#the way she’s still behind bars after waking up???? even if it’s only light???

[wormnamedwax]

Batgirl Secret Files and Origins (2002) #01

hey so starting the comic like this is EVIL

[avocado-writing]

pairing: logan howlett x afab!reader. 18+, minors dni. angst; smut (p in v unprotected sex; handjob - logan receiving; oral - reader & logan receiving). canonically bisexual reader. mentions of pregnancy attempts. dp+w movie spoilers.

synopsis: in the Void, after leaving the other dead in your own timelines, you and Logan are reunited.

words: 8.5k.

notes: this was inspired by not your man by @studioghibelli and the worst logan by @coweye! please go and read both these fics and show their authors some love, they are both incredibly talented writers who deserve it! dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕

The past couple of days have been a lot. 

To be honest, anything that isn’t sitting at a bar drinking the place dry is a lot to Logan nowadays. He’s used to low lights, rumbling conversation around him, the fuzzier end of consciousness. Even now he aches for a drink, knowing he’ll have to wake up sober next to the asshole in red he spent the night putting down in that fucking minivan. 

He hopes, at least, he has been met with all the surprises that this place can afford him. 

Ah. But that’d be too fucking easy, right?

That Cajun bastard’s liquor sits comfortably in the cradle of his palm and he chases away lucidity one swig at a time. Tries to block out the half-baked plan Wade is concocting with the other poor bastards who have been stuck here, even if it’s all probably pointless. He only chimes in to laugh at their hope. 

Then Elektra turns, withering pity in her eyes, and seems to properly assess him for the first time. 

“They’re gonna be so disappointed when they see you.”

“Who?” he snorts, past the point of caring that he’d disappoint anyone. It’s then that Elektra hits him like a fucking freight train with just one word spilling from her lips: your name. 

Logan feels a flood of memories come back to him. Ones he’s spent too long trying to drink away. The early morning when you’d hide under the blankets together, your hand cradling his face and letting the whole world consist of just the two of you. The stolen kisses in quiet corridors so the students at the mansion wouldn’t catch you and start silly little rumours. 

Him holding your lifeless body in his arms surrounded by the rubble of what used to be your bedroom, your powers unable to save you. 

He doesn’t have anything to say, merely spitting vitriol to anyone who tries to speak to him, even that damn kid who still prefers the other dead Logan to him. Why wouldn’t she? He’s a fucking mess, worth less than nothing, and that Logan was a hero. 

He retreats in the evening to lick his wounds or, hopefully, drown them. People keep trying to fucking talk to him and he does not want it. Yet they’re fucking relentless, like the Void is perfect at creating gut punch after gut punch for him. Laura walks away into the darkness after successfully making him feel like shit - not that it’s difficult these days - and when he hears more footsteps he assumes it’s Wade coming to harass him about tomorrow. 

“Oh, will you fuck off - ?” he snarls, but the sight of you there, half lit by a dying fire with orange dancing on your skin, oh, it just kills any venom he can muster dead in his throat. 

Logan is looking at a ghost and he has never been less prepared for anything in his long, long life. 

Your mouth has fallen open into a soft “o” as you look at him, brows knitted together as you take in every imperfect aspect of his being. 

“Lo?” you whisper. Your voice hasn’t changed. 

“Logan,” he replies, gruff, unsure if he’s confirming or correcting. But fuck does it sound good to hear his name out of your mouth again, even if it’s just a syllable. 

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear and take a seat on one of the logs which has been pulled up as a makeshift bench. He tries not to watch the way the fire lights up your eyes. There’s an agonisingly long pause before you finally attempt conversation.  

“Long time no see, huh?” you ask with a weak grin. Fuck. It’s like a dagger. Your humour was always something which endeared you to him. Unlike Wade you never took it too far, cultivating your sincerity with your silliness in order to grow yourself into peoples’ hearts. 

His heart especially, and now it aches. 

He grunts, because he can’t bring himself to actually say anything. Can barely look at you. You keep talking, either not noticing or barrelling on regardless. 

“You know, when the gang said that you were here… I didn’t believe it. Thought there was no way a fucking Wolverine would fall into this place.”

“Let me guess,” he sneers, taking another long drag of bourbon, “I’m not what you expected.”

You laugh, an easy little thing, and part of him hates you for it. For reminding him of how it sounds. 

“I mean, you’re not. But not because of what you’re thinking.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” It comes out as a snap, lip curling back over his teeth in disgust. You do not look bothered in the least, just crossing one leg over the other and leaning back. 

“Because I know you, Logan. Knew my Logan too. Bet you’re spiralling, making yourself out to be some kinda disappointment. Well you’re not. You could never be.”

He desperately wants to argue but he simply doesn’t have the gumption. Besides, it’s nice to hear someone say something kind about him after all these years. 

“So,” you say after another one of those painful pauses, “considering every time you look my way you wince, you have a me in your timeline?”

He laughs without any humour in it, stares into the flames for so long they start to hurt his eyes. 

“Yeah. I did.”

“Ahh. ‘Did’. I died, then?”

You say it so flippantly, he can’t fucking stand it. 

“Mmm.”

“Makes sense. Don’t think I’d leave you in any timeline, so the only way I could see us ending would be if I wasn’t there any more.” You sigh, stretching your legs out to warm them. “Can I ask how it happened? Call it morbid curiosity.”

He absolutely does not want to talk about this. But, also… it’s you. Maybe not the you that was his, exactly, but it is you. Perhaps you deserve to know. He tries to stay dispassionate, as if he is a doctor quietly recounting the facts of death to a family member. 

“Mansion was attacked. Everyone died, including you. I wasn’t there. We’d had a fight, I went out drinking. When I got back you were gone.” He flexes his fist around the neck of the bottle, trying to avoid shattering it, but desperately needing to hold onto something. 

“Oh.” The fire crackles loudly. “What did we fight about?”

This will kill him. He will die in this Void. 

“You wanted to do another round of IVF. I didn’t want to be disappointed again.”

The words settle like a cloud of choking ash over the two of you. He takes a long drink. What a fucking failure he is, couldn’t even knock you up properly. 

“Fuck, Logan. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah.”

“Does it help if I tell you I probably wasn’t that mad? I’ve never been really angry with you, you know. My Logan… we used to bicker a lot, we both had short fuses, but it never meant anything in the long run.”

He doesn’t know if it does help or not. Is it better to know that you died hating him, making it easier? Or that you were snuffed out while loving him the whole time?

“Your turn,” he says, because he can’t bear to continue this particular line of conversation, but for some reason he wants to keep talking to you. Your voice is a comfort he thought he’d long since lost. 

“You wanna see a picture?” you ask, a grin pulling at the sides of your mouth. No, he doesn’t, but when you reach into your jacket to grab the photograph, he finds himself holding his hand out to take it. You slowly float it over, telekinesis absolutely unnecessary - but you always did use it to make the little things easier. 

It’s old. Frayed and disintegrating at the edges, a thing which has been held and looked at over and over again. Faded slightly despite the fact that you clearly try to take good care of it. 

“Oh,” he says, eyes widening. You chuckle. 

“I know.”

Because, despite the lack of facial hair and addition of a decent rack, the woman with her arm around you in the photo is him. 

The Logan in the picture is about as butch as they come, decked out in a Wolverine’s trademark flannel and leather. One of her arms is wrapped around you to keep you close against her, the other playfully flipping the camera off with a middle claw, and she’s laughing with a joy he hasn’t seen on his own face for years. You’re pressing a kiss into her cheek and hanging onto one of her thick biceps. The two of you exude happiness. 

“She was the best thing that ever happened to me. She could be a mean cunt sometimes, smoked like a chimney, drank like a fish, but fuck we were the centres of each other’s world.” You let out a long sigh and hold your hand out - Logan goes to give you the photo but instead you gesture for the bourbon. He passes it and you and you drink deeply, gratefully. “I’d been in a string of bad relationships. Guys who took me for granted, women who were toxic but I didn’t realise until I was in too deep. Then she came along and well… she was a fucking angel in plaid.” 

Logan’s thumb absentmindedly strokes the photo. He’s pretty sure there’s a near-identical one back in his timeline. 

“Our mansion was attacked too. She died getting the kids out.”

Fuck. Fuck. No, he can’t do this. He can’t face the way he should have died. He really is the fucking worst Wolverine. He snatches the bottle back from you, you give no resistance, and he polishes it off. The photo flutters to the ground. 

“I think it’s time you fucked off,” he growls out. You roll your eyes, fucking roll your eyes at him, something his version of you did on pretty much a daily basis, and the knife in his heart twists further. 

“Well, Logan, I’m not gonna do that. Because this conversation is the most whole I’ve felt in a long time, and I’m pretty sure you feel the same way.”

He doesn’t. He does. He wants you to disappear forever. He wants to hold you close and kiss you, beg you never to leave again. He hates you. He loves you so, so much. 

He’s such a ruined man that it is laughable. 

“So what, I come along and just replace your little girlfriend? First Wolverine that you manage to get your hands on; is that what you’re hoping for?”

You bark out a laugh. It echoes around the trees. There are tears in your eyes when he turns to look. 

“Girlfriend? Logan, you were my fucking wife!” 

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say that the laughter engulfs you, peals of giggles that double you over. You hold your head in your hands and it soon turns to bitter sobs. He wants to reach out and hold you, apologise for ever making you sad. He tries to get any lingering drops from the bourbon instead. 

“We got married at the mansion. Charles officiated. The kids made us cards. We didn’t get a honeymoon because we didn’t have the fucking time. We had five years. Five really happy years and you know what? We wanted a baby too. We were getting a donor lined up! And then when the attack happened you were the one getting all the kids out I begged you to come with us but you were too fucking good, you had to stay behind and make sure nobody followed us. And it cost you your fucking life. They ripped you apart Logan. I know because all I found of you was your head and your wedding ring. I didn’t even get time to mourn because I had a dozen children to fucking take care of! And I did because I knew that’s what you’d want me to do. It’s what you died for. So I lived in the fucking woods with all of them for years, and they were my family, and I made sure they were as safe and happy as I could make them. And you know what happened then? When they were all grown? A fucking TVA agent appears out of nowhere and tells me, ‘oops! Sorry! Your Logan wasn’t supposed to die, it was meant to be you!’ So they fucking throw me in this hellhole to rot away into nothing and I’m sorry, Logan, I’m sorry that when I heard you were here I got my fucking hopes up that you might be happy to see me, because if there was one person who understood all of the shit I’m going through then it might be you.” You throw your head back up to stare him dead in the eyes. “And it’s pathetic because you know what? Even after all this? I’m still not angry with you. I’m still happy you’re here. Because seeing you makes me feel better, despite everything.”

It’s a long-ass rant, and your words hang in the air after you’re done. He doesn’t know what to say. What can he say? He opens his mouth to apologise but the words just won’t come out. Because, yeah, if he really dissects himself and looks at the parts laid bare, he’s glad you’re here too. 

He reaches down to rescue the photo before an ember lands on it, gingerly extending into you. When you take it back his fingers brush yours. He wishes he wasn’t wearing gloves. 

“Who was the donor?” he asks eventually. That does a lot to alleviate the mood, and you smile through tear-streaked cheeks. 

“You might not like the answer.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t tell me it was Scott.”

“The two of you got on okay! Butted heads a lot but he was always a good friend to us. Plus it was cheaper than going through an agency.”

He growls to himself and it makes you laugh, but properly this time. Things have started to soften and it’s… nice. To be like this with you again. You pause for a moment, stuck on whether to ask a question; hesitate over whether it’s a good idea, then barrel on regardless. 

“Can I ask a weird question?”

“You’re dangerously close to sounding like Wade,” he replies. You groan at that idea. 

“Ugh. Fucking Deadpools, man. We get one come along every now and then and trash the place before fucking off again. Apparently there’s like, a tribe of them out there somewhere.” You give a full-body shudder. “Imagine. No, it’s nothing like that, I guess. Can you… can you take off your glove? Left one.”

He has a horrible feeling about this but when you ask so nicely, that air of vulnerability around you, well it just seeps into his fractures and breaks him open. It takes a moment but he does, flexing his bare hand in the cool air. 

You reach around your neck and pull at a thin chain he’d barely noticed. The ring at the end slides up from where it’s been resting on your sternum under your shirt, glinting as you remove it. 

“Give me your hand.”

This is a bad idea. 

He does anyway. 

You slip the ring on his fourth finger, softly twisting it to fit over his knuckle as you go. It is the perfect size. 

“Will you look at that,” you mumble, not releasing your grip on him. “She… you always told me your hands were kinda big because of the claws. Like I cared. One of my favourite parts about you.”

Your fingers trace along his, finding the spaces between them and gently slotting your hands together. Logan isn’t sure if he’s the one who closes the grasp or if it’s you, but a beat passes and suddenly you’re holding hands. 

He’s not done this with you for so fucking long. An age of aching which is relieved at the feeling of your palm up against his. 

“So now what?” he eventually has to ask. You smile. 

“Well, I mean, your Deadpool is probably gonna get us all killed tomorrow…”

“Ugh. Don’t call him ‘my Deadpool’.”

“… so I’d quite like to just spend tonight holding your hand, if that’s okay. Seems like a pretty nice final night to me.”

When you hit him with those soft eyes, what other fucking choice does he have?

You don’t speak much for the rest of the night. Eventually the fire dies out. Laura comes to seek you out the next morning, and is surprised to find you lying side by side with this other Logan, the most deeply asleep she’s ever seen you, fingers laced together so tightly with his it looks like it might hurt. 

He comes to the fight, of course; dredging up what little courage he has left in him in order to prove he’s not totally pathetic. You catch his eye and smile so wide that he feels likes he’s done at least one good fucking thing in his life. He hears the sound of you ripping into people with an enthusiasm he hasn’t witnessed for years. The last glimpse of you he gets before he jumps through the portal is you using your telekinesis to tear a man’s head off and he does not want to examine himself too closely when it sends a jolt of arousal down his spine. 

They leave you all there to face the end, but everyone knew that’s what you were all getting into. There has been a net gain and loss of nil. He never had you again. Not really. Not for anything longer than a night, and maybe that will be enough. 

Yes. That’s enough. It has to be. 

When he tells Wade he’ll go into that room, when he volunteers to die, he does it with the knowledge he’ll be doing something good, finally. Something you’d be proud of him for doing. And with you waiting for him on the other end of oblivion it really doesn’t seem too bad a fate. 

But then Wade does what he always does and fucks up his perfectly meticulous plan, and they both make it through, so he has to keep going. 

When Wade asks the TVA agent to help the group of you they left behind, Logan is sure to add on that people should get the opportunity to go back to their timelines - surely it’s what you’d want (this oddly selfless request has Wade raising an eyebrow which he ignores). After all, why wouldn’t you want to go back? It’s where you belong. Where you’ll be happiest. Putting things nice and neatly back into their place after this whole fucked-up venture. 

He doesn’t have you, but he’s still alive and wants to be, and that’s something. A lot more than he’s had for a long time now to be honest. 

His life becomes this strange little thing that’s wrapped up with Wade’s. He sleeps on his pull-out sofa until he has somewhere proper to put down his roots. Tries to lay off the booze as much as he can even if each day is a fucking struggle. Makes steps towards finding a proper place for himself; even gets a job on the door at the bar across the street. It’s okay. One step at a time. He can put himself back together like that. 

Imagine his surprise, then, when a week later there’s a knock at the door. 

He assumes it’s Al who’s forgotten her keys, or is too drunk to fish them out of her purse after bingo, so opens it without really thinking. 

The second time you’ve nearly stopped his heart in seven days. 

“Hey,” you say. 

“Oh,” is what he can manage. You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. Your go-to. 

“Yeah. Sorry. I uh, followed you back, I suppose. The TVA were gonna send me home but I asked where you were and when the answer was ‘here’, well… didn’t make sense for me to be any place else.”

He blinks at you. After a beat of silence he can tell you hate, no doubt wondering if your choice was the wrong one, he lifts his hand to cup your face. You stiffen for a second and then nestle into his palm. 

“You’re real,” he states. You press your hand to his. 

“I am.”

He pulls you into his chest and you are more than willing to come. He feels the way you bury yourself into him, nose first, remembering what he smells like. Your arms wrap around him so tight it’s like you’re scared he will disappear when it should be the other way round: if anyone is dreaming it’s him. You bothered coming here for him. You uprooted your whole life for it. 

He could hold you forever but the neighbours are nosy and the apartment is a mess. He presses his mouth close to your ear. 

“Wanna get a coffee?”

You pull back to meet his gaze. 

“I’d love that.” Your eyes drop and you pull a face. “Oh, uhh, you might wanna get changed first, though.”

He looks down and realises what shirt he’s wearing before letting out a groan, which gets you chuckling. 

“Wilson’s letting me borrow his shirts until my first paycheck comes in. Just to slum around the apartment.”

“Oh, so you’re not ‘employee of the month at the dick sucking factory’?” You ask, reading the slogan on his tee.

“No. Looks like Wilson won out over me.”

The fact he’s made a joke hangs in the air for a moment and you burst into laughter, real actual laughter, and it’s the most beautiful fucking thing he’s ever heard.

He grabs the only plain shirt Wade has left out, slices off the sleeves just because, and grabs twenty dollars from his roommate’s wallet. Soon enough you’re sitting in the little café near his building. The sky is grey and overcast, just threatening to rain but not quite bothering, and the two of you are tucked away in a corner table while Taylor Swift plays over the sound system. 

Logan does not like that he knows it’s Taylor Swift. This is what living with Wade has done to him. 

You watch him with affectionate eyes across the table, making sure nobody is paying close attention before using your telekinesis to stir the little metal spoon around in your latte. You nod at his mug. 

“You take coffee the same way as she did. Boring and black.”

Logan’s nostrils flare a little in a laugh. 

“Yeah, and you take yours the same way too. So fucking dense with syrup that it’s not coffee at all.”

“Oh you were always such a coffee snob! ‘Babe you gotta try it plain first so you can appreciate the aroma’,” you say, putting on a gruff affectation as a parody of his voice. 

“You do need to try it plain f—”

He’s interrupted when a sugar lump floats into the air from the pot in the middle of the table and launches itself at him, bouncing off of his pectoral. He cocks an eyebrow. 

“Real mature, bub.”

“Grouch.”

“Contrarian.”

“I’m not a—” you pause, realising there’s no way to win against that accusation, and grin at him instead. 

“Where are you staying?” he asks after a long drink. It’s not booze. He kinda wishes it was booze. But also, he knows it’s best not to go down that path again, for everyone’s sake.

“The mansion. Turns out I died in this timeline too, so you and I are two for two here” - there’s a hint of a smile at your own macabre observation - “but they were using my room for storage so they just let me have it back.” You grimace a little. “It’s been weird. It’s my space but it’s not, y’know?”

“I get that.”

He probably gets it better than anybody. Nice to have someone to share this strange, singular feeling with. 

“You should come around. Laura’s there too, I know she’d be glad to see you too.”

“She settling in okay?”

“Yeah. It’ll take a while, but everyone has been really understanding and kind. I think she’ll thrive here.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

You give him a smile that lets him know you believe it. Your eyes cast over him, taking in this new, slightly more settled Logan, falling still when you see what’s pressed against his fourth knuckle. 

“You’re still wearing the ring.”

“Oh,” he replies, surprised. Flexes his fingers as he looks at it. It’s been so comfortable there, so utterly unobtrusive and right, he hasn’t even noticed. “You want it back?”

A beat passes as you consider the question. Coffee is sipped. Another sugar added and stirred, perhaps just for show. 

“I don’t know,” you settle on. “I kinda like seeing you wear it but… if you were gonna have my ring, I’d want it to be one that was meant for you.”

He lets that idea settle between the two of you. Suddenly, slowly, you’re reaching forward, laying your smaller hand over his thick, rough one. 

“Logan. I want to be with you. In every way you’ll have me, all of it. I don’t know if it was fate or god or plain luck that threw us back together but I’m certain I don’t wanna waste this opportunity. I’d love you in every lifetime, in every timeline. I can’t be without you ever again, I think it would just kill me - and if I know you, you feel the same.”

He doesn’t even bother arguing because he does. When you turned up on his doorstep a scant couple of hours ago a part of his soul had been healed; your existence like kintsugi to piece him back together. A man made of adamantium and gold. 

“I’d like that,” he manages. 

“Yeah?” Your eyes glimmer with a hope which he’s not been privy to for a long time now. 

“Yeah.”

“Well, okay then,” you say with a smile, and drink your coffee. 

The two of you do not take it slow. How does one take it slow when your soulmate comes back into your life? You are not exactly the same person he once knew, but you understand each other in every way which matters. Your souls fit together like puzzle pieces. The two of you are whole again. 

Then again, perhaps he doesn’t need the version of you he used to have. Maybe, now, he needs this you - rougher around the edges, a little older and more wary, a fit which is better for him. Someone who can put up with his bullshit as Al once bluntly put it. 

You barely spend a night apart. You stay over with him on Wade’s pullout (inciting an input of, “something the two of you had better do, we can’t afford a kid on my income—!” before Logan had hurled a water bottle at him) meeting up with him after his shift is done in the small hours, getting something to eat at one of the greasy spoons which remain open. He devours full plates of fatty food; you stick to slices of pie which you feed him bites of from your fork. When you get back to the apartment you cuddle up on the uncomfortable mattress which folds from the sofa and fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

He sleeps pretty well nowadays. 

The two of you only realise you haven’t kissed yet when you do it for the first time. You’re making a coffee run, tugging on his jacket because you like the smell of cigar smoke and it’s thicker than yours. A little act of intimacy which has become commonplace. 

“Same as usual?” 

“Mm-hm.”

“Boring,” you make an exaggeration of a sigh, before leaning over the back of the sofa to press your lips to his. He automatically leans into it, tilting his head up so that he can meet you; it’s a chaste little thing, a peck between two people who will only be parted for a moment, but you pull back in surprise when you realise what’s just happened. 

“Oh!” you say with delight, eyes sparkling.

Your hand slips around his neck to cradle him, fingers playing with the hair at his nape. You gently pull him back for another. Longer this time. Lips slip together, moving carefully in something a little deeper. When you break for a moment it’s Logan who pulls you back. This third kiss is on the brink of hungry. He slides his tongue to swipe against your mouth and you let out a happy little hum at the intrusion. 

His arm curls around your back. With a little tug he pulls you over the back of the sofa and into his lap, making you yelp with glee. His mouth returns to yours, crushing, greedy for any little noises you’re able to make. You relax into it and are happy to take whatever he gives you. 

Wade finds you making out on the couch like a pair of teenagers, coffee forgotten. He does not let Logan live it down for a week. 

The apartment is fine, but not a long term solution. Wade and Al are constant presences that stops the two of you being fully at ease together. Logan knows that invitation to go to the mansion is always there, but it’s a while before he takes it - he really isn’t sure what he’ll feel, being back at a place he last saw burned to the ground because of his pigheadedness. Might just break him all over again. 

But ah, when you nock your fingers in the spaces between his, he can face anything. 

One night, exhausted and full of diner food, he agrees to go back to yours - the two of you have had a late night coffee meaning you’re still a tiny bit buzzed, a little too much to fall asleep on the pullout. Instead you get a taxi to yours, near enough, tipping the driver well when he drops you in the middle of a random street and choosing to walk the last minutes hand-in-hand.

The mansion is quiet. Everyone is mostly asleep. And Logan does feel strange being back here, but it isn’t a bad strange. Just another aspect of this new life he has to compartmentalise. 

You drag him through low-lit halls, confident in the steps which will lead you back to your room; he recalls a similar journey from his own timeline in the night you first hooked up, smuggling him to your bed down the corridors all wandering hands and breathless kisses and giddy giggles; but there’s no part about you that wants to hide this. 

You’d show your Logan off to the world. 

You’ve tried to make the room your own, he can tell. It’s pretty big and spacious. Good view. Has an ensuite which he plans on monopolising. He shucks off his clothes and sleeps in just his boxers, arms holding you to him so he can feel every part of your body against his. His chest hair bristles between your shoulder blades and you hum contentedly. 

He agrees to come to breakfast the next morning and, to their credit, people are good at not staring. The members of the team he recognises from his past keep their distance unless he seeks to close it. Hank gives him a smile. 

“Good to see you, Logan.”

“Mmm,” he manages. Laura comes down to grab something to eat and lights up when she sees him. She gives him a hug which skews on the side of awkward but he’s grateful to receive it, and he can see how pleased you are watching this development. 

He comes around more and more often. 

Less time spent at the apartment with Wade - who constantly complains about the fact and Logan cannot tell if he’s sincere or not - more living in the pocket of you. He helps you sort out the furniture in the room so that there’s more space; you’re moving a chest of drawers to another corner together when a photo falls out from behind them. Trapped against the wall for years. Long forgotten. 

“Oh,” you say, lifting it up and bringing it to your hand with a wave. Your face twists into something strange and bittersweet, a mask Logan isn’t quite sure how to comprehend, but he quickly understands why when he joins you. 

It’s a picture of the two of you. 

Not exactly the two of you, of course; the ones of you who lived in this timeline. Logan is posing on the back of his Harley, you’re propped up on the seat next to him with your head thrown back in laughter. The two of you look… young. This must have been taken when you first started going out. 

Your thumb caresses the photo in a movement he’s familiar with. 

“Huh. Looks like we were together here, too. Who’da thunk it,” you mutter.

He slips an arm around you then because he’s feeling oddly sentimental. It’s reassuring. No matter what timeline it is, there’s a you who loves him and a him who loves you. A simple and irrefutable truth, like the fact that the sun rises every day or the moon moves the tides. 

“Apparently Magneto got me in the late noughties. Feels like a bit of a pathetic way to go, but diverging timelines, I guess.”

Logan knows that in this timeline, he stuck around for a while after. Poor bastard, he thinks. Having to live those years without you. That’s a misery he understands all too fucking well. 

But not any more. 

You leave the photo on your dresser, loathe to throw it away, and continue moving furniture to make room for the TV you just bought. Logan hates sharing the one in the living room, especially when the hockey’s on.

Eventually Logan is spending so much time with you he’s barely living at Wade’s any more. You’ve suggested they’d be happy to have him back in the mansion for a “teaching job” like you have, though he knows there’s never much teaching involved, more helping kids learn to defend themselves without too much collateral damage. Still it’s a fair chunk of change better than his current miserable doorman’s salary and it means he’d be living at more sociable hours.

Plus he’d get to move in with you, an idea you’re both secretly happy about. 

So he hands in his notice at the bar and packs the scant few belongings he has at Wilson’s into a cardboard box from Bad Dragon, which is strangely the only one Wade could find him (“god Peanut that’s so weird, oh well!”). Looks around the apartment he’s called home for some time, feels not entirely pleased to be leaving it. 

“And remember sweetie, if it all goes incredibly wrong and you realise the place you’ve belonged the whole time is on my undoubtedly piss-soaked pull out sofa bed, Al and I will be happy to have you back with minimal taunting.”

Logan fixes him with a look. 

“Wilson?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” The word is odd coming from his mouth but not insincere. Wade goes to say something that’s no doubt stupid and inappropriate, however he softens at the last moment. 

“Any time. Go get ‘em, tiger, I’m rooting for you.”

You’ve moved your stuff so he can have a side of the closet, and drawers in the dresser, and he resumes his life with you. 

It takes only a couple of days for him to settle and realise how much he prefers this. Living with you properly. How, really, he couldn’t stand to be apart from you. How he wants to be there for every second, hear every laugh which drips from you, comfort you whenever something threatens to ruin your happiness. 

He falls asleep with you wrapped in his arms every night. Wakes up with you there. Pretty fucking perfect if you ask him. 

There’s nothing special about the morning when you first make love except for the fact it’s the morning when you first make love. It’s a border the two of you haven’t quite crossed yet. Almost as if you’re both afraid to make the commitment, like it may break you apart; there’s perhaps an underlying fear that you’re being unfaithful to your partners from your own timelines. That being together like that dishonours their memory. 

It’s a salve, then, that the longer you’ve been together the more you realise that you don’t love each other as a stand-in for the ones who died, but entirely on each other’s own merits. He doesn’t look at you and see the body he held in the manor. He sees someone who he’d protect, give his life to, become a dog for because he’s utterly in love with this you, the one who was so happy to find him in the Void, the one who patched him back together when he was at his most broken. 

There’s nothing to second guess in this relationship. It is the most solid foundation he’s ever had, and from the way you look at him every morning as if he’s hung the stars, you feel the same. 

That morning he’s holding you particularly tight. It’s a Sunday, the quietest day at the mansion, and the two of you are in bed later than you’d usually be. You’re both awake because you’re pressing more and more into each other’s bodies, nestling together like nesting dolls. His arm slung around your waist, hips against the swell of your ass. 

You shift slightly and he feels his cock harden in interest. Why wouldn’t it? Most beautiful person in the whole world right here in his bed. He might be old but he’s not a fool. 

He’s aware your hips are moving again, pressing yourself into him harder. He lets out a quiet, gruff laugh. 

“You’re doing that on purpose.”

“Mmm, maybe I am, Howlett. What are you gonna do about it?”

You squeak with laughter as he surges upwards, pinning your hands to the mattress either side of your head so that he can look down at you. Such a pretty picture beneath him. Hair all fanned out, eyes sleepy and sexy, ready to take in the syrupy-slow pace of the morning. 

His lips press into yours softly but firm. You hum into the kiss, slipping your wrists from his grasp so that you can wrap your arms around his broad neck and tug him closer. Your legs slowly match pace, looping at his waist. His cock is free to press against your clothed core now and he doesn’t waste a second of the opportunity; he grinds down, never letting it distract from the kiss for a second, even smiling into it when he can feel the blunt head of his dick catch your clit. You gasp. 

“Logan…”

Oh yes, that’s it. That’s the voice. He could listen to you say his name a million times and it would still be the sweetest sound in the whole fucking universe. 

He kisses you again and again, getting more fierce now. Tongues slide together and you moan into his mouth. Teeth clack with the force of it. He wants every sense to be drowned in you. Your smell, your taste, your touch. You’re holding him so tightly it’s like you’re worried you’ll just float away from the bliss of it all.

He’d never let that happen. He’ll keep you right here in this bed, forever, if you’d let him. 

With a display of telekinesis he’s not expecting, Logan finds himself on his back. You stare down at him with wide, hungry eyes, and he’s never been more turned on in his entire life. 

“Can I suck your cock?” you ask breathlessly, and he finds himself huffing out a laugh because fuck, as if you’d ever have to ask. You take his meaning and giggle before you start to make your way down the plain of his chest. A kiss dropped on the top of his pectoral, followed by you moving that sweet mouth around one of his nipples to play with it. Logan huffs and arches into your touch like a schoolgirl. You use your teeth to continue the trail, tracing around his abs - which have become less pronounced ever since he started eating right, and you’ve often expressed your pleasure at this fact - mouthing at where his muscles shape his Apollo’s belt. 

Your hand goes to palm his cock through his boxers and he has to make a concentrated effort not to come. It’s been a while since he was touched properly like this, and though he used to be able to go all night when he was a younger man, he truly doesn’t know if he has it in him today.

You seem delighted by this development though. Holding his gaze you slowly drag his waistband down to his thighs, watching in delight as his cock bobs up, half-hard. You take him in hand and pump him lazily, languidly, enjoying every stroke which makes him firmer. You prop yourself up on your free arm, elbow on the mattress and palm cradling your jaw, eyes on him like he’s the show of the century.  

“Handsome, handsome, handsome man,” you sigh, dreamily. 

“Old man,” he chuckles. 

“Not mutually exclusive.”

He has to concede that with the way you’re looking at him like you might eat him alive.  

When he feels your mouth around his cock his brain almost short-circuits. It’s warm and wet and willing, your tongue gliding along the thick vein you find there before caressing his head. Logan grunts, fisting the blankets, and a familiar snik has you looking up. You grin around his shaft when you see his claws have popped out from the intensity of his gripping hands. 

Pleased, you continue with your work. You bob up and down as the fire builds in his belly, a low heat which is soon bubbling over when he feels you press the tip of your tongue into his slit, humming with pleasure as the taste of his pre floods you. Logan is aware he’s beginning to tighten in a way which suggests that if you don’t stop now things will be over entirely too soon.

Claws retracting, his hand comes to grab your hair. His cock is enveloped in the sweet velvet of your throat, in fact he can feel himself brush against your uvula, and when you look up at him like that he almost gives up completely. He powers through though, carefully guiding you up and off. You wipe your spit-soaked mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Oh… was it not…?” you don’t voice the word ‘good’ but it hangs there anyway. Logan rumbles with a laugh.

“Fuck, it was the best thing I’ve felt in years. Wanna fuck you properly, though. Come up here and sit on my face, baby. Need to taste you.”

Your eyes go wide. Like he’s come up with the idea of the century.

“Fuck. Yeah, okay.”

There is nothing elegant about the way you pull yourself up the length of his body, but it is filled with a primal need which is far more sexy. You pause at his abdomen in order to rub your soaked cunt across his abs a couple of times. Fucking the muscles there. You throw your head back in gratification and continue up along his chest before a strong thigh is planted either side of his face.

Looking up at you from his back is his favourite view. Logan wastes no time in clamping an arm around either one of your legs and pulling you cunt-first onto his tongue, you gasp and writhe in delight.

“Oh fuck, Logan!” you hiss. Yeah, that’s it. That’s the voice he wants to hear. All strung out with sex and pleasure because of him. He fucking buries himself in you. Kisses your pussy sloppily, changing his attention from between your clit and your folds, no rhythm to his need. When your fingers scratch his scalp in your need to grab a fistful of hair he thinks he might be in heaven. His hips buck into the air, imagining the action of taking you before he’s even properly started. You start to fuck yourself on his face. Hips grinding down onto his beard, groaning at the stubble there which prickles and pleases.

“I’m gonna--”

“Fuckin’ do it,” he mumbles from between your legs. You cum in his hot, wanting mouth; all the furniture in the room rattles as you let out a little involuntary telekinetic jolt.

You are not done. This was the appetiser. Eyes still ravenous you peel your pussy off of his face, sweeping down to kiss him so you can taste yourself there. Moaning in delight at the musk.

“Wanna ride you…”

“Anything,” he breathes because, yeah. He will do anything you ask, anything you want. He’s a loyal hound at your heel. 

When you take his cock it’s with less teasing this time, more intent. Spreading your legs wide you line him up with your entrance and slowly sink down. He wants to grab. Your flesh, the blankets, anything. Sensing his desperation you hold out your hands when he’s far enough inside you and he meets them in midair, pressing his fingers between yours, knuckles white from the effort.

Hips nestle against his. You begin to move.

“Logan…” 

Your name leaves his lips in a similar whisper, dragged out through his throat from his very heart. You look down at him, eyes clear and wide and lucid despite the heady pleasure.

“Logan. I love you. I love you.”

Yes, you love this him. Not as a stand in for the Logan you lost, not as some sort of idol on a pedestal, but because you’ve fallen for him just like he’s fallen for you. He is worth loving. He is. He is worthy of you. It is a realisation which hits him with the force of a bomb. He grips you tighter.

“I love you too,” he confesses. He feels his pulse sync with yours from where he’s sheathed inside you, grips your hands tighter because he knows you can take it; you hold him back just as hard. Your hips rock in a wild rhythm as he brings his own up to meet them. It’s hard to know who’s fucking who, it’s wild and desperate and raw, but you keep chanting those words as a manta.

Logan. I love you. Logan. I love you.

He only lets go of one of your hands when he can feel he’s about to finish, dropping it to your clit in order to press rough circles there. You come messily over his cock and he spills inside you, pumping you full of him. Marking you as his.

You collapse into his arms, sweaty and spent. He holds you with arms like iron. Cock still inside, softening now, but he doesn’t want to to break the contact.

You pull back after a moment of breathing together, propping your elbow on his chest.

“Hey.”

He smiles back, a real smile, something he’s not been truly able to produce for years.

“Hey.”

“I meant it, you know. I love you,” you trace a pattern on his collarbone, silly and intimate. 

“I know. So did I.”

“Mmm, okay, good.” You kiss him and hum into it. “We should get up.”

“Probably.”

“But let’s not.”

“Sounds fuckin’ good to me.”

You laugh, and oh you are the sunlight. 

The summer heat is cloying but Wade has set up some parasols on the top of his building to hide under, he did not specify where he got them but a few local restaurants seemed to be without on the journey back to the apartment. The group of you are definitely not meant to be up here, but with the weather so hot, nobody cares enough to cause a fuss. 

It’s a small gathering. Logan stands at the grill because it’s where he’s most comfortable, supervising the chaos. That awful mutt of Wade’s is looking up at him with expectant eyes and, when he’s sure nobody is watching, he throws her a hamburger which she goes crazy for. 

And it’s… nice. He didn’t even complain when Wade put on the 1989 album. A few of his old roommate’s friends, a couple of them now mutual - Piotr is a pretty relaxed guy to be in the mansion with, and the two teens who Wade somehow befriended get along with Laura. You’re talking with Peter who for some reason is always at these gatherings but he’s probably the least offensive person here. 

He says something which makes you laugh, and you look over to Logan as you both settle. You gesture at the bottle of soda in your hand, an invitation; he nods. 

You stand, rummage in the cooler, and close the gap. He eyes the glass bottle of Dr Pepper with disapproval; you give him a playful shove. 

“C’mon, be good. You just got your one month chip. Keep it up, we’re proud of you.”

He grumbles his acceptance and takes it. It is pretty refreshing to be fair. He settled the hand he’s not using on the grill around your waist, pulling you so that you settle nice and snug against his flank. You grin up at him, pleased with the show of affection.

“Hey handsome,” you chuckle. 

“Hey gorgeous.”

“You make me the happiest I’ve ever been, you know that?”

Day by day he’s letting himself believe it. That he’s the kind of man who could make someone as amazing as you happy, as over-the-moon with joy as you make him. 

Before he can answer Yukio appears by the grill, pointing a Polaroid camera in your faces. 

“Smile!” she says, and the two of you do, because she’s a nice kid and you don’t wanna let her down. She snaps a photo and watches it quickly develop, shaking it loudly in the air before admiring her work. 

“Awww, cute! I hope me and Ellie are like you guys when we’re your age. Here ya go!”

She passes over the photo before skipping away to find her next victim. Logan has to try and hide a laugh at the indignant splutters that are escaping you. 

“Our age…?!” you mutter, but soften when you look down at the picture. It’s nice. The two of you make a good-looking pair that’s for damn sure, he can almost understand Wade’s insistence of “letting him watch one night”. But most importantly, the two of you look… happy. With each other. With this slice of life. 

“This is a great one,” you declare. 

“Yeah,” he says, but he’s looking at you. 

When you get home tonight, late by the time you pull up to the mansion, you’ll toe off your shoes as you walk in through the door like you always do, but this time you’ll pause to put this photo in front of the one you found behind the chest of drawers, and Logan will feel content that he never has to be without you again. 

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk

[slayfics]

part 2 of you see katsuki on tv, pretty please 🧘🏻‍♀️🧘🏻‍♀️

Let it be a lie.

800 words

Chapter two

You were ushered out immediately after shattering the TV above the bar with your glass. Only adding to the humiliation and distraught boiling in your chest.

The rest of the night was a blur as you made your way back home, effectively continuing to drink till knocking out. Only to wake up the next morning with a pounding headache. The bright light on your phone shrunk our pupils and elicited a sigh from the late time, 1:12 pm.

You unlocked your phone to check a notification. The first thing you noticed was the abundance of news articles and videos on every platform speculating if Dynamite was dating the women who ran up to him in the crowd. The next thing you saw was your text messages.

[Mina]: Are you ok??

A text from Mina, which could only mean, everyone saw, everyone knew. You rubbed your hands across your face. How could you even begin to respond to that question? You had to know first.

So, you slinked to the kitchen to grab some pain medication and typed out a message to Katsuki.

[You]: You two look good together.

You swallowed the two pills with some water and jumped at the sound of your ringtone suddenly filling the room. Katsuki's contact picture lit up your screen, it was a sight you hadn't seen in a long time.

"Hey," you answered the phone.

"You really think we look good together?" He asked, and your heart dropped. Did that mean they were together?

"She is a beautiful woman, she'd look good next to anyone," you remarked.

"Yeah, that's what my publicist said," Katsuki exhaled a laugh before explaining. "They said it would help me look more approachable and down to earth if I was dating someone. So, they picked out some model and her publicist thought it was a good look for her to be dating a hero."

Your stomach soured, "So you two are dating?"

"For the cameras or whatever, all I know is they said it would help me look good and in turn get higher in the charts," he said.

"Do you even like her?" you asked, your voice sounding harsher than you intended. But the whole situation was making your head spin even more than your hangover.

"Don't know, haven't talked to her. That kiss was just a stunt for the cameras, but I'm supposed to take her out for a fancy dinner or some shit to be seen by the press tomorrow," Katsuki said.

"Oh," you muttered not knowing what else to say. Had Katsuki really changed that much? The Katsuki you knew before wouldn't even pretend to do something he didn't want to. You couldn't decide if this publicity stunt was worse than him truthfully dating her. At least if they were honestly dating it would mean he was happy. "Katsuki," you paused trying to pick your words carefully. "Is this really how you want to make it to number one?"

Dead air filled the line between you both before Katsuki let out a breath, "I don't know." He finally said truthfully.

"I just... never imagined you'd be so wrapped up in the celebrity side of heroism. I didn't think that's what truly mattered to you." You spoke.

"It doesn't. I want to be number one, that's what matters to me. I got a big team behind me now and, they seem to think this stupid bullshit will help so...," Katsuki broke off and paused. "Does it... really seem like something I wouldn't do?" he asked, voice lower.

"Do you remember what you told me you said when you were captured by the League of Villains?" You asked.

"What?" He asked.

"You told Compress I only do what I want to, and I won't even pretend otherwise."

Katsuki paused for another long moment before letting out a chuckle, "Damn I did say that hu? I had a lot of spunk back then."

"You still do," you replied. "How long has it been since you've seen anyone else?"

"Hm? You mean shitty hair and dunce face?" He clarified.

"Yeah, or... even Izuku."

"Don't know, probably longer than the last time I've seen you. Been working so much." He answered.

"Why don't you come to see us... I know everyone misses you, and... let us remind you of the Katsuki we know. Stop being Dynamite for a day."

You could almost hear the cheeky smirk on the other line when Katsuki said, "Ya know- my publicist did free me up around dinner time tomorrow for that model. But- I think I'll tell her I had a change of dinner plans, gonna see some old friends instead. See you idiots then?"

"Yeah, I'll get the gang together." You smiled.

"Alright, it's a date then... a real date." He stated.

sinners: @queenpiranhadon @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @bakugouswaif @reneinii @peachsukii @pastelbakugou @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @pinkpurpledreams @that-one-fangirl69 @dreamcastgirl99

[addisonnie]

hinge and uhaul 2

summary: your second date with ellie!

warnings: cursing, making out, fingering…not proofread soz

an: WAAAAH i wrote smut wtf….. I need to shower now. Don’t be mean if it’s bad but definitely tell me how I can make it better this was my first time writing it im sorry if it’s bad pls be nice to me😭

part 1

————

Ellie Williams is definitely a witch.

She must’ve slipped a love potion into your martini or crafted a voodoo doll of you because there is absolutely no reason as to why Ellie should be on your mind as much as she is. The short peck you shared with her in the back corner of a dingy bar is burned into your memory, you don’t have to put in any effort to remember how she tasted. How she felt. Hell, even how she smelled—and she smells wonderful, by the way.

Okay, so she might’ve only dropped you off outside your dorm building twenty minutes ago. It’s perfectly reasonable to still be thinking about the kiss, right?

After she pressed that short kiss to your awaiting mouth she looked at her watch and sighed, “listen, it’s getting pretty late. Let me take you home?”

You nodded and let her drag you in circles around the bar to bid goodbyes to her friends, one hand tangled with her fingers, the other circles around her bicep. And then, she led you through the parking lot toward her borderline totaled car. Is that thing even street legal?

She opened the passenger door for you and drove you home with a firm hand on your knee, thumb doodling patterns into your skin.

And then, you were home.

It’s been twenty-five minutes since Ellie dropped you off after the first date and the only thing you think that could possibly purge her from your mind is sleeping. Unless she decides to infiltrate your dreams, too.

————

A couple light knocks on your door quickly jolt you awake. You drag your palms across your eyes and run a hand through your hair before sliding out of bed. Shit—no pants. Dina’s bed is empty and you’re sure she won’t mind if you use her throw blanket as a makeshift robe, draping it over your shoulders and hugging it across your body.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” You hobble over to the door and pull it open without bothering to check through the peephole. Aw, fuck.

Ellie stands in the doorway, well, she leans in the doorway. Her shoulder is pressed up against the doorframe and her hands are slung in the pockets of her corduroy Carhartt jacket.

“Oh, shit. Did I wake you up? Not—not that you look like you just woke up. You look great, of course.” She’s much more sheepish than she was a few moments ago, it’s cute.

“You definitely woke me up. But that’s okay! What’s up?” You open the door wider and take a step backward, silently instructing her to come inside.

Ellie follows you further into the room after shutting the door behind her. She takes a moment to look around your room before leaning against the side of your bed, facing you.

“Honestly? I just wanted to see you again. I thought you’d be awake at—“ she checks her watch, “five in the afternoon. But I was clearly wrong.”

The two of you giggle, a dramaticized gasp leaving Ellie’s lips when you playfully shove her shoulder, “naps are a thing, yanno.”

She stops laughing after a moment and smiles, “are you busy right now?”

“I am now.” She smirks at your response and tugs on the blanket around you, “put some pants on and let’s get going then.”

Your eyes widen, face flushing, “how did you—“ her chin juts outward and she’s looking down at your legs. A large hole in Dina’s blanket exposes your upper thigh and hip, the pink lace of your underwear sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Fuck me. Good thing it was you at the door, I guess.” Ellie shakes her head and laughs, “turning around now. Wear something comfy. And warm.”

While she faces the other direction you quickly survey her outfit. Black converse, gray sweatpants, a fitted black top, and her jacket. Okay, comfy.

You drop the blanket wrapped around you and slip on whatever pants are closest to you, tugging on a baggy cardigan, “okay, no longer indecent.”

Ellie chuckles and turns around, “alright, pretty baby. Grab a blanket and a pillow, not Dina’s shitty, ripped one.”

Ellie must’ve been googling ‘what names can I call someone to make them horny.’ Pretty baby. Pretty. Baby? You could shit your pants and vomit. Fuck—you’re sweating. Grab the pillow to distract yourself.

“‘Kay. Got it.” Ellie smirks and stretches her hand toward you, “let’s get going then, hm?”

—————

This is definitely not Ellie’s car, that much you know. Her piece of shit Honda was practically stuck together with glue and duct tape. This truck was nice, really nice actually. Is she a criminal, then? Grand-theft auto? Being so goddamn sexy?

“It’s my dad’s. The truck. I bribed him with a 24-pack and a pre-roll so he’d let me borrow it. Or so he’d get really drunk and not realize I hijacked him. Whichever, really.”

You laugh and turn to face her, “ah, so I was right. Grand-theft auto.”

Ellie scoffs and squeezes your thigh as a warning, “it’s hardly a crime. That grouchy old fuck owes me, like, way more than one night of borrowed truck-time.”

You stare at her for a moment, waiting for her to drop the angry act and crack a smile. Her face pinches up under your stare and she turns to the side to quickly smile before turning back to you, regaining her composure.

“You totally just laughed.”

She rolls her eyes, “I didn’t.”

“Yes you did. You laughed. I saw it.”

Her hand swats at your thigh, “…how do you feel about corn dogs?”

You splutter out a laugh and cough, patting your own chest to try and calm down.

“Corn dogs. Do you like them?” Ellie enunciates each word with a squeeze on your knee, “yeah—yeah I like them. What kind of sicko doesn’t like corn dogs?”

She wordlessly turns down onto a dimly-lit dirt road, the car shaking and groaning as it overpasses multiple potholes. The road goes on for a beat before opening up into a massive field, two large white screens are placed several yards apart in the grass and cars littered the lawn before the screens. No way she’s taken you to a drive-in! A shitty little one-story building sits nestled by the tree line, it’s practically folding in on itself, and the old yellow paint can hardly even be called yellow anymore because of the filth covering it. It manages to look homey, though.

“I hope you like movies. I wasn’t really sure what you like…so I just got tickets for that new scary one. We can sneak to the other side if—“

You cut her off and wrap your fingers around her hand on your thigh, “it’s perfect. Really.”

She blushes and tucks her chin into her shoulder, “I’m glad.”

—————

Ellie parks mostly in the back, only a couple cars parked further behind you.

“Here—take my card and grab us some snacks while I set up the truck bed.”

You blink at her and take a quick glance to her outstretched hand, “Ellie, be so for real right now. You’re not paying for gas, tickets, and food.”

She immediately rolls her eyes and moves to jut her hip out, placing both of her hands on her hips, “I’m not doing this with you right now. Take the card.”

Before sparing her a second glance you take off in the direction of the yellow building, gripping your own debit card between your fingers. Ellie practically squeaks out of shock as she watches you bolt away from her, “hey—what the fuck!”

She’s immediately running after you like a madman, yelling your name and laughing when she watches you stumble over your untied shoelaces. Her long legs quickly lead her straight to you, and she has to skid to a stop to be sure she doesn’t plow straight into your back.

You’re panting while trying to speak with the man behind the counter to give him your order and Ellie quickly wraps her arm around your middle,

“Hey. Two corn dogs, one large blue raspberry slushie—two straws. And…one funnel cake!” She lightly shoves you aside and slams her debit card onto the counter, “nice try, sweetheart.” She winks.

Little. Fucking. Shit.

“Not fair. You’ve got more leg than I do.”

“Hush. Help me carry this back to the truck.” She passes off one corn dog and the large slushie, smiling when you take a large gulp, “good?”

You smile at her, “delicious.”

—————

Ellie is halfway sitting up, her back is resting against the pillows in the bed of the truck, both of her legs spread and outstretched. Your head is resting on her shoulder and the leg closest to Ellie is resting over her lap, the other bent up to your chest. A comforter rests over your laps, underneath, Ellie has one arm wrapped around your waist, the other is draped across the leg you have thrown onto her lap.

You can clearly tell she’s not watching the movie anymore; Ellie is not as discreet as she thinks she is. Her entire face is turned and facing downward to look at you, it takes everything in you to not turn and lock eyes with her. She can tell, too. She knows you’re actively trying to not look at her, and she proves that point further when she drags her fingers to the waistband of your sweatpants. Her fingers pause for a moment, gauging your response. When she notices you’re not moving to yank her hand away, she continues further.

Long fingers sneak under your gray sweats and walk to rest on top of your clothed mound. You suck in a breath and bend the leg laying in Ellie’s lap, spreading your legs further. Her (fucking massive) hand snakes down to cup your pussy and you squeak, shuffling your back further into her chest. A chuckle rumbles in her chest and she nudges her nose into the crown of your head, “look at me.”

You gulp and continue to face straight. Bad move. Ellie doesn’t like that response, she begins moving her hand out of your pants before you jerk to grab her tattooed wrist.

In a low tone, she says, “I told you to look at me, pretty girl.”

A flood of wetness immediately spills into your panties and you whine, shoving her wrist back into your pants. When she obliges, you turn your head upward and to the side, looking right at her. Ellie doesn’t speak to you, she immediately turns her head down, pressing her lips into yours. She’s kissing you like a bitch in heat, it’s messy, wet, and downright filthy. Her tongue slides along your bottom lip over and over, practically begging that you open your mouth. When you deny her that sweet salvation, her teeth graze over your lip until they sink into the cherry flesh, biting harshly and tugging. You whine into her mouth and she sucks it in immediately, already feeling drunk off your sounds. Determined to drag another whimper from you, her fingers drag over your underwear-covered pussy and press harshly onto your clit.

Your lips detach from Ellie’s when you let out a moan, Ellie gives you a minute before she whispers, “let me touch you. Can I?”

You don’t even nod before leaning forward to kiss her again for a moment before she pulls away, leaving your lips to chase after hers.

“Say it. Let me hear you say it, pretty.” She nips at your cheek.

“Please.”

Ellie tuts, “not enough, peanut.”

You whine and shuffle under the blankets, your hand shoves down into your sweatpants, fingers pulling your pink panties to the side. Ellie’s hand is tugged back toward your core and your fingers and immediately push her fingers to drag over your sticky folds.

“Please fucking touch me.”

Her mouth is back on yours immediately while she moves to circle her fingers around your tiny hole. You cry into her mouth and reach across your body to grip her head in your hand. Ellie’s middle finger dips into your core before spreading your wetness up and down your core. Her ring finger joins the other and immediately slides to be knuckle-deep in your pussy. For a moment, she doesn’t move her fingers, she lets them rest inside, warm and wet. Your teeth nip at her bottom lip while you hit your hips forward, whimpering into her mouth at the feeling.

She smiles messily into the kiss and moves her fingers out before slowly sliding them back in. Her fingers drag tauntingly slow against your walls, the stretch of her thick, long fingers has you careening at her every movement—but it isn’t enough.

You whimper into her mouth and wriggle in her grasp, moving your hand to tug at her wrist, she briefly pulls her lips from yours to laugh at your antics.

“Okay, baby. I got you.” And then she’s off. Her fingers slip in and out of your pussy at a pace you could surely never set yourself. They’re fast and slick, hastily rubbing in all the best places. She scissors her fingers inside of you while pistoning in and out and you pull away from her mouth again to turn your head and bury it into your shoulder.

Ellie presses a wet kiss to the crown of your head while her other hand snakes across your waist to circle at your little clit. Her pointer and middle finger tightly swirl over your clit while her other hand was busy sneaking in a third finger. The stretch makes you gasp and grip at her wrist, not sure if you could take it or not. Another light laugh leaves her lips while she shakes your hand off, “you got it.”

She fucks her fingers into you at a reckless speed, her other fingers rub and pinch at your clit and Ellie thinks you might combust if you clench on her fingers any harder. Your juices are leaking into her palm and spreading all down the globes of your ass, and the wet sounds coming from your dripping cunt are surely loud enough for the families all around you to hear. She can feel your hole fluttering around her fingers and she quickly fucks harder into you, determined to have you gush all over her fingers. With one last pinch to your clit, your orgasm crashes over you.

“That’s my fucking girl.”

Your body convulses for a moment while Ellie’s fingers still piston in and out of your cunt, chasing you through your high.

She presses a kiss to your head as her fingers come to a halt, “good girl. Such a good fucking girl.”

Your cum is glistening on her fingers while she brings her hand up to her mouth, sucking two fingers into her mouth. Her eyes bore into yours while she suggestively licks on her fingers, maintaining eye contact as she holds out her third finger for you to wrap your lips around.

You comply, sucking your sweet taste off of her finger and moaning when it hits your tastebuds. Ellie watches you with blown pupils and chokes out a whimper when you nibble on the pad of her finger.

You pull off with a pop, “this was a really good second date.”

Hell fucking yeah it was.

[chimcess]

Nachash || jhs (Prologue)

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader (ft. Taehyung) Genre: Supernatural AU, Demon!Hoseok, Doctor!Reader, Smut, One night stand, Angst, Horror AU, Incubus! Hoseok, 90s AU, Yandere!AU (that's putting it lightly) Rating: 18+ (don’t interact if you’re a minor) Word Count:  6.6k+ Summary: After losing both of her parents, Y/N decided to sell her home in Florida and move back to New York City, a place she barely remembers despite having lived in Harlem for a decade. Her reality begins to blur as she loses track of dreams and waking life. At the center of this confusion is Hoseok, a sweet man who gives her an eerie sense of déjà vu. She can't shake the feeling that Hoseok isn't who he claims to be, and she's haunted by a strange bar that keeps appearing in her nightmares. Warnings: Wet dreams, explicit sexual contact in those dreams, graphic violence, hard dom Hoseok, demon Hobi acting like the horrible creature he is, emotional manipulation, DEATH, alcohol consumption, sexual harassment (brief), dream manipulation, stalking, vampire mind control, asshole Hobi (seriously), morally grey Taehyung, morally grey vampires in general, vampire bar, use of pagers because this is the early 90s (I have pager code translations at the bottom of the page), lots of cursing, vaginal fingering, pussy slapping, multiple orgasms, sadistic Hoseok, death by sex in her dreams, did I mention how horrible of a person this Hobi is?, mans is an obsessive stalker, and this is just the prologue because Tumblr's new rules are weird and don't make sense, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: I've had to split this into two seperate parts since Tumblr does not allow posts over a certain line count anymore (boo!), so I'm giving you guys the beginning section first! This entire story will be based in the 90s and will have a lot of pretty dark elements attachted to it. I really wanted to force myself to write a character that is so out of my wheelhouse it made me uncomfortable-- and that's exactly who incubus Hoseok is in this one. Happy Halloween everyone!

Next || Released early on AO3: here

August 1992

My bones cracked, the sound echoing through the sterile silence, and I struggled to catch my breath. A thin layer of sweat clung to my skin, and I patted myself down to make sure I was still awake, still alive. Slowly, the panic subsided as I took in my surroundings. The bright fluorescent lights above made my eyes ache, but their harsh glow was a strange comfort. I was still in the hospital. The bed beneath me creaked as I sighed and flopped back down.

The nightmares had been haunting me for a while now. I couldn’t pinpoint when the first one came, but it had been two months since they turned sexual. The worst ones hit during my 24-hour shifts, as if my mind was playing some twisted game. There was always a man—always the same man—with golden eyes that glowed in the darkness. His skin was soft, supple, and disturbingly perfect.

Even when I closed my eyes, his perfect face flashed in the darkness behind my eyelids. It always ended the same way. I would climax, my body thrashing violently, only to look up and see his skin peeling away, ashes raining down, with fire slipping through the cracks. My own body would begin to burn, and I’d scream in horror as his once-perfect face revealed a skull with flames and black smoke oozing out. I would wake up just as his skeletal hand reached for my throat. The scenario changed, but the ending never did.

Sighing, I fumbled around for my phone. When I found it under my pillow, alongside my watch, I realized that I was due back in twenty minutes. I groaned. There was no going back to sleep now. I carefully climbed off my bunk, trying to remain as quiet as possible. Dr. Boseman was fast asleep, blissfully unaware of my nightly torment. She still had another hour before she had to return to the floor. I didn’t bother looking in the mirror. The ER was filled with messy doctors, and I would be no exception. Slipping my shoes back on and shrugging on my white coat, I quickly put on my lanyard and left the little room.

It had been a relatively slow night. We all knew better than to say the dreaded “Q” word, but that didn’t mean we weren’t aware of the unusual silence. The most excitement we had was a car accident victim, and he would survive. My attending physician, Dr. Kepler, was at the nurse’s station laughing with some of the nurses.

“Morning, Doc,” came Shannon’s voice, the night custodian.

“Hey, Shan, how are you?” I smiled at the elderly woman.

“I’m fine. About to clean some bathrooms.”

“Good luck with that,” I waved, knowing the small talk was over.

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll need it.”

Dr. Kepler smiled when I was close enough to talk. He was a handsome man with broad shoulders and pearly white teeth. I knew better, though. He had a bad habit of cheating on his wife with residents. He had never shown any interest in me, most likely because I never treated him differently. Some of the girls were too friendly with him and lost their professionalism, and he took advantage of that. As much as he disgusted me, I had to admit he was one hell of a doctor.

“Dr. L/N,” he greeted.

“Evening, Dr. Kepler,” I replied. “How’s it going, Angie?”

The tech beamed at me. She had started working at the hospital around the same time I had begun my residency, and we made fast friends. On quiet days like this, the two of us would sit at the desk and shoot the shit. She gave me a little wink.

“Oh, you know, paperwork and stuff,” she replied.

“One of those days?”

“When isn’t it?” She rolled her eyes.

“I feel your pain,” Kepler forced his way into our conversation. He was dreadfully boring, so I chose to ignore him whenever this happened. Typically, he would realize no one was paying attention to him and leave. “I had to help out in L&D tonight, and let me tell you, I am glad I did not go that route. Couldn’t imagine having to deal with hysterical females all day.”

I grimaced. He was such a pig. Angie rolled her eyes but kept her mouth shut. If she spoke up, he would never leave. A few nurses gave half-hearted replies, and I caught the eyes of Issic, one of the nurse practitioners who helped out in the emergency room. Normally so well-behaved and soft-spoken, the large, teddy-bear-like man glowered at the doctor. If looks could kill, I could not say Dr. Kepler would be dead, but I had to admit he would be majorly hurt. Still, no one called him out on the gross comments. We never did.

“I’ll see you all tomorrow,” Dr. Kepler bid us goodbye, his rant about how stupid specialties other than cardiology are.

Angie twisted her nose in disgust once his back was turned. She disliked him more than I did. He made obvious advances toward her, something that made her and everyone else at the station uncomfortable, but there was not much we could do. I told her to report him for sexual harassment, but she never did. Nor did anybody else. I had never noticed how little we stood up for ourselves before.

“Glad he’s gone,” Mariah, an RN, commented.

“Creep,” another tech said.

“Anyway,” Angie did not acknowledge them. “I’m going out for drinks with some of the other nurses. You want to come?”

“Where at?” I checked my watch. I would have to begin my pre-rounds soon.

“This new bar Dauphine. Selene went a few weeks back with some friends of hers.”

“I’m not in the club scene,” I reminded her.

I knew Selene, not well, but I did know her. We met at Angie’s Christmas party last year along with a few of her other friends. I had left early but not before Selene had started to bump and grind with anyone she could get her hands on. This included Jeon Jungkook, the local wack-job-false-prophet-wannabe-fortuneteller and my cousin’s boyfriend. The two ended up having sex in the back of his Impala where said cousin found them in the middle of the act. Jungkook said it was his “destiny.” Selene simply laughed and was right back on his lap. I did not care much for her after that.

“There are only certain rooms like that. The main area is like a lounge. She said it was chill until they went dancing.”

I hummed. It had been a while since I had gone out. Maybe it would be a nice distraction, especially with the weird dreams I’d been having.

“When?” Angie smiled wide. She knew she had won me over.

“Thursday. I made sure to get a day you weren’t on call.”

And then my watch began beeping, signaling my return to work. Angie pouted her bottom lip out and batted her eyelashes. I smiled and shook my head.

“Duty calls,” I turned around and began walking away. “See you Thursday,” I called behind me.

“Fuck,” I sighed, throwing my head back.

“You’re so wet,” the man groaned, releasing my clit.

I squirmed underneath him, legs shaking, and breathing erratic. The man chuckled darkly, sticking a third finger in. I cried out once more.

“You’re such a fucking slut,” he rasped before slapping my right breast.

I screamed, the pain and pleasure mixing so many times tonight that I could no longer discern the two. He slapped the other side. Tears fell from my eyes.

“I’m going to take my time with you,” his voice felt further away than it had before.

His fingers were gone, and I whined. I hardly recognized the person I had become. Never had I begged for a man’s touch or wanted rough sex. I knew he could do anything to me, and I would not complain. I knew that he knew that as well. I also knew that he loved it. A sharp, painful slap was delivered to my already aching pussy. Another scream.

“And when I’m done,” slap, “I’m going to devour you.”

And I came undone for the third time.

I adjusted my dress again, feeling its snugness a little too keenly. It had been ages since I’d gone out, and Angie’s insistence on looking “sexy” felt like a cruel joke. Most of my wardrobe consisted of scrubs and old college hoodies, so my little black dress, tucked away in the back of my closet, had to do. Back when I was nineteen, it had fit like a glove. Now, it clung to my newer curves, which weren’t so new anymore. Should I change?

Groaning, I fell back on my bed. What am I doing? If Angie were here, she’d tell me to stop acting like “such a virgin” and laugh. She always laughed hardest at her own jokes. According to her, being with less than three guys by age twenty-three was unheard of. The fact that I was pushing thirty and had only been with two was some sort of medical anomaly to her. The virgin jokes had been annoying at first, but I’d learned that was just Angie’s sense of humor. Childish, yes, but she was likable enough to forgive it.

I sat up and looked at myself in the mirror again. The dress looked good, better than I expected. So why the apprehension? Struggling to pinpoint the source of my anxiety, I finally gave up. I threw on a leather jacket and started putting on the finishing touches to my look. I was meeting everyone at the club since Angie lived on the other side of town. She had kindly offered to pay for my cab. After texting her that I was ready, I slipped on a pair of black boots and stepped outside to wait for my ride.

The night was cold, unusually so for August, even for New York. Adjusting to the climate had been tough. Originally from Jersey, my family had moved to Florida when I was a child. I’d gone to Tulane for undergrad and then moved to New York for med school. After graduating from Columbia two years ago, I started my residency at Harlem Hospital Center. I was planning to stay for my ICU fellowship.

A gust of wind ruffled my clothes, and for a moment, I swore I felt phantom hands caress my hips. The sensation sent a shiver down my spine. My mind was still on edge from the nightmares. Last night’s had been particularly vivid: horns had sprouted from his head before he ripped a chunk of my breast out with his teeth, blood dripping onto my sheets as my screams echoed off the walls.

My phone rang, its sharp tone startling me. Angela had pressured me into getting a cellphone a few months ago, and I was still getting used to the intrusion. Handy at times, sure, but mostly an annoyance. The bulky Nokia was far too cumbersome.

“You in the car yet? The driver’s name is Jimin.”

As she said it, a pair of headlights turned the corner, and the car slowed down.

“About to get in now,” I said, eager to hang up. The assumption that I was wealthy because I had a cellphone always embarrassed me.

“God, I’m so excited to see you!” Angie squealed, the sounds of the club already drowning her out. I regretted agreeing to come out. “The password is Conti. Whatever that means.”

I smiled. “It’s a street name in New Orleans.”

The car pulled up to the curb, and I quickly opened the door. 

“I’m about to get in the cab,” I said, buckling up. “I’ll see you in a bit, Ang.”

“Page me when you get here!”

The ride was quiet. The driver greeted me, asked for my name, then lapsed into silence. Soft R&B played in the background. To distract myself, I sent a quick message to my mom and listened to the driver quietly singing along. He had a nice voice. Just as we pulled up, TLC came on, and I felt a pang of disappointment that I wouldn’t get to hear him sing along. I thanked him before getting out. Jimin drove off seconds after I closed the door with a polite ‘goodnight.’

The alleyway leading to the club was less intimidating than I’d expected. Angie’s description of a long, red-lit path had conjured far worse images in my mind. The lights were bright enough to see by, and the walk was short. Voices drifted from outside the club, easing some of my tension. Maybe the rumors were just that—rumors.

Dauphine had a reputation for attracting the town’s freaks. Drugs, alcohol, sex parties that ended in blood-splattered walls, and people who went in but never came out. The rumors spiraled out of control after Namjoon Kim was found dead outside. Typical media frenzy—no one cared when ten prostitutes went missing, but a rich CEO gets shot, and it’s front-page news. I rolled my eyes. Some things never change.

A group of friends stopped talking as I approached, and apprehension churned in my gut. Bile rose in my throat, but I forced it down. I couldn’t bring myself to look at them. Their presence was enough to leave me shaking. One of them snickered, and I shivered. Without even glancing at them, I knew they’d be terrifying. The bouncer opened the peephole in the door.

“Conti,” I said, my voice harsh.

The door opened seconds later, and I practically ran inside, shoving past the bouncer without much care. He didn’t seem to mind my rudeness. Without their eyes on me, I could finally breathe. I paged Angie to let her know I was here.

Angela: 110 307

Angela: 209

Y/N: 08

I shoved my pager back into my bag and started navigating the maze of the bar. The nurse had been right; it was more subdued than I had imagined. Red and black dominated the color scheme, with large sofas and booths scattered about. Neon signs pointed to the restrooms, and the place was pleasantly devoid of orgies or bloodbaths. I felt a wave of relief—no strobe lights, no thrumming dance floors. 

A few minutes later, I found the bar. Only one man was seated there, engaged in a tender conversation with the bartender. She caressed his cheek, and I melted at the sight. It was heartwarming to see such affection in a place rumored to be so dangerous. I doubted many would be comfortable with their partner working in a place as infamous as this.

Respecting their privacy, I took a seat a few stools away and picked up a small drink menu. Angie was nowhere in sight. I stifled a laugh; the menu was a mix of classic cocktails and blood types listed underneath each one. For a place as notorious as this, I hadn't expected it to be a vampire-themed bar. I was already excited to see the dance floor. Themed bars in New Orleans had always been a blast during my Tulane days.

"Good evening," the bartender's voice was silky smooth.

I smiled. "Hi."

"What can I get for you?"

Suppressing a grin, I said, "I'll have a dirty martini. Shot of O negative."

The chuckle slipped out before I could stop it. The bartender smirked, her skin glistening under the red lights. The man at the other end of the bar looked at me, his eyes wide, before bursting into loud laughter. Eyes turned towards us, the sensation making my skin crawl, but I stayed composed. The bartender leaned in closer.

"Are you okay with cherry liqueur?"

I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

She laughed. "Then you don't want that shot, babe."

I nodded, glancing at my nails. Where was Angie? Rolling my eyes, I groaned. She’d probably run into some guy and forgotten about me. I straightened up, trying to see over the tall booths scattered about. No sign of her blonde head anywhere. With a sigh, I gave up. She’d show up eventually.

"Looking for someone?" The bartender slid my drink over.

"Oh," I clutched my chest, startled. "Just a friend of mine. She got here earlier but I can't find her. She said she’d come get me."

"I might’ve seen her." Her brows knitted in concern.

"She’s tall," I gestured, "really skinny. Blonde hair and blue eyes. She’s wearing a blue sequin dress."

The bartender nodded. "Yeah, I saw her and a couple of girls head to the back. She ran off with a guy not too long ago."

I groaned. Of course, she did. I must have missed her on my way in. Sinking into my chair, I threw back my martini, ripping the olive off the toothpick. My annoyance was palpable. I tried calling her, but there was no response.

Y/N: 420

Y/N: 3011

After a few more failed attempts, I paged Monica, another tech from the hospital I was close with. I used her last name; there were too many Monicas to keep track of. Her code number was written down on a piece of paper in my wallet.

Y/N: 221

"Hey," the bartender called out.

She seemed hesitant to speak. I felt a pang of guilt for making her uncomfortable. She probably thought her tip was on the line. I willed myself to calm down.

"Sorry about that."

"No worries," she replied, waving me off. "Just… be careful. We get some characters in here. I’ll keep an eye out for your friend."

I smiled at her. "Thanks."

"Anytime. If you need anything, just ask for 'Bootsy,'" she winked before taking my empty glass and returning to her boyfriend.

My pager buzzed.

Everson: 419

I rolled my eyes. I hated technology outside of medical settings. Pagers were useless for meaningful conversation. Luckily, Monica carried her cell everywhere, flaunting her family’s wealth. Her phone was much nicer than mine.

"Hey babe!" She shouted over the music.

"Angie left," I spoke louder than necessary, hoping she could hear. "The bartender saw her leave with a guy."

Monica laughed, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. We were too different to get along beyond pleasantries.

"Go Ang!" She giggled drunkenly. "We’re all in the back."

I rolled my eyes. "It’s my first time here."

"Bar, take a right, walk straight until you see a bunch of doors."

"What’s the entrance look like? Everything looks the same here."

"The door is black with a purple bead hanging off the handle," she hiccuped, then burped. "The lights around it are really red."

Annoyed, I shoved my phone into my purse and slid off my chair. The long hallway was daunting. This part of the bar was dimly lit and far more unsettling. Unlike the eyes on my back earlier, there was no one here. The jazz music faded, and I fought back a shiver. This place was creepy.

I went to the end of the hall only to find it empty. No door, no beads, nothing. Monica had given me the wrong directions. As frustrated as I was, I couldn’t be too upset with her. She had no idea what she was talking about and already had a few drinks in her system. My anger towards Angela only grew. I sent her another text, seething, and started to wander again, hunting for the elusive door.

The nurse was right; this place was a labyrinth. High ceilings and narrow passages could make even the most fearless person feel claustrophobic. I had to hold my breath when the walls seemed to close in. Aimlessly, I roamed, still finding nothing. The longer I walked, the more convinced I became that this lounge had been a catacomb at some point. From the outside, it didn't look nearly this expansive. My heels clicked loudly in the eerie silence. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I glanced around nervously.

"How the hell do you get lost in a bar?" I cursed myself, turning back the way I came. The bartender was nice enough; maybe she could help.

"It's a lounge, sha," a voice said behind me.

I screamed, flinching, and spun around, losing my footing. I grabbed the wall, but the impact scraped my arm against the rough bricks. The person offered a hand, but I ignored it, picking myself up and glaring at the stranger.

He was gorgeous—tall, slender, with broad shoulders and lean muscles under a white button-down shirt. His hands, large with long, piano fingers, slid back into his pants pockets. His doe eyes sparkled with amusement, and his grin was wide and boxy.

"My apologies," his voice was honeyed. "I didn't mean to startle you."

I kept glaring. "Startle? You nearly gave me a heart attack."

He snickered before his eyes fixed on my arm. "You're bleeding."

I looked at my shoulder, noticing the rip in my jacket and the blood seeping out. Throwing my hands up in exasperation, I yelled, feeling tears welling up. Tonight had been a disaster from the start—the dress, the people outside, Angie ditching me. Every part of it felt like a waste of time. I should just go home.

"Are you okay, sha?" he asked, gently touching my arm.

I laughed bitterly. "Does it look like it?"

"No, you look upset."

"Great detective work, Captain Obvious," I snapped, rolling my eyes and yanking my arm away. "And it’s pronounced cher, not sha."

He stepped back, his smile never faltering. He seemed amused, which I found odd, but I couldn’t walk away. I didn’t like him. He was creepy, even in his beauty, and his eyes reminded me of the group outside. Yet, my feet felt rooted to the ground, as if frozen in fear.

"No, cher, it's sha where I’m from."

I sniffled. "Louisiana, huh?"

"Born in France, but my family moved to New Orleans when I was young. I learned Kouri-Vini from a trumpet player in the French Quarter."

Embarrassed by my outburst, I nodded. Trust me to correct the grammar of a Frenchman. The night’s mood soured further, all my hopes for a good time dashed. Still, I couldn't deny a strange attraction to the stranger. His presence, unsettling yet warm, invited me to stay.

"You looked lost."

"I am. Trying to find my friends, but I have no idea where to go. They said 'the back,' like that’s helpful. I’ve been wandering for at least thirty minutes."

He placed a thoughtful finger on his chin. "You really shouldn’t walk around alone," he warned. "There are a lot of unsavory characters here."

"Are you an Anne Rice character or something?" I scratched my shoulder, wincing at the sting. "Why are you talking like that? It’s weird."

"Should I apologize?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Not if you can get me back to the bar."

He laughed. "I believe that can be arranged."

"You're doing it again." This time, we laughed together.

The walk back was shorter than I’d expected. He moved silently, with perfect posture, his perfection unsettling. Too symmetrical, too beautiful, and far too polite for someone who looked younger than me. As the jazz music grew louder, I learned he played the saxophone and trumpet for years in New Orleans. He opened his first bar, Midnight Moon, a few years ago and moved to New York City to branch out.

"What do you do for a living?" he asked.

"I’m a resident."

"Doctor," he whistled. "Very impressive."

"Not as impressive as being a rich, successful CEO in your twenties."

He laughed loudly, drawing a few looks. On cue, I lowered my head, feeling strange. Normally confident, here I felt the need to stay unseen, their eyes on me unnerving.

"What’s your name?" he asked, surprising me.

"Y/N," I answered, meeting his gaze.

He smiled, dazzling and unsettling. "I'm Taehyung."

"Nice to meet you, Taehyung," I said, my heart racing.

His eyes were a strange color, almost black with flecks of red under the lights. They were beautiful, but the spell broke, and I looked away again, feeling uneasy.

“There’s someone here who wants to see you,” Taehyung said, his voice rasping, almost angry. “But I don’t want to share you yet.”

I sucked in a breath, startled by his proximity. He had moved closer until we were chest to chest. I breathed him in—freesias and honey. My mouth watered, but I stepped back with effort. Taehyung didn’t follow.

“It’s probably my friend,” I said, noticing the bartender’s boyfriend staring. “We were supposed to meet here.”

“Y/N,” Taehyung’s eyes locked onto mine. “Remember what I said about unsavory characters.”

I nodded, dazed, as he brushed my hair behind my ear.

“Don’t leave with it, sha,” he whispered, sending a shiver up my spine.

I was too stunned to respond. Whatever Taehyung had said flew over my head as I placed my hand on the cheek he kissed. The skin still tingled where he had touched. When I looked up, he was gone. I spun in a circle, but there was no sign of the man anywhere. I made eye contact with the guy at the bar again and felt uncomfortable going up to him. He was frowning at me.

Taehyung had said someone was waiting for me, and the only person I could think of was Angie. She must have decided to come back after seeing my messages. Her hookup must have been lackluster if she came all the way back here. I chuckled to myself and finally walked to the bar. It would be fun to drink and talk shit. Then we could finally meet up with Monica and the girls, and my night could start looking up.

Angela was nowhere in sight when I got to the bar. The same man was still looking at me, as was the bartender. A new figure sat in my chair. It was another man by the looks of it, judging by their shoulders and haircut. I continued my search for Angela but still came up empty-handed. She was just looking for me.

"Looking for something?" the bartender asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, the guy I was with said someone was looking for me. Have you seen her?"

She pursed her lips and glanced at the other man. "Can't say I have. Taehyung was probably confused."

My shoulders dropped in defeat. Again, I was left stranded. I should probably just go home and call it a night. A small voice told me to go and find Taehyung. He had said he didn’t want to share me. How had he known someone was waiting for me?

I couldn’t think about it for too long, as if my mind wouldn’t let me. I thought about him, his perfect face, and how beautiful he was. His eyes, eyes I could not recall the color of for the life of me, staring down at me. His voice, a gentle purr in my ear beckoning me closer. A draft startled me out of my daydream and I realized I wanted to leave.

I sighed. "I think I’m going to head out then."

I swore I saw relief wash over her face. Her lips had been tight when I came back around, but she gave me a small, genuine grin. Probably some asshole customer. Every place has them, even a luxurious one. Her shoulders stiffened when the other man raised his arm. Her boyfriend’s hands clenched. That guy must be the douche.

"Bourbon." Oh, yeah, definitely a tool.

I rolled my eyes and did not think before taking a seat at the bar. I could at least distract her. She frowned at me and continued making his drink.

"Thought you were leaving?"

"I could get another drink before I go." I smiled at her.

"Dirty martini for the lady," the mystery man said.

My heart stopped. His face... My mouth dropped open at the sight of him. My dream man. He was sitting right in front of me. Every detail, every line and curve were the same. Even the mole on his lip was there. Just like Taehyung, it was hard to look into his eyes, but I knew they would be the same. I couldn’t remember what they looked like, but I was certain they shined a gentle, soft gold in the dark.

"You do like them dirty, right?" He grinned.

I couldn’t respond for a few moments. The resemblance was uncanny. The anxiety Taehyung’s presence had given me was nothing compared to this. It felt like an elephant had sat on my chest while every nerve in my body screamed at me to run. And just like Taehyung, I found myself unable to move. I found that I did not want to. I welcomed the feeling.

"How did you know that?" I asked, still in awe.

"I overheard you earlier. Was going to buy you one then but you left before I could."

I swallowed my thickening saliva. It was hard to get down. Every part of me wanted to run. My body begged to get away from him, but it also yearned to be near him. I was alight in every way possible, and the confusion was hard to wrap my head around. Do I stay or do I go? As if he could read my mind, the man reached out and ran a finger over the top of my hand. Electricity shot through my body, and it burned where he had touched.

"Have a drink with me."

"Okay," I whispered, hypnotized by his voice.

The bartender placed my drink in front of me before going back to her side of the bar, like she was trying to stay as far away from the man as possible. I knew his name, it was on the tip of my tongue, but I was insane to think it was even possible. He was a stranger, and there was no possible way he was my dream man. The two just looked similar. In my dreams, his eyes were gold, and his skin was much paler and sickly. I glanced at his hands and relaxed even further. In my dreams, the man had scars over every inch of his body.

"I’m Hoseok, by the way." He smiled at me, and I quivered.

There was something off about his teeth. His canines were too sharp. In fact, all of his teeth were. They were so white they almost glowed in the red lights. Too perfect. Everything about him was. I scooted away from him and angled my legs toward the bartender. I wanted to leave again. I wanted to get away from him. I had been right about his name.

I took a nervous sip of my drink. Why had I sat down in the first place? At the moment, it had seemed like the right thing to do, but now I felt conflicted. Had I really wanted to stay? It surely felt that way at the time. Now, I wanted to go home, and my body language was clear. Still, I could not stand up and walk away. Still, I took another sip and curled away from him without moving.

"Are you okay? You seem tense."

I nodded too quickly and enthusiastically to ever be taken seriously. Hoseok seemed amused by this, just as he had been smirking at my squirming moments before. He was unsettling. Maybe it was his resemblance to the monster from my dreams that had me on edge. Yes, I thought, that had to be the reason.

"Bad night," I replied, my hands shaking. I quickly finished my drink and stood up. Hoseok smiled at me. "Thanks for the drink. I’ll be going now."

"See you soon, Y/N."

I was so focused on leaving the bar, I did not hear the slip of his tongue. I had never told him my name. That night, after I got home, I dreamt of Hoseok killing me again. The next day, Angela never showed up for work, never answered my messages. No one else had heard from her either.

Her body was found mutilated and tortured in a motel room a few blocks away from Dauphine the following morning. My dreams began to include her in them. She cried for me to help her, blamed me for her death, and even laughed as I got my throat ripped out. I was never able to focus anymore and was blessed that my residency program finished only four months later.

After graduation, the dreams stopped. I stayed with my parents for the summer, played in the Florida sun, and decided against going back to New York for my fellowship. Instead, I chose to stay in Tallahassee and start my career. It was safe there. He was gone. A few years later, I left for Jacksonville, and my paranoia had started to fade.

Years had gone by, and my memories of his face began to escape me. His name was nothing more than a gentle whisper in the deepest pits of my mind. Even then, saying that would be an overstatement. My return to New York was in the wake of my mother’s death. My dad had passed away a few years prior, and our vacation home in Harlem, the same place I lived in so many years ago, had become prime real estate. I got a fellowship through Columbia upon my return. Life was looking up despite my grief, and I was ready to start a new venture in my medical career.

That was the beginning of my eventual end. I had cheated death all those years ago. Angela was my replacement, though I had no idea at the time. That thing knew she was waiting for me. It knew she would not let me out of her sight, so it took care of the problem. My fear gave it power, and it indulged itself in my torture. When I came back, it knew.

This time, I would not be lucky. Nothing and no one would get in its way. Soon, all memories of that night vanished. Angela’s name escaped me first, then her face, and finally what happened to her. Dauphine and its never-ending halls were gone. The thing that sat at the bar made sure of that before making his next move.

It was mid-October when he came back into my life, all memories of his face wiped from my mind, and his game really started. My death would be his favorite. A death he rejoiced in for years to come only to be disappointed that nothing lived up to that night.

Things like Hoseok lived for the chase, and I proved to be his greatest target.

Next

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[toomuchracket]

dancing like she way out (george daniel x reader smut)

shag the dj shag the dj shag the dj, or whatever the smiths said. basically - a night out takes a turn for the better when you hook up with the hot dj. won't lie, there's use of the d word in here. and choking, because we've all seen that man's hands. enjoy <3

all your friends are wasted, and you hate this club.

no, really - three of them are currently spewing their guts up in the toilets after going too hard on the tequila rose, while the rest flail wildly on the dancefloor in between queuing at the bar to buy yet another round of overpriced jagerbombs. meanwhile, you're doing your best to dodge the extremely persistent man you first swerved about an hour ago, some palm angels-clad twat with shit hair and an inability to take no for an answer, and also doing your best not to spill your vodka cranberry all over yourself in the process.

in short, you're having a shitter of a night.

at least the dj's fit, though. really fit. and, to be fair, he’s spinning some decent stuff. the one saving grace of the night, you'd say.

you watch him from the edge of the dancefloor, empty cup in hand. he's quite focused, more so than some of the wankers you've been dragged to see in this club in the past, only looking up to signal to the bar staff that he needs a refill and to check the vibe of the room. he has pretty eyes, you notice, sharp and dark and clear; eyes that could definitely get you to commit a multitude of sins, quite frankly.

and now? they're looking right at you.

looking isn't a strong enough word, actually. they drag slowly down your body - locking with your own, then travel to your pouty, brown-lined lips, and shamelessly over the curves of your body onto your legs - leaving a trail of thrill-induced goosebumps across your skin in their wake. suddenly, they flick back up to your face, and one closes in a wink. you smirk, and the dj does too.

interesting.

one of your more sober friends nudges you, handing you another vodka. you accept it without breaking eye contact with the dj, wrapping your lips around the straw and smiling with it between your teeth. he raises his eyebrows, still smirking, and you wink; your friend notices, and leans round so you can see her. “are you eye-fucking the dj?”

“maybe,” you reluctantly tear your eyes from him to look at her. “in my defence, he started eye-fucking me first.”

she laughs, tugging you onto the floor and motioning for you to dance. “i think we should keep him looking at you, then.”

“alright,” you down your drink and set down the cup. “let's dance.”

and so, you do, pulling out all the stops. your hair flows behind you as you swing your hips, body twisting and turning and stretching as you lose yourself under the lights and amidst the beat, and you laugh excitedly with your friend as she twirls you. the dancefloor is so empty that you can spin to your heart's content, but that doesn't bother you at all - it means there's less for the object of your efforts to be distracted by, more chance that his attention is on you.

it seems to be completely on you, actually; every time you catch a glimpse of him, his eyes are on you again, and your friend attests to that in your ear as she pulls you in for a hug. “he hasn't stopped looking at you, for even a second. that man wants you, babe.”

you angle your body towards the deck so you can see him. the club lighting is simultaneously sheering out his black shirt and throwing both his stubbled face and tattooed arms into focus - fuck, his arms. 

and he's still looking at you.

“i think you might be right,” you turn back to your friend so she can hear you, deliberately leaning forward and shaking your ass slightly in his direction. “and i want him too.”

she shoves you towards the deck. “go and get him, then.”

with a giggle, you set off, swinging your hips as you all but skip towards the extremely sexy man behind the music. unfortunately for you, some arsey man in too-tight chinos gets to the deck first; folding your arms, you stand behind him, miffed, and wait your turn to speak.

luckily, you only have to do that for a couple of seconds. the guy isn't particularly drunk, but he's annoying. “hey, bro,” he says to the dj, whose handsome face is set in an expression full of what can only be described as ennui. you assume he sees this kind of thing all the time. “can you play some, like, chainsmokers? that would be so sound of you.”

chainsmokers? christ.

clearly, your distaste is showing, because the dj's face slips into a tiny smirk as he looks at you out of the corner of his eye; it disappears, though, before he replies. “‘fraid not, mate…”

his fucking voice. dear god. who is this man, and where has he been all your life?

“...i don't take requests.”

you believe it. everything about the dj screams control, and with every passing second your want to submit to that control is growing. it's not want you have for him any more, but sheer fucking need.

the other guy shrugs and wanders off, and the attention is all on you again. leaning over the mixing board towards you, the dj smirks again. “you, however, can ask me for anything you like.”

fuck. keep it together, bitch.

“anything?” you smile, saccharine, carefully leaning on the side of the deck in such a way that it pushes your boobs up. “even cascada?”

he rolls his eyes. “and here i thought you had taste.”

“whatever made you think that?”

“you picked out that dress to wear tonight, yeah?”

christ. “yeah. you like it?”

he nods, taking a sip of his drink. “it's gorgeous on you. but i think most things would be.”

you blush, revelling in the compliment before shooting your shot. “present company included?”

“jesus,” he shakes his head, and for the briefest of moments you worry that you've lost him. but then he looks up, hunger in those fucking eyes of his, and smirks again. “is that what you want, angel? to go somewhere together and find out?”

the ease with which the pet name falls from his lips is staggering, so much so that you can merely nod. that's not good enough for him, though - “need you to talk to me, beautiful.”

“sorry, sorry,” you compose yourself (with great difficulty). “yes, that's what i want.”

“s'reciprocated,” he smiles, genuinely. “i’m george, by the way.”

you smile in response, and introduce yourself. george says your name, slowly, and you fear that your legs might give way. “pretty,” he replies. “i like how you feel on my tongue.”

the words practically shoot straight into the scrap of fabric you call panties, and your jaw drops. george giggles. “you're cute when you're flustered, angel.”

“shame. i don't tend to make a habit of that.”

“hmmm,”  he clicks his tongue. “i'll need to work on that, then.”

you smile, radiant. “promise?”

“promise,” george smiles. he checks his watch, and you try not to drool at the way his arms flex. or his hands - god, look at his hands! “s'almost closing time. meet me back here in half an hour?”

“looking forward to it,” you blow him a kiss, preening at the way he blushes. “see you in a bit, gorgeous.”

he winks again. you turn and walk back to your friends, who have gathered along the edge of the dancefloor to watch your exchange with the dj. they huddle around you like a rugby scrum when you near them, a cacophony of slurred voices asking what and where and who and when and how; you gesture for them to follow you to the smoking area, where - to much excitement - you relay the details to them in the breaks between nicotine hits, and hug them all goodnight before you have to go back inside, them to the cloakroom and you to the dj.

your wingwoman friend is the last one you bid farewell to - she links arms with you to walk back into the sweaty club, doing the pre-prepared spiel you give each other when you pull. “have fun, but don't be stupid. if it's his place you end up at, then send me your location. i'll phone you in the morning, alright?”

“yeah,” you kiss her cheek. “thanks for all your help.”

“no problem. stay safe, have the best time,” she grins. “and i want details at the pub quiz on tuesday.”

“noted,” you hug her again as you reach the place to part ways. “love you. goodnight.”

“get it, bitch!” she shouts after you; you turn to salute her and giggle, and then she's gone. with a deep breath and a shake of your hair, you dart past the people starting to head towards the cloakroom, butterflies starting to emerge again as you get closer to george.

he smiles when he sees you, eyes raking over your body once again. “you know,” he says, as you reach the deck. “you really are beautiful.”

“i'm already leaving with you, george, you can drop the flattery,” you roll your eyes, then beam at him. “thank you, though.”

“just stating facts,” george turns some sort of dial, and the music fades to silence. as the club staff usher everyone from the room, he sighs happily. “been waiting to do that since you came up to me earlier.”

“really?”

“yeah,” he unplugs his laptop from the deck, sliding it into a backpack. “you're very distracting, you know, looking so good and dancing like that.”

“well, i try,” you hold out a hand. “ready to go?”

george nods, stepping down beside you - you gawk at the the height of him, towering over you. “fuck me, you're tall.”

he laughs, taking your hand in his. again, the size difference is insane, and you find yourself momentarily nervous to get into bed with him; that soon passes in favour of excitement, though. “don't worry, i'll even out the height thing by getting on my knees soon enough.”

the speed with which you tug him toward the exit at that is almost comical. george only giggles and lets you drag him to the door - he stops when you’re out in the cold air, though. “hold on, angel, i need a cig.”

you nod, standing on the step beside the door while he moves down a few to light his cigarette in peace. his hands, so big, are surprisingly nimble as he pulls a fag from the packet and flicks the lighter on; again, it does something to your core, and you lean against the brick wall to keep yourself steady.

after a few (erotic) drags of the cig, george holds it out to you. wordlessly, you accept, holding eye contact as you take a drag and exhale it in his direction. george's eyes flick to your lips, then back to your own - suddenly, he's kissing you, a hand in your hair and one on the small of your back, your arms looped around his neck. it's not a polite kiss, by any means; george kisses like he’s trying to devour you in the best possible way, stealing all the air from your lungs and inhibitions from your brain, tongue and teeth working against your mouth to get you to give in to him.

like you need any convincing.

a trail of spit connects you as he breaks the sloppy kiss, forehead resting against yours as you both breathe deeply. “fuck, angel,” george sighs, kissing you quickly again. “your place or mine?”

“we can be at my flat in five minutes if we walk quickly.”

“shit. lead the way.”

***

your front door hasn't even fully closed behind you before george is pressing you up against it, grabbing handfuls of your ass and lifting you so he can kiss your lips and neck while he grinds into you. every time his hips meet yours, you feel your eyes roll back into your head and the need for him inside you growing. his teeth meet the skin of your collarbone, and you swear you see stars. “george.”

his head shoots up immediately. “no marks?”

“no, leave as many as you want. it's just,” you whimper as he sucks a bruise into your skin. “i really want you to take me to bed. please?”

he groans at that, peeling you off the wall as he turns. “where…?”

“second door on the left.”

no sooner than the words have left your lips, george is kicking your bedroom door open and all but throwing you onto your bed. hands shaking, you do your best to undo your heels and throw them into a corner as george rids himself of backpack and shirt; you mewl at the sight of him, muscles hardened in the moonlight, and sit up on your knees to clumsily undo his belt.

he shakes his head, moving your hands from him. “you first, angel. arms up, come on, let's get that pathetic excuse for a dress off you.”

“i thought you liked this dress?” you frown, even as you oblige and let him peel the dress up your body.

“i do, but - oh, fuck,” george moans as your almost-bare body is revealed to him. “it was doing an awful job of stopping me thinking about you like this.”

his gaze on you is almost predatory, so much so that it makes you sink back onto your knees in submission, legs slightly open and chest forward. “do i live up to your daydreams, sir? no, wait,” you squint, assessing george to see if you can figure him out. “do i live up to your daydreams, daddy?”

you've hit the nail on the head; george’s eyes close as he swears and undoes his belt, kicking his trousers and shoes off before climbing onto the bed, onto you. he pulls you slowly onto his lap, and rocks you back and forth even more slowly. “does this answer your question, baby?” he murmurs, the gravel in his voice liquifying your insides and sending them straight into your underwear. the friction against his hardness is incredible, and all you can do is whine as you look into those obsidian eyes - again, that's not good enough for george, who delivers a sharp smack to your ass. “words, angel. tell daddy what you think.”

“i - ooh,” you whimper, as george changes angle to one that manages to catch your clit with every grind. “i think i live up to them, yes, daddy. think you wanna fuck me, and - shit - i want that too.”

“my smart girl,” he kisses you again, another head-melter that has you moaning into his mouth. “what else do you want, hmmm? want me to go down on you?”

as tempting as having that mouth between your legs sounds… that isn’t what you want right now. “wake me up like that tomorrow, please,” you savour the way george whines into your neck at the thought. “but right now, i just need you to fill me up, daddy.”

“well, i did say you could ask me for anything you liked,” he grins against you, kissing you quickly before softly laying you down. “fuck, look at you, angel, so fucking beautiful. where have they been keeping you from me all this time?” 

your cheeks burn at the way he bites his lip, trailing his hands over your bare chest and all the way down to your panties. “i mean, seriously,” he hums. “i've never wanted to fuck someone more in my life.”

“so do it. please,” you open your legs, showing him the surely-visible wet patch on your silky underwear. “need you inside me, daddy.”

“alright, alright,” george huffs out a laugh, one of disbelief, as he trails a finger up your clothed slit. “jesus, you’re soaked already. can i take these off?”

“please.”

he smiles, dragging the material down your legs and his fingers through your wetness; evilly, he slides the same hand beneath his boxers to palm himself, groaning. when you protest, he laughs. “just making sure we're both ready, baby. speaking of… protection?”

you say nothing, and just reach across to grab your pill packet from the bedside table and wave it at him.

“noted,” he leans forward to kiss you, before moving back onto his knees to slide his boxers off. as the fabric drops, so does your jaw: you knew from the feeling of him under you that you weren't dealing with something compact, here, but george is fucking huge. like, slightly terror-inducing huge. that said, though, you begin to salivate at the sight of him - he notices this, and giggles. “like what you see?”

“yeah,” wide eyed, you look up at his face, your own breaking into an anticipated smile; tentatively, you reach out to touch his cock, both of you gasping in tandem when you wrap your hand (as best you can) around him, manicured thumb flicking over the pre-cum soaked tip. neither of you break eye contact as you pump him a few times, the sexual tension in the room too magnetic to do so, and when you speak it comes out in a whisper. “how do you want me?”

“how don’t i want you?” george smirks, tapping your wrist to make you let go of him. he shuffles forward, big hands meeting your chest and squeezing gently, and beams when you whine. “fucking love that sound. lie back for me, angel, wanna watch these tits while i make you feel good. that alright?”

“mhmm,” you do as asked, fanning your hair across the pillow and spreading your legs - george can't seem to decide where to look, eyes darting between your face and chest and glistening cunt, and it makes you feel incredible. “like this, daddy?”

he nods. “perfect,” his lips find yours again  as he settles above you, resting his weight on one hand while the other slides between your thighs again. two long fingers tentatively dip into your cunt, and george groans while you gasp at the fullness. christ, if this is how you react to his fingers, then what on earth will it be like when he's actually fucking you? “jesus, baby, you're so fucking tight,” he hisses, eyes heavy as he looks down into yours. “want me to get you off with my hand first, before you take my cock? i mean, you're wet enough that you should be alright, but… i want you to feel good. comfortable. s'all about you, angel.”

shit. you have a sneaking suspicion that this man might genuinely be the death of you. but at least you'll die happy, yeah?

smiling, slightly dazed, you shake your head. “just want you to fuck me, daddy. need it, needed your cock all night.”

“you're sure?” george caresses your cheek.

“i'm sure,” you nod, humming happily as you watch him pump himself and drag his length through your wetness. “put it in, please.”

“sweet girl,” he kisses you, deep and slow, and pushes into you, the same. “oh my god.”

you're speechless, breathless, completely fucking brainless - all you can think about is the utterly delicious way george is stretching you out. nobody you've ever fucked before has really made you relate to the metaphor “rearranging your guts”, but with him it's crystal clear; he's so gentle and you're so turned on that it isn't painful, but he's definitely ruined any other man for you already and he's - you look down to check - not even fully inside you yet.

you giggle, slightly delirious, at that realisation. george smiles at you, groaning as he bottoms out and stills inside you. “feeling good?”

“so fucking good,” you lean up to kiss him, whining against his lips at the slight change in angle. fuck, he’s deep. “fuck me, please.”

he smirks. “magic word?”

“fuck me, please,” you kiss him again, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip then pulling back and whispering. “daddy.”

“good girl,” george pulls your legs around his waist, slowly sliding out of you and back in; you both moan in harmony as he does. “jesus, you feel incredible.”

you preen, beaming up at him - the smile is knocked from your face as he speeds up, though, in favour of your jaw dropping in pleasure. “yeah, that's it. fucking me so good, don't stop, please.”

“not stopping until i get you off, angel, don't worry,” he shifts slightly again, his next thrust hitting a spot inside you that you didn't think existed; when he does, you whimper, the contact sending another gush to your core and shockwaves throughout your body. “oh, you liked that, didn't you, sweet girl? shall i do it again? yeah, i think i will.”

he does, ripping a cry from your throat in the process. your legs quiver around his waist, the repeated hits to the area sparking them into movement, and you clutch desperately at his forearm beside your head. “daddy…”

“what is it, angel?” george leans down to kiss you, still fucking you relentlessly. “tell me what you want.”

your brain is growing hazier by the second, dopamine and serotonin and god knows what else overpowering all your motor functions, but you still manage to oblige. “want - fuck - want you to choke me.”

“fuck,” george’s eyes roll back slightly. “you're sure?”

you nod, stomach contracting in ecstasy. “need it, need you.”

“you're so fucking cute,” he grins, incongruous with the way his big hand wraps around your neck and presses, just enough for you to sigh happily and clench around him. “think you really might be an angel, by the way,” he pants out, never letting the rhythm of his hips drop. “you feel like heaven. look like it, too. and trust me, later on,” he kisses your neck, dragging his tongue up so he can whisper in your ear. “i am going to get on my knees and worship you for hours.”

okay, it's settled - he's perfect. you can never fuck anyone else ever again. “please.”

“‘please’ what, sweet girl? please do that?” he coos, sucking another mark just under your jaw. “or please make you cum?”

“cum,” you choke out from under his hand, legs practically thrashing from how good you feel. “please, daddy.”

“gonna be a good girl and help me, then?” george looks you straight in the eye, his almost completely shut in pleasure. “touch yourself for me. show me what you're gonna do every time you think about this, about me.”

christ alive. you obey (you're not sure that you'd be unable to resist that voice even if you wanted to), grabbing one of your tits in one hand and sliding the other between your bodies to your clit. as soon as you touch the bundle of nerves, the shockwaves pulsing through your body increase tenfold; if not for george above you, grounding you, you reckon you'd have shot off the mattress by now. through a quivering jaw, you talk to him. “m'so close, so fucking close.”

“me too, angel,” george’s eyelids flutter as he talks. “don't fight it - cum for me, my good girl, cum on my fucking cock.”

your body does as it’s told, a final surge of pleasure flowing through your body so strongly that you actually black out for a second; your fuse is relit by george groaning, gravel and guttural, in your ear, imminent climax signalled by his hips falling out of rhythm for the first time so far and his hand slackening on your neck. “oh, fuck, i'm there. can i… inside?”

“yeah,” you breathe out. “fill me up, daddy.”

“shit!”

with a moan of your name, george buries himself to the hilt inside you one final time, thrusting shallow and kissing you fiercely as he paints your insides white. once he’s done, he carefully lies down on top of you and rests his head in the crook of your neck, still inside you as you both catch your breath. despite finishing last, he’s the first to speak, moving to hover over you and kiss you again. “i'm so glad you decided to go out tonight.”

“me too,” you giggle. “same again next week?”

“absolutely. i'll be the one waiting by the speakers.”

[foliosriot]

THE DRAIN ♱ CHAPTER TWO

noah sebastian x ofc (grey)

SUMMARY!!

the concrete jungle is incredibly dangerous and a scary place to live. but grey has made it her mission to provide whatever light and aid she can in such a dark place. even if it means catching the attention of someone at the top of the food chain.

WARNINGS!!

stalking if you squint ig. mentions of bl00d. brief mention of ab*se.

TAGS!!

@concretenoah @circle-with-me @malice-ov-mercy @somewhere-diamond @iknownothingpeople @cncohshit @lilhobgobbler @bngurngheart

masterlist. the drain masterlist.

It’s been about a week since Vivian discovered the note, and Grey has been panicking every moment of every day.

Every corner she turns she fears someone will reach out of the shadows and drag her away. She fears leaving her apartment, and even turning on the Angel’s Light every night like she is used to. She doesn’t want to make the target on her back even bigger.

But, as expected, the fear and panic is always drowned out by Grey’s need to care for the Concrete Jungle’s occupants. Her need to help as many people as she possibly can will always be stronger than her own terror or anxiety.

Even now, as she goes about her nightly routine by helping anyone who is drawn in by the comforting glow of the Christmas lights, Grey can’t help but feel like she is being watched. And the feeling isn’t coming from the last couple people resting on the fire escape. No, it’s coming from somewhere else. But from where, she can’t tell, as the night has taken hold of the city and darkness overwhelms everything in its wake.

“Make sure you find somewhere safe to sleep tonight.” Grey is currently helping wrap the arm of a boy who had sliced it open after jumping over a broken fence as he ran from his abuser. “But there is a shelter a few blocks that way if you’d rather do that, okay?”

The boy looks up at her, his fluffy orange-red hair falling into his eyes. Tear stains run all the way down his ruddy face and disappear under his jaw.

“Thank you, Angel,” the boy, Jace, murmurs in a broken voice.

“Oh, no, no need to thank me,” she replies with an awkward smile. The nickname has always rubbed her the wrong way for some reason. But still, she resists the urge to correct her patients who call her that, especially now. “This is what I love to do. I love helping others.”

Jace looks like he wants to say more but bites his tongue instead.

Grey finishes helping him and lets him go on his way with a plastic water bottle and a small bag that contains a granola bar, an apple, and a string cheese. He thanks her one more time before he shimmies his way down the fire escape, and hurries in the direction of the shelter Grey had mentioned.

The final patient of the night, Georgie, hobbles towards Grey. Georgie is one of her regulars, a homeless man in his fifties who happens to be one of the sweetest people Grey has ever had the pleasure to meet. He says he has a shelter of his own somewhere close by, but only comes to her when he struggles to find food for himself and his dog. His dog, Cleo, sleeps soundly at the foot of the fire escape.

“Hi, Georgie,” Grey greets him with a genuine smile. She reaches behind her to grab one of those little food bags, like she had just given to Jace. But she also fills another one of those bags with some dog food and a few chunks of chicken.

“Hiya, Grey,” Georgie says with a lopsided grin. He looks thinner every time she sees him, so it’s nothing new to see. But there’s something about this visit that tells Grey he’s not doing well.

“How are you doing?” Grey asks him, handing him the bags of food and two water bottles. “Find any cool sticks recently?”

“Can’t find a single damn stick worth adding to my collection these days,” Georgie huffs, his tone annoyed but clearly joking.

Grey chuckles lightly. “Then you haven’t tried Miracle Park,” she tells him. “I took a walk down there a few weeks ago and some mighty fine sticks that I know Cleo would love to fetch.”

The whole reason Georgie collects cool sticks in the first place is to play with Cleo. Cleo loves playing fetch, and since Georgie doesn’t have the money to buy her any real dog toys, he scours the city in search of the best sticks he can find. And Cleo loves joining him on his journey.

“Is that so?” Georgie hums to himself. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind. Well, thank ya, Grey!”

“Any time. Stay safe.”

Grey watches as Georgie fumbles his way down the fire escape slowly. He manages to get back to the sidewalk, and Cleo rises at his presence. The dog happily wags her tail and follows after her person down the concrete.

Grey smiles to herself watching them go. She’s glad to see Georgie with a smile, because there are times when she has seen him frowning and unable to joke with her. So it always warms her heart whenever he is so jovial and happy.

Once Georgie and Cleo vanish into the night Grey gathers her things. She goes to turn off the Angel’s Light and her spine tingles with that same sensation from earlier.

Someone is watching her.

Eager to get back inside and go to bed, Grey makes her way through the open window and begins putting all of her supplies away as fast as she can. A light breeze blows into the bedroom while she finishes up.

“I gotta hand it to ya, this whole setup you have going on is pretty impressive.”

The sudden voice nearly scares Grey out of her skin. She whips around, the box of gauze still in her hands. Fear immediately sluices through her at the sight of another person standing over by the very open window. Judging by just the voice and body she assumes it’s a man. He’s covered head-to-toe in black clothing, including the balaclava that obscures his face. She can barely make out his pale skin that is half hidden by the coat hood pulled up over his head.

“Who are you?” Grey hisses, even though she is terrified out of her mind. This masked stranger standing in her father’s old bedroom with her has planted her to the very spot she stands. And right about now, she really wishes the bowie knife wasn’t on the other side of the room.

The man has one of her many medical encyclopedias in his gloved hands. He flips through it lazily without acknowledging Grey.

Grey’s hands are trembling as she watches the man close the thick book and put it back on the bookshelf in front of him. He steps away and wanders around the room at a leisurely pace, ignoring Grey’s presence.

“You’ve made this into your very own triage room, haven’t you?” he muses. He strides by the blood pressure machine that is drilled in to the wall, another shelf stacked to the brim with various medical supplies, and the old bed frame and mattress she had converted into a proper hospital bed, white sheets and everything. “Like I said, impressive.”

The man sits down in the armchair. Then he’s reaching behind it and the bowie knife is in his hand. Grey curses herself as her heart is pounding wildly from inside her ribcage, making her pulse throb almost painfully. Her veins are on fire as she watches him with the eyes of a hawk. Every single one of her instincts are screaming at her to do something.

But what?

“Who are you?” Grey repeats with a shaking voice. “And what are you doing here?”

Grey watches as the man relaxes in the chair, his legs spreading wide like he owns the fucking place. He rolls his neck with a sigh before speaking.

“Who I am doesn’t matter,” he says, almost in a bored tone. He twirls the knife in his hand. “But what I’m doing here does matter. I’m here about that note you got. I come alone.”

Shit.

Is this one of those people Vivian had warned her about? Someone part of that violent gang that basically controls the entire city?

Grey can feel a panic attack brewing from just below her sternum.

“W-What note?”

“Don’t play dumb. You know the note I’m talking about.” He turns his face towards her. “I have a message.”

The man rises to his feet, the knife still in-hand. He slowly approaches Grey and ends up backing her into the wall behind her. Her grip tightens on the box of gauze the moment he halts. And god, he towers over her by at least a foot. But now she can see his eyes, and they are the blackest pits with an unknown light from within.

“There are others coming after you.” He speaks so softly his words are nearly inaudible. “What you provide the Concrete Jungle is valuable, and we know that. They know that.”

“What?”

Grey surprises herself with the sheer terror and shakiness of her own voice. There are more people coming after her? But why? What could she possibly offer to be considered so valuable?

The masked man continues to stare down at her for a few more seconds before vacating her personal space. He begins making his way back towards the window.

“Consider this protection,” he tells her from over his shoulder, his voice no longer so quiet. “With me being here like this, it tells others I’m laying claim. So you should be fine for the time being. Just don’t do anything brash or that would catch their attention even more, alright?”

“W-Wait, what?! What the fuck are you talking about?”

Grey continues to throw question after question at this mysterious man, but he keeps ignoring her until he is stood outside on the fire escape. He looks back at her, now that she is only a few feet away from the window.

“Keep an eye out. I’ll be around.”

And without another word, the man jumps from the fire escape and disappears down the dark street below.

thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

♱ foliosriot 2024

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 24

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 7786

Warnings: Dean's "memories" from the night at the bar when he saw her again after leaving after graduation.

A/N: Well, here it is everyone, what Dean was going through over the course of the story. I hope it was worth the wait. Things will pick back up on 10/24 with Chapter 25 and you'll still get next Friday's up on the 25th with Chapter 26. <3

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 24

The morning came too quickly for Dean, but at least he’d gotten to wake before she had, got to enjoy watching her sleep a little longer before the sun pulled her from sleep. The soft smile on her lips as she looked into his eyes made it all worth it when he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She blushed a little before she climbed out of bed without saying a word. He knew her mind was instantly back on all her what-ifs, her doubts, and the emotions that she tried to keep at bay. 

He was thankful the day was boring, that nothing happened, and he got to enjoy holding her while they watched TV. There really wasn’t anything else to do there. Dean was finding himself constantly glancing at the widows and only mostly relaxing when she was in his arms. Benny hung out and watched TV with them, engaging in light conversation when it came. Neither of the boys let her be alone, unless she was in the bathroom. But at least then, the agents were paying better attention to the cameras.

That night, she wasn’t as reserved when she crawled into bed. This time, instead of him pulling her closer, she had scooted back toward him after he’d slipped under the covers. He didn’t comment on it, not wanting to cause her any unnecessary tension. He just held her close again, letting that peace wash over them as they drifted off to sleep together.

The morning of the trial, he felt the heaviness and tension in the air. He didn’t need to be an empath to know that even the agents were on edge. When she went to change in the bedroom, he opted to change in Benny’s room, having snagged his suit while she was finishing her last cup of coffee. Dean could feel that she was far more on edge than just having to testify. No. Something was eating at her.

Dean and Benny headed to the room she was in after getting dressed, and he couldn’t have hidden this awe even if he had wanted to. He’d never seen her in a dress before, and it took his breath away. It wasn’t one of those elegant evening dresses. It was just a simple yet conservative dress that fell softly over her form, gently accentuating her curves. The way she’d pulled her hair back in a neat braid exposed her neck in ways he knew he shouldn’t have thoughts about, but he couldn’t help it. She was beautiful.

‘Damn, they clean up nice.’ The thought that whispered through his mind made him smirk playfully, that lopsided grin that always pulled more on the left side. He let himself take in the way she tried not to eye him up and down, how she blushed ever so slightly, and how her lips had slightly parted. But before he could make some lighthearted comment to ease her tension, two agents showed up in the doorway behind him and Benny.

“It’s time to go,” one of them said, his tone all business.

The words hit her, then her emotions hit Dean, like a punch to the gut, but outwardly, she looked calm and collected. He watched her grab the small purse she had packed the day before. When she went to follow the agents, his hand instinctively found hers, intertwining their fingers. He knew she wasn’t paying attention and probably wouldn’t even realize it until after they were in the SUV, but he wanted to comfort her, soothe the anxiety he felt tightening around her chest.

Dean paid no attention to the other people, the agents had already filled him in on the plan for that morning. They would be the second group to go out, the other two only a ploy to keep Y/N safe. The cool morning air was biting, and he wished he had thought to grab her a warmer jacket when he saw her shiver. At least the SUV was already running and it would be warm in there for the drive.

His eyes scanned the darkness, and he swore that for a moment, however brief it had been, he saw movement in the shadows in the neighbor’s yard. He wanted to say something, make the agents investigate it, but he couldn’t. They had to get her to the courthouse. His anger bubbled just under the surface, knowing he couldn’t stop to take a better look, either. So he just got into the SUV after her. Dean was no longer comforted by the show of security or the precautions the FBI had taken. His gut told him the Vaughts knew what SUV she was in, and that this was far from over. Still, he focused on keeping calm, for her sake, squeezing her hand just enough to reassure her. Dean glanced over his shoulder into the darkness of the morning again, as the second escort SUV pulled out behind them. 

The agent speaking pulled Dean’s attention. “When we get to the location, we’ll be taking you in through the back. You’ll be in a safe room until it’s time to testify. Then, you’ll be escorted to the courtroom.” Dean didn’t like how the agent seemed so calm, like this was just another day, like there wasn’t a looming threat just waiting to make a move.

He just gave the agent a nod, glancing at Y/N, who was trying—and failing—to control her breathing. He could feel the tightness in her chest, her heart racing as if she was trying to hold everything together and not panic. Without thinking, Dean shifted closer to her, lacing his fingers with hers, grounding her in his presence.

I’ve got you. I’m not letting anything happen to you. Those words lingered in his mind, but he didn’t say them aloud. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep them, but he would damn sure try. 

The SUV’s tires crunched against the pavement as they drove through the city. Dean stared out the window, keeping his senses on high alert, even as her anxiety ebbed and flowed. Every now and then, the agents touched their earpieces, quietly coordinating. But Dean tuned them out, more focused on Y/N’s feelings. He could feel her anxiety, her fear, but there was something else, something deeper, scarier, that was worrying him. It was slightly overwhelming, the weight of her emotions, but he’d be her rock. That was what she needed right now.

When they finally stopped, Dean’s eyes darted to the window, taking in the alley they’d parked in. It was dark, too dark, and the stillness made him uneasy. Four agents appeared, guns drawn, as Benny stepped out first, followed by Y/N and Dean. He kept her close to him, his hand never leaving hers as they were led inside.

The building, too, was quiet—too quiet. Empty hallways stretched before them, and every sound felt amplified in the silence. The room they were brought to wasn’t much, just a couch, a TV, and a coffee table—one door on each side. Dean’s eyes swept over the details, cataloging every exit, every possible escape route. He wasn’t taking any chances, and he didn’t trust the agents.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Dean felt her emotions hit him hard. Her fear had spiked again. He didn’t even hesitate, pulling her into his arms. “Halfway there, Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice soothing. “Breathe. Just breathe.”

Her breaths were shallow, quick. She laid her head on his chest while he rested his chin on the top of her head. He’d felt it during the walk to the room but knew he couldn’t just stop to comfort her until now. Dean focused on her for a moment, letting his thumb rub gentle circles where he had rested his hand, holding her close. He could feel the way her body trembled against him, and for a moment, his own fear seeped through the cracks. What if something went wrong? What if he couldn’t protect her? He pushed those thoughts down, burying them deep.

Dean guided her to the couch, sitting beside her and keeping her wrapped in his arms. Benny sat on the other side, a quiet presence, but even Benny’s usual calm demeanor seemed off. Dean could see it—the unease. Neither of them liked this—her having to be in the same building with the monsters who had ruined her life and wanted to continue ruining it.

When the agent turned on the TV, it displayed a live feed of the courtroom. The Vaught family sat there, smug and confident. The sight of them made Dean’s blood boil. He wanted nothing more than to tear into them, to make them pay for everything they’d done. But that wouldn’t have helped her. It would have only made things worse.

His attention shifted back to Y/N, feeling her discomfort rise again. She wasn’t watching the screen, not really. Her thoughts were elsewhere, bouncing between fear, uncertainty, and something else—guilt? Dean couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but he knew her well enough to recognize the storm brewing inside her. He didn’t push, just held her tighter, offering silent support.

Then the far door opened, the man said Benny’s name. Benny just sighed as he got up and headed out of the room. Dean didn’t need to watch Benny testify. He already knew what it was about—the day at the diner. So, he focused on her, knowing her nerves were completely shot, feeling the dread that coursed through her at having to be in the same room with that family.

He knew Benny would be back fairly quickly. The details of the diner incident didn’t require much discussion. Holding her close, he kissed the top of her head, savoring the quiet moment. But the minutes slipped away too fast, the guard calling his name, pulling him back to reality as Benny returned to the room. He reluctantly pulled away from her and stood up, giving her a reassuring smile, then looked at Benny.

“Keep an eye on her for me,” Dean told him, his voice low, and Benny gave him a nod, then glanced over at her.

Taking a deep breath, Dean braced himself and followed the guard into the courtroom, his stomach twisting. The tension in the air hit him like a wall—cold, sterile, and heavy with expectation. His gaze swept over the room, pausing only briefly on the Vaught family seated on the side near the jury. The three men had smug smiles, sitting there relaxed, like there was no way Y/N was going to win against them. It made Dean’s blood boil, but he couldn’t lose focus, not now.

The formalities passed with a blur—swearing in, confirming his identity—before Dean settled into the witness chair. He chose to face Crowley, who was standing with an air of confidence that Dean appreciated in this moment. Crowley’s nod was brief, but steady, a silent assurance that they had this under control. Even Sam, who was still sitting down, gave Dean a reassuring nod, which helped him relax a little.

Crowley’s voice broke through the silence, smooth and controlled. ” Good morning, Mr. Winchester. Could you please explain to the court your relationship with the defendant, Miss Y/L/N?”

Dean cleared his throat, knowing exactly how this was going to go, but it all had to be said. The judge needed to hear it. “We grew up in the same town, but we didn’t even talk to each other until almost six months ago. When I got my soulmate’s name at sixteen, it was her name. Y/N isn’t a common name, but it isn’t a rare one, either. I had my suspicions it might be her, but wanted to wait until she turned sixteen. She’s two years younger than me. But, when she didn’t seek me out after her birthday, I left after I graduated.” He could feel the tension building in his chest as he spoke, the guilt he hadn’t felt in weeks slowly simmering to the surface again. 

“About three years ago, I met a woman who said her name was Y/N Braden. She even had my name on her, so I believed she was my soulmate, even though I didn’t feel that same connection to her. But the more I got to know her, the more things didn’t add up. I tried though, for almost a year I tried. I started asking questions—about her emotions, about things I felt—and I realized something was wrong.” As he explained, he felt that tightness in his chest again, the familiar rise of anger at the whole situation.

He took a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself before he continued, and the courtroom listened intently. “That’s when I reached out to my dad and my brother for help. My dad hired a private investigator who was able to find out her real name, Lisa Braden. That’s when I knew that Y/N Y/L/N was my real soulmate. Lots of phone calls were made. I honestly don’t remember who called who about what.”His voice grew tighter, the anger seeping through despite his efforts to keep it contained. “That’s when I learned the rest of things. How the Vaughts had orchestrated everything in Y/N’s life from before she was even born, all because Nick Vaught wanted to marry Y/N’s mother and she told him no. The Vaughts had to keep me and Y/N apart.” For a moment, his gaze fell to his hands in his lap before he let out a quiet sigh. His next words came out softer than before as he focused on images of her in his mind. “No one can tell me that Y/N isn’t my soulmate. I can feel all her emotions, even now when we’re in different rooms. Sometimes, I can even hear her thoughts. The problem. The reason her soulmate’s name, my name, never showed up on her skin is because she’s an empath, and because of what the Vaughts did.” His jaw clenched, remembering her parent’s letters.

“It wounded her soul so deeply that unless she trusts me, trusts that I’m her soulmate, her mark won’t come in until her birthday. It could even put her in the hospital due to the pain of it coming in, thanks to the Vaughts.” Dean’s blood was boiling by this point. He’d been trying so hard to keep his tone and emotions under control, but it was now failing, miserably. 

A small but pleased smile found Crowley’s lips before he looked at the judge. “Your Honor, I have submitted the documentation of the investigation into Lisa Braden. It includes her private bank records showing the payments from the Vaughts every month for the amount of ten thousand dollars. Oh, and for the record, Lisa Braden does not work for the Vaughts or any of their affiliates. You will also find the statement from the tattoo artist and the receipt for the payment he received from the Vaughts of fifty thousand dollars.”Crowley then turned back to Dean after the judge nodded. Abbadon was fuming, but she was trying to hide it. “Mr. Winchester, is there any other information you’d like to share with the court that may not be in the paperwork we have thus far?” 

For a moment, Dean paused, truly thinking about that question and whether or not he should even answer it, but then let out a reluctant sigh. It needed to be said. “Y/N started having premonitions, describing a man she’d never seen before, Alastair. She’s been having a recurring nightmare about having to marry Cole, and Alastair is the one holding her in place, so she can’t run away. If she hadn’t described Alastair perfectly, I would have just chalked it up to fear.”Again, Crowley turned toward the judge. “Your Honor, I have also submitted Miss Y/L/N’s family lineage. What most of the regular populous aren’t aware of is that some empaths are capable of having premonitions. It isn’t something that happens often. There are very few documented cases of it, and most live reclusive lives with their partner. Only one other empath in Miss Y/L/N’s lineage had premonitions, her great-grandmother, who is sadly deceased.” Crowley knew he needed to be plain with the judge, as well as for the jury’s sake. They all needed to understand exactly what the Vaughts had begun planning more than twenty-five years ago.The judge nodded, glancing briefly at Dean before Crowley cleared his throat to continue. He chose his words carefully, as well as the topics, knowing exactly what needed to be said for the jury to hear. “Mr. Winchester, has Miss Y/L/N’s mark come in at all? And if it has, have there been any complications?”

“Yes, her mark has started coming in. There are four letters, that much is clear. One of the letters did come in fully a couple days ago, the last letter. It was a lowercase n. When her mark started showing up almost three months ago, it began burning her skin. I would apply a burn cream when it would bother her. It typically didn’t bother her if she was close to me. But it always bothered her when she was fighting against how she felt towards me.” Dean explained, his heart hammering in his chest, knowing what Crowley would ask next.

“How do you know how she feels about you?” Crowley asked but gave Dean a slight nod, and it could have been completely missed if Dean hadn’t been looking directly at him.

Dean hesitated, the memories already teasing his mind as the emotions tugged at his heart. “I started feeling her emotions more when we started working together. Then, I thought I would hear whispered thoughts in my head. I couldn’t really make them out at first. About two months later, after we’d become close friends, things just got clearer. I heard her thoughts one night. The words whispered through my head like a soft song. I love him.” Dean answered, and he couldn’t help the small smile that memory brought, even if he hadn’t been able to soothe her fears at the time.

The judge seemed to consider Dean’s words carefully, his gaze steady but unreadable. Crowley stepped back momentarily, allowing the weight of what Dean had just shared to settle over the courtroom. The jury was quiet, their eyes trained on Dean, no doubt processing the unusual nature of what they’d just heard. There was a certain disbelief hanging in the air, but the evidence was stacking up, and Crowley knew how to frame it in a way that made the truth impossible to ignore.

“My. Winchester,” Crowley resumed, stepping forward again. “You’ve described a rather unique bond with Miss Y/L/N. Would you say that the bond has been consistent since you reconnected, or has it changed in recent months?”Dean shifted slightly in his seat, his shoulders tense, but he kept his focus on Crowley, knowing this was all part of the plan. “It’s changed. At first, it was… hard to explain. Just emotions, things I couldn’t put my finger on. But over time, it got stronger, clearer. I can’t always control it, but I can tell when something’s wrong with her, even if she’s trying to hide it. Y/N won’t be able to feel the connection unless she trusts that I’m her soulmate. The Vaught's actions of killing her parents put a wound so deep in her soul that whenever she hopes for anything, it hurts her.” He knew it was an accusation, and he shouldn’t have said it, but it was all documented, and he knew it.

Dean’s eyes flicked to the Vaugths again. The smug expression had faded somewhat, but the arrogant confidence still lingered. He could feel his fists clenching in his lap, his pulse quickening, but he forced himself to stay calm. Although, there was almost rage in Abaddon’s eyes, which Dean found rather amusing.

Crowley didn’t even need to ask his last question as a pleased smirk found his lips. “No further questions, Your Honor.” He then took his seat next to Sam, looking down at the scribbled notes Sam had made during Dean’s testimony, then nodded a little before giving his attention to the room. It was Abaddon’s turn to cross-question Dean, and the woman could twist words better than most.

Abaddon stood, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she made her way toward the center of the courtroom. Her movements were smooth, deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. Dean’s eyes followed her, his expression steady, but the tension in his body grew as she approached the witness stand.

She stopped just short of him, her cold smile barely reaching her eyes. “Mr. Winchester,” she began, her voice honeyed with false politeness. “Quite the emotional testimony. I must say, I’m moved.” Her sarcasm was thinly veiled, drawing a few skeptical murmurs from the jury.

Dean didn’t respond, holding her gaze with a cool stare. He knew better than to let her bait him, but he could already feel the heat rising in his chest.

Abaddon slowly paced, her sharp eye on the jury before she turned back to Dean. “Let’s talk about this… bond, shall we? You’ve claimed it allows you to feel Miss Y/L/N’s emotions. Yet, this so-called connection is entirely one-sided. She doesn’t feel what you feel.” She paused, more so that those words could linger in the air for the jury.

Dean’s jaw tightened. He could see where this was going, but he remained silent, knowing she wasn’t done yet.

“You claim it’s because of a wound in Miss Y/L/N’s soul. Perhaps it’s because there is no bond at all. Maybe it’s just you projecting your feelings onto her, wishing for something that isn’t there.” Her eyes gleamed as she leaned closer, her voice lowering. “Maybe she doesn’t feel anything for you at all.”

Dean’s fists clenched, her words stinging sharper than he expected. But he didn’t flinch, keeping his gaze locked on her, refusing to let her see the flicker of doubt that tried to creep in. He knew Y/N was his soulmate, and even with that moment of tiny doubt, he wasn’t about to let this woman get to him. Because she hadn’t asked him a direct question, he kept his mouth shut.

Abaddon’s eyes narrowed, and he quickly noticed that he wasn’t giving into her baiting, even if she had worded it in a way to get an outburst out of him. She decided to switch up her tactic. “You’ve made quite the accusations against the Vaughts. Is there any actual proof of anything you’ve said? Concrete evidence?” she mused, strolling back over to the table where the Vaughts sat, her fingers lightly skimming the stack of the papers there, waiting for him to answer her.

Dean smirked, “You’ve seen more of the paperwork than I have, but I’m pretty sure it’s all there, plus some.” 

The quiet murmurs from the jury worried Dean for a moment, but the confident smile on Sam’s face immediately made it go away. What Dean couldn’t see what the anger in Abaddon’s eyes at his answer, even if she did quickly mask it with that plastered smile before she turned to him again.

“Okay, Mr. Winchester, fair enough.” Her tone was casual, too casual. “Can you provide any tangible evidence of this supposed bond you claim exists? Or are we simply to take your word for it?” 

Before he could answer, Crowley stood, “Your Honor, I have submitted the paperwork that Samual Winchester brought to my office. It includes letters from Nick Vaught addressed to Miss Y/L/N’s mother. In those letters are the threats that if he could not have her, then no one could. It also includes letters from him about how her daughter, Miss Y/L/N, would be marrying his son, Cole Vaught. I unfortunately memorized one line from that letter, ‘Since I can’t have you, my son will have your daughter, and her premonitions will build my empire.’” Crowley then sat back down as the tension in the room grew thick.

The judge had that unreadable expression again, shifting his gaze to Abaddon. “Have you reviewed all the documents that were admitted for this case?” His voice was calm, but the pointed question carried weight.

She took a nervous breath, knowing Crowley’s game. “Yes, Your Honor, but—” he instantly cut her off.

“Then I suggest you stop badgering the witness and get to the point,” The judge’s voice cut through her protest, his patience clearly wearing thin.

“Yes, Your Honor. No further questions,” she replied, doing her best to hide her anger. She wasn’t used to a judge that would put her in her place. She was the Vaught’s lawyer, and this judge wasn’t on the Vaught’s payroll. Abaddon was going to have to up her game when it came to Y/N.

A smug smirk found Dean’s lips as he looked from Abadoon to the Vaughts, who were seeming to lose their confidence, even if only slightly. Dean was then taken back to the room Y/N and Benny were waiting, and they instantly called her name. “You got this, Sweetheart,” he told her softly, giving her a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead before she walked through those doors. Her anxiety pulled against his chest again, and he let out a sigh.

The waiting room felt too small. The sterile smell, the low hum of the fluorescent lights—it all grated on Dean’s nerves. He leaned forward on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked on the screen. His jaw clenched as he watched her walk into the courtroom. Dean could feel it, the weight of her nerves pressing down on his chest like a damn vice. His stomach twitsted, hating this.

Benny, sitting beside him, glanced over, reading the tension radiating off him. “She’s tougher than she looks, brother. She’s got this,” Benny said quietly, his voice steady.

Dean gave a short nod, “Did she watch my testimony?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“No, I kept most of her focus on me. She still doesn’t know it all,” Benny sighed, returning his gaze to the screen.

He knew Benny was right—hell, he’d seen the way she handled things that would break someone. But watching her up there, so exposed, with the Vaught’s eyes on her, it took everything in him not to burst into that courtroom and tear those bastards apart. The way they were looking at her—he could see it on the screen. Her skin was crawling, just like his.

She sat down in the witness stand, and Dean watched the guard step back, leaving her alone under the harsh light of the courtroom. Crowley stood up to begin the questioning, and for a moment, Dean’s fists unclenched. Good, at least Crowley knows what the hell he’s doing.

But, as Crowley started asking about Cole Vaught and the marriage contract, Dean could feel her anxiety spike, making him take a shaky breath. It hit him like a cold wave, settling over his chest, making his own heart race just a little faster. He swallowed, trying to keep not only his emotions in check, but also navigate hers.

“She’s doing good,” Benny said again, watching the screen. “Keeping her cool.”Dean forced out a breath, his eyes narrowing at the screen. “Yeah, but feeling what she’s going through isn’t the same as just watching her,” he muttered. She was holding it together for now, but he could feel that tremor under the surface. She was scared—scared of what she’d have to say, scared of what the Vaughts might do next.

When Crowley asked about her parents, Dean felt the shift. Her fear deepened, the memories tugging at her heart. He winced, instinctively rubbing his chest, like it was his own heart feeling that pain. He hated that she had to relive it all, hated that she had to face that pain again in front of those vultures.

“You alright?” Benny’s voice cut through the tension. He was watching Dean now, not the screen.

Dean swallowed hard. “No,” he admitted. “Not even a little.” Typically, Dean would have just lied, saying he was fine, but there was no hiding the struggle he was going through, and Benny was like a brother to him.Benny nodded, not pressing him further. He was worried about the same things Dean was regarding Y/N. Neither man trusted the Vaughts or believed that the FBI would be enough to protect her from them. He didn’t press Dean further, turning his gaze back to the TV, his expression hardening as Crowley moved to the next question.

Then came the part about the break-in. Dean’s heart kicked up again, hearing her mention it, the way she kept her voice even. He felt her struggle through it, the way she tried to stay calm even though her pulse was racing. He could practically hear the memories playing in her head, see the fear in her eyes from that night. His throat tightened, and he rubbed his hand across his jaw, trying to shake off the helplessness gnawing at him.

When she mentioned him recognizing one of the men with the Vaught family, his name on her lips, something inside him steadied. The memories of that day played through Dean’s mind for a moment, the day she had let him in, even if just a little more than she had before. How he’d kissed her, and she had let him, but had also kissed him back. That was the night she would have let him in completely, had Alastair not broken into her home and pulled her attention from the moment, from him.

Then came Abaddon’s turn. Dean stiffened, hating the sight of her cold, calculating face as she approached the stand. Her voice was sharp, slicing through the air as she questioned Y/N, and Dean felt her confidence waver. He wanted to reach through the screen, to be there, to stand between her and that snake of a woman. He could feel Y/N’s fear as if it were his own, like a chill that was in the very air around him.

“She’s going for the throat,” Dean muttered under his breath, his jaw clenched as he watched Abadoon dig into the details, trying to undermine everything Y/N had said.

Benny shook his head slowly. “Don’t let it get to you, man. She’s baiting her.”But Dean could already feel the cracks forming. She was trying to hold her ground, but her confidence was slipping. Dean’s heart pounded, and he could almost feel the weight of her emotions pressing down on him, the fear and uncertainty seeping through the thread that connected them. 

Hang on, Sweetheart. You’re almost there. Then, like a lifeline, she found her voice again, causing goosebumps to prickle along Dean’s arms. Had she heard him? Had she felt him? He wasn’t sure, but it helped calm him some. She was fighting back, standing her ground. When the questions shifted to the details of her parent’s evidence, Dean felt that familiar tightening in his chest. He knew how hard it had been for her to talk about her parent’s letters. But when she snapped back with that sharp retort about the documents already being submitted, he couldn’t help but chuckle as a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. That’s my girl.

The tension didn’t fully leave his body until the judge’s ruling, giving the prosecution two full weeks to review the documentation, again. Dean exhaled heavily, the weight in his chest lifting just a little. Y/N had held her own, but the battle was far from over.

Benny clapped him on the shoulder. “Told ya. She’s a fighter.”Dean nodded, still smiling. “Yeah… she is.” He glanced at the screen one last time before turning away and toward the door. He knew he didn’t have to say anything to Benny. They’d been best friends since school. They both knew that had Benny not been there, Dean wouldn’t have been able to stay as level-headed as he had. 

When she came through the door, she rushed straight toward him. His arms wrapped around her the second she was close, pulling her against him as if he could shield her from the world. The moment she was in his embrace, he felt her emotions flood through him—overwhelmed, exhausted, but clinging to him like a lifeline.

Damn, she’s shaking, and her mark burns.

His grip tightened, wanting to soothe the storm of emotions swirling through her, but there wasn’t time for that now. “It’s time to go,” an agent’s voice cut through the silence, pulling Dean’s attention to the next task, getting her back to the safehouse.

Dean sighed, the weight of responsibility settling back onto his shoulders. He could feel her reluctance, too, how much she just wanted to stay wrapped in his arms, away from all of this. But they had to keep moving.

With her tucked against his side, they followed the agents out of the room, navigating through hallways that twisted and turned in ways meant to confuse. Dean had no idea where they were headed, but he kept his senses sharp, feeling Benny’s presence behind him like a silent backup. When they finally reached a different SUV, Dean helped Y/N inside, sliding in next to her, holding her close as the vehicle started moving.

He felt her lean into him, her head resting against his chest, and his heart ached for her. He could still sense the raw nerves underneath the surface, the anxiety buzzing through her like static electricity. It made him hold her a little tighter, his hand rubbing small circles on her back, hoping it would calm the storm raging inside her.

“You did so good in there, Sweetheart,” Dean whispered, the pride in his voice unmistakable. He felt her emotions shift, just a little, at his words—like she didn’t believe it, but needed to hear it.

“It was nerve-wracking,” she mumbled, her voice small against his chest.

Dean glanced over at Benny, who was sitting across from them, his arms crossed, trying to hide a grin. “I love how she put that stain of a woman in ‘er place,” Benny chuckled, his eyes shining with approval.

Dean smirked, feeling a bit of the tension in his chest loosen. “That was pretty witty,” he added, glancing down at her, feeling a flicker of amusement from her in return. It was small, but it was enough to make her smile just a little.

But then the atmosphere in the SUV shifted. The agent next to them, his face suddenly serious, held a finger to his earpiece, listening intently. Dean’s senses went on high alert immediately, his body stiffening, his hand instinctively gripping Y/N’s shoulder a little tighter. Something wasn’t right.

He exchanged a look with Benny—one of those wordless conversations they’d had a hundred times before. Benny’s brows furrowed, and Dean could see the concern reflecting in his eyes. Whatever was happening, they didn’t have all the details, but it wasn’t good.

Dean looked out the window, noticing how the vehicle was moving in the opposite direction of the safe house, then he felt Y/N’s confusion spike. Stay calm, Sweetheart. I’ve got you. Words he couldn’t say out loud at the moment, the agent shooshing them a moment ago.

Then, the agent finally spoke, his gaze falling on them, particularly on Y/N. “There’s been a change of plans.”

Dean’s stomach dropped, his instincts screaming at him to get ready for whatever was coming next. His mind raced through possible scenarios, all of them ending with one thought: Keep her safe. No matter what. He watched the route they took, how they drove to a high-end neighborhood with massive homes, fenced-in properties with gates requiring a code to enter, and pedicured yards.

The SUV rolled to a stop in front of what looked like a fortress. The wrought iron gates, thick brick walls, and the overgrown trees and vines on the other side gave the place an intimidating look—like they were driving into a stronghold rather than a safe house. He felt her pulse quicken beside him, and his hand squeezed her shoulder, trying to offer reassurance.

She’s on edge again.

Dean could feel her emotions bubbling beneath the surface—anxiety, tension, a hint of fear. His own protective instincts were already on high alert, but sensing her nerves made it worse. His eyes swept over the gates as they slowly opened, the high hedges and manicured trees offering no relief from the feeling that they were walking into something too damn fancy to be real.

The driveway wound through a perfectly groomed landscape, but Dean’s attention was more on Y/N than the surroundings. Her breath seemed to hitch in her throat, and even without having to hear her thoughts, he knew what was going through her mind.

Where the hell are we?

It was the same question he and Benny both had. Dean kept Y/N close, even after the SUV stopped in front of a massive mansion. The place looked like something out of a rich guy’s fantasy, all marble, hedges, and probably worth more than a few million. He saw her jaw drop as she stared at the mansion, and even though his own instincts were telling him not to trust anything this polished, he couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of amusement seeing her reaction.

She’s never seen anything like this before. God, she’s adorable.

Benny’s door opened first, and then the agent held the door for them. Dean gently guided Y/N out, his hand never leaving her back as they stepped onto the perfectly paved driveway. She seemed too stunned to speak, her wide eyes looked on the mansion. But then that familiar Scottish accent snapped them both out of it.“Oh good, you made it without incident,” Crowley’s voice carried as he made his way down the steps, looking smug as usual.

Dean’s jaw tightened slightly at the sight of him. Crowley might be helping, but there was no way in hell Dean trusted him. Still, the relief he felt from Y/N the moment she saw it was Crowley and not someone from the Vaughts made him ease up a bit.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her voice a little shaky but filled with relief.

Crowley’s smile widened. “I’ve made arrangements for you to stay here during the course of your case,” he explained. “One of my men will be back with your belongings, and theirs as well. Now, shall we get some brunch?”

Brunch? Really, Crowley?

Dean rolled his eyes slightly at the mention of brunch, but he could sense the confusion in Y/N, and that mattered more. He kept close to her as they followed Crowley inside the mansion, Benny walking behind them, his massive frame silent but present.

The second they walked through the front doors, Dean felt a wave of discomfort wash over him. The place was too fancy, too opulent. High ceilings, chandeliers, dark wood paneling—it felt like they’d stepped into a palace, and Dean couldn’t help but feel out of place. But it wasn’t just him; he could feel Y/N’s awe mixed with unease. The way her emotions shifted told him she was trying to process it all, but the contrast between this and the cold courtroom was jarring.

She’s overwhelmed again.

Dean’s hand moved to the small of her back as they walked through the grand foyer, his thumb brushing lightly over her spine, hoping the small gesture would bring her some comfort. As they moved past the sweeping staircase and into the long hallway, he caught the scent of polished wood and old books. The place had a strange, almost timeless quality to it, like it had been there for centuries and it would be there long after they were gone.

I can’t trust this, even if Crowley’s her lawyer and on our side. It feels too much like a trap.

Dean’s eyes swept the hallway as they walked, his senses on high alert. He figured that Y/N was nothing more than another case for Crowley to win, that he needed them for his own reasons, nothing more. Dean had also taken a mental note of the men in suites that seemed to blend into the background, staying utterly still with their ever-watchful eyes. Each man had an earpiece similar to the FBI's, but these men weren’t affiliated with them. No. These men were Crowley’s private security, there to protect the man that paid them, and his staff. 

When they reached the double doors at the end of the hallway, Crowley pushed them open to reveal a dining room that could’ve been ripped from the pages of a fancy magazine. The table was set with fine china, crystal glasses, and silver cutlery, and the light streaming from the windows gave the room a warm, almost golden glow. It was a far cry from the simplisticness he and Y/N had lived in for the prior three months.

This is way too much.

The scent of bacon and something else—probably some high-class dish Dean couldn’t name—hit his nose, and even though his stomach rumbled, he wasn’t in the mood to sit down for a meal. He glanced at Y/N, sensing her hunger despite the confusion swirling through her thoughts.

She needs to eat. She’s been through enough today.

Dean stayed close to her side as Crowley led them to the table, the chef and a few servants bustling around, putting the finishing touches on the meal. He knew Y/N was still trying to wrap her head around everything, but he could feel her starting to settle, even if just a little. There was still tension in the air, but Crowley looked relaxed, like this was an everyday occurrence for him, and perhaps it was. Dean wasn’t about to relax, though. Something still felt off to him.

“Please, have a seat,” Crowley gestured with a flourish, sliding into his place at the head of the table.

Dean gently guided Y/N to a seat beside him, his hand lingering on her back for a moment longer than necessary. He needed her to feel grounded, even if they were surrounded by all this luxury. Benny took a seat across from them, offering Y/N a reassuring nod. Dean could see the silent message there—we’ve got your back—and it helped ease a little more of the tension tightening in his chest.

Crowley smiled, his expression as slick as ever, and motioned to the servants.”Begin serving, please.”Dean watched as the servants moved like clockwork, setting covered plates in front of each of them. One of them placed a cold beer by his plate, and Dean couldn’t help the amused huff that escaped him. Crowley really did know how to cater to his audience, didn’t he? The man himself had a glass of fine wine, as if to remind them all just how classy he was.

Dean’s fingers bruised against Y/N’s knee under the table as Crowley spoke up again. “You must have many questions. Feel free to ask anything you need to understand.”Dean could feel Y/N’s uncertainty in the pit of his stomach as if it were his own, her hesitance to speak up. Before she could respond, though, their food was revealed. His eyes flicked to the plate in front of him—a burger. And not just any burger—one of the most mouthwatering ones he’d ever laid eyes on. Beside him, she seemed just as distracted by hers, and Dean couldn’t help but chuckle softly under his breath.

“Figured you lot would prefer something simple,” Crowley’s voice broke through the moment, and Dean glanced up, catching the pleased smirk on the lawyer’s face.

“I’m sorry. Why are you doing this for us?” she asked, her tone apologetic, and Dean gave her knee a gentle squeeze, a reassurance he knew she needed.

Crowley’s gaze locked with hers, and for a split second, Dean swore he saw something flicker behind that confident mask. It was gone in an instant, replaced by what Dean would consider a smug look, not confidence. “Let’s just say I have a vested interest in seeing justice served. The Vaughts have been playing games for far too long, and it’s about time someone put a stop to it.”

Dean leaned forward slightly, his instincts flaring up. “We appreciate your help, Crowley. But what’s the catch?”Crowley chuckled, his hand casually swirling the wine in his glass. “No catch, Dean. Just a mutual benefit. You get the support you need for this case, and I get the satisfaction of seeing the Vaguths lose for once.”Before Dean could respond, Benny pipped in. “We’ll do whatever it takes to win this. They’ve messed with the wrong people.”

Crowley gave a nod of approval, clearly pleased with Benny’s attitude. “That’s the spirit, Benny. Now, let’s eat. You’re going to need your strength for what lies ahead.”

Dean chose to focus on his meal, for now, tearing into the burger. The taste was as good as it looked, but his focus was split between the meal, the weight of what Crowley had said, and Y/N by his side. Sam had told him they could trust Crowley, but Crowley was a lawyer, and lawyers were good at twisting words, spinning them in a way that could make a lie look like the truth.

At least Y/N was slowly relaxing, even if Dean didn’t want to get lulled into a false sense of security. Both Dean and Sam had hoped that all a judge would have to do would be to look at the paperwork, the evidence of everything, and the marriage contract would have been immediately nullified. But of course not. Nothing was simple when it came to dealing with the Vaughts.

He glanced over and watched her eat, sipping her own beer to wash it down. She not only looked calmer, but even her thoughts had seemed to slow down a bit. Dean smiled a little before taking another bite, trying to calm the tension in his shoulders when the butler entered the room, informing Crowley that “they’re here,” and he couldn’t even imagine who that would be.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 25

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[happysaddca]

This is. Incredibly self-indulgent and requires context.

You are a veteran FazCo employee who worked as a janitor (and eventually dates that location's DCA) when the Glitchtrap virus infects the plex. Unlike the game, this virus affects all the mega pizzaplexes, and it leads to you getting mauled by Moon. You nearly die, the DCA is deactivated and replaced after the virus mysteriously vanishes, and eventually you start working at a new plex, with a new DCA and staff.

After a long and bumpy road, you finally have your DCA's chips installed in a functional animatronic. It's time for a reunion.

Parts and Service still creeps you out, even with the changes the tech team here made. At the very least, you’re allowed to wait in the cylinder instead of outside with everyone else. 

You take a peek through the glass, catching Gemma and Anika watching you. Your body locks up, and you manage a stiff little wave before focusing on Sun behind them. Sun isn’t watching you (at least, you’re pretty sure he’s not). Sun’s watching the body on the table. Your turn back to it as well. 

It’s another Daycare Attendant unit, currently completely off. The color changing material of the animatronic’s pants and paint sits at a muted, muddy brown color, the light not bright enough to bring out Sun’s colors but too bright for Moon’s. When you touch its faceplate, it’s cold, unmoving. It’s an older model, a spare body for the DCA standing outside. And it currently holds the chip that is your 

That is your Sun and Moon. 

“Everything good in there?” Gemma’s voice is tinny over the speakers. You nod quickly, giving a thumb’s up. “Okay, I need you to back away for a second. Gotta plug in and give the OS one last check before we power them up.” 

“Okay.” You give a reluctant half step back, then another at Gemma’s prompting, retreating closer to the wall and the people outside. Overhead, electricity thrums as the diagnostics and repair tools come online, a cable snaking down to plug into the back of the animatronic’s head. “You’ll warn me when they’re about to be turned on, right?” No answer. “Guys?” 

The sounds overhead changes, with a chime sequence signaling that no, you were in fact not being warned ahead of time.. Some pseudo-soothing, corporate beeps that remind you of commercials advertising anti-depressants begin, but when you go to approach the body again, the speaker crackles on. 

“Stay right there.” 

“But I want—” You’re cut off before you can even turn to face the trio waiting outside. 

Anika’s frown is made more severe by scarring distorting her forehead. 

“We don’t know how they’re going to react to being woken up for the first time in three years. For them, it’s only been a moment since they shut down, and we don’t really know how that… hey. Don’t look like that. I thought you’d already worked past the guilt.” 

“No, I have. But. I.” Another chime sequence has you whipping back around, but there’s no change. You shift so you can keep half an eye on what’s happening while you’re talking to everyone on the outside. 

“Sunshine.” Sunny speaks over Anika, leaning forward to take the microphone. “Think about what might happen if they come online and hurt you.”

“It’d be—”

“It’d be an accident, but.” Sunny holds up one long finger, indicating that you should wait. You look back at the table again, but there’s still nothing to indicate what’s going on. “Friend, turn your screen around. They’re going to be fretful unless they know what’s going on.” 

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Gemma turns one of the monitors around, showing off a series of progress bars that you don’t know what they mean. She taps the monitor. “Once this hits a hundred percent, they’ll boot up.” 

“Thank you.” The lump in your throat eases, just a little. You stare at the little bars slowly working its way up. 

“Sunshine.” Sunny catches your attention with his talking-to-children-about-complex-topics voice. “We should stay here until the other attendant wakes up and has a moment to process that they aren’t affected by the virus—and that they’re safe.” 

“As safe as they can be in here,” you mumble, and Sunny’s smile widens as he gives a small nod, setting the microphone back on the table. The progress bar fills ever so slowly, and any noise behind you makes you twitch and look back at the animatronic with concern. Your palms itch, suddenly slick, and you wipe at them quickly before shoving them in the pockets of your overalls. 

Overalls. You are bringing back your oldest, dearest friend that you’ve not seen in years and you’re wearing the world’s most fucked up, stained overalls. And that does count farmers and mechanics around the world. You take a peek at the progress bar and—how has it jumped up 30% already? It had been dragging just a minute ago! There’s now no way you can slip away into something better, and of course you couldn’t have gone anyway. 

The noise from overhead changes, and there’s an error sound, sharp and blunt, followed by the mechanical squeak of the monitor getting jerked back around to Gemma. “Anika, can you grab the thingie?”

“The thingie?” 

Gemma gestures vaguely behind her and Sun, who is standing frozen, rays partially retracted as he stares at the table. Anika zips off to find whatever it is Gemma needs, but you’re turning away again, watching as the spare daycare attendant unit twitches. 

“Sun?” you ask, stepping closer. The animatronic twitches again, one hand, then a whole leg, spastic and out of control like it’s being electrocuted in bits and pieces. Their rays start to poke out, then snap back into place with an audible click. One gets stuck, tangled up in white and blue fabric. “Moon, Sun, it’s okay,” you say, voice barely audible over their fans starting and immediately going into overdrive. “You’re safe. It’s me.” 

“Sunshine!” Sunny’s voice breaks when you are close enough to touch the twitching attendant’s foot. 

Your ears pop as the doors open, and you twitch, turning just enough to hold out a hand. “Sunny, it’s okay. I know but… they’re glitching out. I think they’re going to Eclipse.” 

“All the more reason to stay away!”

“You stay there if it makes you comfortable, but if they’re Eclipsing…” You turn back in time to catch the rays spring out, a handful caught in the hat, shredding into it. “I’m staying. Sun? Moon?”

There’s no reply from the animatronic, just more twitching and spasming. You want to free the rays from their hat, but this early model has no silicone softening the metal edges. They’re just a bunch of very dull knives and with no consciousness controlling their movements. You settle for touching their shoe instead, feeling the twitching of their actuators. Are they in pain? Can they feel anything at all?

“Hey, be careful in there! I’m unplugging the cords now and sometimes they can be a little whippy.” You grimace, pulling away as far as you could without relinquishing your touch over the moon patch. You give a thumbs up without looking away. 

The cords are a little whippy, jerking away from the table and snapping back into the ceiling with such force that it makes them look alive. You hate Parts and Services. 

“We’re at ninety percent now. Sunny, if you can step back? We don’t know how they’ll react to another Attendant hovering.”

“Right… right.” Sunny’s voice is closer, and you’re surprised to find he’d crept well inside the cylinder, the distance between the two of you halved. He holds his hands up, retreating back to the door. You stare and he gives a timid little shrug, his faceplate tilted towards the now waking animatronic. 

You’ve been around FazCo branded animatronics for ten years now, been in love with one, this one, for almost as long. Even in a new body, even Eclipsed, you know they’re waking from the change in their fans, slowing briefly with a little click clatter click before returning to overdrive. The foot under your hand twitches one last time before stilling and pulling away.

There’s static, climbing up your arm and into your mind as you look up. There’s static there too, a thin, trembling stream from Eclipse’s hidden speakers. They’re staring at you, eyes locked on. You shift, and they shift, ever so slightly, eyes tracking the scars visible on your face. 

“Eclipse?” you ask, holding a hand up as they start to answer. “No, it’s okay. I-I am happy to see you. You’re here. You’re safe. You’re both safe, right?” 

You have to walk around the table. They still watch you, hands limp at their side until you reach for the nearest one. They flinch away, dragging their hand into their lap, claws catching on the coarse material of their waist ruffle. Once, a long time ago, you’d asked about those claws and Moon had explained they used to play stringed instruments, just like the glamrocks did now. 

“You won’t hurt me,” you tell them, taking their hand anyway and squeezing it so hard you can feel a joint in your wrist pop. You toy with one of the claws with your thumb, worrying the little gear that makes it flip back into their fingers, sighing softly. “You didn’t hurt me.” 

You look up to see them staring at you, and despite things, you give a little laugh. A wet laugh, something sticking in your throat uncomfortably. “It wasn’t you Moon.” 

You don’t know how or when, but a cold hand brushes over the ruined half of your face, stroking the skin just under your eye. It pulls back, metal shiny with tears. You laugh again, hiccuping and holding your free hand up to your face as you force yourself to calm down. “I’m okay. I’m here. You’re here. I missed you so much you big stupid dummy.” 

You can’t wait any longer, so you throw yourself at Eclipse, worming your hands under their arms, tucking your face carefully under their faceplate, away from the metal rays. They can’t see you crying like this, but it’s an ugly messy, human thing and their neck ruffle is horrifically itchy. The slow weight of hands on your back make you sob, voice breaking. 

There’s a few minutes that are likely very awkward for everyone not currently on or half on the cylinder’s table, but you don’t notice any change until there are claws digging in your back. “Eclipse,” you mumble, lifting your head, but the hands pin you to their torso. “Eclipse, what’s wrong?”

“I-it might be me!” Sunny’s voice trips over itself. “I, we, all of us wanted to make sure you were okay?”

“I’m okay,” you say, a little too softly at first. You feel up for Eclipse’s cheek, stroking it gently. “‘Clips, let me up. Sunny isn’t going to hurt us.” 

The hands dig, and you can feel those claws in your skin, but they loosen as you continue to push up. You settle on the table a little awkwardly, perched to avoid hurting Eclipse with your weight. You wipe at your eye, trying to clear your vision, before taking Eclipse’s hand again. “Sorry Sunny. I know things aren’t going as planned but…” You clear your throat, smiling weakly. “Sunny, this is Clips. They Daycare Attendant from my old plex. Eclipse, this is Sunny. He’s the Daycare Attendant here in Sandusky. He uh, he helped convince me it was worth trying to save you.” You hesitate. “He and his Moon went through it too,” you say more softly. Eclipse’s grip tightens on you and Sunny grimaces. “We’ll talk about it later, when everyone’s recovered. Sunny, move.” You gesture and he gives you a confused look before stepping out of the way.

Anika and Gemma are staring through the thick plexi of the cylinder. Gemma’s mouth is hanging open, but Anika looks vaguely smug. You hold up your entwined hands in a wave. “That’s Gemma and Anika. Gemma helped get this body back online and you in it, and Anika helped me save you. We saved you.” Oh, you’re starting to cry again. 

“Welcome back to the world of the living.” Gemma’s voice is clipped, and she turns her monitor back to you. You can just barely see some graphs and charts, but the orangey-red lines, and the continued strain of Eclipse’s fans clue you in before Gemma can. 

“Oh, oh, Eclipse, you need to restart with just one of you fronting.” You turn back to them, catching them staring at you once again. You twist around to hold their face, stroking over the edge and the craters, finding the large swirl of an eyebrow before you reach their hat. They flinch as you pull at it. “I know. But I’ll stay right here the entire time. I won’t even let go of your hand.” 

“Sunshine, that’s—”

“I’m staying right here Sunny,” you say, a little more sharply than you meant to sound, but the intent remains. You don’t look away from Eclipse, leaning forward to press a kiss over the moon’s eye. “I am staying right here. You can restart. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.” 

Eclipse stares, and there’s a long, long minute where you worry they’re going to refuse until they burn out but finally there’s a soft stream of static and a nod. Eclipse leans forward as you pull on their hat, freeing it incrementally from their rays. The light from their eyes dims and goes out, their fans slowing a couple minutes later. You pull the hat free successfully, their hand slipping from yours as you check over the fabric. It’s torn and greasy where it’d gotten caught in the gears, but you can probably fix it, if they want. Or perhaps you’ll be able to get help remaking their old hat, if that’s what they preferred.  

“Is everything all right?” Sunny’s voice is quiet, and his hand is soft as it rests on your shoulder. You twitch but don’t pull away, watching your attendant’s faceplate intently for any flicker of light. “They’ll turn on again.” 

“I know they will. But will they be able to let go? It’s got to be Moon, I think. It’s always been more willing to take control.” Sunny’s gentle verbal prodding compels you to continue. “Sun’s a softie, even if she does have a spine about the rules, her rules. The ones that are important to her. She tried so hard…” You trail off into a cough, swallowing back the lump wrong and making it worse on yourself. You have to wipe at your eyes again, sniffing hard. “But if Moon is scared or upset, they might Eclipse again.”

The startup is quieter, so you miss it in your talking to Sunny, until you feel more than hear the thrum of the animatronic’s inner workings. Sunny steps back, out of reach, when the rays retract, one at a time, jerkily, like the mechanism controlling them is unfamiliar to the Moon currently in control. Because it’s Moon who is waking up now, and it’s Moon’s gravelly voice that lets out a surprised noise when you immediately push into a hug. 

“Starlight?” 

The nickname is enough to make you cry again, and you squeeze him so tightly your arms hurt. “I’m here Moony. I’m here. And I’m never leaving you again.” 

[beyondthesefourwalls]

This Love Came Back to Me (8)

Summary: You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; really, you stopped before the two of you could even truly begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him into a kiss, he thought maybe it was the perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of you realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply just wanting it. 

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: second chance romance, language, allusions of smut and potential full smut, stalking, unhealthy obsessions, delusions of feelings, unwanted attention.

Part Eight Word Count: 4K

Part Seven :: Series Masterlist

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“Are you kidding me?!” 

Anna’s squeal was so loud it drew the attention of the nearby tables and you laughed as you shushed her. Simone was just as bad, reaching over to grab your arm and shake you as much as she could while you were both seated. 

“You bitch!” she accused, and you laughed harder at how absolutely scandalized everyone looked. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, “I just…forgot to mention it.” 

You winced before you were even done speaking, knowing how they’d react to the excuse. They didn’t let you down as another of your friends threw a cloth napkin across the table. 

“You start seeing the hot pilot again, and you forget to mention it?!” 

“One who it was dumb to break up with anyway, for the record,” Anna added on, just for good measure. You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t help but partially agree with her, too. 

“It’s only been a month!” you exclaimed, though you knew it was a useless defense. “And technically, he’s an aviator.”

“He flies something that goes in the air. He’s a pilot.”

You didn’t bother to hide your grin as you took another sip of your peach mimosa.Your friends had immediately turned into a firing squad launching questions at you when you casually mentioned you had been running late because Bradley had been trying to convince you to let him drop you off instead of you driving yourself. He had brought it up with a kiss to the top of the head and his arms wrapped around you from behind when you were getting ready. He was going to the driving range with some of the guys, and had insisted that if it went how it usually did, he’d be finding excuses to leave after an hour or two anyway. 

“They’re too competitive, and they’re cheats, and my wallet can only take so much, okay? What better excuse is there than having to go pick up my girlfriend?” 

You had turned down his offer with a playful roll of your eyes and a comment about how maybe he shouldn’t make bets when he knows he’s not all that great of a golfer. He had gasped in mock outrage and tickled your sides, which had led to you kissing him in apology through your laughter, and before you knew it, he was lifting you onto the bathroom counter and had made you both a little late leaving your house. You bit your lip at the memory, your body tingling for another reason besides the champagne. 

“So, do you think it’s serious this time? Like…in it for the long haul?” 

You thought about how the last month of your life had arguably been one of the worst of your life because of work and those that came with it but how despite all that, when you thought of the passage of time, the first thing you thought of was how happy it was because you had Bradley back in your life. You were able to, for the most part at least, forget all of the bad when he was there. You thought of how glorious it was, falling asleep and waking up with him, and all of the little things he did that made it so obvious how he cared for you. He was simultaneously able to light you on fire in the best of ways and offer you peace to any situation, all at the same time. He was so beautiful, so kind, and he made you feel like no one else ever had. He never let you feel like a burden, and instead made you so confident that he felt all these things, too. 

Those words you hadn’t said flashed in your head again but you swallowed them down with another sip of champagne. 

“Yeah,” you grinned into the rim of your glass, unsure if it was the champagne or your thoughts that were making you feel warm and giddy inside. “I think so. I hope so.” 

There was cooing and awwing that broke out around the table but you didn’t even care, too content and happy to do anything but laugh. 

It was over two hours later that you were hugging them all goodbye on the sidewalk outside of the restaurant, stomach full from brunch and your sides aching from how much you had laughed in such a short amount of time. It was so nice to just sit and talk and laugh with them, catching up on life and gossiping about relationships and things going on in the world. You were so glad that Bradley had convinced you not to cancel. You didn’t realize how much you had missed your friends until you were around all of them again. 

Anna hung back when everyone had dispersed, handing you a business card out of her purse. You raised your eyebrow in question. 

“It’s a friend of mine who works in your field,” she told you with a smile. “I know you’ve been on the market for a while. He’s a manager, and he’s going to have a spot opening up on his team soon. I mentioned your background to him, and he said to have you reach out if you think you might be interested. Not a guarantee, obviously, but I don’t think it’d hurt either. I think you guys would vibe really well together.” 

You read the details on the card and clutched it a little bit tighter. It was a company you had briefly looked at during your job search, but they hadn’t had any openings at the time. Excited anticipation rose in you and after carefully putting it in your purse, you threw your arms around your friend. She laughed off your thank you as she squeezed you a little bit tighter. 

“I hope it works out. But at the very least, even if it doesn’t, I can say that I’m at least responsible for bringing you and Bradley back together, since you were supposed to meet me at the bar that night. So I’m not going to feel bad anymore for ditching you at the last minute.” 

You threw your head back with a laugh. “Fair enough. Thanks for being a flake.” 

She shoved you, rolling her eyes and scowling at you playfully. “You’re so welcome,” she said sarcastically. She winked as she started walking away. “Have a good rest of the weekend with your aviator,” she called as she opened her car door.  “We’ll have to get our Navy men together for a double date soon!” 

And then it was just you, standing there on the sidewalk on a sunny San Diego afternoon, contemplating what to do. You grabbed your phone out of your jacket pocket when you felt it buzz. Like you always did, you smiled when Bradley’s name popped up. He was checking in to see if brunch was still going. His friends were going another round at the driving range, and he wanted to see where you were to decide if he was going to participate. It made you giddy how if you were home, he wanted to be there too. 

You thought over your options for a moment, chewing the inside of your cheek. You hadn’t been planning on doing anything after you separated from your friends. But you were in a great mood, feeling better than you had in a while in regards to being out on your own. The restaurant you ate at was in one of the shopping districts you liked and it was a beautiful day. Since you were already here, you decided you were going to walk around for a little while. Setting off in the direction of the coffee shop a few stores down, you responded to your boyfriend's text, telling him to enjoy the next round. 

___

A bag from the jewelry store next door hung on your wrist. You had popped in in hopes of finding a similar necklace to the one you had lost and were pleased that they had the exact duplicate in stock. Now, you were sipping on a latte as you browsed the shelves in the bookstore. You had already mindlessly looked through a few genres and, without finding anything new that caught your eyes, decided that you would look for the next book in a romance series you had started a while ago. 

You were humming along to the song playing over the speakers as you walked down the aisles of paperbacks and hardcovers, your finger tracing the spines as you went. “Ah-ha!” you muttered to yourself, finally finding what you were looking for on one of the shelves in the corner of the store. You flipped the book over to read the synopsis on the back and were so engrossed in the synopsis that when you heard your name from right behind you, you startled so hard that the novel flew out of your hand and your hot coffee sloshed out of the lid and onto your skin. 

You whipped around and your eyes instantly widened in alarm. All at once you felt anxiety spread through your body like wildfire, your heart racing dangerously. 

“Paul,” you gasped. 

He was there, standing so close to you that you had felt his breath on your neck when he spoke your name. You nearly tripped over your own feet when you quickly took a step back. He was smiling broadly at you in the same way he always did. 

“I was hoping I’d find you!” he exclaimed, “I saw you earlier at the restaurant, but I didn’t want to interrupt your time with your friends.” 

Your mind whirled at his comment. He had been there? He had seen you? 

“You looked like you were having so much fun,” he continued like what he was saying was completely normal. Your stomach dropped. He hadn’t just been there. He had been watching you. 

“I-” you started, shaking your head. You didn’t know what to say. Your mouth felt so dry all of a sudden. 

“You look pretty today.” 

Bradley had told you more than once how beautiful you looked before you left the house in your sage green sundress and denim jacket, white tennis shoes on your feet. And you had felt it, too. But in an instant, you were uncomfortable in your own skin. You felt dirty at his praise and the way he was looking you up and down. 

Paul looked at you expectantly, waiting for a response. But you had nothing to say. Your mind was moving so quickly that it was hard to remember how to form sentences. You stared at him with wide eyes. A beat passed before he sighed, his smile dipping. His eyebrows knitted a little tighter together as he cleared his throat. 

“I’m sorry we haven’t been able to talk at work the last few weeks. I was told I should stay away from you for right now.” 

You processed the words slowly, because they didn’t make any sense. He genuinely sounded apologetic, and was looking at you with something that looked like sympathy. But not for anything he had done. But because you hadn’t been able to talk? 

“You’re….sorry?” 

“Yes,” he nodded. When he nodded in emphasis, his glasses slipped down his nose. He pushed them up as he continued. “I forgive you, by the way.” 

“Forgive me?” you stuttered out, sounding incredulous.

“For turning me in,” he explained. The look on his face darkened as he clenched his jaw. “I’m sure it was your boyfriend who told you to do it.” He practically spat the word out, but then he quickly schooled his features, resuming the smile from before. “Anyway. I’m sure it will all be resolved soon. They’ll see that nothing is wrong and it was just an overreaction on your part.” 

You didn’t understand anything that was happening right now. You couldn’t. You stared at Paul in disbelief, unable to comprehend how he honestly believed the words coming out of his mouth. Every one felt like little pellets being thrown at you, each one stinging more than the last. Your fight or flight instinct was finally coming online and you swallowed thickly, trying to figure out what to do. 

“I - I need to go.” 

You startled again when you shuffled to the side, because Paul was quick to mimic the movement, staying in front of you and blocking your way. 

“Do you need a ride home?” 

You nearly choked at the question. “Do I ne- no,” you said vehemently, shaking your head. “No.” 

“I saw you drinking. I don’t mind taking you home if you drank too much,” he said, taking another step toward you. You stepped back, your shoulder blades digging into the books behind you and leaving you with nowhere else to go. Paul moved closer, so close you could see the smudges on his glasses and smell the cheap scent of his cologne. It reminded you of a high school locker room, and something flickered in the back of your mind. You had made that comparison before, a few weeks ago at the farmer’s market with Bradley. You had felt like someone was watching you and had smelt this same smell then, and your anxiety spiked when you realized what that meant. 

God, he had been there.

“You don’t live too far from here. It wouldn’t be an issue.” 

You had averted your gaze to the floor, purposefully avoiding eye contact. But your head snapped up so fast that you felt a twinge in your neck. Your already fast beating heart seemed to double down, your pulse thundering so hard beneath your skin that you could practically hear it. Bile rose in your throat as panic started to claw at you. 

“How do you know that?” you asked, pressing yourself further into the shelf behind you. “How do you - do you know where I live? Do you know my address?” 

He cocked his head to the side, looking at you with genuine confusion and curiosity, like it was you who was spouting off nonsense. “What do you mean?” he asked. “You gave it to me.” 

“I never told you that,” you spat. Your voice came out higher pitched, shaky and incredulous. You were so certain you had never done such a thing. 

“You shared your location with me, remember? At work that day? You wanted me to know.” 

He said the words slowly, like he was explaining something difficult to a child. He was looking at you like he was concerned for you for not remembering. Like you were dumb. You had never felt so small in your life in the worst of ways. Your mind searched through every encounter you ever had with him, trying desperately to figure out what he was talking about. 

And then you remembered. It was the month he had started, and your team was doing a happy hour after work. He was new to the area and wasn’t familiar with where the bar was. He had asked to ride with you, but you had been uncomfortable with the idea, so you had shared your location with him instead to help him get there on his own. But it had been a temporary share, just for an hour. That was it, you were sure of it. There was no way…

You scrambled for your phone. Your hands were starting to shake as you went into your contacts. Dread settled heavy in your stomach when you clicked on him. 

Oh, god. 

You had blocked his number months ago after the first time you had reported him to HR, when he had started texting and calling you all the time. Tears welled in your eyes when you saw that, despite that, you were still actively sharing your location with him. You hadn’t hit the hour setting that day. You had hit indefinitely. He had had access to it all this time. 

It had been months. He had known where you were for months. All those times he had shown up where you were. The grocery store. The gym. Restaurants. The Hard Deck the last two Fridays in a row. He had figured out where you lived by monitoring where you were. 

And you had done it. It had been an accident, but you had done it. And he interpreted it as you wanting him to know. As…as wanting him. 

And it was because of you. It was your own doing. 

“Oh! I almost forgot!” 

You watched in what felt like slow motion as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar piece of jewelry. It was simple, a single small charm with your initial on it dangling from a thin gold chain. It was the same one you had worn for you don’t even know how long. The same one that had gone missing two weeks ago, that you had just bought a replacement for less than an hour ago. It’s the same necklace that you were so confident had been on the jewelry plate on your dresser, where you always put it when you take it off, but that you couldn’t find anywhere.

“I found this by your desk. I know you wear it all the time, so I figured you missed it and would want it back. I kept it safe for you.” 

He held it out to you with a large grin. He looked proud of himself, smug. You knew that your face was horrified in return. 

Your desk, he said. 

But it was on a Monday morning before you left for work that you couldn’t find it. You had it on in the picture you and Bradley had taken together the day before, when you wouldn’t have been anywhere near the office. He couldn’t have found it near your desk. 

He had your necklace. He knew where you lived. 

You felt like you were going to throw up. You could taste it in your throat, feel it all through your body. 

Your eyes flickered down to your phone and then back up at him, before repeating the pattern one more time. You stared at each other for a beat before you swallowed and tapped the screen. You were looking him in the eye when you hit “stop sharing.” His eyes widened as he realized what it was you had just done, and the friendly mask he had carefully maintained throughout the entire exchange disappeared in an instant. 

“Why would you do that?” 

Paul’s blue eyes were as dark as the ocean and as cold as it, too, and he was reaching for you. His clammy hand clamped around your wrist and squeezed tightly, and he was trying to yank you against him. Panic gripped you. He was saying something, but you couldn’t hear it. There was a ringing in your ears and it was like the aisles of books were closing in on you. 

You had to get out of here, away from him. You had to, and you were acting on pure instinct when you finally moved. You popped the lid off of your cup and threw the still hot coffee at him. Paul shouted in surprise as the liquid hit his face and covered his glasses. He was so close that some of it splashed back on you. When he stumbled back, he let go of your wrist as instinct took over to wipe at his face. 

“Stay the fuck away from me,” you hissed. And then in the same moment, you ran. 

Paul called out as you turned the corner and you pushed yourself faster. You didn’t even pause when you burst out of the door of the bookstore. You narrowly avoided running into several people as you darted through the shopping district in the direction of where you parked your car. The tears started as you ran. You didn’t even see the dip in the sidewalk until you were hitting the ground. You let out a sharp cry of surprise, but even then, you didn’t stop, struggling quickly back to your feet. 

You could see your car now. You tugged your keys from your bag, nearly dropping them in your haste. You scrambled to hit the unlock button and slid into the driver’s side.

Tears blurred your vision as you pulled out of the parking lot and after a minute of driving, the first sob worked its way out of your throat, followed quickly by a second. 

Paul knew where you lived. He had tracked your movements. This was your fault, your mistake having led you here.He had been following you for months, and it had all been because of your own carelessness. Your chest felt so tight - you could barely breathe. 

You made a sharp turn onto a different street at the last second, and then another after that. You were nearly hyperventilating by the time you finally stopped in another busy parking lot. 

Your hands were shaking so hard when you grabbed your phone from where you had thrown it in the passenger seat. You had to enter your passcode three different times because the trembling was so bad before it finally unlocked. Paul’s contact profile was still pulled up; you choked on another sob as you closed out of it and went to another. Once the sound of ringing echoed through your bluetooth you lost the grip you had on your phone. It fell to your lap and you clenched the steering wheel instead, your palms stinging, trying to remember how to take a deep breath. 

“Hey, baby. You all done?”  

Bradley’s voice surrounded you as it echoed from your speakers. In any other situation, you would have been able to hear the smile in his voice and would be delighted in knowing you were the one that put it there. But as you choked out his name, all you could think about was Paul. He had been watching you. He knew where you were all the time and it was all your fault. You let out another sob. 

The shift in Bradley’s tone was immediate. “Bug? What’s going on? What’s wrong?” 

You felt like you were drowning, sinking deeper and deeper into your panic. Bradley called your name and you didn’t think it was the first time. You tried to get enough air into your lungs to force words out. “I- Bradley,” you gasped. 

“I need you to take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong. Please, baby. Please.” He was begging you, he was so worried, and another wave of guilt washed over you. “Just take a breath. In and out, sweetheart. Come on.” 

You tried so hard to match the exaggerated breathing he was doing through the phone. You wanted to say something to him, to explain what was going on, but whenever you opened your mouth, another violent, gasping cry came out.

“B. He-he-he-” Black dots started appearing in your vision and you knew if you didn’t get ahold of yourself, you were going to pass out. With all the strength you could muster, you sucked in one deep, choppy breath. It left you in a painful exhale, your chest so tight it physically hurt. With violently shaking hands, you picked your phone up again. A brand new bout of nausea overtook you when you sent Bradley your location. 

Paul had known where you’ve been for months, yet you had never even shared it with your own boyfriend. 

“Can you - come - come get me?” you managed to choke out. “Please? I - I can’t -” 

“I’m on my way, baby. Don’t move. I’ll be right there.”

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Part Nine :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: So.....Paul is the worst. Yikes. AHHHHH. I am so damn nervous about your reactions to this one. I hope it lived up to expectations.

Likes/comments/reblogs are the best encouragement for posting more🖤

Thank you to Mak and Em for all of your help making this story come to life. And thanks to Mak for the AMAZING banner!

Tag List: @roosterforme @mak-32 @wildxwidow @gretagerwigsmuse @lilyevanswhore @too-fangirl-to-fuction @fav-fanficssss @notroosterbradshaw @teacupsandtopgun @sometimesanalice @sunflowersteves @littlezee80 @je-suis-prest-rachel @khaylin27 @infamous-reindeer @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @yanna-banana @avengersfan25 @wkndwlff @sylviebell @lt-spork @indynerdgirl

@mssleepy876b @kassieesworld @mizzzpink @a-serene-place-to-be @sexualparkour @sadpetalsstuff @almostgenerallyalways @alilstressyandlotdepressy @ccbb2222 @taytaylala12 @shelbycillian @mavrellover91 @vici111 @lunamooncole @blackwidownat2814 @pisupsala @bellaireland1981 @jynxmirage @shanimallina87 @greatszu @na-ta-sh-aa @callsign-magnolia @chaoticassidy

[whorety-k]

Ebony Coasts [Part 6]

I'm sorry this took so long!! Between my busy life and wanting a quick change up so I could practice to make this chapter better, I definitely took my sweet time on this chapter. It's another long one but it was genuinely fun and I hope you all think the same. Thank you for your patience!!!

Pairing: Merfolk!Corvus Corax x fem!Marine Conservationist!Reader (second person POV)

Song recommendation: Witchcraft - Graveyard Club “It’s midnight on Main Street / and this town’s all asleep / But you’re still here with me / and I know that / Darling your love's like witchcraft.”

Warnings: Ocean mentions / potential thalassophobia, culture shock and misunderstanding between species, food, using the word chips instead of crisps because author is American, fluff

Word Count: 4.5k I AM SO SORRY

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 7 (NSFW)]

Waking up three hours later, sticky and crusted with salt was a lot less comfortable than the dreamy atmosphere you had drifted off to sleep in. Corvus was reluctant to let you leave to go home and change, but he recognized that there was no feasible way for you to clean yourself up while you were in his den; the salt water would have wedged sand into more unsavory places. You promised him it would only be thirty minutes to an hour before you would return and, after explaining what an hour was, he relinquished his protests and encouraged you to be safe. You leaned up on your tip-toes for a kiss goodbye, which the mer bashfully gave. 

The soothing stream of warm water coursing down your back makes you wonder just how difficult it would be to install a shower within Corvus’s cavern, before kicking yourself for the thought of modernizing any part of the beach that you’re technically supposed to be protecting. The thought of being able to live more readily with Corvus has your brain misbehaving. You hop out of the shower and towel off, changing into a significantly-less-saline outfit than you had been in previously. 

Before leaving your apartment, your eyes stray to the dusty picnic basket beneath your desk. For years, the woven wicker has sat unused and taunting you, waiting for its opportunity to see the light of day. The lack of luck in relationships previously had halted any usage of the item, but perhaps today was the day it finally saw usage. You grab the basket. 

But what to bring on a picnic with a literal merman? What does a giant fish-person like? You realize you have no idea where to start with him, so when you stop by your pantry you toss two random junk foods inside. Oreos and potato chips. Perfect. It still doesn’t feel like enough though, and you quickly check the time. You still have another fifteen or so minutes to make it back to the coast before Corvus should start to worry. On a whim, you toss the picnic basket on the passenger seat of your car and speed over to the only grocery store between your apartment and the coast.

You’re just as clueless and indecisive as you were at home, but now you were clueless and indecisive with options. The lady behind the meat counter gives you an uncertain look the longer you stare at the identical cuts of salmon. 

“If you’re struggling, the Alaskan wild-caught is a better–”

“-Thank you!” You don’t even let her finish before you’re throwing three filets into the shopping cart then speeding off, completely missing the stunned look she throws your way. You barely make sure to wrap them enough to hide the fishy smell.

In the checkout lane, you give in to the crow brain and grab a random rainbow bag of sour candy from the hanging, as well as a pack of four chocolate strawberries from a vendor outside of the store. Are mermen able to eat chocolate? Is it like a dog and cat scenario? You’ve never tried giving a chocolate bar to a fish. Wasn’t there someone who fed their fish Kitkats and it survived? Well, if he can’t have it, it’s just more for you. 

You slam the door to the Bronco and gun it for the beach when you arrive. With the picnic basket and a large blanket in hand, it’s not particularly feasible to make it down the cliff face, so you take the long way around. It’s only just been an hour, so hopefully–

A milk white limb wraps around your midsection and lifts you from the ground, causing you to drop your freight in the commotion. Corvus holds you like a kitten, a look of concern plain in his voidish eyes as he intently studies your body.

“You are not injured? It has been greater than an hour. Has something occurred?” He inquires, gently lifting and turning you as he looks you over.

You shake off the shock of being startled, simultaneously chuckling at the doting behavior and irritated with having been snuck up on again. “I’m fine,” you say, prompting the anxious mer to stop twisting you from side to side. Corvus relaxes and lowers you gently back to the sand. Once back on solid ground, you look down at your watch. An involuntary sigh leaves your lungs.

“Corvus.”

“Yes?”

“It has been an hour and three minutes.”

“Yes.”

“This? Over three minutes?” 

The merman nods his head, that stoic expression never once faltering. “I worried for your well being.”

Realizing that pressing the matter will get you nowhere, you decide to find the action endearing. When you step to the side to pick up your fallen items, Corvus quickly beats you to it, relinquishing you of the blanket and grabbing the picnic basket before you even have the chance to turn around. It looks comically small in his large hands, cupped like a ball. 

“Are we returning to the den?” Corvus asks, readying himself to head that direction. He slides past you, shielding you from the focused rays of the looming sunset. 

“That depends,” you start, placing a hand on one of his ebony side fins. The giant stops, twitching from the contact. “How do you feel about trying some human foods?”

Corvus stops, glancing down at you before his attention turns to the basket in his hand. He lifts it to his nose and sniffs at it, and you resist cooing at how cute his ear fins look when they subtly perk up. “I am not opposed to it, however…” His head turns to the horizon, looking out over the waves. 

The setting sun casts the sky in a brilliant red, leftover clouds from the earlier storm reflecting the light in a kaleidoscope of pinks, oranges, and yellows. The charcoal rocks of the cliffside bleed into sandstone, cast coral in the dying glow. Lava flows of sand quench in the dusky ocean waves.

“It’s perfect,” you interrupt, grabbing the blanket from his clawed hand. Corvus turns back as you march to the embankment and set up the massive blanket. He watches happily (for someone so usually reserved) as you buzz around like a bee, trying your hardest to get it flat on the sand. Mercifully, the giant holds a corner steady to help you lay out the swath of cloth. When you come back for the picnic basket, he already has it lowered to your level for easy access. 

“Get on,” you say, patting the blanket and folding your arms to wait. Corvus spares you a final glance before he carefully slides his way onto the cover, the translucent black fins of his magnificent tail reflecting the threads beneath them. He rests his back against a smooth face of the cliffside and hums his contentment. Enthusiasm at the mer’s comfort thrums through your veins.

Unfortunately, the blanket that’s normally so large on you is nothing compared to the large fins of the black mer. There’s no room for you to sit with him, so you start to kick a clearing beside him for you to sit beside him instead. “I didn’t have a blanket larger than this, so–” 

“Would you like to sit on my tail?” Corvus extends a hand towards you, offering you a way to climb up onto him. He adjusts to create a flatter surface.

The marine biologist in you screams ‘I thought you would never offer!’, but the polite person in you wins and instead asks, “Are you sure?” Corvus bows his head and calmly helps you clamber up onto his tail, holding the picnic basket in one hand as he steadies you with the other. He’s cautious to set you low on his lap, below the fins that adorn his waist. You resist touching them, lest you get (literally or figuratively) thrown off of the tail you were just allowed to sit on.

You reach for the picnic basket and Corvus places it before you, allowing you to trifle through it. Strategically, you keep the salmon hidden in the cold compartment at the bottom beneath some ice, drawing out the bag of oreos. A gentle hand rests upon your thigh as the mer watches.

“So these are called Oreos,” you explain, holding one up for Corvus to see, “They’re sandwich cookies with cream in the center.”

Corvus nods as if he understands and scents the item, before opening his mouth to take it. He wants you to feed him you realize, and you carefully place the cookie on his tongue, avoiding his sharp teeth. The cookie is gone with a few crunches. You use the moment to take an oreo for yourself: sweet filling and crunchy cocoa, just as you remember. 

The mer isn’t as receptive, nose minutely scrunching as he swallows. You laugh at the face he makes. “Are all humans so fond of sweetened chemicals?” Corvus asks, clearing his throat. 

“Some. Not everyone’s a fan,” you reply.

Corvus nods, thinking for a moment. The dwindling light of the dusk has come to a near end, pale moonlight glittering over his visage as his head bows near to yours. Eventually, the mer comes to a conclusion, “The ‘cookie’ half was fine, but I did not enjoy the filling.”

“You’d be surprised how many people agree with you on that,” you note, lean forward to place a kiss on his cheek—

Corvus places a hand over your mouth as he abruptly perks up, stilling completely. His head snaps to the side, eyes glaring in one direction: the rocks in the shallows. You feel the brush of soft flesh before his tail completely blocks your view.

“Is everything okay?” you whisper into his hand, trying to lean around it.

He doesn’t let you. “We are being watched,” Corvus deadpans, eyes fixed on the same invisible spot in the distance. He doesn’t comment further, but his hand moves to your back to curl around you protectively.

The lack of reaction from Corvus and the uncertainty of the situation sets your mind racing. Watched? Watched by what? By who? Are there other humans nearby, looking upon the merman with uncertain eyes, calling the authorities? Your heart begins to palpate in your chest, thumping against your ribcage like a drum. Something’s going to happen to Corvus and it’s going to be entirely your fault, having gotten the mer comfortable with your presence and having him sit out in the open like this. Corvus is going to lose his freedom and his blood is going to be on your hands—

“At ease, little gem,” Corvus calls to you, stroking a soft knuckle down your spine, “You are in no danger.” You snap up to look at him, seeing his midnight eyes now peering down at you. You take a deep breath, and the pounding in your chest slowly begins to steady. 

Corvus’s eyes turn back to the shoreline, a swish of his feathery bangs revealing just how furrowed his eyebrows are. He looks disappointed, and you wait for an explanation. With a sigh, he offers, “It is nothing more than someone not knowing that I would prefer privacy.”

A slight droop in his tail allows you to finally see into the partially-illuminated waters. You strain your eyes to find whatever Corvus has been staring at, looking between jagged rocks and soft swells, but absolutely nothing reveals itself to you. Confused, you ask, “Where are you looking?” Corvus doesn’t answer, but eventually you take the hint to follow his eyes to another rock. Still, you see nothing.

The giant startles you by calling something out loudly in a language you do not understand, but finally you notice what he’s been staring at. What you had been fully convinced was just a normal rock lifts itself from the water, revealing a wall of black metal before removing a beak-like helmet. Pale skin begins to reflect the moon’s rays back at you, framed by a mop of black hair straight out of 2005’s top emo bands. As it approaches, you’re surprised to see that it looks strikingly similar to Corvus himself: a large frame with a betta-like tail that’s a tad more narrow, but still visibly powerful. This mer is shorter than Corvus by a substantial amount, but still definitely much larger than you are.

It– He, you believe, converses with Corvus in that unfamiliar tongue the entire time he comes closer, awkwardly dragging himself forward in sand until he’s within a few feet of your blanket. You think Corvus is asking this new mer a few tense questions, based off of the scolding tone of his voice and guilt in the new mer’s eyes, but any communication is lost on you. When Corvus fully lowers his tail, you see the new mer’s eyes widen, but it restrains from any further movement. Corvus finishes whatever conversation he was having and directs his attention back to you eventually with a call of your name.

“This is Shadow Captain Kayvaan Shrike,” he says to you, gesturing a hand in Shrike’s direction. You introduce yourself, unsure if he understands you, and hesitantly reach a hand out towards Shrike for a handshake. He stares at it dumbly, until Corvus mutters something to him in their shared language and Shrike gently takes your hand in his. Incorrectly, just as Corvus had. You’re beginning to notice a trend with the seafolk, and you would call it cute if it wasn’t for the unquestionable strength in the hand over yours.

Corvus directs another inquiry at Shrike, and Shrike takes his hand back to point behind you. Before you can fully turn around, a new voice incredibly near to your head causes you to all but fling yourself off of Corvus’s tail. The giant mer catches you and your picnic basket with a huff, turning his head to address the second newcomer. You follow to see another pale face looking at you inquisitively, standing adjacent to Corvus. He bears similar armor to Shrike, but instead of a shaggy swoop, he wore a slicked-back mohawk. All three merfolk possess the same blacked-out eyes.

“Nykona,” Corvus grunts, before delving into another scolding. ‘Nykona’ doesn’t wear the same kicked-puppy expression Shrike did, instead continuing to observe you in silence. His gaze carries the intensity of someone who has seen and done things in his lifetime that you wouldn’t be able to stomach, sending shivers down your spine. At the end of Corvus’s speech, he gives a simple response and a nod.

Your mer finally turns back to you and directs you towards ‘Nykona’, saying, “And this is Nykona Sharrowkyn, Mor Deythan. Both he and Kayvaan are Astartes.” You have no idea what the second half of that means, but you acknowledge it anyway. You opt to cling to your basket instead of offering a handshake to Nykona, checking the inside contents to make sure they’re alright. Everything appears to be in place.

Nykona and Shrike shift to listen to Corvus speak again, that rhythmic guttural vaguely similar to what it sounds like to list a species’ proper name. You try to make sense of it, but only occasionally do you pick up on names.

The quiet exchange continues on for a fair while longer, before a fantastic idea causes you to jolt upright. Each of the raven-colored merfolk look at you, and you beam at them. 

“Do they want to try some human food?”

Corvus had to set a few ground rules with the Astartes, and he had gently placed you down upon the blanket before explaining that it should only take a short moment. 

It did not, in fact, take a short moment.

Shrike and Nykona seemed to have an interrogation of their own for Corvus, but in the end, you were actually grateful for the opportunity to see how merfolk interacted with each other. Perhaps it was just these individuals, but they were incredibly formal with each other by your human standards. Respectful distances, no yelling, what seemed like actual discussion. You dare say that Corvus was affectionate with them the way a father was with his sons, reassuring any perceived outburst with a hand on the shoulder and gentle words. The two smaller mer even doff their armor, broad in build even without the augments. You avert your gaze respectfully.

Eventually, Corvus seemed content with the state of things and led the two newcomers back over to you. Corvus curls around your back protectively, leaning against the cliff face again. Nykona makes his way to your right, resting his front on the comfortable blanket while his tail remains on the sand. Shrike has no qualms sitting on the blanket directly beside you.

A strongly-accented voice prods about the basket. “So we are eating what’s in there?” Shrike asks, head tilted like a curious dog. 

“Oh! Yes, that’s the plan.” You had no idea whether or not the ‘Astartes’ could understand you, let alone respond to you, so the question comes as a surprise to you. You open the basket, showing him the contents. 

Shrike inspects them, then reaches within to pull out a package: a desaturated baby blue with a potato chip on the cover. The captain sniffs at the bag and is confused when he can’t smell much outside of the plastic. “I have seen these floating in the waves before, but they are not often sealed.”

The sentence makes you frown, and you gesture for him to hand you the bag of chips. “Not every human cares about the ocean the way I do. They’ll eat the contents and leave the trash behind. It’s awful behavior.” You pull the sides of the bag open to reveal the salt-and-vinegar chips within. The acrid smell of vinegar makes all three of the mer recoil with varying intensity when you happily pop a chip in your mouth. 

In an attempt to ease them into the other foods, you withdraw the strawberries. The smell of the sweet chocolate coating catches their attention instantly, and Corvus, despite all of his politeness, doesn’t wait for you. He tears open the clamshell with a gentle claw and plucks one of the large confectionaries for himself. You give him a playful glare before you take your own berry, noticing that a second is already missing. Nykona chomps away at his from the edge of the blanket.

Only Shrike dares to take a chip from the bag, both Corvus and Nykona passing up the offer politely. Each of you watch as the pungent acidity and saltiness causes the Astartes to wince, gills fluttering awkwardly as he breaks into uncomfortable coughs. Shrike spits the chip out into the sand with groan, wiping off his tongue. You place a hand on his shoulder to comfort him through it, and you’re surprised to see it actually seem to ground him. So is he, by the way he gently pushes your hand away. When Shrike is calmed down enough to focus on another food, he reaches for the remaining strawberry– then lets out a short growl. Shrike’s eyes instantly snap over to Nykona.

Nykona, rather contently, chews on Shrike’s allotted berry. He wears a face of perfect nonchalance.

Corvus covers you protectively with a hand as Shrike glares down his fellow Astartes, but you break the tension by offering Kayvaan your berry. He looks down at the strawberry reluctantly, eyes flicking between it and your patient face. Tentatively, Shrike takes the berry and plops it whole into his mouth, and the instant relaxation in his eyes makes giving up your treat worth it. 

You feel a gentle rumbling against your back, and you look up to see the tender expression Corvus casts your way. A careful hand places itself at your shoulders and strokes the muscles there, and you return the soft look. 

Nykona crinkling the rainbow bag of candy pulls you from the moment. “These are sweet too. I can smell it,” he mutters, using a claw to open the larger bag and spill out the individually wrapped pieces within. 

Warheads. You had bought Warheads. You may have loved Warheads, but you seriously doubt they would given the collective reaction to the salt-and-vinegar chips. 

Nykona picks up one of the packaged candies and makes an unreadable face, with Shrike following suit. You take one for yourself and Corvus, offering it up to your betta. 

“These are called Warheads. They’re sour candy, so they’re not really for everyone, but I like them.” After your brief explanation, you show each of the boys how to open the packaging and plop the hard candy into your mouth. The instant burn on your tongue causes you to shiver, but after a bit of intense salivation, it quickly gives way to the sweet candy underneath. 

The hesitation on each of their faces is clear, but after Corvus places the candy in his mouth, the Astartes follow suit. 

You’re surprised to see each of the merfolk maintaining a straight face. Honestly, you had expected each of them to absolutely hate the taste. Hell, most humans hated the taste of warheads because of the extreme burn of sour each of them packed. It was a pleasant surprise to know that Corvus and his… pod(?) must enjoy sour candy—

A shuddering choke to your left catches your attention. Shrike breaks first, letting out an uncomfortable hiss of air and shaking his head, hair covering his face. A groan from your right, and Nykona is removing the warhead from his mouth, dropping the sticky sugar onto the blanket with a less-than-amused look. You only just notice Corvus reach up and take the Warhead off of his tongue, holding it between his claws and frowning at it. 

He looks at you with sad eyes, “That was… unpleasant.”

It’s enough to break you into a fit of hysterics, throwing your head back against Corvus’s tail as your core shakes with laughter. Each breath wheezes out of you uncontrollably, limbs feeling gooey as you sink further and further into the blanket. 

No one else seems as amused.

Once you get yourself mostly under control, you fall forward onto your hands and knees and reach into the basket with unsteady hands. The merfolk watch as you rummage through it and pull out the hidden salmon filets from within. With pride, you present the orange meat towards the sky.

You don’t even see each of them move– you can only feel the air move around you before your hands are completely empty. The tang of fish fills the air from every direction, then the wet sound of teeth ripping into flesh. You could only describe the scene as feral, sharks tearing into unsuspecting seals in an attempt to wash the taste of the warheads out of their mouth. Only to another marine biologist could you describe it as “cute.”

Corvus wipes off his mouth as he finishes, a soft huff of relief leaving his gills. He gives you a pensive look before his hands snake beneath your arms, lifting you up and drawing you close. You hold yourself against him with a hand on his chest as he adjusts his grip to support your weight better, missing the look the giant casts to the other mer. Movement behind you causes you to look over your shoulder, and you’re surprised to see Nykona and Shrike completely clad in their armor once again, Shrike’s white helmet making him easy to identify in the low light. Both Astartes salute Corvus, hands crossed over their chest, before slithering back towards the ocean. You wave at them in goodbye, receiving a nod of acknowledgement as they go.

Corvus bends down to gather your blanket and basket, cradling you to shield you from the change of gravity then starting off in the direction of his den. With Shrike and Nykona gone, a warm silence fills the air. You smile up at your black betta, and he returns it. You glance back towards the water.

You can't help but wonder more about their relationship, and you make it known, “I know their names, but who are they?” 

Corvus trails your glance towards the sea. “Nykona and Kayvaan are my sons.”

His words drop like a bombshell, and you freeze. The thought that Corvus has sons fills you with unease and… jealousy? Sure, you know Corvus has a life outside of yours, and you knew that he had one before you were around, but the thought still does terrible things to your heart.

Corvus can smell the dismay on you, and as soon as you two are within the safety of his cavern, he drops the items he’s carrying. He uses his freed hand to lift your chin, tilting your head to look up at him, “Do not be troubled. They are only my sons in name…”

You find relief in his reassurances, but the way he trails off leads you to feel suspicious once more. You know there’s more he has more to say, and you motion for him to go on. Corvus’s jaw tenses.

“They are made with my genetic material, but I had no hand in making them myself.”

Well that statement causes distinctly more heretical thoughts that you have to force yourself to tamp down. It still doesn’t explain very much, instead replacing your former question with less tasteful ones. With a shake of your head, you admit, “I still don’t understand.”

“It is better that way,” Corvus sighs and continues carrying you all the way into the bedspace, sequestering you both somewhere private. It comforts him to have you completely to himself without anyone to intrude on the moment. 

Perhaps there are better times to be a biologist, you reason as Corvus settles the two of you into the bed of furs, placing you on the un-scaled half of his lap. You look up at him with hearts in your eyes, leaning forward to rest against his cold chest. The sensation of something metal digging into your sternum causes you to sit up, looking down your shirt. You move to shift your raven necklace out of the way so you can lean against Corvus more comfortably, but your hand catches on a second necklace that you don’t remember putting on.

Cautiously, you withdraw the pendant and turn it over it in your hand, examining the teardrop of metal cradling a familiar black pearl. Warmth blooms in your cheeks as you gaze up into Corvus’s eyes.

That handsome face of carved alabaster smiles down at you expectantly.

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

these two pictures had me dying laughing

this is permanently in my search history now because I was also curious

I tried to base Kayvaan Shrike off of pre-heresy, as well as Nykona, but it can be difficult with such little source material so they definitely have aspects of their later personalities.

If you don't want smut, it's perfectly feasible to stop after this chapter!! This story can comfortably conclude here :)

If you do want smut, though, please enjoy:

[Part 7]

[thewulf]

Thick and Thin || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Request: Reader is a former police officer, but now is working at the hard deck. Her last undercover work went terribly wrong and she was hurt really bad (got captured and held in a damp and cold cellar.... See rest here

A/N: We’re pretending the aviators are at Top Gun for a few months not a few weeks! This is Part 1. This will be a 2-part mini-series. More of a background and some interaction at the bar. The juicy drama will be in the next part :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 4,500+

“Hi Penny!” You chirped hugging your friendly lightly. The relationship between you and her  moving from boss and employee to friendship quickly over the last few months. You adored the self-assured woman who put arrogant pilots in their place daily. She quickly took you in under her wing showing you the ins and outs of being a bartender at the Hard Deck. The rest was history and you two became thick as thieves even with the age difference between you. It never bothered you. It didn’t bother her. She was your best friend and confidant.

You’d only been working there for about a month before you got sick again. Sick enough that you had to call in for a few days. You hated that you had to do this to Penny, but she understood once you explained your situation. She understood telling you to take the next few days off and rest up. It didn’t surprise you that you got nothing but support from her. You never told anyone the nitty gritty details though. Just a run of the mill glossy explanation.

You absolutely despised your new body after the incident. A body that had unfortunately been brutally attacked. A body that was constantly feeling the repercussions of a literal knife to the back. A body that could only take so much stress before it went down. Once you felt the fever set in you knew you needed to get to a doctor. Every fever after the abduction was a result of the injuries you sustained that horrific night.

In your past life you were a detective at the Milwaukee Police Department. Swiftly rising through the ranks being known as an overly thorough and excruciatingly precise officer. You rarely made mistakes, often wrapping up cases quicker than your counterparts. You were good. Great even. Until you made that one, almost fatal, miscalculation. Playing right into the trap of the serial killer your department had been hunting for the last year.

You should’ve known better. You were smarter than that. But the bliss of maybe finally being able to catch him, even if it was a sliver of a chance, made you slip up. Entering the abandoned house, you were quietly ambushed and put to sleep with a cloth being placed over your nose and mouth. You knew you were fucked when your arms instantly went limp making you drop the gun that was firmly in your grasp. Not long after you took another ragged breath in your knees gave out before your eyes shut completely.

Waking up in a daze you felt your hands tied above you letting your feet barely rest on the ground. Fuck. It dawned on you that he got you. Blinking rapidly, you tried to take in your surroundings, surveying a way out of this mess you managed to put yourself in.

The only light came in through a window on the far side of the basement you presumed you were in. It was cold, dark, and musty. You had to be in the abandoned houses basement. You prayed your team was on their way like they said they were. How far behind you could they really be? You’d had the chance to be knocked out and wake up and they still weren’t here? Spiraling in your own thoughts you heard a snicker from the corner of the room snapping you right back into the reality of the situation.

You shuddered seeing a man in the corner watching you slowly wake up while registering the trouble you were really in. Taking a few steps forward towards you, you saw a sick smirk coming from the man. Breathing deeply you knew you needed to find your courage. You couldn’t let this man get the better of you again.

“Miss Y/L/N. I must admit, I wasn’t expecting you. You’ve always seemed so much more… calculated.” He grinned slowly walking around you.

A frown adorned your face. Don’t let him get the better of you, “My team’s just slow.” You answered him knowing you needed to keep the conversation going. The longer he talked the longer you had a chance to get out of this mess.

A low chuckle emitted from the dirty man that was eyeing you like candy. You were able to get a closer look at him now too. You don’t know what you were expecting but it wasn’t that. He didn’t look the part. He was skinny, scrawny even. He was too dirty to be this precise. Too small to seem so big. It didn’t add up to you.

“That I know Miss Y/L/N. That I know. I’ve gotten away with what, eleven times now? Eleven. Fucking. Times. That’s pathetic.” He sighed taking a long pause making sure to eye you up and down, “Guess you’ll just be number twelve.”

Adrenaline raced through your veins as your heart rate spiked. Maybe it really was your time. Your team should’ve been here by now. He must have moved you. He had to of moved you. God, you prayed they would figure it out quick enough. Why didn’t Spencer Reid really exist? He’d be great right about now.

You shook your head trying to appear more confident than you really were. You just had to keep buying yourself some time. You just had to make him angry. A narcissist always had to be right. You had to make him feel wrong.

“Doubt it.” You chirped sounding surprisingly confident despite the feelings buzzing through your head.

He hummed stopping his walk around you, “You’ve got a mouth on you huh? A pretty one at that.”

Rolling your eyes, you knew it was working, “I thought you did your research? Don’t you know everything about me?”

Your eyes only grew wide when you saw his hand come for your face. Not having enough time to react you felt his hand contact the side of your face. Did he really just slap you? Fuck. You had to admit that one hurt. Head still twisted you spit the blood right out of your mouth.

“Ouch.” That stupid motherfucker made you bite your tongue.

This time he rolled his eyes giving you the same treatment you were just giving him. It made you smile knowing you had him worked up, “That’ll be the least of your concerns Y/N.”

“Why? Why’d you do it?” You had to ask. You needed to know before he killed you. You’d spent too much time chasing this guy not to know.

He shrugged reaching for something in his back pocket, “Why not Y/N?”

“Really?” That pissed you off. For no other reason? There had to be a reason, “Eleven people for nothing? Ruining their families lives for nothing?”

He nodded taking another step closer pulling a shiny silver knife out of that back pocket, “Really Miss Y/L/N. And your family is next my dear. Such a shame really.”

You swore you heard car tires rolling up on the house. Maybe just maybe it was your team. Just keep him talking for a little bit longer, “I don’t think so.”

He drew the knife to you neck, clearly more than a little pissed off. Pressing the blade down you felt a little trickle of blood down your chest. Damn. Maybe this really would be it. You had to think of something. Anything to buy you just a few more seconds.

“Now what makes you say that Y/N?”

You wish you could shrug but your hands were a little tied up, “The agents walking around upstairs.” You let out a rather loud scream hoping to draw the attention of your fellow officers down to the basement.

A sharp pain ripped from your back right side before he attempted to hightail it out the basement window. It didn’t quite register with you that you’d been stabbed until you heard the panic from the other officers in the room. You heard faint mumblings of, “Officer down. Stab wound to the side.” Before the darkness took over.

When you woke the doctors told you everything. You lost a kidney which put you at elevated risk for infections. The infections would lead to fevers. Fevers would lead to endless doctor’s visits for steroid shots and antibiotics. You didn’t believe them at first until the first fever took you down. You’d gotten taken out like a light ending up having to stay in the hospital for a few days. Learning quickly that you needed to take this seriously. After a few months you realized it wasn’t changing. This was your life now. You were newly riddled with health problems thanks to the asshole that stabbed you. He never did get to twelve. It made you happy knowing that you living was his last mistake. He was spending the rest of his life behind bars without a chance of getting out.

You were given permanent medical leave after month five. You were so fucking sad that you had to leave but it was best. You weren’t you. You were no longer great. You were broken. A sad pathetic broken version of yourself. Or so you thought.

After a while of bouncing around you ended up in San Diego staying with a friend for a while. She was lonely and you needed a place to go so she invited you to stay a while. A while turned into forever as you slowly fell in love with the place. The beach seemed to help heal you mentally which led to less bouts of sickness. The happier you grew the stronger you were.

That’s when you found Penny and decided this was your new home. You slowly began to fall back into the swing of a somewhat normal life. Only to be reminded of your inability to stay healthy after everything. Thankful you had Penny. You surely couldn’t have done it without her.

Things only got better when a new batch of aviators made their way to San Diego. It started with Jake’s incessant flirting. Bradley then caught on and began doing the same. After constant rejection to both of them they both finally caved and actually became really good friends with you. They had your back like no other. One of their eyes always seemed to be on you when you were working. Just making sure none of the clowns in the bar tried anything you didn’t like. Jake and Bradley had to tell a few drunk guys off a couple of times but nothing major ever happened.

Falling for Jake seemed to happen very slowly then all at once. At first it was the little things. He always seemed to make you laugh at work. He opened doors for you. You always seemed to have a small glimmer of hope that he would be going to the bar the same time you’d be working. You rejected him so heartily at first because you’d heard the stories from Penny. The horror stories of her and Mav. She was a hypocrite though, falling back in love with him the second he came back around. You had to hand it to him though, Mav seemed deeply in love. Like he wouldn’t let her go this time.

You realized you had fallen for him when you got a little too jealous seeing him flirt with all the pretty girls that came around. Nearly losing it when you saw him take one of them home one night. You hated to admit it, but she was far prettier than you are too. You were sure she wasn’t dealing with your shit ass body either.

Bradley caught on quick. He noticed your small glances towards Jake. How your body always seemed to turn towards him. How you laughed at his corny ass jokes. Bradley wasn’t jealous he was just a bit confused. How in the hell could Jake manage to get your attention? In Bradley’s head you were so far out of his league it blew his mind. But in yours you’d never even take a step up to the plate.

“Y/N,” Penny snapped getting your attention. Mindlessly cleaning dirty glasses, you realized you must’ve zoned out.

“Yeah?” Setting the clean glass down you turned towards your friend.

“Joe called off. It’s just me and you tonight.”

You groaned throwing your head back in annoyance, “Does he ever show up for Friday night shifts? We’re going to get killed tonight.”

She smiled softly at your annoyance, “More tips for us?” She tried to reason with you.

“Yeah, yeah. More tips. Blah blah.” You turned back to your work trying to get it done a little quicker hoping to help your very busy self later.

“That’s the spirit Y/N.” She laughed returning to stocking the bar up for the night.

“Love ya Penny.”

“I know you do!” She laughed turning her attention back to her tasks at hand. She too didn’t want to be too distracted before the night swept her away.

It was slower than usual for a Friday night. Suspiciously slow. You didn’t feel like you were drowning the entire night. Not that you were complaining. Not at all. You loved when it happened. You were able to chat with your regulars enjoying the casual banter with everyone. If there was one thing you loved about this new life was the interactions, you had with people at work. People liked talking with you at work now. Before it was interrogations and arguments. Now it was learning about the family or fending off heavy flirting from a pilot. You loved the change not realizing how much you actually enjoyed casual chatter with people.

Penny was secretly thankful it was dead as well. Even though it meant a few less hundred dollars for the night at least she could enjoy the night. She too hated when it got overwhelming. She got the chance to chat with Pete in between customers. She and Pete were as happy as ever. Especially once he got back from the mission. The two seemed to be attached at the hip.

You got excited when you saw the Naval squad you’ve gotten close with over the last few months come through the door. They’d completed the mission that they were all initially here for. Half of them had deployed off to other bases. The other half opted to stay as teachers, given the opportunity after they came back. You were more than overjoyed when both Jake and Bradley decided to stay for a while.

The two of them didn’t like each other but they didn’t hate each other either. They acted more as causal acquaintances.  Accepting that they were going to be around the other and it was best to lay off each other.

Your grumpy attitude nearly vanished when you spotted your favorite blonde boy walking over towards you. A big toothy grin crossing his face made you join him in a big smile. Penny caught your grin out of the corner of her eye taking note of the two of you. She had her suspicions of the two of you. Jake straight up admitting he had a crush on you to her and you refusing to admit anything, she was in for a treat.

Jake walked up sitting down on the stool in front of you. He winked at you before he opened his mouth, “So, I was thinking…”

You gasped stopping him dead in his tracks. He looked at you in confusion from your outburst, “Didn’t know you could do that Jake.” Throwing that wink right back at him you watched his confused face turn down into a frown. You loved this. Looked forward to it even. The back and forth that always turned into flirting with him. Over the last month your nerves morphed to some weird confidence when you talked with him You couldn’t get enough of it. Of him.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny sweetheart.” Jake rolled his eyes dropping that sweet nickname so casually. Looking away quickly you went to serve somebody else so he couldn’t see your blush. God, you hated that you wore your heart on your sleeve. Emotions literally written across your face.

Jake popped back up once you were done with the customer, “Can’t run away from me Y/N.” His smile grew into a smirk knowing he had you there. It wasn’t like you were going to leave Penny to fend for herself on a Friday night. Even if it was dead.

“You’re right,” You grinned, “But I can make you walk back and forth all night. And all I have to do is turn around.”

Shaking his head he leaned on the bar, “You sure do make me work.”

“Would you have it any other way Mr. Seresin?”

“Never sweetheart.” He gave you a soft smile. One that was really only reserved for you, not that you knew that. It wasn’t often that Jake felt comfortable around someone to let his guard down. But with you? He felt so different around you. Like you’d never judge him. He could tell you the most insane thing and you’d still find the silver lining in it. Jake adored that about you. Loved it even, “Can I continue?” He asked you faking irritation even though he was smiling.

“Sure. Still don’t know if it’s a good thing that you can think or not though.”

“You wound me.” He feigned hurt dramatically placing a hand on his chest, “Anyway, we’re heading to the beach tomorrow. You should join us.” He pointed to the aviators by the pool table.

Pouring him a beer you looked up to him, “The beach?” You thought for a moment. You wouldn’t have hesitated before. But you hadn’t put a bikini on since the accident. You weren’t even sure if you had a swimsuit anymore. You never looked at the scar. You sure as hell weren’t letting anyone see the damn thing.

“Yeah, that big sandy thing out there.”

“Smart ass.”

“The only and only darling.” Sitting down in a new barstool you opted to just talk to him instead of turning around.  

“I’ll think about it.” You tapped on the wooden countertop afraid to look him in the eyes.

“What’s there to think about?” He raised an eyebrow taking a drink from his glass. After setting it down he nodded towards you, “Thank you, by the way.”

“Sure thing, Jake.” Taking a second you thought of a weak excuse, “I might be working. Not sure yet.”

“Penny!” Jake yelled motioning for her to come over.

“Jake, I have paying customers I’m trying to serve.” She eyeballed you knowing you probably weren’t going to charge the man. Not that she cared that much, but she had to make a point as a best friend. Penny had hounded you about Jake. Just like Bradley had. Just like half the dagger squad had. But you still wouldn’t cave. You couldn’t cave. You loved this thing you had with Jake far too much to fuck it up. Especially if he didn’t feel the same way about you. So, you opted for friend. Flirty friend but friend, nonetheless. If he made a move, you’d dive in headfirst but until then you’d sit back. A solid plan in your own head.

“Carry on. Just one question, can I have Y/N tomorrow afternoon for some beach time?”

“Sure. She’s not even on the schedule.” Penny nodding giving you an overly sweet smile. Great.

You shot daggers at your friend. She was acting as anything but at the moment, “Okay, I’ll go.” You said as you turned back towards Jake.

“Great! I’ll pick you up around eleven?”

This time you raised your eyebrows. A habit you had picked up on from Jake, “You will?” His question took you by surprise. You were more than capable of driving yourself to the beach.

“I will. It’s only right since I invited you sweetheart.”

Penny nodded walking back to her tasks. Her suspicions about the two of you confirmed after watching the one innocent interaction between the two of you. It was so painfully obvious the both of you were into the other but were simply clueless. Penny was planning on teasing you later on that.

She knew underneath all the shit Jake was a good man. He had all the good characteristics of one. He was fiercely loyal. Defending his and his pilots honor time after time. Not only did he talk the talk he walked the walk. Jake wasn’t afraid to get a little down and dirty. Penny knew he would protect the hell out of you. He would love the shit out of you. He would comfort you when you were sick and be by your side when you needed him to. She was rooting for the two of you. She just needed to figure out a plan. She’d talk to Bradley about it. She knew he was trying as well.

“Alright.” You nodded, “You remember where I live?”

“’Course I do darling.” He bobbed his head up and down.

“Okay then. Eleven tomorrow.”

Throwing you one last wink he nodded towards you, “See you then sweetheart.”

Giving him a hesitant laugh, you gave him a short nod back, “See you then Jake.”

You thought you would’ve jinxed it by now, but it was still slow. Twelve o’clock on a Friday and you weren’t busting your ass? You felt like you were thriving. You noticed Bradley enter not too long after Jake giving you a quick wave. He decided to wait on bugging you until you were free. He’d wait until the end of your shift if he needed to. This was Bradley’s new favorite thing. Closing the bar with his best friend. You loved it too, but you’d never admit it to him. Giving him a hard time was much more fun.

Penny gave you a short break seeing as there weren’t many people there. You waved Bradley down pointing to the deck outside letting him know you’d be heading out that way. He gave you a quick thumbs up letting you know he’d meet you out there.

“Hey stranger.” You nudged his side. He was leaning on the rail overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

“I know you like him.” Sucking in a breath you shook your head. This was so Bradley. He never beat around the bush.

Tilting your head you gave him the most confused expression, “What are you talking about Bradley?”

He chuckled taking a long pull from his beer, “Jake. You like Jake. For whatever fucking reason you decided to go and like him.”

Eyebrows raised you studied your friend. Growing best friend. The man who really gave it to you straight. Like no other friend would. He wasn’t even asking for a confession from you. He was telling you, you liked Jake. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

To Bradley it was, “Jesus Christ Y/N. You like him, right? Come on now. Spit it out.” Bradley continued on. Just egging you on.

You shook your head, “So what if I do. It’ll ruin everything.” You admitted to him with only slight hesitation.

Bradley rolled his eyes, “Don’t be stupid now.”

Mouth dropping slightly, you rolled your eyes in return, a tad bit dramatically to boot, “That’s rude Bradley.”

Taking another long drink to make you think long and hard he finally continued, “Are you blind? He likes you just as much as you like him. Fuck. Both of you are the dumbest fucking people I swear.”

“Jesus Bradley. Rough day?” You giggled feeling someone comforted by his words somehow. He was comfortable around you.

He shook his head, “Good day actually. You two are just dumb. I’m annoyed s’all. You’re not really dumb. You’re just a romantic dumbass.”

“He doesn’t…”

Bradley leaned over to bar placing a finger over your mouth stopping you immediately, “I’m advising you to shut the hell up right now. Listen to me. He likes you. He might even more than like you. He never shuts up about you Y/N. Any of the guys can tell you. In the locker room he always somehow brings you up. It’s remarkable actually. I’ve got a bet with Fanboy about it.”

Shaking your head, you refused to hear him, “Bradley I’m not…” You paused thinking of the right words, “I’m not desirable. I’m half the person I once was. I’m weak and always sick. That’s not a life I’d want to put on someone. Especially not somebody like him. You guys are so fast paced, and I can’t be. One minute I’m fine and the next I’m in the hospital. I…”

Bradley sighed giving you a once over, “You just don’t get it. And that’s okay. Really it is. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. From what limited amount of information, you tell me.” He raised his eyebrows at you making sure to let you know he wasn’t pleased you were holding back on him, “You lived a life like ours. Go, go, go. I get it. I would be losing my mind if I had to drop this tomorrow and change my life completely. I’d be a mess. But stop and think Y/N. What did you look for in a partner back then?”

You paused before you spoke catching your sentence before it came out. Closing your mouth, you thought for a second. What did you look for in a guy back then? Back when you were unstoppable. Someone kind and understanding. Someone incredibly patient. Someone who was different than you.

You could admit that. Or you could keep deflecting like you always did, “I didn’t date much before really.”

Bradley smirked like he got you, “My point exactly.”

“What are talking about?”

“You didn’t have time to date. We, all of us,” he pointed to the pilots huddled around the dart boards inside, “didn’t really date much either before the mission. Now, we finally have the time. He doesn’t want to date someone that’s nonstop. He wants somebody that’ll be home. That’ll always be there. You’re not undesirable Y/N. Don’t ever say that again.”

You sighed knowing he was right. But there was that one thing that stopped you, “Bradley I’m sick.”

He shrugged, “Every now and then.”

“It’ll never stop.” You countered.

He continued shrugging, “Look I don’t know Jake that well, but he doesn’t seem to care Y/N. If it were me, I wouldn’t care. Nobody’s perfect. Life is about compromises and sacrifices. High highs and low lows.” Taking a final sip from his beer he set the glass down on the railing, holding it in between his hands.

You didn’t know what to say. He was right. Of course, he was right. Bradley always seemed to be right. And blunt. So, fucking blunt. Something you adored, and hated, about the man.

Bradley decided to break the silence, “Look, go after him. Don’t go after him. It’s up to you. But he likes you. A lot. He’s just like you though. Too damn scared to make a move.”

You sighed nodding your head, “I hear you, Bradley.”

“Good. Now get back in there. Penny look’s a little stressed.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later.” You stood pulling him out of the chair with you.

“You sure will.”

Part 2

Tag List: @senjoritanana

[owlwithanapple]

The Light and The Dark

Chapter 02. First

Previous

You are just a girl playing alone, but you are kidnapped by human traffickers and sold to another place. There you met Ria, your boss and the person who takes care of you like a sister.

You negotiate terms with Ria, as long as the money is raised you will be free. The prerequisite is to work in Ria's bar. One day, due to a storm, you met the four main members of the Roger Pirates.

Captain Gol D Roger is a brave and mighty but a bit childish man. Dark King Silvers Rayleigh is mature, steady and talkative. There are also two kids, Shanks and Buggy, who always love to fight.

When you were kidnapped again, you were rescued by the Roger Pirates. Roger knows that your dream is to adventure and is very motivated him to invite you. The end, Ria frees you to follow them on an adventure to explore the mysteries of the world.

Now you are one of the members of the Roger Pirates and the only female.

Morning on Roger's pirate ship

Your first day on the ship makes you dizzy because keeps rocking while you sleep. You underestimated the beginning of the adventure, you just haven't spit it out yet.

You drank a few glasses of wine last night but didn't sleep well. When you woke up in the morning, you were still very sleepy and yawned several times.

You wake up, change your clothes, grab a toothbrush get ready to brush your teeth. Suddenly want to urinate, remember Shanks said that the toilet is shared, you are a little anxious but go in cautiously.

You walked into the toilet but didn't notice that several crew members were standing to urinate, you walked in and closed the door sat on the toilet to urinate.

The crew members were amused to see you awake and confused, they started chatting, you didn't pay attention. Rayleigh came into the toilet wanted to relieve himself. The crew members said hello to him and left.

At this time, Rayleigh has no idea that you are also in the toilet. When he unzipped his pants and prepared to free himself, you opened the door walked out. Rayleigh was startled by the sound of the door opening and looked back to see that it was you.

"Y/N!?" Rayleigh was a little embarrassed and startled by you.

"Good morning~ I'm going to brush my teeth...bye." You left the toilet in a daze.

"Fuck..." You left Rayleigh alone in the toilet, embarrassed.

You didn't sleep well last night, you are confused now. You walked past Scopper who was on his way to the toilet. He said hello to you and you responded politely before walking away.

"Why are you just standing there?" Scopper opened the toilet door and saw Rayleigh standing still.

"Nothing..." Rayleigh said awkwardly, remembering the scene just now.

"I'll tell you something funny. I just met Y/N. She was swaying when walking. I thought she had a few glasses of wine in the morning." Scopper laughed out loud while holding a cigarette in his mouth.

"Indeed...it's a bit scary..." Rayleigh said softly.

"Huh?" Scopper looked at Rayleigh confused.

You see Buggy peeing into the ocean, Shanks next to him getting ready to prank him. You were just thinking about the children having fun, so you walked behind them and made a little joke.

"Buggy, be careful of seagulls biting off your dick." You leave these words and walk away.

"Nani!" Buggy quickly pulled up his pants.

"Hahahahaha! I'm laughing so hard! Sister, you are so good at talking!" Shanks laughed beside him.

You brush your teeth, wash your face, go back to your room, put your toothbrush in and comb your hair in front of the mirror. Shanks said that cleaning is a rotating duty, but you don’t know what you will be responsible for yet, you tie a ponytail to make it easier for you to wait for work.

After washing your face you wake up. Floating on the sea for a night, the sun outside is even brighter than indoors. The temperature is more unstable than expected, changing from hot to cold.

You go to the dining area to have some breakfast and Shanks waving to you. You approached him and saw Buggy hiding behind Shanks looking sneaky. You approached him to say hello.

"Buggy...what's wrong?" You squatted in front of him.

"Nothing..." Buggy said softly.

"Hahahaha! Sister, you are so good at talking!" Shanks laughed and praised you.

"Me?" You pointed at yourself and looked at Shanks with a blank expression.

"Buggy just urinated in front of the sea. I advised him many times not to do that. But because sister you said to be careful about seagulls biting off his dick! He ran to the toilet! I laughed to death!" Shanks laughed loudly and slapped the table.

"You speak so loudly!" Buggy and Shanks started to fight.

You accidentally and unconsciously hit Buggy's sore spot, you don't know what to do. Shanks repeated what you said and you covered your mouth to hold back laughter but it was so funny to think of you saying such things.

"Sister! Even you!" Buggy pulled you.

"I'm sorry, I really..." You are trying not to laugh.

"Laugh if you want, sister!" Shanks started to cheer.

Shanks kept laughing, you squatted in front of Buggy and clenched your fists to suppress your laughter. Roger and Rayleigh heard Shanks laughing during the conversation and came over to find out.

"I hear your laughter all morning, Shanks." Roger looked at Shanks.

"Roger! Rayleigh! They are bullying me!" Buggy ran to find Roger to complain.

"Bullying you?" Rayleigh looked at you and Shanks curiously.

"Actually, Buggy just urinated in the sea, sister told him be careful of his dick being bitten off by seagulls. Because of these words, Buggy went to the toilet obediently!" Shanks told Roger and Rayleigh with a smile.

"I'm sorry! Buggy! I didn't mean to!" You tell Buggy guiltily.

"Buggy, you really need to behave yourself. If you are really bitten by a seagull, I really can't save you." Rayleigh looked at Buggy and said seriously.

"Hahahaha! Go wild, Buggy!" Roger laughed.

"Noooo!" Buggy shouted.

You see that Buggy seems to be angry, you get close to him and poke him. He hiding behind Roger and ignoring you. His little kid's behavior is so cute.

"Buggy, I'm sorry. Make up with me, okay?" You reached out to hug him and comfort him.

"No! Even sister is making fun of me!" Buggy hid behind Roger and ignored you angrily.

"Hey, sister is right! And it's dangerous!" Shanks said standing next to you.

"Shanks...shhhh." You put your index finger in front of your lips to signal Shanks to stop talking.

"If sister wants to reconcile with you, just be good." Rayleigh told Buggy.

"Yeah! Everyone apologized." Roger told Buggy who was hiding behind.

"I don't want it!" Buggy shouted.

Buggy lose his temper to such an extent, you thought it was indeed funny but it hurt Buggy's self-esteem. It's normal for boys to be unrestrained, but you definitely seem to have really hurt him. You think about it and try talking to him.

"Buggy... just reconcile with me. Otherwise I will cry." You looked at Buggy pitifully.

"Cry?!" Buggy immediately ran to you from behind Roger.

"Are you willing to let me cry?" You asked Buggy pitifully.

Roger and Shanks watched you perform this act, they stood by and suppressed their laughter without interrupting the conversation between you and Buggy. Rayleigh is inexplicably cute when he sees you coaxing Buggy in this way.

"I don't want sister to cry! I will urinate in the toilet obediently from now on!" Buggy stood at attention and said seriously.

"Who is the good boy? Is it Buggy?" You said a little more naughtily.

"It's me! I'm a good boy!" Buggy said, holding your hand.

"Our Buggy is so good." You pat his head.

You calmed down Buggy who was having a bad temper in just a few moments. Roger and Shanks are so relieved to see you comforting Buggy. It's like a sister trying to calm her brother down.

Rayleigh stood by watched you and Buggy reconcile and even high-five and play together, which made him feel a little relieved. After all, although Buggy and Shanks are very good friends, they can be very difficult to control when they have a tantrum.

"Now that we've made up, would you like to have breakfast?" Rayleigh came over to you and asked.

"Yes! I'm going to eat a lot!" Buggy ran to get the food.

"Wait! Don't finish it alone!" Shanks chased after him.

"You two brats, get out of my way!" Roger followed excitedly.

"It's amazing you can handle those little guys completely." Rayleigh stood next to you and praised you.

"It's okay, I don't want him to be sad." You explained to him.

Rayleigh was deeply impressed by your actions. Your appearance for the first time let him know that no matter how bad the world is, there is still sunshine to illuminate it. You are that warm light that brings warmth and peace of mind to everyone in the dark.

"Rayleigh?" You approached him because he just stared at you and stood still.

"I was distracted. Sorry. Let's go and have breakfast." Rayleigh takes you to get breakfast.

You simply choose a few dishes and put them in a bowl. You find a seat to sit down and start eating. You see Shanks and Buggy sharing the same table with Roger. After Rayleigh sees you making your choice, he invites you to join him.

You sitting at the table next to Roger with Rayleigh, you see those two kids quarreling and fighting all the way through the meal. Roger didn't stop them because he was used to the two of them fighting.

"Did you sleep well?" Rayleigh asked you and drink a cup of coffee.

"I haven't gotten used to it yet. The ship is moving, and rocking when I sleep." You looking at Rayleigh and said.

"Haha, you will get used to it if stay for a few more days. Every crew member has experienced this, including myself. I used to sleep on the floor, and my back hurt when I woke up. It's a good thing that you can sleep on the bed now, You just have to get used to the waves of the sea." Rayleigh tells you his experience.

"I understand. Thanks for telling me." You listened to what he said before starting to eat.

"There's something I want to ask you." Rayleigh suddenly whispered seriously.

"Yes." You focused on what he was going to say.

"Did you see anything when you went to the toilet this morning?" Rayleigh asked this question, and you looked confused.

"Toilet. What's wrong?" You said calmly and then asked him again.

"It's okay. I'm just curious. Let's eat." Rayleigh took the tableware started eating breakfast.

The question Rayleigh asked seemed strange to you, you tried to remember what had just seen in the toilet. You remember a few crew members taking a piss, you walk in and close the door. After you came out, you saw him and said hello to him. At that time, he was taking off his zipper...

You remember that Rayleigh is also going to the toilet! You shyly covered your mouth with your hands looked at him. Not sure whether he should be embarrassed or shy, he guessed from your reaction that you remembered, he tapped the table lightly with his hand.

"I don't mind... we're even?" Rayleigh looked at you with a smile.

"I never thought we could even out over something like this." You laughed.

"Let's take care of each other from now on." Rayleigh raised the cup with coffee.

"I'll trouble you then." You toasted with him and drank coffee.

The two of you did go through some funny and embarrassing things. You didn't quarrel, just calmly resolved the embarrassment and reconciled. Both of you made a mistake and accidentally saw that scene. You didn't avoid each other, but you both laughed.

First impression is that pirates are unreasonable. But after the Roger Pirates appeared, you met Rayleigh and felt that he was a nice person who gave you a sense of security and warmth.

You are obviously just a stranger, but he will lend a helping hand when you are in danger. You were glad didn't refuse the invitation. Now have become friends with him, and go on adventures with them.

After finish eating, you two leave and walk around on the ship together. A bird suddenly flew over to you with a newspaper in its mouth, handed it to you, and then flew away. You and Rayleigh sit down somewhere and start reading the newspaper.

"Ah..." You saw the contents of the newspaper.

"What's wrong?" Rayleigh turns to you.

"The human traffickers you defeated were arrested by Marine." You pointed to the report.

"They brought it upon themselves and now they have to pay the price." Rayleigh said.

"We are pirates, so Marine is our enemy." You asked curiously.

"Yes, but it's better to avoid conflict with them unless necessary." Rayleigh said calmly.

After listening to what Rayleigh said, you continue to read the newspaper. Roger Pirates' bounty is still the headline news. As Ria said, one of their heads is equal to the price of two houses.

When you turn to the next page, there is a special note saying that sea monsters have appeared in a certain sea and attacked several ships. The place you looked at in the newspaper is somewhat similar to your current location.

Rayleigh saw you reading an article for a long time, he looked closer to see the incident of a sea monster attacking ships. He realized something was wrong and immediately clenched his scabbard, his instinct telling him that he was in danger.

"Rayleigh?" You see Rayleigh holding his scabbard ready to draw his sword.

"It's okay, just in case. Just keep reading and don't pay attention to me." Rayleigh reassured you.

You look at the sea see something strange about the waves and the rocking of the ship. The birds flying in the sky are unusually chaotic and noisy. You closed the newspaper and stood up. Rayleigh held your hand tightly.

Suddenly the ship received a big impact and you started to lose your balance. Rayleigh immediately stood up and hugged you. You were shocked as to what could have caused the boat to rock so violently.

"Just hold on tight, I'll take care of it." Rayleigh said.

"Huh?" You looked confused.

Rayleigh took off his glasses and shirt reveal his figure, you were frightened by his strong body. Normally he only shows off his chest muscles, but he takes them off, can clearly see how powerful his body is.

You take a closer look can see that his figure is really amazing, it makes you feel embarrassed just by looking at him. At a glance, his figure makes you salivate. Much better and sexier than you'd imagine a tough guy would be.

After he revealed himself and drew sword, you quickly took his things. He jumped into the sea, you ran straight to see what was going on. You're worried about whether he's in danger if he suddenly jumps like this.

The ship is hit by something again. Hold on tight or you will fall. You see there is a big black shadow in the sea around the ship. It is the sea monster that the newspaper wrote about here.

"Rayleigh!" You didn't see Rayleigh after he jumped into the sea. You were worried and called his name to the sea.

The sea monster suddenly rushed out of the sea. The monster's body had been cut and bruised all over. The monster fell into the sea again, but this time it floated on the water, which meant it was dead.

"Huuu... so nimble. I almost couldn't catch up." Someone climbed onto the boat.

You quickly took two steps back saw Rayleigh climbing up standing in front of you. There was blood on his sword, there were cuts on the sea monster's body. It was he who defeated the sea monster.

"Rayleigh!" You ran to him worriedly.

"Hey, I scared you." Rayleigh cares about you gently.

"It really scared me! Suddenly you jumped into the sea! I didn't see you! I thought you were dead!" You yelled at him worriedly while holding his things.

"Oh oh oh... I'm sorry, I think that sea monster will damage the ship if it keeps ramming into it, so I'll jump in and deal with it first." Rayleigh hurriedly explained and comforted you.

"Really...are you hurt?" You care about him tenderly.

"No injuries. Thank you, I let you worry." Rayleigh was happy to hear that you cared about him.

You handed the thing back to him and he picked up the scabbard put the sword away. He put on his glasses took back his shirt. He was wet now, so he didn't put on his shirt.

"Rayleigh, why are you all wet?" Roger asked curiously.

"The sea monster just hit the ship and I went to deal with it." Rayleigh said.

"What the hell! Sea monster!" Shanks and Buggy ran to see the sea monster floating on the water.

"Why didn't you call me? You stole the spotlight!" Roger said with a smile.

"I can handle this. I'll go back to the room first and see you later." Rayleigh left.

"Rayleigh is strong." You admire his strength.

"Of course! He is the first member who has followed me till now." Roger said proudly.

"I see." You whispered.

"By the way, little girl, do you know how to read signs?" Roger looked at you and said with a smile.

"A sign?" You asked him back.

"When the ship was hit just now, your first reaction was not panic but look around." Roger noticed your actions.

"You've been watching." You said looking into Roger's eyes.

"Of course! At least I didn't make a mistake!" Roger laughed.

"Roger, where are you going now?" You asked curiously.

"That island in front! Let's find out if there are any treasures inside!" Roger pointed to the small island opposite.

You use a telescope to see what's on the island. You see an abandoned boat parked nearby, maybe someone has been here before. A stone statue standing upright and a cave entrance.

Rayleigh changed his clothes walked over to Roger saw that you were looking at the island on the opposite side with a telescope. He noticed you stamping your left foot, he touched your shoulder you immediately turned to look at him.

"What are you looking at so fascinated?" Rayleigh is curious about what you are looking at.

"Nothing, just looking the island." You pointed at the island.

A few hours later arrived at the island and the ship pulled over. Roger wants two people to explore the cave with him, Rayleigh must be the first. Born to be his right hand, Rayleigh must follow him.

"Little girl! You come too!" Roger pointed at you and asked you to go with them.

"Me!?" You stood up and ran excitedly.

"Watch the ship." Rayleigh told the other crew members.

Before entering the cave, you approach the stone statue with ancient characters carved on it. You can't write ancient characters but you take a pen and paper from bag roughly imitate its words and write them on the paper.

What you know is a text that was abolished long ago and no one uses it anymore. You have read your father's analysis in his notes and have some knowledge of ancient writing.

But the meaning is not clear, the ancient text is complicated because it has been abolished. So no one is familiar with these strange ancient texts anymore, and even history teachers don’t know this kind of thing.

You read the words on the paper and then look at the words on the stone statues and draw comparisons and conclusions, but you still don’t understand what they mean. What you can't figure out is why the words should be engraved in such a conspicuous place, why shouldn't it be better to hide them?

You reach out to touch the statue wonder if there is any secret hidden there. It is possible that such rare ancient characters are still engraved in such a conspicuous place to fool those ignorant people.

While groping, you stepped on a dented stone slab, a door opened under your feet and you fell in. After Roger and Rayleigh finished talking about things, they realized you were missing.

"Little girl! Where are you!" Roger noticed that you were missing.

"No trace." Rayleigh said calmly.

Fortunately, you fell into a tree and didn't fall directly to the ground. You climb down the tree slowly, otherwise must have broken a few bones. Your foot was scratched by a branch but it didn't affect your movement.

You light the torch look at the scene around. You looked up and saw that the door had been closed. If Rayleigh and Roger hadn't discovered this mechanism, you have to find a way out on your own.

The skeleton on the ground may be the place where the last person was thrown to death. After all, if he fell directly to the ground from that high place, he would definitely die. Glad that there are natural plants to catch you. It's a wonderful tree that can grow so lushly in such a shady place.

"Let's take a walk first." You hold a torch and light the hole in front of you as you walk in.

There is only a straight road it is surrounded by plants but there is water on the road, although the water level is not high. When you see the exit, you run to see what's going on.

You are shocked by the sight before you, a small house surrounded by sea water. It is incredible that there is a house and sea water hidden underground on an island. Roger must have been as excited as a kid when he saw this scene.

You approach the house see the door has scratches and there are explosive barrels that have exploded. The person who came last might have wanted to blow this place up, but in the end they didn't succeed and they might have fallen into a trap.

You think about what to do, just prying the door open will definitely not work. You don't have any weapons or anything else that could solve it. There are no gaps in the wall around the sea water, which means that the mechanism of the statue just now leads directly to this place.

Take a walk and see if there is anything nearby that you might want to borrow. There is a rope behind when you detour. When you follow the direction of the rope, you see a handle.

"This... obviously a trap. It feels like it will be over once you pull it." You looked at the handle in front of you.

You hesitated for a long time whether should pull or not, but decided to give it a try. You hold the handle take a deep breath to get ready to pull. But this handle can be pulled up and down.

"Usually it looks like pulling down...what if you pull it up?" You mustered up the courage to pull the handle up.

The ground began to shake and the water slowly drained away. You let go of the handle walked closer to see that the door was already open! You happily wanted to go in to find out, but your feet were suddenly caught in the trap and hung in the air.

"Holy shit!" You were suspended in mid-air.

You were hung in the air couldn't reach your feet. In desperation, you shouted for help to see if anyone would come to save you. You can see that all the protruding stone slabs around the hut have writing on them.

"I see..." You figured it out! The font of the stone statue just now is the secret code.

But you can't move now only wait for someone to come. Rayleigh and Roger didn't know where they were going. Hope they both are okay.

"Help! Is there anyone there?" You shouted.

Rayleigh heard a sound, he pulled Roger ran towards the direction of the sound. Luckily they saw you were fine, but hanging upside down in mid-air. He reassured that you were fine but he was confused by the scene before him.

"Hi.Roger, Rayleigh." You greet them.

"Are you okay?" Rayleigh cares about you.

"It's okay, I just got caught in a trap." You explained.

"So funny! Hahahahaha!" Roger laughed.

You tell them how to solve the mystery, they understand it and step on the stone slabs in the order you told them. Luckily, the mystery was successfully solved, and a treasure box appeared from the ground.

Roger laughed excitedly when saw the treasure box, the trap holding you was released. Rayleigh quickly ran to catch you, otherwise you would fall to the ground.

"So thrilling." Rayleigh put you on the ground and supported you.

"Timing is just right! Thank you!" You smiled at Rayleigh.

Suddenly the cave began to shake, there was an ominous premonition, the mechanism affected the entire cave. Roger picked up the treasure box and told you to run.

Roger lead you to escape from the cave along the same path they came in just now. Rayleigh lets you run in front of him while he protects you from behind. Finally, you saw a ray of light and escaped successfully.

After escaped, the three of you stood together and watched the cave slowly collapse. As the old saying goes, once you get it, you don’t need to keep it. You sit on the ground and rest for a while. You were out of breath from running so fast just now.

"Are you okay?" Rayleigh sat with you.

"A little out of breath." You said with a smile.

"Y/N! Well done! You actually solved the mystery!" Roger laughed as he sat with the two of you.

"Can you read ancient characters?" Rayleigh is curious about you.

"I know a little bit." You told him.

Roger gives you the treasure box to open. You lift it up to test whether it is heavy, shake it to see if there is a sound inside. You cautiously opened it to see what was inside.

"Wow..." You stared at the gold nugget in shock.

"It's a little gift from the island owner." Rayleigh looked inside the treasure box.

"Hahaha! Just take it! It's worth remembering!" Roger laughed.

"Should I accept it?" You looked at Rayleigh doubtfully.

"You deserve." Rayleigh said with a chuckle.

"Yes! Take it, little girl!" Roger patted your shoulder.

You closed the treasure box and gave them both a bright smile. It's not about getting gold nuggets, it's about your first adventure and experience with them. You caress the treasure box and smile, this is the beginning of your dream.

Roger gives you everything in the treasure box, which represents your first experience. You go back to the ship together, put the treasure box in the room then take out a diary to write down today's experience.

Someone knocked on the door of your room. You put down your pen walked to open the door. Rayleigh was standing outside the door with a first aid kit in his hand. You welcome him into the room then listen to what he has to say.

"You were injured." Rayleigh put the first aid kit on the table and sat on the chair.

"Injured? Ah!" You thought that you had just been scratched by a branch, which did not affect your movement, so you did not go to the medical room to find Crocus.

"Show me the wound." Rayleigh asked you to show him the wound.

"It's just a small thing, my foot was scratched." You pointed to your calf to show him.

"Sit on the bed and I'll help you apply the medicine." Rayleigh got up and got the first aid kit.

"Hey! No need! I've caused you enough trouble!" You said in a panic, trying to politely refuse him.

"Y/N, obey." Rayleigh pulled your arm and made you sit on the bed.

Rayleigh lifted your calf applied medicine to the wound bandaged it skillfully. What a gentle person. Although sometimes serious or scary, but he always maintains a gentle heart towards everyone.

Take a closer look at the scar under his eye that was there before you joined. Judging from this, it should be a scar left by a fierce fight before. You can tell from his appearance that he is a strong man.

"What's wrong? You keep staring at me." Rayleigh raised his head and looked at you.

"Nothing." You chuckled.

"Next time you injured don't hide it. Once the wound worsens, your actions will be affected and life will be at risk." Rayleigh told you seriously.

"I know, I don't dare anymore." You said softly.

"Reflect on it." Rayleigh touches your head.

"I will reflect on it..." You said looking at him.

"We will have dinner at a sea restaurant tonight." Rayleigh said with a smile.

"Sea restaurants!? There really are restaurants on the sea!" You looked at Rayleigh in surprise.

"It's true. It's your first time, right? Look forward to it." Rayleigh chuckled.

"Yeah! I'll look forward to it!" You smiled brightly.

"Then I'll go do my business first, have a good rest." Rayleigh took the first aid kit and prepared to leave your room.

"Okay! Thank you! Rayleigh!" You thanked him excitedly.

"Hahaha, so cute." Rayleigh whispered.

"What did you say?" you asked him.

"Nothing. By the way, dress more formally. The basic requirement of the restaurant is etiquette." After Rayleigh finished speaking, he left the room.

"Etiquette..." You opened wardrobe thought about what to wear.

Evening restaurant

You did some research that this restaurant is one of the famous restaurants in the world. Any customers including pirates and marines are accepted here. It may take months or even years to reserve a seat.

Restaurants serve high-end cuisine, so they have certain requirements for customers, namely etiquette. This restaurant maintains a very high standard and quality food. So it is loved by everyone.

After arriving at the restaurant, they parked the ship in the exclusive customer area. Everyone is adjusting their mentality one after another. After all, they must maintain etiquette and noble posture.

"It's been a long time since I've dressed up! Hahahaha!" Roger laughed out loud.

"I'm really uncomfortable wearing it." Shanks said awkwardly.

"Hahaha, it really doesn't suit you!" Buggy pointed at Shanks and laughed.

"You guys, don't make any noise in a place like this." Rayleigh warned them seriously.

"Didn't see Y/N." Scopper asked curiously.

"Give the girl some time to dress up." Crocus said.

You put on a long white dress, high heels, tied your hair and twirled around in front of the mirror. The long-awaited dress up is in order to comply with the restaurant's requirements and not to embarrass the Roger Pirates.

You leave the room walk to meet Roger and the others. Everyone's eyes are focused on you. You feel a little embarrassed. Maybe you are dressing up too exaggeratedly.

"I kept you waiting." You approached Roger and his group.

Not only the other crew members but also their eyes turned to you, you were a little nervous and curious about their looks. You noticed that Shanks and Buggy were stunned.

"Is it weird? I'm dressed like this." You clasped your hands.

"Little girl! How can you be surprised! You are so beautiful!" Roger praised you loudly.

"Sister is so beautiful! Like a princess!" Shanks and Buggy kept praising you.

"It's really different when girls dress up seriously." Scopper said to you.

"A little flower of the Roger Pirates." Crocus said.

Rayleigh realizes that your well-groomed look is really charming. He knew that you were usually very attractive, but didn’t expect that the effect would be even better after you were dressed up carefully.

"Rayleigh, what do you think of my outfit?" You walked up to him and asked him.

"You are so beautiful, I will be fascinated by you." Rayleigh said teasingly.

"Your mouth is so sweet." You said happily.

"Everyone, it's time! Let's go! Go fill your stomach!" Roger raised his fist and shouted.

"Yahooo! Dinner!" Shanks and Buggy jumped up excitedly.

A seat was reserved in Roger's name, so he took the lead and walked to the front. Shanks and Buggy were playing and making trouble in the back. Scopper and Crocus looked after the two children like a father.

"Miss Y/N, please?" Rayleigh asked you to take his arm in a gentlemanly manner.

"My pleasure." You took Rayleigh's arm and got off the ship together.

Rayleigh glanced at your hand which was holding his arm. He was glad that he took the initiative to ask and would not offend you. He knows you wear high heels so he matches your steps.

You arrive at the door, the waiter opens the door. You see a lot of people inside dressed up and coming to this restaurant. Gladly didn't dress casually, otherwise would be embarrassed.

But it's your first time at such a high-end restaurant and you're a little nervous. Everyone's eyes turned to you, you held Rayleigh's arm tremblingly, trying to relax.

Rayleigh used his other hand to squeeze your hand holding his arm. You feel the warmth of his hand, you naturally relax. You remember that you are not alone, you are with them.

"Be confident, you are beautiful. Their eyes are attracted because of your charm." Rayleigh whispered in your ear.

"Well, thank you for staying with me." You squeezed his arm and smiled at him.

"Mr. Roger's seat is upstairs, I will take you there." The waiter welcomes you.

You slowly walk up the spiral staircase, the customers downstairs looked at Rayleigh with envy. You smiled when you heard Rayleigh speak more confidently.

"Here, please." The waiter takes you to your seat.

You see Roger and the others have already taken their seats. When you were about to sit down, Rayleigh helped you pull out a chair so you could sit down easily. You chuckled at Rayleigh, thanking him for being such a gentleman.

"Please wait a moment, we will serve the food later." The waiter said and left.

The waiter pours you a glass of wine and you taste the wine carefully. It tastes different from the wine in Ria's bar. This high-end wine has a stronger taste. It's a delicious and fragrant wine. You keep drinking a few more glasses.

"Does it taste good?" Roger asked you with a toast.

"It tastes good." You and Roger toasted and took a sip of wine.

"Later try more of the dishes. This restaurant is original and every dish has not changed in taste." Roger said to you with a smile.

"Okay. Cheers, everyone!" You stand up and raise your glass.

"Cheers!" Everyone at the table also stood up and raised their glasses.

Since the food was served slowly, everyone started chatting. Roger grabbed Crocus and kept drinking. You chatted with the two children, while Rayleigh drank some wine and chatted with Scopper for a while.

"I'm going to the toilet." You stood up and left your seat.

You ask the waiter where the toilet is, he tells you that you can find it just downstairs and at the end. You said thank you to him and started to slowly go down the stairs. You noticed that the eyes of the customers downstairs were still looking at you.

In the center there is a woman singing a song and you are drawn to her music. This time, everyone stayed quiet and enjoyed the music she sang. You quickly went to the toilet first.

You come back to continue listening to the song sung by the woman. You listen to her singing and are immersed in her music. If you haven't seen this kind of high-end performance, it is a new experience for you.

But you didn't realize that someone's eyes had been focused on you since you entered the restaurant. You are immersed in the atmosphere of the music, and your body begins to slowly sway to the music.

That man thinks you are very beautiful when he sees you swaying. It's like a flower but with thorns. From the outside, you have a beautiful face that highlights your gentleness, and graceful body curves that highlight your wildness.

"Miss." The waiter interrupts you and pokes you in the shoulder.

"Yes. What's wrong?" You turned to look at the waiter.

"This bouquet of flowers was given to you by that gentleman." The waiter handed the flowers to you.

"Me?" You looked left and right then pointed to yourself to make sure the flowers were for you.

"That's right." The waiter pointed to the table of guests.

This is the first time you received flowers from someone. They are so beautiful with white petals. You took the flowers and walked to his seat and saw two people wearing white coats sitting at the same table. The waiter told you that it was the man in the white coat without glasses who gave you the flowers. He was almost as tall as Roger.

"Are these for me?" You held the flowers looked at him.

"Hahaha! That's right, it's for you." You heard the man's wild laughter.

"Thank you. The flowers are beautiful." You thank him politely.

"Beautiful flowers suit beautiful you, miss." the man said teasingly.

"Wow..." You felt a little embarrassed hearing his sweet words.

"Sister!" Two children are standing behind you, pulling you.

"Why did you two run out?" You squatted down and asked them.

"Sister took a long time go to the toilet, so we came to see you." Shanks said with a smile.

"I'm sorry for making you worry, I'm going back now." You reassured them both.

"Sir, thanks for the flowers. I'm going back to my seat first." You said goodbye to him politely.

You turned around and left, leading Buggy and Shanks back to Roger's place. He simply thought you were beautiful, so he gave you flowers. He didn’t expect you to come and talk to him.

"Hey! Are you interested in that young girl?" Sengoku poked him.

"Haha, sort of." Garp said with a smile.

"But those two kids look familiar." Sengoku was thinking.

You followed Shanks and Buggy back to your seat, and the food was already served. Everyone is waiting for you to come back before starting the meal. You put the flowers on the table and quickly sit down to start the meal.

"Flowers?" Rayleigh looked at the bouquet of flowers.

"Oh! It was given by a customer just now." You said with a smile.

"Hahaha! Y/N is a heartthrob!" Roger laughed.

"Please don't say that, I'm so embarrassed." You lowered your head and whispered with a blush.

"Sister! You were dancing in the middle just now!" Buggy looked at you excitedly.

"I saw it!" Shanks said, raising his hand.

"Dancing?" Crocus asked curiously.

"There will be people performing here." Scopper said after taking a sip of wine.

"Why don't you dance if you want to?" Roger looked at you.

"They all dancing in pairs. I don't have a partner and not very good at dancing, so..." You said softly.

"I'll be your dance partner!" Shanks and Buggy raised their hands at the same time.

"You two are too short! If sister's dance partner short, she will be ugly." Scopper said with a smile.

When everyone here chatted and laughed, Rayleigh glanced at you. You didn't have a dance partner and he had an idea, but it was just after dinner. Let's relax and chat now. After all, he has to be careful even if he wants to invite you.

"Y/N, I'm actually curious about something. How old are you?" Scopper asked you seriously.

"That's right! I always wanted to ask but forgot about it!" Roger said.

"Hmmm, I'm curious too." Crocus took a sip of wine.

"I'm 19." you said.

"19?!" Scopper choked on his drink when he heard your age while drinking.

"Nani!" Roger was surprised.

"Adult." Crocus said calmly.

"You are really good at taking care yourself. I thought you were 15." Rayleigh said with a smile.

"I thought sister was just 15." Shanks was surprised to hear your age.

"I thought so too." Buggy's jaw dropped.

"Can't you see?" You stroked your cheek.

"Hahahaha! We must be older!" Roger laughed.

Rayleigh was surprised to know your age. Seeing the innocent look on your face, you turned out to be 19 years old. If Scopper hadn't asked, he would have thought you were 15 years old or a little girl.

You have a simple appearance and a sexy figure. But you still retain a little bit of your pure personality. At first, he accidentally saw your body, mistakenly thought you were developing very early. It turns out he misunderstood, you are really an adult woman.

Rayleigh cared about you very much at first. When first met, you exuded a lovely aura that attracted him deeply. Originally he thought he just wanted to treat you as a sister or a friend.

But now he thinks you are a gentle girl who will always face everything with a smile. He likes the feeling of you, and gradually finds that he cares about you more and more.

But one thing he cares about is whether you would mind a partner with an age difference. After all, he was older, but he still felt baffled. He actually even had the idea of ​​a partner.

It starts as a relationship between strangers, protect you when you are in danger. When you join, you are like a friend by his side. But now he's starting to have stronger feelings for you.

"Rayleigh...are you okay?" You poked his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I was thinking about something." Rayleigh didn't want to think about this problem for the time being.

"You were staring at me. I thought it was because I was dressed strangely." You laughed awkwardly.

"Not really. You look good in what you wear." Rayleigh encouraged you to feel confident.

You were a little shy and embarrassed to hear him compliment you. Rayleigh gives you the impression that he is a mature and steady man, but sometimes you will still feel a little embarrassed about when he speaks tender words to you.

Maybe you are not good at being praised, so when he praises you feel a little confused and nervous. Sometimes he will suddenly stare at you then say nothing. When you meet his eyes, you can pretend to be calm but in your heart you are still very concerned.

After you finished eating, you heard Scopper and Crocus chatting some more, while Roger kept drinking and playing around with Buggy and Shanks. The singing you heard downstairs was so beautiful you couldn’t help but listen.

You can see many people dancing and singing in the center. You really want to try dancing, but don’t have a partner or anyone to guide you. You will definitely be embarrassed if find random people to dance with.

"Miss Y/N, would you like to be my partner and dance with me?" Someone next to you stretched out his hand to invite you to dance.

"Wow..." is Rayleigh inviting you to dance.

You start to think wildly, fearing that your poor dancing will lead to embarrassment. But now Rayleigh invited you, you were no longer afraid in an instant, because he would accompany you.

"Are you willing?" He came closer to you, didn't put his hand away because he was waiting for your reply.

"I do." You held his hand happily.

The End.

[bottlesofrouge]

on one condition.

harry styles x original character

part one.

word count: 6.9K

warning: their home lives kind of suck but that's it! (i think)

1 JUNE 2018

in the month of june, the sun rises around 5:25 am every morning in new york. sometimes it rises a few minutes earlier, and sometimes it rises a few minutes later, but lynn knew as soon as the first ray peaked its way through the blinds, her mother would be fully dressed, standing in the kitchen, and tapping her way through work emails that had mysteriously piled up overnight. growing up, lynn found this routine comforting because it never changed, weekends and holidays included. if she woke up and it was light outside, she knew her mom would be standing behind the breakfast bar with a stack of blueberry pancakes (made by her very wonderful au pair, elena) planted in front of her. she would sit on the stool across from her, and talk her mom's ear off. little lynn thought her mom's lack of responses was due to the fact that she was so tired from waking up so early every morning, but now-lynn realizes she just didn't really care that much.

her fingertips brush across the back of the stool sitting next to her, and it's almost like she can see a seven-year-old lynn sitting next to her. the slight glow of the numbers on the oven clock illuminating her features as she tells her mom about her chorus concert that was taking place in the evening. her grin widens as kathleen tells her she'll be there after she finishes work. although, elena will be the only familiar face she sees in the audience, and now-lynn knows it will always be like this. elena's familiar face amongst the crowd with her mother nowhere in sight.

the oven clock reads 5:13 am, and lynn decides to go over to the kitchen sink to splash some water on her face, trying to wash away any indication that might suggest she had not moved from the stool since she sat down nearly five hours prior. because that would be crazy, but also entirely true.

"you're up early," her mom's voice flows from the bottom of the staircase as soon as the first ray bounces off the granite kitchen counter, illuminating the room a bit more with its glow.

"i am," she reaches for the stool that she just got up from as her mom places a fresh cup of coffee in front of her.

kathleen says nothing else. instead, she reaches for her macbook that has been charging on the counter overnight, and lynn assumes she's immediately opening outlook. that's how it usually went the mornings after she'd spent the night. she'd stare at the wall for a few hours, trying not to let the sounds of her mother slamming the keys of the keyboard annoy her too much.

honestly, lynn didn't know what her mom did for work. she tried to explain it to her on a few occasions, but the only thing she understood was that it was extremely time-consuming. kathleen once said she was the only one in her office that had children, and she thought that maybe her mom should've followed in their footsteps.

"you'll be ready by 11, right? and you'll help me make sure the girls are ready?" kathleen says. she doesn't look at lynn until a few moments pass with no response. they make eye contact and her mom raises her brow. "the barbecue, lynn. remember?"

"right. i've got it. don't worry."

"your coffee's getting cold," her mom points out.

lynn tips the mug around before taking a sip. it's definitely cold, but she denies it and takes another sip before telling her mom she's wrong. there's really no reason to. it's only a cup of coffee, but she thinks she'll do just about anything to spite her.

her dad walks in and the entire atmosphere changes. he kisses kathleen's forehead and lynn can't help but cringe inside. it's absolutely sickening and she can't understand why her mom would ever take someone like him back. she had said lynn would understand when she was older, but it's been fifteen years and she still can't wrap her mind around it.

"good morning," he says as he pours himself a cup of coffee. "are the girls up?"

tuning out whatever her garbage father has to say is the only gift that lynn is thankful for. as soon as he opens his mouth, her ears magically turn off. it's something she'll be eternally grateful for because she thinks hearing peter's voice for more than four seconds would send her into a spiral.

growing up without a dad was a lot less horrific than some people may think. lynn didn't feel like she was missing out, and she didn't think her life was doomed to be a failure because of his absence. she honestly never thought much of her dad. that all changed when she was eleven though, and she walked in the door from school to see her parents moving all of her dad's belongings back into the same house he had moved out of eleven years prior (after having an affair with her first au pair before she had even turned one). needless to say, the sight of peter's face is enough to make now-lynn physically ill.

"are you going to be in such a sour mood all day, lynn?" she rolls her eyes at the words and makes no move to respond. it's silent once again, and the only sound that can be heard is kathleen's occasionally slurping.

it's nearing ten when her sisters finally wake up. jane is the first one down the steps. she's got the blanket she's had since she was born clenched in her fist as her other hand is holding the railing to make sure she doesn't tumble down the staircase. the little girl wordlessly makes her way to the kitchen, where she finds lynn making her blueberry pancakes covered in maple syrup.

"lynn," she yawns, fist rubbing her eyes. "you're back already?"

"m'only here for the barbecue mom insisted i go to."

"aw, man," the girl stabs a piece of her pancake and rests her head in her hand, a sigh pushing past her lips.

"i know. i miss you, too, jane." her fingers brush the other's hair away from her face as she eats. "i'll visit you a lot, and you know you and amelia are always invited over. all you have to do is ask."

jane only hums in response to her sister and puts all of her energy back to eating her pancakes. it's not long until amelia comes down the stairs. she looks almost as disheveled as their youngest sister. her hair is in a messy knot on top of her head, and she's still sporting last night's pajamas. lynn can't help but wonder where her mom went off to, and she feels a little queasy when amelia says she already knew lynn was visiting. simply because the kitchen smelled of food.

she makes sure jane's hair and teeth are brushed before finding her a little summer dress that screamed neighborhood barbecue, and then she braids amelia's hair away from her face before getting herself ready. there were only ten minutes before they had to leave, so lynn opts for a pink two-piece set she ordered from a random website online that probably specializes in drop shipping, and retouches her leftover makeup from yesterday before joining the two girls in the living room where they were watching some new disney movie that jane probably asked to be put on. it would be an understatement to say she was tired. her eyes felt heavy and she could barely hold her head up. she thinks that if she fell asleep now she could get out of this whole thing, but kathleen comes walking down the staircase, crushing her dreams of an afternoon nap.

"really lynn? that's what you're wearing?" and the girl should be upset at her mother's words. she really should, but after spending twenty-seven years hearing them, she's gotten used to them. "there's someone there i want you to meet."

lynn rolls her eyes as she walks to the foyer, "i'm not the next contestant on the bachelorette," she slips her shoe on. "and i'm definitely not dressing up for one of your friend's sons."

surprisingly, her mom drops it. lynn would be lying if she had said that she didn't find it the slightest bit alarming. her mom would've spent the entire two-minute-long drive trying to sell her on this mystery boy, but instead she reminds the girls that dance camp starts on monday... and then she asks lynn to take them.

when lynn gets out of the car, she can only focus on one thing, and that was how hot it was outside. it wasn't just a little uncomfortable. no, it was absolutely sweat-running-down-your-back roasting. she decides on pulling her hair up off of her neck which earns another comment from her mother. honestly, she tuned this one out, but she thinks she said something about lynn's masculine features becoming more prominent when her hair was tied back.

it's not long before kathleen starts introducing the girls to all of her friends. a woman asks if jane and amelia were her grandkids, and when her mom says no, she said that she couldn't believe how similar the girls looked to their nanny while nodding over at lynn.

there was honestly nothing she found more repulsing than this damn neighborhood barbecue. she hated it when she was seven, and she hates it now, twenty years later. it was hot and the air felt thick and humid. all she wanted was a nice long nap. she could picture it now. fresh, crisp, cool sheets and-

"lynn adams," kathleen's snapping her fingers in front of the girl's face, and it takes everything in her not to swat her mom's hand away. "don't be rude. this is my friend from yoga, marianne. she has a son-" and she doesn't know what else her mother says because as soon as the words leave her mouth, kathleen's voice sounds something similar to the bland tones of the parents in any charlie brown special, and before she knows it, marianne from yoga is hugging her and leading her towards a boy who looks like a young, unshowered, mick jagger cosplayer.

✮✮✮

harry's parents invited him over for lunch, and he really couldn't say no. he missed his mom's home-cooked meals, and honestly, he really never cooks actual meals for himself. he's found that cheap vodka and whatever mixer he could find in his cabinets worked as a great substitute. he'd never admit it, but he was excited to see his parents. sure, he lives only twenty minutes away, but he doesn't really ever have time to make a visit. failing all of his classes and frequenting the town's bar really took all of his energy.

when harry gets to his parents, he sees his sister's car in the driveway, and he thinks it's going to be a nice little family meal, something he hasn't had since he started going to college. but it's not. and really, he should've known better. no one wants to be around him.

when he stepped inside, his family and family friends were waiting for him in the living room. they sat in a circle and they all held folded pieces of paper in their hands. it took them a minute to realize that they were hosting their own intervention.

the entire event was so uncomfortable, and it made harry hate himself more than he already had. he knew he had a problem, and he also knew that he could stop whenever he wanted to. he did, in fact. he only started drinking again because he was craving validation. it doesn't really make sense to anyone but him, but he found it was easier to get someone to go home with him after he had been drinking. it gave him the confidence he needed, simple as that.

when his mom started reading her note, she was sobbing, and it made harry cry, too. it wasn't because what she was saying moved something deep inside of him. it was because he couldn't understand why they felt the need to embarrass him in front of so many people he wasn't really comfortable with. a phone call asking harry if he was okay would've worked just as well, but they never called unless it was to tell him just how disappointed they were in him.

so now he was at this stupid event for a neighborhood he hasn't lived in since he turned 18. his mom had asked him to come, and he felt like he couldn't say no. he was scared he'd push her into holding a second intervention, and honestly, he didn't think he'd be able to handle that.

it was hot and noisy, and there were kids everywhere. harry hated kids. they were gross and dirty, and they always found a way to piss him off. they were part of the reason that harry was so big on safe sex. he would literally have to change his name and move continents if he were to get anyone pregnant.

he's sitting at one of the picnic tables alone. his dad was lucky enough to skip the whole thing, and gemma claimed she was busy. his mom didn't mind though, and harry couldn't help but wonder why she was so adamant about him going. originally, he had thought that maybe she had wanted to spend some quality time with him, but nearly an hour had passed and marianne was still talking to her book club mom friends, not really showing interest in introducing them to her son. harry wasn't too surprised, though. his mom never really introduced him to her friends anymore.

marianne loves him. harry knows that. she only ever wants what's best for him, but she always goes about it the wrong way. maybe some kids needed an hour-long phone call lecture about how they'll never amount to anything if they don't finish their degrees. his sister was one of those kids. he remembers sitting at the kitchen table while his mom scolded her on the phone, and her dad did in person. john had driven the six hours to gemma's college town to bail her out of the county jail after a crazy night during her freshman year. needless to say, after that phone call, it never happened again. what his parents failed to realize was that harry wasn't gemma, and maybe he just needed someone to hold his hand and tell him everything would be okay.

he notices marianne moving away from her book club group and towards a family. there was an older couple, a girl that looked about his age, and two younger children. harry couldn't help but wonder what that family dynamic was. perhaps she was the girls' nanny, or maybe she was even a third in the parents' relationship. if it was the latter, it would definitely be a little harder to get her to sleep with him, but he always liked a good challenge.

"harry," his mom pulls him from his thoughts. he blinks and suddenly his mom and the nanny (slash possible unicorn) were standing in front of him at the other side of the table. "this is lynn, kathleen's daughter."

"who's kathleen?" he takes a drink from his cup (which held nothing but ice cubes and water) before wiping the wetness off of his mouth with the back of his hand.

marianne's face turns red, "kathleen from yoga." she says it slowly like it should ring a bell, but harry's not too familiar with the attendees of the 'Yoga Over 40' class. "kathleen and i thought you guys should talk. maybe get to know each other today," and before harry can open his mouth to say no thank you, marianne is pulling a chair out for the girl and then walks away.

"i'm lynn," she says like marianne didn't introduce her thirty seconds ago. she holds out her hand, but harry's already in a foul mood and he senses lynn (he thinks that is a terrible name) would be an easy target to humiliate.

so instead of shaking her hand like a decent human being, he looks at her over the top of his sunglasses and pops the spearmint gum he's been chewing since he got here. "not interested."

"don't flatter yourself," she rolls her eyes and leans forward, resting her forehead on the palms of her hands before crossing her arms in front of her.

"so you're telling me you weren't just begging my mom to introduce us?" his eyebrow quirks and he has a small smile forming on his lips. "'cause it looked an awful lot like that."

she smiles at him, white teeth and all, "trust me when i say i would rather act as a speed bump at the entrance of this neighborhood, waiting to be taken out of my misery by an unsuspecting hybrid toyota prius."

"weirdly specific," he takes another drink. "is that some sort of kink of yours?"

"maybe," her eyes bore into his. the look on her face is so bland, harry can't quite get a read on her. she looked the opposite of him. lynn had blonde hair and blue eyes. the only thing the two had in common was their curly hair, and so harry was obligated to think that it wasn't totally unattractive. "is yours watching mommy pick up girls at the neighborhood picnic for you?"

"ha. ha," harry's voice is emotionless. "tell me, lynn. have you ever considered going into comedy?"

"no, but i'm certain that everyone in the local comedy crowd would love my work. i'm thinking i could enter a piece titled 'desperate mom tries to pawn off loser son'. what do you think? i could credit you if you'd like." she smiles at him again, and he can tell by her eyes that her smile is fake. harry thinks if she were wearing sunglasses he might think she was trying to make a joke rather than a dig at him.

"kathleen thought we should talk," he reminds her. "i wouldn't be climbing on your high horse just yet."

the silence that followed hung around them like a cloud, and it was quite awkward. lynn didn't seem to mind though. she was off in her own world, daydreaming about god knows what. if harry were to take a guess, he'd bet that she was thinking of fairies and rainbows, or whatever else children under the age of eight think about during their free time.

"do you want to get out of here?" harry's popping the gum in his mouth again. "we could have sex. i will say you're not my usual type, but i can always appreciate a good body.

"gross," she leans back in her chair, her face showing disgust almost as if his words could contaminate her. "what's your usual type? wait let me guess," she taps her finger on her chin for a moment. "brown hair and pretty green eyes. i assume it's the closest thing you'll get to fulfilling the fantasy you have of fucking yourself."

"you think my eyes are pretty," he says, completely disregarding whatever else she said.

"i can appreciate nice eyes when i see them," she says. "don't fall in love with me yet."

lynn's wearing her hair pulled away from her face, and harry thinks it suits her. she has some sort of matching outfit on. it's shorts and a button-up top, made out of the same soft material. it's baby pink, like her lips, and she's dainty?? harry doesn't know if that's the right word, but she looks small and soft. like if she were in an arm wrestling competition with a fly, the fly would win. the tiniest smile, really it was barely a smile, makes its way to his face because... well, he thinks she's pretty.

"got something on my face?" she asks, and harry's waiting for a snide remark to follow, but she's serious. lynn has no idea that he just spent the last five minutes shamelessly checking her out. the fact that he was caught makes his cheeks burn a little, and harry shakes his head.

"you know, maybe we should get out of here after all," her fingertips brush over the back of his hand as she speaks.

"you want me to rock your world, huh blondie?"

she nods and sucks her bottom lip between her teeth. harry feels his whole body growing hot as she leans towards him again. "you wanna know what would really rock my world, harry?"

"hmm?" he hums, leaning forward to meet her in the middle of the table. honestly, this whole thing was wildly inappropriate for the high point hills annual family barbecue, but he didn't really care.

"you taking me back to yours," she leans even closer and harry can feel her words against his ear. "and letting me have the longest, most-mind blowing nap i've ever had."

"you're sick, lynn," he pulls away from her to see one of her fake smiles across her face. "but, i never leave a woman unsatisfied. let's go."

"really?"

"your prius wet dream sounds hotter with every second that passes here," he stretches his arms above his head when he stands up. "and not having to hear your voice is a huge plus."

"has anyone ever told you how charming you are, harry?" she accidentally bumps him with her hip as they walk towards his car together.

"your mom has multiple times actually. she tells me after every night we spend together," and he bumps her back, maybe a little too hard because she almost loses her balance when their hips collide.

12 JUNE 2018

throughout grade school, lynn could always count the number of friends she had on a singular hand at any given time. it wasn't that she was disliked or anything like that. she was just rather quiet and didn't feel the urge to talk to anyone unless she was being spoken to. her senior year friend group only took up four out of her five fingers, and it consisted of jacqueline, luke, silas, and violet. they met in their mathletes club at the beginning of her and silas's senior year. both luke and violet were juniors, and jackie was only a sophomore. the five of them parted ways, each going to a different college in various different states. luke ended up being the closest to her when she was in college, and even then he was four states away.

however, the distance didn't keep them apart. it was a tradition that they all met at least once a year, usually in their hometown. they would go out, maybe grab a drink, or go to the local bowling alley, but this year, jackie was in her final semester, taking the three condensed summer courses she needed to graduate when everyone was in town. having never skipped a year in nearly a decade, the five of them decided to have dinner on jackie's campus in between two of her night classes. that's how lynn found herself sitting around boxes and boxes of take out and drinking cheap wine out of hydroflask surrounded by her best friends.

"how's ren, silas?" jackie's voice pulls her back into the conversation. "i thought you'd bring them."

silas takes lynn's hydroflask from her hands, and swallows a huge gulp before clearing his throat. "i asked them to marry me," he hands the drink back to lynn. "and they said no. i guess they weren't really the marriage type."

"dude," luke shoves him. "why didn't you tell any of us?"

"it was something i needed to figure out on my own. i loved ren, you all know that, but i really want the whole thing. marriage, kids, all of it. in a way, i was the one who left them, but.. ren's engaged. i found out last night, and i don't really know how to feel about it."

"i'm sorry, si," lynn rests her head on her friend's shoulder. "you deserve better than that."

"when did you guys break up?" everyone turns to glare at violet, but silas offers her a smile.

"six months ago. i think it's a valid time frame, but we were together for four years so," he shrugs. "i don't want to think too far into it. as long as ren's happy.. that's what matters to me."

"why can't all men be like you?" jackie says. "when i broke up with chad, he stalked me for a week before sending me a $500 venmo request for wasting his time."

"his name's chad, jackie," luke laughs. "i'm not sure what you were expecting."

luke's eyes catch lynn's and he smiles at her so warmly she can't help but smile back. the two dated briefly when they were in college, keeping their romance strictly between them. but every time luke smiles at her like that, it reminds her of the many times she'd open her dorm door to find him sitting on her bed, grinning at her like... actually, there was really nothing to compare it to. she called it his sunshine smile because it was warm and bright, and it was all hers.

and then one day it wasn't. lynn remembers sitting at their yearly hangout, luke's new girlfriend glued to his side. clara yawned, he gave her that smile, and then took her home early. lynn wanted to rip that smile off his face and put it in her pocket to be hers to keep forever. and when luke showed up at her door the next morning asking if she was sure—if them not being together was really what she wanted. she said yes, and the dream of ever getting that sunshine smile back was crushed.

so now she settles for the close-lipped, warm smiles luke offers. she takes them in and tries so hard to lock them up in her memory. the way luke made her feel is something she never wants to forget, and she can't believe she threw it all away for some dick that lived across the hall.

sometimes when she can't sleep at night she thinks of luke's drunk phone call. he was a blubbering mess, but she managed to make out when he asked if lynn had cheated on him, and when lynn said 'no, but we should break up', he cried. she couldn't bring herself to hang up, so she sat there for nearly ten minutes listening to luke's heart break. she wonders if luke remembers that phone call, too.

his sunshine smiles are still reserved for clara (til death do them part), and the only other people he shares them with are their children, a toddler named thomas and a baby named ivy, and every time she sees them she can't help but wonder if they were supposed to be hers. it's not that she was still in love with luke or anything like that. she loved him in the most platonic way possible, but she deeply missed what they shared because it was good. he was good.

"earth to lynn," silas waving his hand in front of her face is what brings her back. "come back to us, darling."

"sorry, she sits up, no longer leaning on her friend. "i don't know where i went."

"are you still not sleeping?" violet's voice is so full of concern and it makes lynn's cold, grinch-like heart grow a few sizes.

"i sleep during the day," she stuffs a spoonful of the cake silas had brought. "it works. i'm okay."

"you know we love you," luke says. "you can always stay with clara and i."

"don't know if you'd want that. i'd probably steal ivy," she takes another bite. "god, she is one cute baby."

the group laughs, and lynn disappears in her own head for the next hour. she doesn't come back until jackie stands up, declaring she'll be late for her next lecture, and the rest of the group follows. luke leaves a few minutes later when clara sends a picture of ivy in her pajamas, and lynn thinks that she should never take him up on his offer because she would definitely make national news for kidnapping the girl. violet leaves with him because they parked next to each other, and she doesn't remember where that was exactly.

"thank you," silas says. "for not telling them about ren." lynn had known since the night of the doomed proposal. silas had called her from the comfort of his beaten-up honda civic and cried to her for hours.

she nodded, "of course. you asked me not to."

"yeah," he leans back on the blanket, and lynn follows him. the sun was just setting and she thought the sky was gorgeous. "i know." his voice breaks off, and she knows he's crying.

"silas?"

"hm?"

"did you know luke and i were together?"

"what?" he sits up, wide-eye staring at the girl.

"when?"

"a few years ago. when we were both in college."

"it was bad?"

"it was good," lynn says around a yawn. "so good, actually. sometimes i'm scared i won't have anything on that level again."

silas runs a hand through his hair, and furrows his brows. "what happened?"

"i left him for you know who," her hands grip his shoulders, forcing him to look at her. "and silas, please don't tell anyone this, but i regretted it for so long."

"you don't anymore?"

"no," she shakes her head and her hands fall to her lap. "seeing him with his family, silas. he's so happy, and that's worth every second of pain i caused. that's why i'm telling you this. if ren is really happy, it'll be worth it. i promise. it'll all feel okay."

silas pulls lynn into his chest, and she can feel his tears wetting her hair. "im so grateful for you, el. so incredibly grateful for you."

"you know i feel the same about you."

when he pulls away, he's looking at her with misty eyes and saying he needs to go catch his flight. they say their goodbyes and lynn even lets a tear of her own fall because he was the person she felt the closest to out of the entire group. they were the same age, and there was something a little trauma bonding about going to college alone, hundreds of miles away from home.

lynn lays back on the blanket, everything from their dinner still left behind. she's overly tired and feels like the world would explode if she had to move another inch. a quick nap under the stars is calling her name. her eyelids are growing heavy, and-

"i could steal your purse right now," the voice startles her awake. "it's sitting so far away from you and you seem to have quite the chunk of cash hanging out."

she turns her head to see harry sitting next to her and groans. "don't you have like, i don't know, a mick jagger cosplay convention to go to."

"i'll take that as a compliment, lynn." he looks down at her. "i was just making sure you weren't dead."

"how thoughtful," she sits up and leans back on her arms. "you should've just left me for the vultures, though. being picked apart by them sounds much more appealing than having a nice little chitchat with you."

"always flattering yourself, aren't you, blondie?" he gives her a lopsided smile. "couldn't have anyone finding your dead body on my campus after i took you home with me a week ago. it's too suspicious. plus, my mom doesn't really have the time to be making #freeharry posters and organizing rallies."

"i, in ghost form, would learn to speak to children just so i could tell my sisters you're guilty."

"that's who you were with at the barbecue?" he leans back on his arms to match lynn. "your sisters?"

"yeah," her finger pulls the collar of her shirt away from her neck. "i'd prefer not to talk about them right now."

"okay," he drops his head to the side, and he looks at her. it was so unfair that such pretty were wasted on someone like him.

"what? you don't have a list of questions ready to rapid fire at me? that seems unlike you."

"of course i do," he says. "but you said you didn't want to talk about it." eyes now narrowed, he licks his lips before finishing. "and you don't know me, lynn. not at all."

harry was right, and it made her feel a little guilty. when he took her home with her, the two didn't speak at all once they got to the car. the ride was quiet and she rested her head against the cool window and let her eyes fall shut. he showed her the guest room, and that was that. she immediately fell asleep, and when she did finally wake up, it was around midnight. harry was already sleeping, but he left her a note (which said he would take her home in the morning) and a plate of whatever he made for dinner (its important to note that harry made the entire meal free of the big 8 allergens) (because he didn't know if lynn had any food allergies). she ordered an uber instead, and miles drove her the whopping fifteen minutes to her parents' house in exchange for five stars and a three dollar tip.

"thank you," she offers him the slightest smile. really, it's so small harry would probably need a telescope to see the way the corners of her mouth were upturned. "for the other night."

"you're not the first girl to thank me for bringing them home," the words make lynn's eyes roll, and whatever guilt she felt in the very bottom of her stomach for judging harry is long gone. "im only pushing your buttons, blondie. lighten up," he nudges her with his shoulder and that is the tipping point for lynn.

"because women being sexualized by disgusting men is so funny, harry," she watches as his eyes grow wide. almost like he's shocked. like no one's ever told him differently.

"lynn, i didn't-"

she holds her hand up. "you should go."

and he does, not before giving her a pained look which only made her want to roll her eyes harder. lynn watches him leave and pretends not to notice the way his shoulders are slouched over more than they were the first time and the way he drags his feet like he's a thousand pounds heavier. her eyes focus back on the squirrel that's still running around the tree once he's out of sight. why were college campus squirrels always so large?

the next thing she knows, jackie is poking her side and pressing her palm against lynn's chest almost as if she was checking if her heart was still beating. a sigh falls from the girl's lips when she realizes that lynn is alive, and she can see a line in between the girls brows through her half closed eyelids. she notices jackie's chest heaving, almost like she was trying to steady her breathing. the heavy, hot ball of guilt finds it's way back into her stomach. she hates having her friends worry about her.

"sorry, jackie. i fell asleep," she yawns and reaches above her head to stretch out her back.

"are you okay, lynn?" jackie's staring at her with such intensity, she thinks this is probably what it feels like to be in an interrogation room after your life-long enemy mysteriously disappeared. "like genuinely, are you doing alright?"

"im tired," she offers her a big smile. "that's all. im fine."

jackie narrows her eyes and tilts her head skeptically, and lynn is doing her very best to not burst into tears because there's no reason for her to be crying. her friend's face softens, and she stands up, reaching her hand down to lynn.

"c'mon. let's clean up. you're staying the night at mine." lynn doesn't argue because she really does want to stay with her friend. it's been so long since she's slept at jackie's despite her only living an hour away from the girl's school. "and i usually take the bus, so you're driving."

lynn smiles at her as she helps pick up the dinner mess that the group had left, and she can't help but wonder how she was lucky eough to have such great friends. they've known each other for nearly a decade, and still care for each other the same way they did back in high school. she knows that if she were to tell jackie how she moved out months ago and still hasn't slept through the night at her own place, silas's flight would be missed and violet would drive the six hours back just to be with her.

deep down, lynn knows she can't sleep because of something a little bigger than an uncomfortable bed, but she chooses to ignore it because her therapist had said she was doing very well, or whatever that meant. it was like her doctor just marked her with a stamp, big red lettering reading 'HEALED' across her forehead, and that was supposed to make everything feel okay forever. her friends and family were so proud of this milestone, lynn didn't know if she would ever be able to tell them that maybe the big red stamp was wrong. and that was the thing, it didn't always feel wrong. only during those long sleepless nights and cloudy, rainy days.

she feels lied to, really. everyone said healing wasn't something that just happened overnight, and of course, she knew that. (who didn't know that?) they pushed this idea that lots of therapy and sometimes a few medications would help her get better. and that's the thing. she did feel better. with each hour spent on her therapist's couch came the slightest bit of feeling better.

what she didn't realize was that feeling better and feeling yourself again weren't mutually exclusive. she feels a thousand times better and yet she's never felt farther from who she used to be. honestly, that version of her might be dead, and that is something she never wants to face.

"i've lost you again, lynn," jackie's leaning over the center console to rest her head on her friend's shoulder. "that brain of yours must be pretty nice for you to be spending so much time in there."

"i just got the biggest feeling of deja vu," lynn brushes off her worries as she parks in the designated parking spot. "this is new, right? i haven't visited you here before?"

the two girls meet at the front of the car, lynn helping the other with her huge course textbooks that probably cost more than her rent.

"don't think so. luke and clara brought the babies to visit once, but i don't remember if you were there."

lynn shakes her head. it wasn't that she avoided luke and clara, but she tried to spend minimal time around them.

jackie lives on the fourth floor of her complex. each staircase has approximately thirty-two (she counted) stairs, and by the time they get to the top, lynn is completely out of breath. she leans on the wall outside of the girl's apartment door as she fumbles through her tote bag full of god knows what.

"i was in such a rush this morning," she gives her a sympathetic smile. "i just tossed my keys in here."

lynn holds back a groan as jackie piles whatever else she's holding on top of the stack of books in her hands and then kneels on the ground, dumping out the contents of her bag as she searches for her keys that look to be nowhere in sight. she hears an elevator ding and lynn wants to do nothing more than roughly shove her friend over with her foot because why did they walk all the way up ninety-six stairs when there was a perfectly functioning elevator mere feet away?

"why didn't we take the elevator, ja-"

the most obscene kissing sounds fall out of the elevator as soon as the door opens. it sounds like someone is slowly pulling one hundred suction cups painfully slow off of the walls in there and lynn wonders if it's some kind of swingers group because there's no way two people could be kissing that aggressively.

"found them," jackie stands up, brushes off her pants, and looks towards the elevator.

"m'neighbor... has someone over every night."

she's proven wrong when a girl walks out, her arms draped around a boy's neck. he's kissing her and walking her back so she's pressed against the wall, and lynn can't look away. not even when the two turn, and she realizes its harry. not even when harry's eyes catch her stare. and not even when the girl starts sucking on any exposed skin her mouth could reach (harry was still looking at lynn) (and she was still looking at him) (and his lips looked nearly bruised) (not that it matters).

jackie steps between them, and by the time she grabs all of her things, harry and the girl are in his apartment. she can't help the small laugh that escapes when she realizes the girl had brown hair and pretty green eyes.

✰✰✰✰

a/n: all of this is getting reposted because the format is driving me absolutely craaaazy :(

[sofreddie]

Against All Odds

Summary: Jared is a small-town Deputy who's lived there all his life. When he met Y/N - a new Omega in town - in the drunk tank, he wondered if he'd ever get a second chance at love.

Characters: Alpha!Correctional Officer!Jared x Omega!Reader

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Angst, Fluff, Drinking/Alcohol Abuse, Medical Conditions, Medical Treatments, Heat/Rut Cycles, Medical Emergency, Procedural Violations (Doctors bending the rules/laws), Smut (Fuck or Die, Unprotected Sex, Knotting, Claiming/Biting, Dirty Talk)

AU: CORRECTIONAL OFFICER!JARED (@spnaubingo)

ANGST: IN THE HOSPITAL (@anyfandomangstbingo)

OMEGAVERSE: CLAIM SEX (@afgomegaversebingo)

SW: FREE SPACE (@samwinchesterbingo)

WC: 11,623

A/N: So I started this fic in 2021 for my Bingos (which I am still working on and intend to complete eventually). I doubt they count anymore, but that's not the point, LOL. I took quite a few liberties with the prompts. Although it took ages to complete, I am delighted with how this fic turned out. I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is appreciated. : )

My Masterlist

The weight of her head was heavy in her hands, the concrete beneath her cold enough to numb her backside. Groaning, she pinched her eyes shut against the overly bright lights that rained down on her, creating a constant pounding behind her closed lids.

"Good Morning, Ms. Y/L/N. How are we feeling today?"

Y/N groaned louder, the chipper and familiar voice only adding to her torment.

"Mornin' Padadeputy," she snorted at her joke, wincing as it caused her poor, battered brain pain. "Can I go home?" she croaked, working her mouth to ease the dryness.

She could use a drink. But the very thought had her throwing a hand over her mouth and rushing to the steel toilet in the corner, the remnants of her late-night excursions making a reappearance.

Wiping a hand across her mouth, she leaned her back against the wall, her head tilted back, and her eyes closed as she felt a bit of relief from her suffering. Though the constant rhythmic pounding in her head only grew more prominent.

The sound of metal sliding against metal, locks clicking, and doors sliding alerted her that she was no longer confined. Opening her eyes just enough, she could make out her favorite deputy's tall and lean figure.

"So, at this rate, should we keep this room open for you?" Officer Padalecki joked as he leaned against the open doorway of the cell.

Using the wall as leverage, she forced herself to her feet, her body protesting the movements. She quickly rinsed her mouth and washed her face, waking herself up enough to return home.

"Maybe I just like seeing you?" She smiled over-sweetly and shuffled past him as her feet walked the familiar path.

"Not that I'm complaining, but there's probably better ways to get my attention," he teased.

The flirty banter between them happened with ease. Y/N, unfortunately, made a habit of landing herself in the drunk tank at least once a week. Though they'd never seen or talked to each other outside of the local jail, they formed an easy camaraderie.

The truth was he worried about her, the unclaimed Omega slowly drinking herself to death, being forcibly removed from local bars for disorderly conduct on many occasions. She seemed like a sweet but troubled woman. Maybe it was his caring side or his Alpha, but he worried and wanted her to be okay.

Y/N's senses were sharp, even when drunk out of her mind. She could see his attractiveness and smell his rich Alpha lurking under the surface. She'd never been with an Alpha, never felt the pull. But in her condition, there was no way she could start now, even if there were an attraction unlike anything she'd felt before. She brushed it off as another symptom; her Omega had long since become unreliable.

-

Jared walked back into the office area after escorting Y/N outside. As soon as he entered, Jensen looked up with a lewd grin, making Jared sigh and roll his eyes.

"Alright, let's have it," Jared scoffed as he sat at his desk, crossing his booted feet on the desktop and leaning back in his chair.

He had worked with Jensen at the station for years, but they had met at the training academy before that. However, they only spent a little time together outside of work, as they were involved in the community. Sometimes, they'd see each other at local events, but they were both occupied with helping the community in various ways, volunteering, and making their hometown well-cared for and safe.

Y/N was relatively new to their community. No one knew much about her. She lived in town but didn't seem to work anywhere, and she spent almost every Friday night sleeping it off in the jail. Regardless, Jared was attracted to her almost immediately after catching a slight hint of her scent. He often felt like a swooning teenager again in her presence, which Jensen never missed a chance to rib him about, leaving Jared an embarrassed and blustering mess.

"So, you ever gonna ask her out, or you just planning to be a secret admirer?" Jensen teased as usual.

"Come on, man," Jared groaned. "We've been over this. It's unprofessional to do that when I'm on duty and she's in jail. I never see her outside of this place. Maybe it's just not meant to be?"

He didn't like how the words tasted as he spoke them, somehow feeling malformed. There was something between them, a possible compatibility. After all, Jensen could never catch any scent from her; he was an Alpha, too. So, if Jared was sensitive to her scent, it must mean something.

Jensen shook his head and laughed before getting back to some paperwork. Jared sighed again, doing the same and wondering if he'd ever see her outside the jail and off duty, just like two people in the world. Then, he promised himself, he’d try again.

-

After Jared clocked out for the end of his shift - his relief right on time as usual - he tried to put Y/N out of his mind, but his Alpha was set on her ever since he'd first laid eyes on her. His mind flip-flopped as usual, switching from the primal Alpha wanting her to the rational man determined to remain professional. Either way, whatever was going on in her life, he was sure the last thing she needed was an Alpha sniffing around.

As he walked towards his truck, twirling his keys in his hand, he saw Y/N waiting on a bench by the station. She usually called a cab to come and get her when she was released, but she was long gone by the time he left to go home. Deciding to take a chance, he went over to her.

"Waiting on your cab?" he smiled down at her.

She nodded, "Yeah, they're just a little busy this morning."

"I can give you a ride if you'd like," he offered, pointing over his shoulder at his truck. Y/N's eyes flitted between him and his truck before she sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks."

She could feel his eyes on her as she climbed in the old truck, the effort seeming to drain her. She glanced at him, the same look of worry she saw from everyone etched onto his beautiful face.

"I'm fine. Just need some sleep."

It was one of her standard responses. She was glad that Jared seemed to buy it and started driving. She gave him directions to her house, grateful the town was small and wasn't a long drive.

"Thanks again," she said as she climbed out of the truck and shut the door. "See you later."

"I hope under different circumstances," he chuckled, a light tinge of pink staining his cheeks and ears.

Yeah, she wished that things could be different, too. She bid her farewell as it was, noting that Jared hadn't driven off until she was safely secured inside. Sighing, she brushed it off, eager to get rid of the stink of jail and stale liquor that clung to her.

She stumbled into her bathroom, pulling off her clothes on the way, a haphazard trail left behind her. She leaned on the bathroom counter, groaning at her disheveled reflection in the mirror. Drinking wasn't doing her any favors, but it was the only way to drown the pain and sorrow.

She turned to the corner of the counter, opening her organized pill box and eyeballing the many different medications in various colors and sizes she had to take every day. She hated it, but her regimen required it as part of her treatment for aging, unmated Omegas.

She downed the pills with a glass of water, showered, and dried as quickly as possible. Forgoing clothes, she climbed into her bed, sleep taking over quickly.

-

Y/N sat in the oversized pleather chair, letting out a long sigh. Her eyes were more than bored with whatever random home makeover show played on the muted TV. She allowed her eyes to roam, taking in the other chairs like hers, with different people occupying them.

Her head rolled to the other side, glancing at the IV in her arm, her eyes following up the tubing to the bag hanging above her, still half-full. She groaned, knowing she'd be there a while yet.

She'd been at it for six months, and the treatment of donated Alpha enzymes was designed to counteract the decline of her Omega body. She was past the average age for Omegas to be mated, never having found an Alpha that called to her Omega. Now, being mateless had become a medical condition, her body rapidly deteriorating from lack of a mate and the necessary enzymes a bite would provide.

Still, the treatments would only work so much and for so long, prolonging the inevitable. Y/N's doctors insisted she try finding a mate as soon as possible, but she wasn't willing to settle for anyone. Her stubbornness, however, didn't help her condition. The treatments weren't as effective anymore, and her body started to build a tolerance. She shifted in her chair, the squeaky creak of the materials making her groan.

"Y/N?"

Her head snapped up, and her brow furrowed at the figure across the room. He finished his conversation with a doctor, rolling the sleeves of his plaid flannel down over his forearms as he approached her with a smile.

He pulled up one of the smaller guest chairs beside her, laying his coat over his knee. His body looked too large and long for the basic chair.

"Padadeputy," she greeted, but without the usual smile. "What are you doing here?" she asked, still confused over his sudden appearance and at having someone see her here. She hadn't told a soul about her treatments, not that she had anyone to say anything to.

"Jared," he corrected her with a smile. "I come in a couple times a month," he explained. "I donate enzymes."

His eyes drifted from the IV in her arm to the hanging bag, his gaze flicking back to her eyes. She lowered her head in shame, heat spreading across her cheeks. For a moment, they both wondered if it was his enzymes she'd received.

The awkward silence dragged out between them, Jared waiting for her to speak. She didn't like anyone knowing about her condition, afraid Alphas would try to claim her in a heartbeat 'for her own good.' But, for whatever reason, Y/N felt compelled to tell Jared the truth. She wanted him to know. Maybe her Omega was reaching out to him again, but she gave in to this small need to connect with the Alpha before her.

"I've never had a mate," she spoke quietly, picking at her nails. "I've been doing treatments for a few months. But it's-" she sighed, briefly meeting his eyes and forcing a smile, "-it's not working so well."

"I had a mate," Jared broke the silent tension after a beat. "A long time ago," he dropped his head. She worried for him, wanting to reach out and comfort him. But she focused instead on her hands in her lap again.

"She died in an accident," he continued, seemingly composing himself as he met her eyes again. "Now that I'm…older," he smirked, "It's getting harder to deal with." She was thoroughly surprised by his admission.

"Well, I wouldn't recommend drinking to cope," she chuckled, trying to ease the seriousness.

"I can't imagine the drinking is helping," Jared stated. "It can't be good with the treatments-"

"I don't need a lecture," she whined, surprised at herself for not being more angry at his audacity. "I get enough of that from my doctor."

"Maybe you should listen," Dr. Collins interrupted with a smile and a reassuring hand on Y/N's shoulder. "Hey, Jared. Didn't know you two knew each other."

"Hey, Mish," Jared responded with a warm smile. 

Misha had also grown up in the town and was a prominent fixture in the community. The Omega Outreach Program, which he helped found and develop, drew Omegas from all over for his unique treatments and regimens.

Y/N listened as the two men chatted. She often felt like an outsider, having moved there specifically for the treatments. When both men turned their attention back to her, she was pulled from her musings.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I'd like to go over some things with you. Would you like Jared to leave?"

Both men waited as she made up her mind, shaking her head. "He can stay," she said in a small and quiet voice.

Jared was the closest thing she had to a friend; having someone to know and talk to about things would be helpful. But also, it was an attempted blow to stifle her Omega. As much as she pined after Jared, she knew he wouldn't be interested if he knew the truth of her condition. What Alpha would want a broken, dying Omega? At least when he learned, he could leave, and she could try and let go of this stupid fantasy she'd concocted in her mind.

"Okay," Dr. Collins nodded as he pulled up a seat to talk with her. "You'll be happy to know it appears this round of treatments is starting to work, at least a little," he explained. Y/N was surprised as each round of treatments before had failed, her body not finding compatibility with any of the enzymes she was provided. Now, it seemed, they'd finally found a match. "I'm still worried about your heat. And, of course," he leveled her with a gaze, "The goal is to find an Alpha for a permanent solution possibly. Have you given more thought to what we discussed?"

She appreciated his vagueness at the time, seeing Jared stir quietly. Dr. Collins had recommended a matching service that would pair her with an Alpha who needed an Omega. A clinical pairing that would keep them alive, if not happy or in love. That wasn't the point of those programs; she didn't want to go that route. It felt like giving up, and a small part of her hoped to find the fairytale of True Mates and love and romance. Her eyes flashed to Jared, stirring deep within her, alerting her to the fact her Omega was trying to seek the Alpha it needed in him.

"No," she shook her head, forcing her eyes from Jared back to Misha. "I don't want to do that."

Misha sighed, glancing between the pair before nodding. "Alright, we'll continue your treatments and see how you do. Same time next week?"

She smiled and nodded, and Dr. Collins dismissed himself to help the next patient. She liked him a lot. He never seemed to judge her, was open, kind, and understanding, but provided the same level of detailed care to every one of his patients. It was a big part of what made him so sought after in the first place.

"It seems pretty bad," Jared mumbled once they were alone again. He tried to bite back the rising jealousy at his following words: "He's recommending a matching service, isn't he?" She nodded, and he felt a little queasy. "Is that what you want?"

"No," she said, meeting his eyes. "I don't want to give myself to any Alpha to survive. But because I've never been with an Alpha at all, my condition is worse. I'm afraid the choice will be taken from me."

Jared licked his lips and leaned forward, ready to take the chance and offer himself to her, "Y/N, I-"

His phone ringing made him squeeze his eyes shut and curse. As he answered the phone, Jared's body slumped, and Y/N knew he would have to leave.

"-I have to go," he finished lamely, flashing her an apologetic look.

"Duty calls," she chuckled, attempting again to lighten a rather heavy mood.

He laughed with a light sparkle in his eyes. Even though he was a rather large Alpha, she felt comfortable around him. Conversation flowed easily, and she found herself drawn to him in a way she hadn't felt with anyone before. She was almost sad when her treatment finished, and he bid her farewell. Her eyes followed him until he disappeared from her sight.

Maybe it's for the best, she thought, that he leaves before her Omega reaches out for him with dying desperation, ignoring the lingering flutter in her chest. Regardless, she hoped she might see him again, not from within the drunk tank.

-

Jared checked his watch, hurrying his steps toward the hospital's entrance. He did his best to try and calm his racing heart. Jared scheduled his donations for several weeks to coincide with Y/N's treatments.

After their third visit, Dr. Collins pulled him aside to say that she'd been improving with Jared's visits and that the treatments were becoming more effective. However, they still wouldn't tell him if she received his enzymes, so Jared made sure to be there for her.

She was utterly alone, he learned. And her drinking that kept landing her in jail was a failed coping mechanism. She was spiraling toward a painful end. The more he knew and the more time he spent with her, the stronger the pull between them became.

Maybe it was because they were both without a mate. Perhaps it was because they were both dealing with their bodies degrading. But he held on to the slight hope that maybe they were compatible, and that's why their visits always felt like the highlight of his week.

He was nervous as he reached the treatment floor. He was excited to see Y/N and had been working up the nerve over the past two weeks. This time, he was ready; he would go for it and ask her out. Their connection was strong, and he'd been attracted to her since he first saw her. Finally, things were aligning.

As he entered the clinic, his heart sank. He did not see Y/N anywhere among those receiving treatment. He knew it was the right day, the same as it had always been. Checking his watch once more, he frowned. Turning to the receptionist's desk, he gave his name and signed in on the sheet. While the woman behind the desk typed on her computer, he took a moment to glance over the sign-in sheet, not seeing her name anywhere.

Maybe she had other things going on and had to reschedule her appointment. Jared forced back his despondency, deciding to show up earlier the following week. As he sat through his donation, his mind overthinking in circles and lamenting her absence, the most primal side of his inner Alpha began to wake for the first time in years.

-

Jared tried to focus on the paperwork at his desk, but he was restless, his inner Alpha rising to the forefront increasingly with each passing day. He could feel Jensen's eyes boring into him, but he did his best to ignore it. Jensen was increasingly concerned as he watched his Alpha friend unravel before him. He wasn't even sure Jared was aware of the huffs and growls falling from his lips sporadically, his scent permeating everything around him.

"What?" Jared growled at his friend and co-worker with bared teeth. At Jensen's raised brow, Jared tried to compose himself. "I'm sorry."

"Man, I've never seen you like this," Jensen said. "Not even after Gen."

"I know," Jared responded defensively, trying not to bristle at the mention of his former mate.

"Have you seen Y/N lately?"

Jensen didn't want to bring her up, but she hadn't been in jail in weeks. While grateful for that, he could see how badly it affected Jared not to see or be around her.

"She wasn't at the clinic," Jared mumbled, seeing Jensen's curious look. Remembering no one knew, he decided to talk it out with a friend. "She goes to the clinic for Omega treatment," he explained. "I've seen her when I go for donations, but she wasn't there this week."

"Look, I don't want you snapping my head off. But you're different around her, and now that she's not around, you're not looking great. I thought it was just a crush, but maybe you've imprinted," Jensen said as Jared scowled. "Maybe she's yours."

Jared tried to ignore how those words affected him, making him purr at the thought of her being his. He'd entertained the idea himself, the fantastical notion of True Mates. He tried to brush it off as silly, immature musings. But now, hearing Jensen vocalize the same thoughts, Jared wondered if maybe it wasn't just childish notions grounded in something genuine.

When Jared didn't speak and returned to work, Jensen let it go. However, he was determined to keep an eye on his friend and help if needed. He didn't want to see Jared spin out like he did when he lost his mate, Gen. Maybe Jared and Y/N could save each other from a fate worse than death.

-

As promised to himself, Jared returned to the clinic the following week, an hour before he or Y/N were usually scheduled to be there. He sat and waited, completed his donation, and waited another hour beyond the end of his appointment.

But Y/N never showed.

His Alpha was beginning to spin out of his control. A control he maintained so tightly and with relative ease most of his life was now being stripped away in his worry over Y/N. An Omega. One that his Alpha wanted to claim as its own.

He continued going to work each day, both happy and sad that she was never there. He visited the clinic daily to see if her schedule had changed, but she was absent. He briefly entertained the idea of showing up at her door, but he stopped himself. As much as he may care about and want her, she wasn't his Omega. She wasn't his anything, and he had no right to show up. If anything, she might consider it an abuse of his knowledge or power as a deputy, and he certainly didn't want that either.

By the time of his next appointment, Jared was a mess. His Alpha was now at the forefront. He felt almost on the cusp of a rut and wasn't due for some time. The looks from the hospital staff irritated him further as he huffed and stomped his way into the clinic, wiping the ever-present sweat from his brow. It took all he had to contain himself when Dr. Collins refused his weekly donation and sent him home.

He decided to call out of work that night, his rut on the cusp, his Alpha barely restrained. He never called out of work, keeping himself to a strict and disciplined schedule and lifestyle - his way of controlling the beast.

Jared was interrupted from his musings by the phone ringing. He scowled, checking the ID and seeing it was the station. He laid back on the couch with a groan, wiping the sweat from his brow before answering.

"I told you I was too sick to come in tonight," Jared nearly growled.

"I know. But your lady friend found herself locked up again." It was Jensen. "She wanted me to call you."

That had him sitting upright, clutching the phone a little tighter. "She okay?" he asked, jumping up from the couch and rushing to put on his shoes.

"Drunk," Jensen sighed into the phone. "Not as lively as usual, though."

Jared slammed his door as he hastened to his truck, eager to see her and hoping she was okay. His Alpha was chomping at the bit.

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

God, he couldn't be anything but happy she was alive. He slowly drove himself mad for weeks, wondering if he'd missed his chance. Maybe she was going feral, and he couldn't help. Perhaps he did something to piss her off, and she was avoiding him. But now, at least, he knew she was alive and out in the world and asking for HIM. His Alpha puffed with pride, ready to answer his Omega's call.

He barely had the truck in park before hopping out, his long legs marching hurriedly to the station doors. He banged on the glass of the locked front door with an open palm, shuffling from foot to foot as he waited for entry. The bright lights around the law enforcement facility thoroughly polluted the dark of night.

As the door opened, Jared met Jensen's eyes, which roamed him from head to toe and back again. Jared squirmed under the scrutiny, knowing he was a mess. His hair was wild and matted with sweat. His clothes and body were drenched in pheromones, making Jensen's nose crinkle.

"You good?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jared nodded and swallowed hard, taking several breaths to try and calm himself.

Jensen hesitated momentarily, eyeing Jared warily before huffing and letting him in. Jared followed hot on his heels as Jensen unlocked doors and led the way into the holding cell.

Jared froze as soon as his eyes landed on her. She was huddled in the corner, looking far worse than he'd ever seen her. She was undoubtedly drunk, but by the smells permeating every corner of the room, he knew it was more than just alcohol that was making her so lethargic.

"Y/N?" he called out loudly as he clung to the bars.

She stirred and grunted but didn't respond beyond that. Jared's nostrils flared, his Alpha ready to pry the bars apart to get to her.

"Omega?" he whimpered under his breath as if saying it were a delicate secret.

Hearing her title, she sat up slightly, fluttering open her eyes to lock on the source. She took a deep breath at the slight whine from the Alpha on the other side of the bars. As her vision cleared and her body filled with his scent, she rose, stumbling to him. When her smaller hands clutched at the bars, he automatically moved to cover hers with his own, drawing a small whimper from the fragile Omega.

"Sorry, Padadeputy," she smirked, finally meeting his eyes. "I didn't have anyone else to call."

He could see unspoken pain in her eyes, could sense just how bad her condition had gotten and how worse she was making it from drinking. He reluctantly released her, stepping back from the bars and turning to Jensen.

"Let her out," Jared asked but with a commanding Alpha edge. "I'll take her home."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Jensen protested.

"I don't care what you think," Jared growled. "I'm taking her home where she can sleep it off. You don't know her condition, man."

"And you do?" Jensen asked surprisingly calmly, though his look was anything but.

"Yes, I do," Jared stood tall, squaring his shoulders. "I won't hurt her."

Jensen was still hesitant. But in the end, he trusted his friend. Jared had always been thoughtful and in control in a way Jensen envied. If he could trust anyone with her care, it was Jared. Besides, whatever the Hell was going on with her, she'd certainly do better at home than in a cold, concrete cell.

With a nod and a huff, Jensen relented, turning to the cell door and opening it up, letting Y/N out.

She smiled at Jensen, "Thank you, Ocifer Ankles." She grinned, making Jensen roll his eyes.

"Just get her home safe, okay?"

"Promise," Jared nodded, wrapping an arm around Y/N to steady her as they left the building and walked to his truck.

He secured her safely in the passenger's seat, closed the door, and jogged to the driver's side. He hopped in and started up the truck but leaned back in his seat with a huff, taking a deep breath.

He turned to Y/N, surprised to find her already looking at him. "You called for me," he breathed out, more a statement than a question.

"Well, I didn't have your number," she fidgeted with her hands. “I didn't know anyone else and wanted to go home."

"I haven't seen you in weeks-"

He stopped as her hand landed on his, squeezing lightly. "I'm sorry," she said. “I'll explain everything. Please, take me home."

He agreed, guiding the truck onto the road and quickly remembering the route to her house. He may not have gone there, but he traveled the path in his mind often enough. He was pleasantly surprised that she held his hand the whole ride, even if her attention was on the passing scenery.

Parking in the driveway, they both got out. Y/N quickly took Jared by the hand again as she led him into her house. Guiding him to the couch, she went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. He was already missing her touch and warmth, her presence beside him. He fought the urge to wander into the kitchen and forced himself to sit on the couch.

She knew there was a lot to tell him. She could tell he was riled, and she wasn't entirely surprised. During his visits, they talked and grew more familiar, and Y/N began to entertain the thought of having an Alpha. It was hard for her not to see him in weeks, and she could see that it also affected him.

Pouring the coffee into two mugs, she carried them to the living room, handing Jared one before sitting on the couch facing him.

"Jared," she started, and he purred at hearing his name from her lips. "I'm sorry if I made things awkward by calling you."

"What?" he said, setting his mug on the small table and paying attention to her. "You didn't. I'm glad you called."

She smiled bashfully, "I'm sorry I haven't been to treatment in a while."

"What happened, Y/N?" he asked, still worried but needing to know why she was gone.

"My heat's trying to break through," she explained. "It's been a long time since I've had one because of medications. It didn't hit fully, but what started to break through was enough to make me sick."

Jared's breathing picked up as he listened to her words. His Alpha was going into a panic again. He knew something was wrong. If it was her heat, he could've helped. He can help.

"I was admitted to the Omega wing at the hospital," seeing him getting worked up, she tried to calm him. "They got it managed and switched my meds. It's been trying to worm to the surface for weeks."

"Eventually, it'll come back full force, though, right?" he swallowed hard at the question, knowing full well how painful and possibly fatal a heat for her could be. He had thoroughly researched her condition, and it only made him more sure they met for a reason.

"I've never had an Alpha, Jared. I've never even been with one before." 

He let out a deep growl at her statement, which was more a call to her womanhood than something scary. He wasn't fully aware he'd done it until he saw her body respond. Taking a chance and testing the waters, she set her cup on the table and scooted closer to him. Leaning in, she lay her head on his chest, her arms wrapping around him in a tight hug. She breathed in deeply, blatantly scenting him and humming in satisfaction and comfort.

Jared set his mug aside and wrapped his arms around her, tucking her close. He leaned down to scent her hair as she breathed in his scent, an involuntary groan ripping from his lips. In his youth, he would have been eager to take and claim. Now, there was only calm and peace, her scent and warmth soothing the primal beast within.

"You know I had an Omega before," Jared's voice rumbled in his chest. "It shames me to say this, but it never felt like this."

"I know what you mean," she responded, squeezing him a little, making him hold her closer. “I've never felt such compatibility before. I can usually resist Alphas, but with you…"

True mates, Jared's mind offered, but he remained silent. As the conversation quieted, he moved to retrieve the remote from the table, putting something on to watch until she was ready to sleep. It didn't take long for her to pass out. Jared carefully moved, scooping her into his arms and carrying her to her bedroom. He tucked her under the covers, standing over her as she settled into comfort.

He knew this was when he should leave but he couldn't move his feet. His eyes drifted over Y/N’s face, settled peacefully in slumber, before looking over her shape and form, hidden by the covers. She was beautiful, her scent sweet and enticing. His muscles twitched as he fought the urge to crawl beside her, his Alpha yearning to make her his.

He could leave, he supposed, and he probably should. But he didn't want to, and he reasoned that Y/N probably needed someone to look after her anyway. So, returning to the living room, he kicked off his shoes and settled on the couch. He was asleep in a matter of minutes, her scent surrounding him and providing him with much-needed comfort.

-

Jared woke suddenly in the middle of the night, a second of confusion clouding his mind before he realized why he had woken. Drenched in sweat, he discovered his rut had finally broken in his relaxed state. Although he could smell himself—sweating in the same clothes for two days and soaked once more—her delectable scent still permeated everything.

Now fully awake, he sat upright on the couch, cradling his aching head. His Alpha was desperate to go to her, sneak into her room, and ease their suffering. But he also didn't want to scare her or ruin what they were starting to develop between them. He wouldn't let himself lose control with her. But if he stayed there much longer, the choice might be taken from him.

Mind made up, he searched for a scrap of paper and something to write with, hastily jotting down his number and that he'd see her at the next treatment appointment the following day. He placed the note on the coffee table and forced his feet towards the door. He paused with his hand on the handle, his forehead leaning against the cool door. His Alpha was screaming at him not to do this or leave her.

With his last bought of strength and willpower, he opened the door, shutting it quietly behind him as he forced his feet toward his truck, hoping to sleep it off at home.

-

When she woke in the morning, she felt awful. She knew right away that her heat had broken. She feared this would be the one the doctor had warned her about - the one that would drive her feral. She could faintly smell Jared, and her body forced her to crawl from the bed and towards the source.

She stumbled to the living room like a zombie on automatic. She was surprised not to find him there when she reached the couch. Maybe he was in the bathroom? She glanced at the coffee table, seeing a paper. Dashing to grab it, she read the hastily scribbled note from Jared.

He had to go but would see her at her next appointment. That was tomorrow afternoon. Her Omega whined in protest of his absence. His scent lingered, and she crawled onto the couch, wrapping herself in the throw and drowning in his potent scent. It seemed to seep into everything fabric he touched and slept upon.

As Jared's rich, Alpha scent filled her lungs, her heat slammed into her with a ferocity that terrified her. The pain compounded with heartbreak over the perceived rejection from his departure. His scent ramped up her body from desire to urgent need as a pitiful whine escaped her parted lips.

With hazy images in her mind's eye, her hand wandered down her body and between her thighs, desperate for any form of relief from the burning within her. She came hard with Jared's name on her lips but was still unsatisfied and yearning. Already feeling tired and drained, she forced her fingers to continue, her wetness more than she'd ever felt before. A brief, alarming worry flashed through her before a second climax erased all thought. Again, it wasn't quite enough, but it eased her pain just enough for her to fall asleep.

-

Jared rushed toward the clinic doors, his heart racing. Ever since he'd left Y/N's house, he'd been itching to see her again, to just be near her. He'd showered twice and doused himself in scent blockers, knowing they wouldn't let him stay if he was in a rut. But he'd promised to see her. He couldn't donate in his condition, but he could keep her company and show her he could be trusted.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Jared walked into the clinic, his eyes flitting about, looking for her. He didn't see or scent her anywhere. Glancing at the clock, he reviewed the sign-in sheet, but her name was not listed. A sinking dread filled his stomach, and he was unaware of his worried Alpha scent growing and filling the space, drawing unwanted attention.

Jared rechecked his phone, but there were no calls or texts. He sent Y/N a text as he began to panic. Maybe he shouldn't have left. Maybe he should go to her house and see if she was okay. His spiraling panic had amped his rut again, the blockers now useless against the many emotions and pheromones clogging the air.

Nurse Benedict - a small but kind man - approached him warily, and Jared looked around to see him drawing attention.

"Hey, Jared," he spoke calmly with a soft smile. "You shouldn't be here in your condition."

Jared could see several patients eyeing him warily, and he knew he was making them uncomfortable.

"I—I'm sorry," he apologized and reluctantly forced himself to leave. The familiar voice of Dr. Collins stopped him at the door.

"Jared?"

Misha had just stepped off the elevators leading to the hospital. Jared's nostrils flared, and his pupils dilated as he caught Y/N's scent from the smaller male. His rut was still simmering under the surface, and her scent on another man—regardless of whom—exacerbated it. 

The Alpha within gained the upper hand as Jared rushed Misha, pinning him against the wall with his forearm across the smaller male’s throat, baring his teeth in warning as he growled. 

“Where is she?”

“Who?” Misha squeaked, urging Jared to loosen his hold enough for him to speak. “Who are you looking for, Jared?”

“Y/N. Where is Y/N? I can smell her all over you. Did you touch what’s mine?” 

Misha knew Jared was deep into his rut. Moreover, his apparent instincts over Y/N further confirmed his suspicions about the pair. 

“Dr. Collins,” Nurse Benedict said, and Misha raised his hand to urge him to stay back. “Should I call security?”

“No. Thank you, Rob. We’re fine. Just need a little space to talk, is all.”

Misha remained calm as Nurse Benedict backed away, leaving him and Jared alone. Jared relaxed and released Misha, a part of him sensing his anger was misplaced. 

"Is she here?" Jared growled, unable to maintain pleasantries. 

Even his logical mind screamed that he was her doctor, for crying out loud. Dr. Collins looked Jared up and down before glancing down the hallway to see Nurse Benedict still watching the scene.

"Come with me," Misha insisted, gesturing for Jared to follow him onto the elevator. Pressing the floor button, the elevator doors closed, leaving the two men alone. "She's on the Omega treatment floor; she was brought in the middle of the night by ambulance."

Guilt slammed into him hard; he knew he shouldn't have left. He was trying to be respectful, but it may have been what sent her there. He couldn't lose her. Not when he'd finally let himself believe they could have something.

The bell chimed, indicating they'd reached their floor as the doors opened again. Jared followed Y/N's doctor in silence. He wasn't her Alpha and wouldn't be allowed to see her or even be on the floor, especially in his condition. But he trusted Misha and didn't want to get thrown out. So he stayed quiet and followed a very close step behind.

Jared tried to tamper down his Alpha as the overwhelming scents of Omegas and their Alphas assaulted him. While he could scent they mainly were bonded, the pheromones had him wanting to fight or fuck it out.

“Dr. Collins?”

A brunette female doctor greeted Misha as they stopped in the hall. Her gaze flicked over Jared questioningly before returning to Misha in confusion. Jared was finding it difficult to control himself when they reached the floor, and everyone was looking at him or scurrying away, his scent potent and alarming.

“Dr. Rhodes,” Misha greeted with a smile. “This is Jared. We’re here for Y/N Y/L/N.”

Dr. Rhodes was slightly concerned and upset over the situation, not to mention the visible marks on Misha’s neck. She was almost sure this was a dangerous Alpha and her colleague was being coerced. Pulling a syringe stealthily from her coat pocket, Dr. Rhodes attempted to inject Jared with a sedative. Jared was too quick - years of police training made him ever aware of possible danger - and he pinned her to the wall, just like he had with Misha, growling and squeezing her wrist until she cried out in pain and dropped the syringe.

“Jared, let her go.”

Expecting Misha, Jared was surprised to see Jensen beside him, still in uniform. Jared eased his grip, glancing at Misha and seeing the fear in his eyes. He forced himself to release the doctor and backed away from her, his eyes flashing between her and Dr. Collins. Dr. Rhodes rubbed her aching wrist as she eyed Jared warily.

“What are you doing here?” 

“I came in with the ambulance after the emergency call,” Jensen explained, trying to control his anger. “I let her go home with you, and then I get a call there’s an emergency at her house. I thought you lost control like in the past and possibly did something.”

By the time he finished speaking, Jensen’s shoulders slumped, knowing his words would strike a chord with his friend. Jared was certainly pissed and hurt at the insinuation.

“I left because I didn’t want to force her into anything. I was losing my mind, and I left,” Jared yelled, tugging at his hair in frustration. His arms dropped to his sides, and he started to cry. “I did this to her by leaving. This is my fault.”

Jared dropped to his knees and cried into his hands. He tried to do the right thing by her, but she ended up hurt anyway. Jensen tried to comfort him, helping him to his feet. Jared wiped his eyes and struggled to control his emotions.

“Please,” Jared turned to Doctors Rhodes and Collins. “Please let me see her. She needs me, and I can fix this.”

“She’s unmated,” Dr. Rhodes snapped. “We can’t have an unmated Alpha in a rut here.”

“He’s her donor.”

“Excuse me?” Jared and Dr. Rhodes spoke at the same time.

Jared was just as surprised at Misha’s words; he and Dr. Rhodes both anticipated Dr. Collins's response.

“Y/N’s body rejected everything we gave her until she received Jared’s enzymes. It’s what has kept her alive this long. They are highly compatible.”

Highly compatible—a modern, scientific term to replace the adage of ‘True Mates.’ As Dr. Collins and Dr. Rhodes argued over professionalism and ethics, Jared’s mind tuned them out. Y/N was his—he just knew it, and she needed him. He couldn’t fathom losing another mate; he would surely go feral.

As they continued debating, Jared slipped away. In a trance, he let his nose and instincts guide him, finding Y/N’s room with ease. He entered the room, glancing back at the doctors before mostly closing the door behind him.

The sight of her lying in bed, covered in sweat and groaning in pain, broke his heart. But the luscious scent of her heat called out to him, drawing him closer until he stood beside her bed.

“Omega,” he breathed out, more of a growl that made her body jerk and her eyes flutter open with a groan.

“Jared?” she weakly asked, shuddering from cramps and fever.

Jared took her hand, the heat of her skin scorching. She sighed, and her body relaxed. After only a few moments, he watched in amazement as her vitals settled to something more normal, though her scent grew more potent.

“You left,” she croaked, pulling her hand from his hold, making him frown. “You rejected me.”

Jared was horrified, her perceived rejection making his heart clench painfully.

“No,” he insisted, retaking her hand and urging her to look at him, “No, Omega. I would never reject you. I didn’t want to take advantage.”

Drs. Rhodes and Collins entered the room, and Jared looked sheepish and caught but refused to move from Y/N’s side.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t be in here without authorization,” Dr. Rhodes spoke, Misha just beside her.

Jensen appeared again, grabbing Jared by the arm and trying to lead him from the room, “I’m sorry, Jared. I have to take you out of here. Don’t make it difficult, okay?”

“I’m an authorized donor,” Jared thought quickly on his feet. “You said she was getting my enzymes, right?” he spoke, fighting against Jensen’s hold.

“We could do a direct enzyme infusion,” Misha suggested to his colleague. “Kim, we have to do something. He can help.”

“The infusion would help,” Dr. Rhodes offered. 

“No,” Y/N spoke again. “I’m a broken and rejected Omega. I don’t want to go through this anymore.”

“Maybe we can give them a chance to talk?” Dr. Collins spoke with his colleague, seeing she was at least considering. No one wanted to see someone die because they couldn’t be matched or mated. 

“We should run tests,” Dr. Rhodes offered with a sigh, both Misha and Jared relieved she seemed to be on board finally.  “If they are compatible, they should mate as soon as possible.”

Jared was grateful they were bending the rules. As they all left the room, Jared felt the urgency of convincing Y/N that they could do this - could mate and be together if she wanted.

Holding her hand firmly in his, he cupped her cheek with his other hand, urging her to look at him. He took a moment to caress and soak in her features and scent.

“I left because you smelled so good I was afraid I’d lose control and do something you didn’t want. But I would very much like to be your Alpha.”

“I woke up, and I scented you,” Y/N explained. “But you weren’t there. I lay on the couch. I needed your scent.”

She fought back tears, and Jared did his best to soothe her from his position.

“The idea of having an Alpha, of belonging to them, terrifies me. I never wanted it, and now I’m paying for that. But then you came along, and I wasn’t afraid. I was drawn and curious but never afraid.” 

She let her tears fall then but smiled warmly at Jared, squeezing his hand.  Jared’s heart swelled. He shouldn’t have left, but now he’d get a second chance.

“Will you let me claim you?” He asked, needing to be bonded with her and knowing her body needed it too.

Before she could respond, two Beta nurses entered with Dr. Rhodes behind them, “So, are we doing the transfusion?”

Y/N and Jared held each others’ gaze for a long moment before Y/N turned to the doctor.

“Yes.”

Y/N looked back to Jared, who kissed her hand and moved into a chair beside the bed. The nurses set up IVs and a machine to feed Jared’s enzymes to stabilize her.

“As soon as possible,” Jared whispered just for her, “I’ll get you home and take care of you.”

The implications of his promise made her shiver. The staff left them alone while the transfusion was going on. However, after several minutes, Y/N looked like she was about to pass out as the alarms started blaring. Jared was out of his seat and at her side in a flash, cupping her face and trying to rouse her. The nurses and doctor rushed in, pushing Jared back into his chair as they checked her over. Her scent blossomed, almost choking him, and he detected the bitter tones of her heat on the verge of turning feral.

“The transfusion isn’t enough,” Dr. Rhodes explained to Jared.

“She needs a claim,” he understood, his feet pulling him closer to her. “Can I take her home?”

He couldn’t lose her, and he couldn’t survive losing another mate. He felt blessed at having found her, but now he felt cursed to know only loss. He knew it would save her if he could mate and claim her.

“She’s not stable enough to leave,” the doctor explained. “But I can secure the room and give you privacy,” she offered instead.

Jared could only nod, his Alpha ready to care for his mate, his scent informing all others to keep their distance. The doctor rushed off, giving Jared a wide berth and securing the door behind her as promised.

“Y/N?” Jared urged, trying to get her to focus on him, to at least hear him. “Omega?”

His voice was tinged with both whine and growl as he let his instincts guide him. He leaned down over Y/N and kissed her chaste but deeply.

“Alpha,” she whispered as her body sought him out.

“My true mate,” he whispered back reverently. “Not how I wanted this to go, but I can’t lose you. Need to mate and claim you.”

She shook her head, fighting to stay coherent and awake as the heat raced through her body. Her utter desperation for the Alpha before her was the only thing tethering her to wakefulness. 

“It’s too fast,” she protested, a tiny sliver of rationality clinging to her consciousness. 

“You’re dying,” he responded bluntly. “You would have had to have someone assigned as your mate. We’ll never get to know each other if you’re dead. I can’t let that happen when I can help you.” He held her face in his hands, his forehead pressed to hers. “Omega, please.”

“Jared,” she breathed, giving in to her body’s needs and tilting her head to kiss him. He responded in kind, his Alpha chomping to make her his. “Alpha, please. Need you. Need-”

Her voice trailed off as a painful cramp seized hold, making her whine and whimper. Jumping to action, Jared removed his shoes and hastily removed his clothes, leaving him in his boxer briefs. He pulled down the blankets and pushed up her hospital gown to her stomach. Her folds glistened in the harsh light, her scent potent and slamming into him hard. He breathed deep, his body shuddering.

Crawling on the bed to hover over her, she automatically spread her legs, Jared’s hand finding her core. Slipping two fingers inside, he groaned, feeling her soaked and more than ready for him.

She whined and squirmed, the fever taking hold. Jared would have reveled in her desperation and submission, but now was not the time or place. He removed her clothes and climbed on the small bed, settling between her legs and pulling the covers over them for modesty.

His hard and heavy cock twitched eagerly against her hot and drenched folds. Without hesitation, he slid within her, groaning at the delectable feel of her heat wrapped around him. She whimpered again, and he shushed her, kissing her sweet as he began to move.

It was desperate and clinical, feeding primal needs and alleviating both their near-feral biologies. Y/N still felt better than anyone he’d ever had, and he promised himself the romance would come later when they were both safely out of danger.

“Alpha,” she called out, her legs spreading wider, letting Jared slide even deeper. “Alpha, need your knot!”

Jared groaned long and deep, burying his face in her neck as he picked up his pace. The small bed creaked with his every movement. Her hands on his ass, pulling him even closer, reminded him of her desperation and his own.

“Gonna knot and mark you, Omega,” he warned, his knot already swelling, making it more challenging to fuck her how they needed. Feeling her grow close, he slipped a hand between them, rubbing tight and fast circles on her clit.

Her body tensed, right on the edge, and Jared could no longer hold off.

“Omega,” he groaned, his knot popping and locking them together.

As his teeth sank into her neck, marking her as his and bonding them, she came loud and hard, gushing around his knot.

They both lay panting, waiting for Jared’s knot to recede. Jared licked and kissed her wound, allowing his instincts to guide him, his heart full in a way he never thought possible after his loss. Once his knot released, he moved from the bed, dressed, and cleaned them up. When done, Y/N slept, and Jared ran to get someone to check to ensure she was okay.

He knew she would need more than one round to heal, but he hoped he could take her home, where it would be more comfortable and private. Jared rushed out of the room to find Drs. Rhodes and Collins who paused their speech when they saw him.

“Is everything alright?” Dr. Rhodes looked concerned.

“She’s sleeping,” Jared offered.

“I’ll just go check on her.”

Jared followed into Y/N’s room, and Dr. Collins was close behind. They both stood by patiently as Dr. Rhodes examined Y/N.

“She seems better,” Dr. Rhodes announced. “I’ll need to draw some blood, and we’ll need to keep her for observation for a few hours.”

Jared tensed but nodded. He didn’t want to be in the hospital any longer than necessary and just wanted to get her into a comfortable bed where he could tend to her every need and bring her back to life. But he could force himself to wait a few more hours for Y/N’s sake. He’d rather know she was stabilized before he removed her from the place that could save her if something went wrong. 

“Try to get some rest,” Misha insisted as Y/N’s blood was drawn. “You both need your strength.”

Once again, they were left alone, the door secured behind them. It was easier to control his instincts now that they were bonded, but it still took effort to restrain himself from those having to touch or go near his mate.

Jared took residence in his chair again, scooting it as close as possible to the bed so he could hold Y/N’s hand as she slept. He laid his head on her belly, watching her as she slumbered. It wasn’t long before he drifted off to sleep with her.

-

It took half a day and a second round before Y/N was stable enough to leave the hospital. The second she was wheeled outside—per hospital protocol—Jared scooped her from the chair into his arms and carried her to his waiting truck, tucking her safely inside.

Y/N was more than surprised when Jared pulled into her home's driveway. She expected as an Alpha - and her Alpha - that he’d want her in his space. Most Alphas were territorial in that way. Before she could vocalize a word, Jared was out of the truck and at her side, carrying her in his arms again towards her front door.

“I wanted you to be comfortable,” he explained as he opened her door. She was surprised he had her keys, but she supposed she was pretty out of it and was grateful she had someone looking out for her. “I figured you’d want to be in your space for now.”

It would take some getting used to. But as her eyes trailed over Jared’s body as he stood from laying her on the couch, she was thankful to have been blessed with such an attractive and caring mate. But her mood was soured as she smelled herself, a mix of her heat, sex, and not having showered in a couple of days.

“I want a shower,” she whined, her stomach gurgling loudly. “And something to eat.”

“Okay,” Jared readily agreed, ready to help her off the couch. “Why don’t we shower first, and then I’ll make us something to eat?”

“Jared,” she protested. “You don’t have to.”

“You’re my mate, Y/N,” he gently argued. “Please, Omega, let me take care of you?”

He pulled her to her feet, his arms wrapped around her securely. She swooned at his rich and calming scent as he quietly purred to soothe her.

“Yes, Alpha.” She smiled warmly at him, and Jared gave in to his urge to kiss her.

In the hospital, she was so out of it that she could barely remember them mating, let alone his kiss. She could feel the pulse in her neck from his bite, reminding her it was real. She imagined he was as gone as her when they mated, the urgency overriding all else. Now, however, she could savor his kiss - a kiss that was making her swoon so hard her legs gave out. Luckily, he was swift to scoop her into his arms once again. 

Jared had wanted this - wanted her - for so long since he had first scented her. The first time, he was in the local bar on a rare night out. He had caught her scent wafting over all the others, calling to his inner Alpha that had been dormant for many years. He followed his nose, intent on finding the source. As soon as he laid eyes on her, his heart stuttered. But she left before he could ever approach her.

The second time he saw her, she was locked in the drunk tank. He had reported for an overnight shift and was briefed on the persons in holding. That’s when he learned her name. He spent the entire night with a watchful eye, her scent driving him mad with want. 

Y/N’s second visit to the drunk tank was his third time seeing her, and they spent most of that time in friendly chatting. That’s when Jared began to wonder if he could ever have a chance with this stunning Omega that called to him. It was also the first time he wondered what demons had led her to drink and be locked up. That’s when he tried to rid himself of the idea of her as ever being his. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake her from his mind, her scent ingrained in him.

As he set her down in the bathroom and turned on the shower, Y/N began stripping her dirty and sweat-soaked clothes. When Jared turned back around, finally satisfied with the water temperature, Y/N was naked and smiling shyly. He couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming her nude body, finally able and allowed to view and appreciate every inch of her - and appreciate he did.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he breathed heavily, removing his clothes as he watched her eyes devour him in turn. “My Omega.”

A shiver ran through Y/N’s body at Jared’s Alpha tone, laced with his desire for her. They both took their time appreciating each other's bodies. Y/N had never seen a man so fit and toned or a cock so large and - frankly - beautiful, which is something she never thought she’d say. 

As another wave of her heat ramped up, she trusted Jared to help her. Y/N’s mind was foggy, and her body focused only on her basic needs. She could barely stand on her own in the shower. She could smell Jared’s delicious scent all around her, already mingling with hers. His hands, large and warm, delicately cleansed and caressed her skin.

After showering, he dried her down, and she slipped on a silky robe that barely covered her ass but was lightweight and didn’t irritate her frazzled skin. Jared threw on his boxers and t-shirt, knowing she’d need him again soon and not wanting too many layers in their way.

He left her on the couch, searching her kitchen for something to feed them. He opted for eggs and toast, something easy to make and eat. As he gathered the needed items, he noted that there were bottles everywhere he turned. Some bottles were empty, some half full or waiting to be opened. He was more than worried and knew he’d have to ask her about it. Maybe he could help her.

Bringing the plates to the living room, Jared handed her one as he sat on the couch beside her. He observed her as they ate, more than happy that she liked it and ate it all. Without a word, he gathered their dishes and neatly placed them on the coffee table. He planned to wash them at some point, but he needed to confront her about the drinking finally.

“Y/N?” Jared began cautiously, grateful when she eagerly met his gaze. “I don’t want to tell you how to live your life or try to control you; I’m not that kind of Alpha,” he started, her brow furrowed as he continued. “It’s just…all the drinking, the bottles everywhere, ending up in the drunk tank. I’m worried and want to help if you let me.”

She dropped her gaze to her lap as she nodded her head. She had expected it to come up at some point. After all, it was a prominent part of her life lately, and she worried it was all Jared really knew about her from being locked up so much. 

Y/N could only feel safety and comfort from Jared, no judgment or anger. Their bond was new and raw, but she was grateful that she could feel him and knew it was okay to be honest. She met his eyes again and smiled reassuringly.

“For a while, it was the only way I could escape the pain, at least for a little while—mental, emotional, physical pain over my whole situation. I never wanted to be tied to a mate. I didn’t want to be matched to someone I didn’t love or know just to stay alive. I didn’t want to die or hurt myself;  I just wanted to escape. I don’t need to drink, and I never really enjoyed it either. I want to give it up.”

Jared had expected at least a small argument or fight, not immediate acceptance. He placed a hand on top of hers, needing to feel her and reassure her. She flashed him that soft smile again and squeezed his hand back. Now, he felt like she was the one comforting him.

“I mean it,” she insisted. “I fought against this whole thing, but now that we’re mated, I am happy and content. I’m happy it’s you, and I know being mated to you will heal the pain. My health and mood will improve,” She laughed to herself. “It feels so stupid that I fought against it so much. It’s better than I ever thought it could be to be mated to you.”

He couldn’t help it as he leaned in, cupping her cheek and kissing her deeply. To know that she genuinely wanted him as much as he wanted her, after everything and how she felt, she was more than just okay with him claiming her. She was happy; she wanted it, and he wanted her.

Y/N kissed him hungrily, pushing him back into the couch and crawling into his lap as she demanded more. Jared wrapped his arms around her, moaning as she ground her bare, wet folds against his clothed cock. He hastily undid the tie of her robe, brushing it off her shoulders and to the ground. When his hands found her warm flesh, he hummed in satisfaction.

She ground her hips into him as she devoured his mouth, desperate for her Alpha, her heat ramping up again, far from satiated. She ran her hands down his chest and whined at the t-shirt that obscured her from his flesh. Jared caught on quickly, breaking the kiss long enough to pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside. Her fingers trailed over his torso, exploring his flesh as she kissed him deep again.

Her grinding was riling him up quicker than he’d anticipated, her scent and neediness, the desperate sounds she was making, all colliding into a perfect storm that aroused him to no end. But he’d promised her that he’d mate her properly when they were home, and that’s precisely what he intended to do.

Scooping her into his arms, Jared stood and carried Y/N toward the bedroom, finding it hard to focus as she continued grinding against him and nibbling at the sensitive spots on his neck. 

“Naughty little Omega,” Jared playfully chastised as he slapped her ass. She gasped and ground against him harder. “Oh, you are naughty, aren’t you?”

Stepping into the room, he laid her on the bed and removed his boxers before he crawled over her with a smirk. 

“Oh, maybe we can play Cops and Robbers, and you can punish me, Padadeputy,” she teased with a sultry smirk. 

Jared growled and kissed her hard with teeth and tongue, “Next time,” he promised. “I have something else in mind,” he added as he pulled back and rolled her to her stomach. “Promised to claim you proper.”

She attempted to rise and present, but he placed a large hand on her lower back, keeping her flat and prone on the bed. He bent one of her knees, exposing her to him. Using his knees and thighs, he nudged her further until he could settle comfortably on top of her and between her thighs.

Y/N moaned as his weight settled on top of her, pressing her into the mattress. She was trapped beneath him, unable to move much in any way. But she wasn’t afraid. Instead, she willingly submitted to her strong and potent Alpha. 

Jared shifted his hips and slowly guided his cock into her tight and wet core. It felt like an eternity before he finally settled deep within her, moving his hips to nudge against her depths. Y/N moaned, her fingers clenched in the sheets. He was so deep, and she felt so incredibly full. 

While they had already mated, it was rushed and fevered, and she was so out of it that she didn’t remember much. Now, however, she could feel every little thing, which seemed deliciously overwhelming: from the emotions, the connection, and the sensations of him nestled inside and around her.

She squirmed desperately beneath him as much as she could. Jared nipped her shoulder, and she went still with a whine. He rewarded her by glacially pulling out and pressing in again just as slowly. She needed more and was growing ravenous, but he had other ideas.

Jared continued his slow and passionate rhythm, his hips rolling like gentle waves lapping at the shore. It felt incredible, and Y/N could feel every detail of his length as he speared her open again and again. But it wasn’t enough to take them anywhere. Instead, Jared held them in the realm of pleasure, near torture, with seemingly no end in sight. It was maddening and divine.

“Tell me how it feels,” Jared whispered as he kissed her neck and shoulders.

“Alpha.”

“Tell me,” he reiterated, nipping at her claim and making her moan.

“Feels big and deep,” she gasped, and another nip told her he wanted more. “Ugh! So thick and hot, splitting me open. Feel like you could break right through into my womb. So full,” she whined into the sheets.

Jared groaned and increased his pace, his hands exploring her body, his mouth tasting everywhere he could reach as he drove them both toward their ends. His body stilled as his knot popped, locking them together as his cum flooded her channel. He leaned in to renew his claim; even the bite was intentional and slow, and Jared savored the pop and burst as her skin broke anew. 

“You did so well, Omega,” Jared praised, shifting them to a spooning position as they waited for his knot to go down. “How are you feeling?” he asked, leaning on an elbow to look down at her.

Y/N met his eyes and marveled at the many colors present and the myriad of emotions reflected back at her. Her heart swelled, and she knew she already loved him. She never knew mating could feel like this like she had found a piece of herself she was missing. Jared was a better Alpha than she ever imagined an Alpha could be. All the pain and suffering was worth it just to find him.

“Lucky, Jared,” she smiled warmly. “I feel so damn lucky.”

FOREVERS:

@lyarr24

@hobby27

@kazsrm67

@maliburenee

@440mxs-wife

@writercole

@spnbaby-67

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@leigh70

@laycblack

@kr804573

RPF:

@smoothdogsgirl

[jennyyy007]

Family 🍼 pt. 1

Bad dream - Lacey pov. 🎀

cw: female whumpee, male whumper, forced infantilization, creepy whumper, multiple whumpees

(Just to make this clear from the start. Whumper has NO SEXUAL INTENTIONS with the whumpees. In case any of you think that!!. He is simply a psychopath)

———————————————————————

It’s been a while since lacey had such a good rest. The mattress of her bed feels unusually soft and the blanket is so warm and comfortable. She feels just like a baby.. nice and cozy.

A soft yawn escapes the girls mouth as she attempts to readjust her sleeping position, raising one of her legs to curl up before she tries the same with her second leg.

Something is holding her ankle back. Half asleep Lacey tries again, pulling her leg up with a tiny bit more force but it doesn’t work.

Slowly, she starts to wake up, rubbing her eyes as she opens them. What… that is definitely not her rooms wall.. and thats definitely not her rooms shelves.. and that’s definitely not her.. bed..

The room she finds herself in is completely held in a soft pastel pink aesthetic. There’s shelves with toys, a dollhouse, plushies everywhere. There’s no windows and it’s only a few small lights to create a cozy atmosphere.

And the bed… it’s not even a bed it’s.. a crib. A cozy white blanket with little pink stars covers her as she’s surrounded by lots of plushies. She pushes the blanket off and finds herself wearing a baby pink nightgown. Her right ankle is chained to one of the bars from her crib with a handcuff. To make it more comfortable the cuff has a layer of, of course… pink fabric covering it.

Lacey quickly realizes that she’s in trouble. What happened? Why is everything so child like.. and..

“Mhh-“

As she tries to talk she comes to the realization that her mouth is muffled as well, forced open by a ballgag.

..and why is she restrained this way..

She quickly sits up, trying to pull on the cuff around her ankle before she reaches behind her head. Lacey attempts to remove the gag, her fingers drastically pulling on the strap but it’s no use.. there’s a small lock holding the leather tightly together.

Tears start to build up in her eyes, she’s scared.. She knows she’s been kidnapped. She doesn’t remember anything happening before she woke up here. She did her homework, took a shower and ate dinner before watching a movie with her siblings.. and all three of them went to sleep after.

“Oh no! Sweetheart don’t cry did you have a bad dream?”

Lacey didn’t even hear the door swing open before the male voice makes her jump. A man, looking in his mid to late twenties hurries over to her crib, making the frightened girl scurry back.

“Shh.. it’s just me baby. Daddy’s here..”

Daddy? What is this man talking about..

Lacey squirms back more as he reaches down to take off her gag.

“Come on.. you can tell me what’s wrong honey.”

The girl almost chokes on her own saliva as he takes off the.. of course pink gag.

She’s still crying but she’s trying to at least somewhat form an understandable sentence.

“W-what is.. i-is this? Where- w-where’s my s-siblings?”

She asks him immediately. The three of them share a bed room. Their parents have a rather low income so they always had to stay in that, for three people way too tiny room.

Her brother, Finn, sleeps in the single bed. Lacey and her sister, Clara, share the bunk bed. Clara sleeps on top since Lacey has always been scared of heights since she was a toddler.

“They’re still asleep honey it’s the middle of the night.. Come on let’s get you out of there”

For it being the middle of the night he looks pretty ready for the day. Wearing jeans and a t shirt as well as a set of shoes.

The man crouches down next to the crib, taking a small key to unlock the cuff, not giving her any time to escape before he immediately picks her up. Holding her against him like a child.

It’s easy to carry the girl even tho she’s already grown. Her and her siblings turned seventeen just two weeks ago but they unfortunately all got their mothers genes. Her and her sister having grown taller than 150 centimeters. Finn is a bit taller, 155 to be exact.

“Where a-are they?”

The girl stutters as the man walks over to a corner of the room, it looks very cozy, with lots of blankets and pillows, he sits down, placing the girl in his lap as he holds her, softly hushing her.

“Shhh… come on baby go back to sleep.. daddy’s here to protect you”

She feels a sting in the side of her neck, making a soft yelp before she starts to feel extremely weak again. Lacey turns her head and sees a syringe with a bit of liquid dripping from the tip.. He drugged her..

“Go to sleep hun… dad.. he.. t’s.. oka….”

Is all the girl can understand before everything goes black.

———————————————————————