard, but he placed a gentle hand to your back nonetheless.

"You'll get wet if you cling to me like that." He said softly.

"I'm sorry..." You spoke, stepping away from him.

"Oh no my dear, it's perfectly alright! I just didn't want you to catch a cold." Lucifer said quickly upon seeing your tears.

You laughed a little, wiping your eyes.

"That's not why I'm crying."

"Then what is it?" He asked carefully.

Seeing Lucifer standing there, drenched from the rain, looking at you so concerned made you suddenly feel very foolish. How could ever assume he'd just abandon you.

"It's silly now that I think about it... but you were late, and I thought... maybe you weren't coming back."

Your voice grew quieter towards the end and Lucifer let out a small sigh.

Not one of annoyance or irritation, but relief, and he walked over to you.

"Does this mean you don't want to be alone anymore?"

You thought for a moment, your insecurities were still there, the small fears, but you were more scared of not having Lucifer by your side anymore.

"I guess I wouldn't mind... if you wanted to stick around."

He smiled proudly and forgetting his earlier concern of you catching a cold, hugged you tightly, kissing the top of your head. The bag in his hand crinkled, and you pulled back to look at it curiously.

"Oh that's right! I got you a little gift!"

He held the bag out to you, and you opened it eagerly, your heart skipping a beat when you pulled out the book.

"Lucifer, this is... how did you find this?"

The book you held in your hand was one you'd been desperately searching for, but it was so rare you suspected you'd never find it, let alone afford it.

"I called in a few favors, a little gift to commemorate our time together. It's nothing really, you're always finding rare books for me."

You laughed a little running your fingers along the cover.

"But Lucifer this is..."

You laughed once more, throwing your arms around his neck as you hugged him tightly.

"It's amazing, thank you."

He smiled, hugging you back as he leaned into your touch.

"You're worth it my love."

..................................................................................

Tag List: @sallyp-53 @mizzezm @adira-secrets @we-are-all-alittle-strange-here @gingernarwal @im-just-along-for-the-ride @lifeshortbro @measure-in-pain @emiwrites3reads @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @kelly-n-russell @aiofheavenandhell @beththedemonhunter

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Better Now

A Bla/ck Tap/es podcast sickfic.

I have so many wonderful prompts in my inbox but the only thing I  wanted to write was this wildly self-indulgent and overly long fic that's jam-packed with all my favorite tropes. I blame @matilda3948 for her recent amazing Dr. Strand sickfics for inspiration and @sanquintina for getting me into the podcast in the first place

This is technically Bl/ack Ta/pes fanfic, but you don't need to know anything about the series other than Dr. Strand is a persnickety, serious, stoic, skeptic with a very deep voice and troubled past. 

Set after the end of the series as it stands currently and written in 1st person from the perspective of Strand's unnamed female partner. Could be Alex if you want, could be someone else with whom Strand finally found happiness and contentment. I kept that part generic on purpose.

Richard Strand is many things, but clumsy isn't one of them. So naturally I had to go investigate when early one morning I was startled by the sound of a tea mug shattering on the floor followed by a hastily bitten-off swear word.

In the kitchen I found my husband, the world renowned Dr. Strand, kneeling on the floor mopping up spilled tea. He glanced up with a sniffle as he heard me approach.

"Had it too close to the edge. At least it missed my pants. I think I got all the ceramic bits, but be careful."

His voice was even deeper than usual, low and gravelly from the cold he'd been developing over the past few days. That, paired with his heavy, reddened eyes and generally haggard appearance, gave me concern.

"You look like you hardly slept. How are you feeling?"

"I tossed and turned a bit last night. Couldn't get comfortable."

"Couldn't breathe I think would be more accurate. You were snoring and breathing through your mouth all night."

He sat back on his heels and frowned. "Sorry if I kept you up."

"You don't have to apologize. I'm just worried about you," I added as he winced when he stood, massaging the space between his eyebrows.

He shot me another irritated glance. "I'm fine. I just have a bit of a cold." I couldn't help but notice the weary slump of his shoulders, however. Even his suit looked less crisp than usual. 

I summoned all my wifely tact and tried to make my voice persuasive: "Maybe you should stay home. You don't look like you'll be much use to anyone today."

He made an annoyed sound. "That's very unnecessary. I'm not staying home for a cold."

I looked pointedly out the window where a chilly November rain was pouring down steadily. "You really want to go out into that when you have a perfectly valid excuse not to?"

He too glanced out the window. After a moment he shook his head and cleared his throat, meeting my eyes again. "I'll be fine. It's just a little rain."

He headed toward the door, massaging his forehead once more.

"Don't you want your tea?"

"Oh, right." He whirled around quickly, grabbed the thermos, and headed toward the door again with a wet sniffle. I could only roll my eyes and sigh as the door closed behind him.

Most workdays I left after him and returned before him, and this Thursday was no exception. The rain was still pouring down when I arrived home from work that evening. I decided dinner was going to be vegetable stew and biscuits, not only for his cold, but also because I wanted some rainy November comfort food. Everything was nearly ready when I heard him coming up the steps. He opened the door, bringing with him a chilly gust, and I turned to greet him, but instead my mouth dropped open a bit at the sight of him. 

His hair and clothes were completely soaked with rain, to the point of dripping puddles onto the floor as I watched, and he was visibly shivering, something I'd never seen him do before. Inexplicably, he was also shaking the loose drops off of his soaked umbrella, his expression drawn and miserable. I was noticing how diminished he seemed when suddenly his breath hitched violently:

"HehZIHH'shiew! HrrUUHHZchoo! HehhGIHH'nkkchoo!"

I rushed to his side, relieving him of his umbrella and briefcase and pulling his sodden coat off of him as he slumped down onto the nearby stool. Beneath the coat, his suit was nearly just as wet and cold.

"Oh, Richard, bless you! You're soaked to the skin. Ugh, and your hands are freezing. How did you manage to get so drenched?"

"A w-woman and her ch-children were w-waiting for the b-bus without c-coats. I held my umbrella f-for them until it c-came," he said, his teeth chattering and his lips blue with cold. 

I toweled off his hair and clothes as best as I could before helping him undress. Any other day he would have brushed me off, saying he was perfectly capable of doing that himself. The fact that he allowed me to assist him spoke volumes to how poorly he felt. 

I was behind him, trying to peel off his sodden linen shirt when he lurched forward for another volley of sneezes:

"HrrUUSCHH! HnnxXT! HHGGTchh!"

"Bless you again, poor love. You've made your cold worse going out in this," I gently chastised.

"I'm f-fine," he sniffled, still barely able to speak around his shivering. Yet he leaned back against me wearily as I removed his undershirt and replaced it with a blanket, and I thought I heard the softest hint of a groan.

I used my fingers to comb his disheveled hair, but frowned when I felt his forehead. "You're running a fever. You weren't feverish this morning."

He merely shrugged, wordlessly asking me to continue massaging his scalp, which I did. Slowly his shivers subsided, but he was clearly exhausted, and sniffled wetly every few moments. 

"You look like you could use a hot drink and a warm bed," I said eventually.

"I'd start with a hot shower," came the mumbled reply.

"Hmm… what about a hot bath? I was thinking of taking one myself tonight, and I'm willing to share. No reason to waste the hot water. Dinner will keep for a bit longer."

He turned slightly, giving me a curious look. It wasn't that we had never bathed together before, but it was usually under very different circumstances. However, I happened to know my husband craved physical touch when he wasn't feeling well, though he would never ask for it. I was simply making life easier on both of us by preemptively offering it. 

"I suppose that might be nice," he finally said. "But I'm very tired…."

I kissed his cheek. "No strings attached. Bath only. Then dinner and sleep. No funny business, I promise."

He relaxed slightly. "That's fine then."

"Good. Let me go run the water." I kissed his hair once more, then headed to the bathroom. He joined me there with a cup of tea after a few minutes. While the oversized tub finished filling, he leaned in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck and looking distant and hazy, not to mention sick.

I shimmied off my clothes and slid into the water, gesturing for him to join me. He sluggishly obeyed, hampered in finishing his own undressing by his dripping nose. He set his mug of tea and a handkerchief on the little table beside the tub, then slid into the water in front of me.

His sigh of ecstasy as the hot water surrounded him was exactly what I hoped to hear, and he leaned back against me readily with a satisfied groan.

"Better?" I murmured in his ear.

"Much," came the rumbling reply, followed of course by a sniffle. 

I pressed my lips into his hair again and again. He hardly moved as the heat soaked into him. I let my nails trail all over his skin and gave him a gentle massage, trying to help him relax, a feat he was rarely able to accomplish on his own

"Would you like me to wash your hair?" I murmured after a while.

He gave the barest nod in reply. Wordlessly I did just that, something else he would never consider allowing in any other circumstance.

I kept the soap far from his face, but the fragrance still had its way with him. I had nearly all the suds rinsed out when he suddenly jerked forward and leaned over the edge of the tub.

GihhIIISSHH'UH! Hhigg'CHUH! HihYEHSH'ooo!" He directed the spray as far away from me as he could, grabbing for the handkerchief to catch as much of the mess as possible. He mopped his face with a growl as he slid back into the water, but the spell was broken. He fidgeted against me, sniffling in irritation again and again as I finished rinsing his hair. 

I suppressed a disappointed sigh. "You might feel better if you went and laid down now that you're warmed up. Get yourself a bowl of soup while I finish up here."

He grunted his assent, lifting himself out of the water and quickly toweling off as he began to shiver again right away. He donned his robe, took his tea, and went to get his supper.

The evening came to a quick close after that. Richard ate a small portion of soup, drank two mugs of tea, and refused any medication, but did little else. He wouldn't be described as loquacious on his best day, but he spoke even less than usual. The only noise he made was the occasional soft cough or explosive trio of sneezes and his perpetual sniffles as he attempted his usual evening reading. His eyes never lost their weary, hazy look though, and he was constantly shaking his head or wiping a knuckle under his nose, so I wondered how much he was actually absorbing.

When I suggested we go to bed, he didn't argue though, which was very unlike him. He fell into bed wearily, and it seemed he was asleep even before his head hit the pillow. I silently wished to myself as I drifted to sleep that he would either be recovered in the morning, or else have the sense to stay home if he was worse.

~~~~~~~~~~

Richard's alarm went off at the usual hour the next morning, and he shut it off right away. Normally he was out of bed in moments, but today he lingered, pulling the blankets closer around himself with a little groan.

I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but he continued to shift restlessly. After a moment, I heard him take a wheezy inhale and then break into a coughing fit, wet and hoarse. I turned to look at him again. He was on his back now, with an arm flung over his eyes.

"Aww, love," I murmured. "You ok?"

"I'm not feeling quite like myself," came the mumbled reply.

I reached out to stroke his cheek, letting my hand rest on his neck where I could feel his hugely swollen lymph nodes. He was well and truly sick now, and he needed to stay home from work. However, I couldn't be the one to suggest that, or else he would turn me down immediately and insist he was fine, as he had the day before. It needed to be his idea. I went with a different approach.

I nestled close to his side, kissing his shoulder softly. I could tell he was still feverish even through his clothes. "Busy day today?" I murmured.

He grunted wearily. I couldn't tell if it was affirmative or negative.

"I packed a big bowl of soup for your lunch. I hope it's enough to keep you full through the whole day. And don't forget, I'll meet you at your coworker's reception tonight. Was there anything I needed to bring to that?"

He slowly uncovered his face. "I was… actually considering staying home from work. It shouldn't be busy today, I can afford to miss. And… I'm really not feeling well at all. I'll make our excuses to John about his reception. 

I did a silent victory dance in my head. "Oh, are you sure? I thought you had some important meetings."

"Nothing that can't be rescheduled." He cracked a red eye open, glancing at me suspiciously. "Why? Do you want me to go in?"

I shrugged nonchalantly, kissing him again. "I want you to do what you think is best. If you're not feeling well, you ought to stay home so you don't risk getting other people sick though."

"I suppose." He coughed hoarsely again, rubbing his chest with a grimace. "Yes, I'll stay home today. Let me call Carol and John."

He slowly stood and made his unsteady way to his phone, sniffling and coughing the whole way. The two phone conversations were very brief, for he hardly had to try to make a case for his illness, congested and hoarse as he clearly was. After he finished the calls, he shuffled back to bed immediately, heaping the blankets back over himself with a shuddering cough. I rubbed his back as he got settled.

"Can I get you anything, hon? Water, medicine?"

He shook his head. "Going to try to sleep this off," he mumbled, sleep already (or still?) heavy in his voice.

I knew medicine would almost certainly help his endeavors at sleeping. At minimum it would improve the quality of his sleep. However, I also knew he was stubborn about such things, so I didn't press the issue yet. "Alright." I kissed his hot cheek gently. "Then I'll leave you be for now. Let me know if you need anything. Sleep well."

I made the bed around him, straightening my side and tucking him in, then quietly left. The sound of his deep snores followed me out. So much for me sleeping in today.

He emerged again later that morning. I didn't notice him at first when he did, though. I had my headphones in and was dancing around while dusting. Turning around, I almost bumped into him, scaring us both. I yanked my headphones off right away, taking in his disheveled, sickly, blanket-wrapped appearance.

"You're awake! I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come out."

"Clearly," he rasped with the tiniest ghost of a smile. "You stayed home too?"

"It's my normal Friday off."

"Right, right," he sniffled. He then shuffled to the couch, collapsing onto it with a yawn. I went to sit beside him, unable to keep the concern from my face. I felt his forehead again, noting how he wearily leaned into the touch. I was forced to jump back though as he erupted into a volley of thick, chesty coughs. 

I sighed, surveying him with worry. "You're running quite the fever, love. And the cold has obviously settled into your chest now too."

He nodded limply with another sniffle.

"I'm not taking no for an answer this time, I'm giving you medicine and you're going to take it."

He managed to fix me with a condescending look. "Medication for a cold is essentially pointless. It just treats the symptoms."

"You think making yourself more comfortable is pointless?"

He opened his mouth to answer, or so I thought, but instead he lurched forward into a trio of wet, spraying sneezes:

"Heh'YEISSHH'oo! YEEIISH'uuh! Gih'HIH-shoo! --ugh…" The forceful snapping motion of his head when he sneezed looked incredibly painful, so much so that he pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead with a groan in the aftermath.

"Bless you, hon!" I waited a beat as he composed himself. "So… what was it again you were saying about the futility of treating the symptoms?" I asked, admittedly snidely.

He only grunted softly. I couldn't keep the smug look from my face when he met my eyes once more. However, seeing how thoroughly miserable he was reawakened my sympathy immediately. I reached out to caress his hair and cheek yet again.

"How about I make you some tea, yeah? And maybe a bowl of soup?"

"Please," he mumbled.

"Coming right up."

Another round of his thick, exhausting coughs followed me into the kitchen, and I couldn't help but wince in sympathy, even though he couldn't see me.

In a matter of minutes I had his meal ready. When I brought it back out to him, I placed the soup on the table and dropped a handful of pills and a capful of medication beside the bowl with a meaningful look. His only reply was a small frown. I resumed my seat beside him and was about to hand him the steaming mug when an idea occurred to me.

"Is your throat hurting badly?"

He nodded heavily with a little scowl, as if he hated being reminded of it.

"Here, this may help a bit." I raised the mug to the level of his neck, pressing it against his visibly enlarged lymph node.

His eyes widened and he half-jumped back from the initial sensation. 

"Trust me for a sec," I said gently, placing it against the swelling once more.

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, but allowed it. After a moment though he visibly loosened. Making a sound between a whimper and a groan, he leaned harder against the heat. 

"Better?"

"Mhmmmm," he sighed.

After another moment I switched to the other side of his neck and repeated the process. He angled himself here and there to get the most heat coverage over the tender areas. Finally I slid the mug into his hands, kissing his forehead.

"Thank you," he breathed. "That was… relieving."

"You're very welcome. Now, can I do anything else for you at the moment?" 

"I'm fine. You don't need to fuss."

"I may not have to, but I want to, first because you're my husband and second because I know you're not 'fine.' But if you're going to insist you are, I'm going to go fold some laundry. Holler if you need anything. Or cough loudly if that's easier."

That earned me a Dr. Strand signature, the 'amused huff.' "I will. Thank you again."

"No thanks necessary." He received another kiss to the temple before I stood and headed to the laundry room with a last pointed look at the medicine. It occurred to me as I walked away that I was likely giving him an overabundance of kisses considering how contagious he clearly was, but he was just so darn pitiful.

Twenty minutes later, I returned to check on him, bringing a glass of water as well. The tea mug and soup bowl sat empty on the coffee table, surrounded by a few scattered tissues. The medicine was untouched. The doctor was huddled to one side of the couch with another tissue held loosely in his hand and one pajama-clad leg tucked under him, staring listlessly at the wall. However, at the sound of my footsteps he stirred with a sickly sniffle, scrubbing a hand over his face wearily. I smiled in greeting, and though he didn't return the smile, he did brighten a bit upon seeing me.

"What were you contemplating so deeply just now? You looked very lost in thought," I asked, handing him the water, then tidying up his little mess on the coffee table, leaving the pills.

He huffed a humorless laugh, looking self-conscious as he fiddled with the glass. "I was actually imagining how extensive the trial and error process must have been to determine how best to brew tea versus brewing coffee versus, for example, brewing beer. Roasting the ingredients versus drying versus fresh versus ground and boiling versus steeping versus fermenting. The amount of time that must have been necessary to perfect something so simple is rather astounding," he rasped, with many sniffles and throat-clearings thrown in.

I raised an eyebrow at him curiously. Aimless ramblings about random topics were not the norm for my painfully disciplined husband. "It is astounding I guess. I'd never thought about that before. Anyway, how are you feeling after eating?" 

"I'm fine," he said, finally setting down the untouched water, though the nasty cough that immediately followed his statement contradicted him.

This time I audibly sighed. "You do realize that you saying you're fine all the time is very counterproductive to helping me assess your needs? You don't have to be fine, love."

He gave me an odd look. "Conceptually, I know that. But you have to remember, for a long time I *did* have to be 'fine.' I didn't have the option to be otherwise. You, all of this… still feels like a new development or a dream at times. Old habits die hard, I suppose."

I sat on the arm of the couch beside him. He wordlessly leaned in toward me so I could lightly run my fingernails over his scalp. He softly groaned in pleasure.

"I'm not going to waste my breath telling you that I'm not going anywhere and I'm here for you, because you already know that. So I suppose I'll just have to keep showing you." 

I went to press a kiss to his head, but I caught a glimpse of his face and changed my mind when I saw he was about to sneeze.

"Gihh'chuuh! Hehh'choof! Ghnxt'choo!"

The sneezes were brisk and wet and left him breathless. He blew his nose with a wince before he spoke. "Sorry, could you repeat that? I missed most of it," he said, sounding stuffy and a little peeved.

I chuckled and complied, going for the kiss this time. He had no reply, but instead leaned against me wearily as I massaged his neck, yawning deeply. 

"You should rest again, love. Take a nap if you can. It's either that or watch TV, which you'll never do. I'm not sure you should attempt much else."

He wrinkled his nose. "I hate being so unproductive. I don't want to sleep the day away."

"Sleeping when you're sick isn't being unproductive, it's being wise."

"HehhGIH'choo! HEHHH-choo! Hihhh'YESSHH'uuhh!"

I was quite sure he didn't hear most of my statement, since he sneezed right in the middle of it. With a pitiful sound he tended to his nose yet again as I blessed him earnestly. Eventually his watery, heavy lidded eyes met mine. I couldn't help but notice yet again how flushed and disheveled he was and how utterly pathetic he looked, quite the opposite of his usual cool, collected self. 

"Guh. Sorry. What was that?" he asked with a pathetic sniffle, sounding very annoyed now.

"Aww, your nose. You really are sick, huh? Poor guy," I said, continuing to stroke his hair. 

He looked slightly offended. "You were having doubts about that?" 

I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. "It's just something you say, dear. 

"I'm aware of the colloquialism," he grumped. "But I find it a very odd one. And it's never been directed at me before."

"There's a first time for everything, then."

I was rubbing his back now. He yawned again, grimacing after, I assumed due to the sore throat. I also noticed he was starting to shiver.

"Ok, now seriously, tell me what I need to do to convince you to nap."

"I'm not sure," he said with a chesty cough, nestling deeper into the couch.

"Hmm. I accept that challenge." 

"And what challenge is that?"

"You won't tell me what I can do to help you, and perhaps you don't even know yourself, so I have to figure that out for both of us."

"I don't think there's anything I need though."

"You need to sleep."

He rolled his eyes with an annoyed huff, but I could tell he knew I was right.

I stood and went to put some smooth jazz on the record player in the room. Sitting down again, this time on the couch on the other side of him, I gestured to my lap.

"Come lie down."

"Wait-- lie down… right there?"

"Correct."

"Why?"

"Because you love hair scratches and neck rubs, so I'm making it easier to give them to you. Also you're apparently freezing and need to share some body heat."

He frowned, suppressing his shivers as best he could. Still, I knew he wouldn't be able to resist for long, tired and miserable as he was. Sure enough, after a moment he slowly levered himself down with a resigned sigh. 

I quickly threw a blanket over him, and then began the hair scratches. He made a tiny, appreciative sound. 

"Better?"

"Mm," he grunted.

"Good. But you're sweating, love," I murmured.

"I'm not sure how since I'm freezing," he mumbled with a cough.

"Your fever is higher. I can feel it just by touching you."

He groaned, snuggling deeper against me.

I massaged his neck for a while longer, trying to ease the tension from his muscles. He continued to be restless though, and apparently unable to regulate his body temperature. One moment he would be shaking with chills pulling the blanket closer, and then the next kicking it away from his legs with a moan of discomfort. 

The final straw for me was when he was overcome with yet another hacking coughing fit, curling in on himself miserably, trying to muffle it into his arm, the other hand clutching his chest.

Before he settled again, I leaned forward to grab the untouched pile of medication and glass of water from the coffee table. When he was again lying against me, I wordlessly held it out to him. He of course made a sound of irritation.

"Why are you being so stubborn? You need to sleep, and you can't sleep in the state you're in, at least not well. This will help your headache, fever, sore throat, everything so you can rest. I can tell you're exhausted."

After a final moment of consideration, he held out a reluctant hand. I handed him the items and he swallowed them without comment.

Neither of us spoke again for a long time, and didn't move from our places. I soothingly stroked his hair or rubbed his back, putting myself in a trance almost as much as him. 

I could see the medication talking effect. His restlessness slowly eased along with his coughing. It seemed I could even feel his body temperature decreasing.

"Hnnkkt'CHUH! Hehgg'CHUHH! EHHG'choo!"

Just as I thought he was asleep, his body twitched with a trio of sneezes, the quality of which could only be described as lazy--slow, thick, and dulled. They hardly seemed to stir him from his stupor.

"Bless you. Are you ok?"

" 'm fine," he croaked tiredly. We were both quiet for a while, then he spoke up again. "You know, one of the reasons I keep saying I'm fine is because I can't begin to describe what an improvement it is to be with you while being sick compared to being sick in bed alone. The difference is as drastic as night and day--better doesn't begin to describe it. Asking for anything more than what I already have just by your being here feels selfish."

Richard would never express such sentiments under normal circumstances, and hearing it said so plainly overwhelmed me with emotion. Yet I knew he wouldn't want me to reply in kind. He would prefer to state his piece and let it be. And indeed, I saw his eyes drooping heavier by the second, so I kept my thoughts to myself for now, but leaned over to plant a series of kisses all over his hot face. 

He hardly moved and didn't respond even when I finally stopped, but I couldn't help but notice the tiny smile playing around his lips as he drifted off to sleep.

[holylulusworld]

Rage

Summary: Obedient – dream on alpha…

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Characters: Carson Brady, Bobby Singer, Sam Winchester

Warnings: angst, misogynism, language, collars, demons, a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, Dean being a douche for a second, smut, unprotected and half-clothed sex, biting, marking, claiming, knotting, enemies to lovers trope (kinda, you’ll see)

A/N: This is an AU. Brady is not possessed by a demon, only an asshole and never met Sam. The Winchesters are still hunters, just like the reader.

The room is crowded and stinks like desperation. Your eyes scan the people, always searching for the one person you are looking for.

“Well, there you are my love.” Snickering Brady moves his hand to your back, possessively stroking your back and you need to hold back the bile. A deep breath, a faked smile and you can pretend you don’t want to ram a knife into his guts.

“Of course, alpha. You said I shall wait here for you.” Brady admires the collar he put around your neck, a dark smirk on his lips as another alpha steps closer. “Be thankful for the collar.”

“I am…” You snap and Brady’s features darken when he fists the collar to force you to look at him. “Thank you…”

“Well, aren’t you an obedient little bitch.” The alpha smirks while you struggle in Brady’s hold. It’s too early to blow your cover so you smile, nod, and swallow your pride for a moment.

“She will be after tonight. I thought about branding her. An omega like her needs a strong hand and a good knot.”

Your eyes narrow when the other alpha chuckles but there is something in his eyes telling you he feels as disgusted as you close to Brady and his friends.

“Maybe I can buy her for one night? I’d like to test her limits.” The alpha steps closer to brush his fingertips along your mating gland. “How much?”

“For you, half of the price the others would pay. Be my guest, have fun but do not damage the goods…at least let her live.” Your hands balled into fists you feel the hand of the alpha curl around your neck to bring you closer to him.

“Come with me, sweetheart. I’ll give you the ride of your life…”

“I am warning you…” Knife in your hand, eyes narrowed you want to kill the alpha bringing you to a bedroom. “Obedient my ass! I’ll kill you all!”

“Son of a bitch would you calm down? I am Dean Winchester, my brother Sam sent me for back-up. Jesus, you are a handful.” Dean pants while he shields his body with a pillow. “I will not hurt you, sweetheart.”

“Shut up and do not move! How shall I know you are not an imposter?” Blinking a few times Dean recalls what Sam told him.

“I know! Sam said you love to dunk fries into ice cream.” A minute ticks by before you lower the knife to slide it back into your garter. “Can we now talk about bringing down the demons selling omegas or do you want to wrestle for dominance first?”

Cockily Dean steps closer to intimidate you with his size but you puff your chest, not giving in at all. “I can handle this. I got no clue why you are here. To make this room stink like an alpha?”

“I take it back, you are not an obedient bitch, only a bitch.” Pushing against his chest you glare at the tall alpha who is busy to look at the collar around your neck. “I could just make you obedient…”

“You could have my foot in your ass before you can even blink, Winchester.” He steps closer still a smirk on his lips before pushes you to the ground to cover you with his body. “What the fuck!”

“Shhh…make noises like a good omega. Mewl or something. Brady is outside, looking into the room.” Dean pants against your neck and you don’t know if he tries to trick you. “I swear he’s there. Just make…”

“Oh-god…alpha. You are so hard.” Giggling you hide your face in Dean’s neck. “You make me feel so good. Harder. Fuck…please make me yours. I want to feel your knot…please…”

“You’ll get what I give you. Be good for me…” Dean purrs, against your skin, and for a split-second, you are turned on. “Damn, you are so soft against me.” He whines and the moment is gone.

“Can you just not press your dick against my thigh?” Shushing the words you hear someone groan outside the windows. “Harder! Please fuck me harder, alpha!”

“Such a good girl,” Dean adds and you snicker silently as it sounds as if Brady jerks off outside the room. “So tight and warm…”

“Yes…that’s…fuck…” An odd noise followed by a gunshot catches your attention. Dean rolls off you, already aiming his gun toward the man entering the room.

“Dude! Why don’t you answer your phone! Bobby and I…” Sam’s eyes rake over your bunched up dress and his eyes narrow. “Did you try to hit on Y/N? I told you to keep your cock in your pants for once!”

“Guys, I am right here and he didn’t take his tiny noodle out. Now back to the case or do you want to fight some more?” Sam needs to hold back a smirk when his brother glares at you, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Fine, follow us, and be good.” Dean is gone before you can get up so Sam holds out his hand, silently apologizing for his brother's behavior.

“Fuck you too, Winchester…”

“Perfect ending…” Watching the paramedics take care of the scared omegas Dean leans against his car while your eyes drift toward Brady on the ground.

He snarls as one of the ‘omega protectors’, the special unit to protect unmated omegas handcuffs him. “That guy was the head of another cell, Sammy.”

“We cut one head off only for another to grow. It’s a never-ending cycle, Dean.” Sam sits on the hood, running one hand over his face.

“You always have to kill the mood. Can you not, for once, be happy we freed fifteen omegas and a bitch?” Meeting Dean’s gaze you give him a dirty look.

“Alpha scum…”

“Bitch.”

“Useless knothead…”

“I’ll lock you into our dungeon and…”

“Guys, seriously get a room and release the tension or stop fighting. Bobby and I are going to get a drink and some well-deserved rest.”

Sam shakes his head before he hurries toward Bobby’s truck. “Don’t come back before you talked things out.”

Dean follows his brother with his eyes while you lazily stretch your body. “Got a ride?” Dean asks and you shake your head. “Pity. You will have to walk to town…”

“You’re such an asshole! I can’t believe Sam is related to you as he’s a gentleman and good alpha.” Dean smirks, opens the door to the driver's seat.

For a heartbeat, you believe he’ll offer you a ride but he starts the engine, slams the door shut, and drives away.

“Fucking asshole, that’s so lame…” You kick a stone, weigh your options before you start walking toward the road. There was a bus station not too far away, so you’ll try your luck. “Can’t believe he left me here, in the middle of nowhere.”

The bus station in sight you sigh. It started to rain. Now you are soaked, freeze, and are beyond pissed. “Should’ve asked the cops to give me a ride.”

Hurrying toward the bus station you wrap your arms around your body. It’s getting colder per minute and you don’t need a cold.

“Look at this. A wet angry kitten at a bus station.” Dean muses. He opens the door to the passenger seat, a dirty grin on his lips. “Did you learn your lesson?”

“Yeah, Dean Winchester is an asshole who leaves a fellow hunter in the middle of nowhere not caring if there are still demons around.

I thought you are better than one of those monsters in the mansion buying omegas.” Your eyes are cold when you sit on the bench, ignoring the hunter.

“All alphas are the same. If you do not obey, they call you a freak of nature. Go and fuck yourself…”

“Come on, Y/N. It’s cold and the rain won’t let up. I didn’t know you would walk, okay. I drove back and you were gone. Get into the car before you get a cold and Sammy kills me, sweetheart.” Dean gets out of the car when you do not get up.

Yelping you fight the hunter as he picks you up to carry you toward his car. “Let me down! Hey! Help!”

“Shut up, brat or someone will get arrested!”

“Yeah…you!”

“No, you…brat! Now get into the car and shut up for a moment.”

“What the fuck, Winchester. Let go of me. Hey! I am talking to you.” Dean drags you toward an odd building while you scream and shout. He wanted to drop you at your motel room, instead, he drove to this building without an explanation.

While he drags you into the building not caring you bite him repeatedly Dean smirks. “Are you done, sweetheart?”

“No.” Snarling you attack his neck when he dares to look at you in his arms. “Let me down! I am warning you one last time before I bite your head off.”

“I want to watch you bite my head off.” Blinking a few times, you grit your teeth before you sink them into his neck, almost piercing his mating gland.

“You can fight me as much as you want. Sam said I shall bring you to the bunker and I did. Now be silent and obey for once.”

“Asshole…I’ll bite you and…” Nibbling at Dean’s neck you cup the back of his head to get better access. “Mark you…”

“You’re such a needy bitch. I bet when I have a look at your panties, they are soaked for me.” Humming you let Dean carry you toward his room. “I’ve missed you.”

“Then you should finally have the guts to tell your brother you are railing his best friend.” Placed onto your feet you smirk before you cup the back of Dean’s head to crush your lips onto his.

Mirroring your action Dean smirks when you slide your free over his back up to his shoulder to grip him tightly.

“I love it when you get mad.” Snickering against your lips Dean grips your ass while you fumble his belt open. “Why didn’t you wait? I had to be sure Sammy is gone and you just started to walk away.”

“Maybe as you acted like a douche too well? The demons were gone and you pulled the dominant alpha shit.” Your fingers deftly unbutton his pants to get access to his cock. “One day, I’ll bite you hard enough to hurt.”

“One day I’ll mark this neck as mine! Now be good…” Dean tries but you already push against his chest to make him stumble and end on his bed. Smirk on your lips you crawl into his lap to shamelessly grind against the growing bulge.

“Hmm…look at you, Dean. If you can prove you can tame me, I’ll let you mark me, alpha…” Purring Dean looks up at you.

His pupils’ lust-blown, lips parted he just watches you rip his flannel open. Your hands greedily slide over his chest, before you start grinding against his crotch.

“Fuck me, Dean…” In a blink you are flipped to your back, hands pinned above your head, panting as Dean smirks down at you.

“I mean it, Y/N.” Husking the words against your lips Dean dips one hand between your bodies to tug harshly at your panties. “You’re mine…”

“Yeah? Don’t see a mark at my neck. I don’t know…” A cry leaves your lips when he presses the tip in. “Fuck, it’s been a while…”

“Three fucking weeks, sweetheart. Damnit, you’re so fucking tight every time.” Dean’s serious look, the way he furrows his brows in concentration when he sinks into you let your toes curl.

“You could’ve at least gotten rid of your pants, Winchester.” Not sorry at all Dean buries his face into your neck to inhale your scent deeply. He loves just feeling your warmth sucking him in. “Dean…”

“I’ll mark this neck, fill you up and make you round tonight.” Stubbornly insisting on his mark at your neck Dean starts to roll his hips. “Tomorrow, you’ll move in. I got enough of sneaking around.”

“My brave…a fuck me…little hunter…” Giggling you grip his shoulders to dig your nails into his flesh. “If you can make me cum, I’ll give in…”

Determined to earn his mark at your neck Dean grips the headboard, digs his knees into the mattress before he looks down at you, a dirty grin on his lips.

“Hold tight, this is going to be a wild ride.”

“Promises…” Challenging the alpha on top of you was a mistake as he starts to slam his hips against yours. He’s growling low in his throat and you swear, for a split-second, you saw the alpha, the animal in Dean’s eyes. “Fuck…Dean…”

“What did you say?” He’s gripping your thighs, spreads you wide before he bends your knees to get better access. You are a begging mess after a few more thrusts.

The way he looks at you, his moans, and the knot swelling inside of you are too much to handle.

“I…” A strangled cry leaves your lips when the coil winds up. You try to warn Dean but it’s too late to stop the high rippling through your body.

Dean drops your legs, fists your hair to force you to crane your neck. He’s panting heavily jerks his hips a few more times before his teeth sink into your mating gland.

Cum floats your belly when his knot locks you together but all you can feel are Dean’s teeth not letting go of your neck. “Mine…”

“So…what was that thing with the knife? Sweetheart?” Dean looks at you snuggled into his pillow not caring about a thing while he runs his hand up and down your back.

“I knew Brady is outside, looking into the room. I could smell him and thought I’ll give him a good show.”

“You could’ve warned me! I almost got cut when you wielded your toothpick of a knife in front of my chest.” Giggling you look at Dean who lifts the blanket covering you to have a look at your ass. “Fucking perfect.”

“Gosh, can you just stop staring! It’s been three weeks, not years.”

“I don’t care. Tomorrow I’ll tell Sammy we like to have sex…” Now you burst into laughter, bite the pillow while little snorts leave your lips.

“God…don’t say it like that.”

“I’ll say you’re mine then…”

“Do you think she will move into the bunker?” Bobby sips at his beer, a smug grin on his lips when Sam chokes on air. “I am old, not blind, Sam. I know Dean and your friend are a thing.”

“Can you believe they sneak around for months behind my back believing I am too blind to see the hickeys and bite marks. I am not a kid.” Sam chortles.

“I mean, last time they made such noises I had to leave the motel room next to Dean’s…”

“We could make it hard for them...”

“Nah, I think Y/N will rile Dean up for a lifetime. Even I am scared when she’s angry. The rage in her eyes...scary as shit...”

SPN Forever Tags

@donnaintx

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

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags   

@spnfamily-j2

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@deans-baby-momma

@thefaithfulwriter

@squirrelnotsam

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@myopiamystical

@rintheemolion

@isthatabutterfly

@bluecornflowers​

@rosalynshields​

A/N: If your name is crossed out Tumblr won’t let me tag you.

[allandoflimbo]

Ashens (Part 1)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 2,214

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language. 

Author’s note: for clarification purposes...the blurb, in the beginning, takes place in the Present. The "Prologue" is just back story on Bucky. You can skip to Chapter 1 if you'd like (just simply scroll past where it reads “Prologue”). Reading the Prologue is not essential, but might be helpful to better understand Bucky's emotions at the beginning of the story. Optional. 

This book is split into 3 Parts: "The Society", "The Capitol", and "The Agreement".

Soundtrack | Trailer | Moodboards | Full Masterpage

--

                               In a moment of weakness, you can’t help but try to find your building on the horizon made up of glass.

You try to find the room that had been yours for the last six months; the home where he had belittled you countless times.

But also where he’d touched your skin so softly, leaving a trail of fire and heat.

The bedroom where you had given your heart to him in your bed, and where you thought he had given you his.

Prologue

It was 1938 in Brooklyn, and he was just twenty-one years old when his father had died. Consequently, he became an orphan.

Months before, his sister had been taken away from him while he was training at the same camp his father had trained at - Camp Lehigh. The day his father died was also the same day he had met her.

Her name was Daisy.

It was a magical fairytale. He was just outside the Cotton Club when she emerged from inside the Dusenberg J. She had light blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

She had a pearl and diamond bracelet on her left hand, and her other hand was wrapped up in a prestigious white glove.

Her gown had been sparkling and silver, hugging her body at just perfect places. It showed off her curves gracefully and it was obvious that she was the woman Bucky had been waiting for his entire life.

And so they danced that night to The Way You Look Tonight after she had sipped a dirty Martini.

His hand settled for the small of her back and, as they danced, he took her breath away just like she had his.

Later that night, they ended up in Dumbo in his cheap apartment where they ended up sharing their first kiss.

Ella Fitzgerald’s voice was playing on his record player in the background as he laid her onto his bed.

That was also the same night she realized he was a soldier, and that he would soon be leaving her behind.

They fell in love too fast, too strongly. They had only known each other for a few weeks when he proposed to her. He wished he had known it would be the last time he would see her.  

He wouldn’t know what he lost until seventy-six years later.

             Year: 2021

You needed to escape The Capitol.

The tears are heavy in your throat and it burns from the screaming and crying that you had done earlier in your room. Your right-hand closes and tightens again.

You didn’t think it would get this bad. Not your love for him, nor his boundless hate towards you.

Every dagger, in the form of a word he threw your way, pained you. It hurt the same way it did when you first met him, when you first told him you loved him, and when you first fucked.

He had continued to stare at you with those cold eyes and with that expression that he always saved for you. You filled his eyes with hate and disgust.

How could you have hoped for a change?

He showed you nothing but antipathy, yet you couldn’t pull away. You allowed yourself to believe your self-doubt, thinking he was getting better, and that he was changing. And you were falling for pity; he had been through so much, he just needed to heal, you told yourself.

You had continued to let him hurt you with his words and you let him have his way with your heart and body. It was the only way you could feel him.

Call it desperation or call it love. It wasn’t an obsession, nor a strange case of Stockholm Syndrome. You weren’t his captivate nor his trainee. You were never tied up, and neither was he. He didn’t hold you at gunpoint.

He was on the good side.

He was your partner.

You weren’t forced into what you had done with each other. He would never hold it against you. You went into it willingly. You and him both knew what you were capable of and that you could have stopped it. He would rather feed you to the wolves, knowing you’d do your very best to free yourself without his help. What happened wasn’t a delusion. It was something else.

And you had allowed it to go on for way too long. You fell in too deep, and you think he knows.

You needed to escape The Capitol.

Keeping your head down as you walk through the howling of the city life, under the monorail and through the heavy puddles, you hear the undeniable whispering. You had to be fast.

There’s a Coroner out of your peripheral. He wore his traditional black garment, boarded by a gold essence that only the Elite could afford. His hair was immaculate, but his eyes filled with uncertain rage. For half of a second, you think your eyes meet. You’re unsure, looking away as fast as you can.

The scarf on your flesh is soaking from the drizzling rain and now you grow even more nervous. If the Leviathans or Snipers were to even spot a fraction of the tattoo on your neck, you knew you were screwed. You would be dead on the spot and given no opportunity for forgiveness or freedom.

They didn’t believe in jail here. There would be no trial or interrogation; only death. The people of The Capitol watched you as you pushed through the heavy crowds of the subway, under the overpass, and into the dense fog. You knew they were wondering if you were one of the traitors they warned the society members of.

You cursed to yourself as more strands of your hair begged to fall out of your hood, your left fingers aching and trembling as you tried to tuck it back inside. You pull the black hood over your head and wrap your silver scarf around your lower face and neck.  It had served as a protective barrier in your life before the mission. It hid your identity well.

The scarf smelled of dust mites and humidity from being packed away in your closet for the last six months. You didn’t need to wear a scarf inside The Capitol. Your thin, gray top reached your upper thighs. Your black pants were soaked against the hot skin of your thighs and it was irritating as you walked.

You shivered, knowing that the shirt would serve you no use of protection outside of The Wall, where you soon would be again. It would not protect you against the winds, the virus, or the ongoing civil war. You would not survive.

Your long, dark gray, cotton overcoat you had harbored for the last few months in our metal getaway box, felt heavy against your aching shoulders. You hadn’t used it since you had to fend for yourself for survival. Dirt and grime of the outer perimeters of this place badly ripped and tainted the seams on the bottom. After months of combat fighting, stress, and other physical activities, your sore muscles were catching up with you. You had allowed yourself to reach this point.

Because of your self-loathing, not because of your enemies or because of Hydra, or because of the people that had killed your family, having caved and hollowed you, but because you loved him.

And now all you could do was give up and run.

                  You passed the start of the iron gates, started your Stark Tracker, and you ran and ran.

You took every secret pathway that you and Bucky had learned and dissected over the last six months; the ones you trailed together.

It didn’t take long for you to reach the border of The Wall. They made the perimeter up of deep mud and it was thick around your beat-up combat boots, making it harder to walk.

You look down at your feet, glad they were still tied on. You feel a twinge in your heart. You had stolen them a little over a year ago off a poor girl on the side of an abandoned and looted grocery store. She had not made it. As you approached her body, it was apparent that she had been dead for days, but your feet had been unprotected for much longer. These boots have protected you, guided you.

The howling of the voices and the sound of the city were distant as you crawled towards the concrete barrier of the outside. It was massive, and it sent a shiver down your back. You slowed down your pace so the sound of the squelching mud became almost silent. There was nothing but the sound of the rain hitting the mud and the terrifying silence that you all knew that stood behind the wall. A distant howl, if you were quiet enough, maybe also a scream.

It was a wall that had protected you, protected you and Bucky, and that had given you hope for something different from what you had previously experienced. For those six months, because of this wall, there was no fathom or hunger. It kept you alive, and you felt alive.

There was no physical pain. It was just the two of you.

The tears burn heavy in your throat as you look back to the beautiful, yet pure evil, city that you were supposed to overthrow and destroy.

Hydra’s Society.

Eligible only for the elite, the rich, privileged, and those who harbored evil and selfish acts in their hearts. Not all the society members were amoral people, which was something you had learned early on. It was a horrible thing, what Hydra had done. What they had conquered. What they had stolen from your parents. Yet, it was beautiful.

The city comprised of tall glass towers and mesmerizing skyscrapers. A few were still under new renovations, but most were mesmerizing to the eye. Neon lights of the many signs caught the fog in the air, and you watched from afar as the hologram in the sky showed your faces, warning the people of your presence in their territory. It had a blue glow, illuminating even in the dense fog and rain.

You could hear the eery echo of the sound system and the soft hum of Neptune in the sky above, peaking through the heavy clouds. You know they are alerting their people again.

His face is there in the sky along with yours. Your eyes linger on his picture as it turns. He’s gorgeous and capable of sending way too many emotions throughout your body. You were once a forceful girl with a tough skin, and a strong heart. Stubborn and rebellious. But now, you are a disgrace to even yourself.

You close your eyes tightly together as you fist your hand again, pressing your back farther into the massive concrete sheath behind you. It’s cold and you feel it through the fabric of your coat. It was at least three hundred feet up into the sky, powerful enough that not even a nuke could breakthrough. You had doubted it for years, but now, feeling it behind you, you knew it wasn’t just a rumor.

Your mom and dad knew what they were doing.

The heavy rain pellets felt like hard stones on your heated flesh. Your hand sizzled with that feeling: attack, revenge, avenge, love; heal. But you couldn’t, not anymore.  After stooping you so low, and after so many months of pure hatred and hostility, his words worked, and you allowed yourself to believe them.

You had to leave The Capitol.

Your eyes dart up towards the guarded gates at the top of the wall. You see several of The Officers and Minesweepers, already on heavy patrol for the fugitives, the cowardly, the traitors; the hunt for you both. You are afraid.

You knew your Stark Tracker could only keep you shielded for ninety seconds, which is why you had waited so long to even activate it. The stupors and generals could catch you at any moment if it were to fade, but that’s the least of your worries as you pull your hood higher above your head, tightening it with the scarf.

You couldn’t risk being seen if the tracker were to expire too soon. Your black boots splash in the mud that cave into the wall.

With tears still running down your cheeks, you turn around one more time to watch the power that Hydra had become. Towering in beauty and made up of skyscrapers that touched the clouds.

Part of you feels guilty as you remember his touch.

He was so broken.

You try not to think about how far he had come; you both had come, because you can’t let emotions cloud your judgment of what he really is. Not anymore.

He’s heartless. He’s... your chest grows tight.

No, no.

You had become so angry that you couldn't control your emotions any longer. It had almost cost you your cover. But you no longer cared about the mission.

This was all Bucky’s mission now to complete. Without you.

Just like he always wanted.

So you ran.

 I don’t believe that anybody, feels the way I do, about you now.

Part 2