#water management directory

[ecohubmap]

Best Water Treatment Companies - Water Management Directory

Water Treatment Companies Directory on EcoHubMap connects you with businesses that offer sustainable, eco-friendly solutions for water purification, wastewater management, and water conservation. Water Solution Company These companies offer a variety of services that include water filtration, Our mission is to promote clean water access while supporting businesses that focus on reducing water waste, using renewable energy for water treatment, and ensuring safe water for future generations.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Who Trained Who?

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x shy!fem!reader

Summary: You take Kojo to visit your boyfriend Tim at the station and learn that Tim doesn't like how much time you spend with Kojo.

Warnings: just fluff!

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

“There’s my handsome boy!” you exclaim softly as the door opens.

“Good morning to you, too,” Tim greets smugly.

You ignore him as you drop to your knees to greet Kojo. Since you started dating Tim, you’ve become his unofficial dog walker, dog sitter, and Kojo’s best friend. Tim tried to tell you that you don’t have to spend all of your free time with Kojo, but rather than answering, you buried your warm cheeks against Kojo’s neck and stopped talking to Tim. He hasn’t tried to bring it up again but has done everything to make you shy.

“I’m working a double shift today,” Tim tells you as he pulls you to your feet.

You nod, looking at his neck as he leans back to check your knees. The first time you met Kojo, you skinned your knees during your excitement, and Tim has promised himself not to let that happen again, regardless of how close you and Kojo are.

“If you can’t stay with him, just let him out and make sure he has water?” Tim requests.

“Yeah, of course,” you answer. “I can stay, though.”

“You don’t have to.”

You shrug, and Tim gently directs your chin to look into your eyes. He smiles and repeats himself, and you nod numbly, failing to hide how your shoulders rise toward your ears with his undivided attention. You and Tim thought your shyness would wear off after more time with him, but it’s getting worse if anything.

“Have you fed him yet today?” you ask, desperate to get attention off of yourself.

“Not yet. Call if you need anything, okay?”

“I will,” you promise as Tim gathers his things. “Be safe today.”

“Always,” he replies. He cups the back of your head and presses a kiss to your forehead before he adds, “You too. Have a good day, but don’t let Kojo get away with so much this time?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

Tim nods once, a firm promise that he’ll do everything to get home to you and Kojo. You haven’t told Tim you love him yet, which you know you do, so this exchange of good wishes and promises to see one another again is the placeholder until one of you finds the right words to express what your relationship means.

“C’mon, Kojo,” you call, walking toward Tim’s kitchen as he closes the door behind him. “Ready for breakfast?”

Kojo bounces his front paws in excitement before he sits and watches you prepare his bowl. As you set it on the floor, he tilts his snout up, and you kiss him just above his nose.

“Loslaten,” you command, using the Dutch command Tim trained Kojo with.

Kojo releases as instructed, stands, and walks to his bowl to eat. When Tim initially introduced you to Kojo, he did everything you instructed and surprised Tim. With one of the K-9 handlers, Tim taught Kojo Dutch and German commands, but there seemed to be no language barrier when you arrived. Tim quickly determined that Kojo simply listened better to you and later decided it was because you’re shy and quiet… a dog whisperer.

After Kojo finishes eating, you get his harness and leash from Tim’s cabinet and get him ready for a walk. Being with Kojo is similar to being with Tim, though he fails to make you as shy as Tim manages to. Kojo leads the way on the walk; he protects you from squirrels and intersections, and thoroughly enjoys sniffing around the neighborhood. Upon returning to Tim’s house, you open the backdoor and let Kojo run off the rest of his morning energy – Tim hates it when you call them zoomies, but that’s what they are. You sit on Tim’s patio and wait for Kojo to return to you, panting and ready to rest at your side.

You make yourself comfortable on Tim’s couch, and when Kojo joins you, you don’t have the heart to tell him he isn’t allowed on the couch. Yet you know that if you let Kojo get away with it, Tim will let you get away with it. As you begin working, you wonder if you should visit Tim during his short break between shifts.

The sun is setting as you lead Kojo into the police station. A K-9 officer saw Kojo and yelled in excitement before he greeted you and led you inside to find Tim. The people who work closest to Tim are always excited to see Kojo, so you do not doubt your surprise visit will be welcomed. Kojo also serves as a good buffer between you and the officers, who seem to be in some unspoken contest to see who can make you shy away first.

“Kojo!” Lucy yells, standing quickly from her desk.

You smile and pass the leash to her as Tim exits an office and smiles at you.

“What are you doing here?” he asks as he reaches you.

“Kojo missed you,” you answer softly. “And Lucy, of course.”

“Mostly me, right?” Lucy asks Kojo.

“I brought more company,” Angela announces. “The K-9 unit saw Kojo walk through and was waiting for an invitation.”

“Sounds like they’re the ones getting trained,” Tim jokes.

“Don’t start, Bradford,” one of the officers replies before shaking Tim’s hand. “Is he still responding well to the commands?”

“Better when they come from her,” Tim answers, gesturing toward you, where you’re kneeling beside Kojo and Lucy.

“Smart man. You teach him that?”

“What a great question,” Angela interjects. “Did you teach Kojo to listen to your girlfriend? Or was it just by example?”

“Bradford?” another officer calls.

Tim looks up, and when he sees the officer holding up a bag of treats, he nods and gestures for him to go ahead.

“Kojo,” the man calls, offering the treat.

Kojo looks to you, and you murmur, “Geh Voraus,” to tell him to go ahead.

Kojo hesitates yet again, and you kiss his nose quickly. Then, he pushes to his feet and happily takes the treat. Lucy’s jaw drops as she looks between Kojo and Tim.

“That was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen!” she exclaims.

“Timothy taught him that,” Angela murmurs to the officer beside her.

Tim presses his lips together and nods, pressing his hands against his belt. Lucy immediately realizes what he’s doing and can’t resist the opportunity to mess with Tim.

“You want a turn, Tim?” she inquires.

All eyes turn to Tim, and he rolls his eyes before he answers, “Funny, Chen. Maybe you should get back to work.”

“Can you get back to work, or do you need a command and a kiss first, too?”

Lucy smiles as she asks. She thinks your relationship with Kojo and Tim is adorable, but she won’t outright admit that to him. When Tim doesn’t answer, she shrugs and scratches Kojo’s back as another officer passes him a treat.

Your eyes haven’t raised from Kojo since you kissed his snout in front of so many people, but when he nuzzles his face against your arm, sensing your discomfort, Tim’s façade slips. His face relaxes, and Angela can see the longing behind his eyes. Being a cop is hard work and long hours, and Tim wants nothing more than to be with you like Kojo is right now.

“Kojo, staan,” you command when someone asks to see a trick.

Kojo steps back from you and raises to stand on his back legs. As he waits for you to tell him he’s a good boy before walking to the officer with the treats, Tim decides he’s done.

“Yep,” he announces suddenly. “That’s enough, let’s go.”

“You’re working,” you point out as he picks Kojo’s leash off the floor.

“I can take you home, my break’s coming up,” he answers.

You take Tim’s offered hand, and your eyes widen in shock when he tucks you against his side after pulling you to stand. Your suspicions are proven right. Tim was getting jealous of the attention (and kisses) you gave Kojo.

“Thanks,” you murmur against his side.

“I’m going to need a bit more than that,” Tim whispers.

“Nose kisses and treats?” you joke under your breath.

“Sounds like a start. And no more bringing Kojo around Lucy. I don’t need her looking at me like that.”

You want to comment, but Tim exits the station and pulls you into a kiss, effectively silencing you. Watching Kojo is always fun, but maybe you should drop by the station unannounced more often.

[grandline-fics]

Hi Kerrie, thank you for your wonderful writings! I was wondering if we could we see the ‘waking up the morning after’ prompt with Shanks and/or zoro and sabo (if you enjoy writing for these characters). Thanks, I hope you’re having a great day! ✨

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Waking up the morning after

WARNINGS: a little suggestive but nothing explicit? mostly fluff

CHARACTERS: Shanks, Zoro

WORDS: 1,889

A/N: Thank you for requesting this! I kept everything more on the fluffy and sweet side and only managed to think of something for Shanks and Zoro. I might do something with this for Sabo separately if I think of a scenario for him. Hope you like what I managed to come up for this one.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

SHANKS

You’d always known what you were getting yourself in for when you joined the Red Hair Pirates. You knew the type of man Shanks was, his presence alone commanded everyone’s attention and that was before he’d even opened his mouth to begin the effortless charm that flowed from him. He was as charming as he was powerful and unapologetically flirty with everyone he came across. Even before he’d offered you a place on his crew your first interaction with him head been a flirtatious one. It had been so natural and easy, you’d never had an interaction like it. If it hadn’t been interrupted by the group of bandits attacking in the middle of your conversation you’d been sure that you would have gladly followed Shanks to where his bed had been for the night and never seen him again when you woke. However it was thanks to the bandits that Shanks had gotten to see just how formidable a fighter you were and insisted you be a part of his crew. 

Naturally you couldn’t say no to him with an offer like that but now that he was your Captain you’d made it a firm rule that nothing would happen physically between you both. It would just become messy if it was only a one time thing. It would muddy the waters between seeing him as a lover without lessening his authority as your leader. While you knew deep down that Shanks would never kick you off the crew you didn’t want to risk it. You’d kept firm in your dedication to just being his subordinate and resisted his charms when the crew partied. Yes you indulged in the playful banter but that’s as far as you allowed it to go. You just always felt so comfortable with him that the second his lips met yours the evening before during one of your late night talks that all sense went out the window and you gave in to temptation so easily.

That’s why you refused to open your eyes, because if you did that meant facing the fact you’d royally fucked up. Still denial was the more appealing option because the warmth of Shanks’ sleeping body against yours was just as enticing as he was when he was awake. No, you had to be strong. With a deep breath you forced your hand to rub your eyes and slowly opened them, internally cursing when you saw the sight of Shanks sleeping all too peacefully beside you. It really wasn’t fair how good he looked but you couldn’t get distracted. You needed to talk about what happened. Glancing down you looked at his arm across your body, fingers lightly curled against your hip. As if sensing what you were awake, Shanks’ peaceful expression shifted to one of groggy stirring. His fingers secured themselves against your side before his arm pulled you sharply to hold you by his chest. Your breath lodged in your chest when he let out a content sigh, nuzzling his face against your neck. “Mornin’ gorgeous…” Heavy with sleep, his voice was even deeper than normal. When you didn’t immediately answer, Shanks’ eyes finally opened, regarding you carefully. “What’s up?”

“You really have to ask?” You asked softly with a small laugh, turning you head to look at him. You never had an issue being open and honest with Shanks. Even now as you both lay naked and about to talk about what happened between you both you felt no hesitation or need to hold back. “Last night shouldn’t have happened, should it?”

“You asking me or telling me?” Shanks asked softly, fingers lightly moving to play with yours. “I don’t regret it.”

“This isn’t about regrets Shanks.” You sighed, settling your free hand over his to still the gentle but distracting motions. “This is about what happens next. This is about balance. What are the crew going to think?”

“I think the words ‘fucking finally’ and ‘Cap’n you lucky bastard’ will be the general consensus.” Shanks grinned at you, relieved to see you fight a smile and playfully roll your eyes at him. “I’m serious though. The only one overthinking this is you. The crew have been waiting on this for so long so nothing’s going to change with them. The only question is, did you want this to have been a one-time thing?”

“Shanks you don’t do relationships. Not in the time I’ve been on the crew.”

“Yeah because I only wanted to do a relationship with you.” Shanks explained, lacing his fingers between yours to lead your hand up to his lips and press the softest kiss against your knuckles. “So what do you think?”

“I think you’re a very dangerous man Red Hair…” you sighed, stunned at his confession but not rejecting it. His effortless charm and commanding warmth was dangerous. Even more so was how safe and happy he made you but you had no fears about this.

“You’re one to talk.” Shanks chuckled, lowering his hand to pull you closer. “You’ve had me under your spell since the first day we met and I’ll be damned if I let you go now.”  

ZORO

You and Zoro always had a strange sort of tension underlying in your friendship. On the surface you both were warm and comfortable in each other’s presences. Perfectly balancing the other and both having a strong understanding of the other without needing to communicate beyond brief words and the slightest shifts in stance. On the ship you two were considered the closest of friends. Underneath it all? You both held heavy attraction and intense want for each other but at the same time the restraint you both had to never step over that line and delve deeper into what you both desired was stronger. For now you were both set on getting stronger and enjoying your adventures together with the rest of the Strawhats. Deep down you both knew that the other wouldn’t reject any advances if they were made but still you both held back, believing there would be plenty of time for that. That you’d both know when the time was right. 

Then Sabaody turned the tide for you all. Under the assault of the Marines you were all defeat so easily and with terror in your eyes you realised you were all outmatched. Out of instinct you looked to Zoro and you could only watch helplessly and washed in cold dread as the swordsman disappeared in the blink of an eye. Then one by one the rest of you were dispatched by Kuma, struck out of sight and before you knew it you were on a completely different island. Alone and scared for the first time in a long while, missing and fearing for your crew. Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse you were faced with the news that your Captain had lost his brother. Thankfully you deciphered his coded message and resolved yourself to spend that time getting stronger. 

Through the two years away from your friends you always thought of them, hoping they were safe and training too although Zoro crept into your mind most of all. On your worst days, the image of him training on Sunny’s deck like he used to helped motivate you to push through your mental blocks and keep going. Finally the day came when you stepped foot on Sabaody again and a shudder ran through you at the memory of what had happened the last time came to your mind. You had faith in your crew that you’d all improved and it would never happen again but it was hard not to remember the fear of that day as if it was happening all over again. Setting off you made your way to the grove for the long awaited reunion. 

Night had begun to fall when you spotted the familiar sight of Sunny’s head and your steps quickened from your relaxed pace into a full run. Just as you climbed onto the deck you felt a presence rush towards you. Sharply you turned and lifted your weapon in time to block the blade being swung at you. Your eyes lit at the sight of Zoro, the relief that flooded you quickly gave way into all those old feelings hurtling back and your smile grew to see the recognition appear in Zoro’s expression. Then your smile fell slightly to see one of his eyes was scarred and shut. Without thinking you reached out and settled your hand on his cheek, your thumb gently touching his scar. The small action was all it took to bring those old feelings that had always danced dangerously close to the surface reappear stronger than even given the two years of separation. “Who else has arrived?”

“No one. It’s just us.” Zoro answered while capturing your hand that was still against his cheek. Without needing to say anymore you both closed the distance remaining between you both and your free hand fisted in the collar of his clothing and yanked him forward while his grabbed your waist. Neither of your wasted anymore time in finally coming together and kissing intensely, something both of you had spend the two years apart regretting hadn’t happened until now. Even then it wasn’t enough, you were both so desperate for each other, to make up for lost and wasted time holding back that you both fell headlong into your desires now; acting in perfect synchronisation and the almost wordless communication that was unique to the two of you.

Finally when morning came you woke feeling calmer and more at peace than you ever had before. Even with the weight of Zoro’s arms holding you tight and secured against his body you felt light and happy. More importantly you didn’t feel scared about the next part of your adventures with the crew. Your eyes opened to see Zoro was already awake and watching you carefully, seeming to be just as relaxed as you were. “Hope you’re not planning to greet everyone back like this.”

“As if.” Zoro rolled his good eye but the slow grin began to appear on his face as he took in your face in the morning light. The two years had changed you both, but not in the ways it mattered. You were still you and apart from his loyalty to Luffy, you were the only other person he worked hard to get stronger for and return to. At his response you grinned brightly and Zoro let his knuckles lightly stroke your face, he’d missed your smile. He’d missed you. Zoro leaned forward with the intention of pulling you into another kiss only to stop when a familiarly ‘super’ cheer broke through the calm morning air. 

“Looks like we won’t have the ship to ourselves anymore.” You grinned, leaning in to press a quick kiss against his lips as you prepared yourself to get up and change to greet Franky. It wouldn’t be long now before you were all finally reunited. You were stopped when Zoro sat up with you and pulled you back to hug you tight, his silent way of telling you he wasn’t going anywhere ever again, not without you. With a warm smile you squeezed his arm in a reassurance that you felt the same way.

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

What Could Have Been

Summary: You've reached the age you can be chosen. Little do you know your future has been planned out from the start.

Pairing: Philip Graves x reader

Word Count: 7, 358 words

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, a/b/o, Omegaverse, Alternate Universe, AU of an AU, suggestive content, mentioned predatory behaviors towards a minor, Philip Graves is a major creep, reader has a set age for plot (she is an adult), dubcon (pushing noncon at the end) but it's muddy water because a/b/o, kissing, touching, lingerie, panic, coercion, virginity and purity culture, fade to black because I couldn't write smut for this

A/N: I am...very sorry for this. Honestly I've been debating posting it but I wrote 7k words and I don't want that to go to waste. This is very...dark. A lot is implied but there's still some fairly disturbing content because of those things. The reader is 18 in this because of plot, but it still feels very...icky. Definitely recommend reading Chapter 34 before reading this to understand the context. Not necessary to read. Just an AU what if kind of bit for the story.

Also if you're finding this and you've never seen my stuff before, Hi! I highly recommend reading Cherry Red, Crimson Blood first before this for context otherwise some things might not make sense. I suppose it could be read as a stand alone but still, context is nice to have

What Ifs Masterlist | Directory

“You’ve been chosen.” 

You had barely managed to get a bite in of breakfast when one of the staff members had pulled you away and led you to the director’s office. None of the omegas at FIOT particularly like him. He’s a small man, middle aged and balding. His scent is...not pleasant. Nutty with undertones of wet animals and whatever he ate for his meals that day. Every omega in the institute dreads being called to his office, being closed in with the offensive smell he permeates. 

You would have been experiencing that same disgust had it not been for your shock at his words. “What?” You breathe, eyes wide. 

“You’ve been chosen.” He repeats, folding his hands on his desk over a thin file. 

“So soon?” You ask, forgetting all decorum and manners you’ve had drilled into your head for two years. 

It’s your eighteenth birthday today. You just became old enough to be chosen a matter of hours ago. 

“This pack is very eager to claim you as their omega.” He says. “One of their betas will be by tomorrow to interview you.” 

Your heart flutters in your chest. While it’s shocking you were chosen so soon, this is what you had hoped for. Two years of training and drilling perfection into your head did pay off. You’ve hardly been on the available list more than a few hours and already there’s a pack interested in you. Something about it has a chill running down your spine, tickling at the base of your neck. You brush it off as shock at this all happening so soon. 

“You may return to breakfast.” The director says, going back to his paperwork. 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, exiting his office. 

It doesn’t feel like your feet touch the floor as you walk back to the mess hall, your body floating as you make your way through the halls. If tomorrow goes well, this will be the last day you spend in this building, this prison you’ve been confined to. They’ll be here as early as they can be tomorrow, if they’re this eager to choose you. 

The thought has something prickling in the back of your mind still. 

Who are they? Who is this eager to choose you? The must have known about you before you even showed up in the registry as being available. You’ve heard rumors that institutes will supply information about omegas to packs for the right price under the table. Information on omegas that aren’t old enough to be chosen. 

You wouldn’t be surprised if FIOT was one of those institutes. The packs that get their omegas here are packs that can pay a hefty price. There’s usually a waiting period while background checks are done and information has to be verified and packs have to interview with the director before omegas themselves can even be interviewed by the pack. You’ve seen it take weeks before. 

Whoever the alpha of this pack is...they knew about you before you became available. 

“What did the director want?” One of the omegas in your age group asks as you take your seat at the table again. Amanda. She cried for five days when she was brought in. 

The others at the table lean in close, like you’re about to reveal some big secret. 

“I’ve been chosen.” You tell them. The words almost seem like a foreign language on your tongue. 

They all cheer happily, getting looks from the wardens around the mess hall. 

“That’s amazing!” Chelsea says, wrapping her arms around you to squeeze you in a tight hug. 

“So soon?” Amanda asks as the congratulations die down. 

“Yeah.” You say. “They’re interviewing me tomorrow.” 

They all share looks, and you know they’re thinking the same thing you are. 

The rumors are true.

“Impressive, isn’t she?” The warden for your dorm group says, as if you’re not sitting there too. She’s responsible for overseeing the small group of eight omegas you’re a part of. She’s the most knowledgeable about the omegas under her watchful eyes, and it’s standard practice for the wardens to sit in on the interviews between the pack beta and the omega being chosen. 

“Quite.” The beta says, looking over your thick file. Bryan, he’d introduced himself as. He’d shaken your hand, something you hadn’t been expecting. He acknowledged you as existing right away, something that doesn’t happen often in the stories you’ve heard about interviews, stories from omegas that had made it this far in the process, but were rejected in the end. “Excellent scores, quite extensive essays.” He says, flipping through the file. He’s not really looking at it. You can see his eyes just scanning the pages. He already knows. He came into the building with his answer. 

Whoever his alpha is has already seen your file. 

He closes the file, pushing it forward on the table. He’s looking at you. You can feel his eyes on you. Yours are lowered respectfully, no matter how badly you want to stare back at him. 

“To be honest, my alpha already made his decision before I got here.” Bryan says, leaning his arms on the table. “Your profile was enough to convince him.” 

“So, you’d like to move forward with the process?” Warden Jameson asks. 

“Yes.” He says, nodding. “She’s going to be a perfect fit.” 

You glance up at him, a warm smile on his face as he stares at you. It’s really happening. You really have been chosen. 

The next hour is a flurry of paperwork and signatures. None from you, of course, but from the beta of your new pack. The paperwork would be sent to your new alpha to sign off on and to finalize the decision once you meet him. No one has ever been sent back after that point, yet you can’t help the nervous flutter in your stomach. What if they don’t like you after all? What if they made a hasty decision and regret it as soon as they meet you? What if you mess everything up?

You follow Bryan and the director towards the entrance to the building, something you haven’t seen since your tour after your arrival. It’s off limits to omegas, several locked doors standing between them and freedom. 

Or more like to keep others out. 

There’s someone at the front desk as you pass by, and you turn to look out of curiosity. It’s a middle aged woman with blonde hair, dressed in a business suit. “Kate Laswell, here for an appointment with Director Jones.” 

You don’t get to hear anything else, ushered out into the world by the director. You’ve heard how giddy he gets about omegas leaving from staff, though you supposed that’s because it’s extra money in his pockets. The more omegas he can match and get out of FIOT, the more the government pays him. 

“I’m looking forward to hearing how she’s settling in.” The director says to Bryan as he hands off your small bag of meager belongings. 

“Of course.” Bryan says, setting it in the front seat of the car waiting out front. “My alpha will be in touch.” 

“Good.” He shakes Bryan’s hand before turning to you. “Good luck. I expect the best from you.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, dropping your gaze out of respect. 

Bryan opens the car door for you and you slide in, smoothing out your skirt. You’re still in your uniform, and you won’t be able to change until you get to where you’re going. If they let you change. It’s important they remember where you came from, where you were taught the things you’re supposed to know, where you were trained to be the perfect omega. As if they could forget where they paid for you. 

Bryan drives away from the institute, taking you away from the place that’s been your home for the last two years. It’s the first time you’ve been outside those walls since you were forced in, ripped away from your home the day after your presentation. You’ve thought about your family many times over the last two years. Where are they now? How are they doing? What have your siblings been up to? Have any of them presented as omegas too? 

Maybe your new alpha will let you contact them again. 

It’s wishful thinking. Most don’t. Not the kinds of alphas that buy from FIOT. 

“Nervous?” Bryan asks, glancing at you through the rearview mirror. 

“Yes, sir.” You say, smoothing your hands over your skirt. You’re projecting your scent without even realizing it. “Sorry, sir.” 

He smiles. “I don’t blame you. I’d be nervous too. Don’t worry, though. You’re going to a good place.” 

Despite his well meaning words, you can’t help but feel a bit of trepidation. Is it a good place? Or is it only a good place by beta’s standards? He can’t possibly know, he can’t possibly understand, unless there’s other omegas. 

You’re almost excited by the thought of being around other omegas in a pack. Having that chance to have friends and bond with others like you who know. Those who understand. 

You can’t help but stare as Bryan pulls into the parking garage of a very nice hotel. The cars in the parking garage are some of the most expensive you’ve ever seen. You’re not surprised, given the types of alphas that choose omegas from FIOT. Rich, important alphas looking for trophies to wave around. 

Look at me, look at my perfect omega. 

Bryan opens your door for you, helping you out of the car. He’s holding your bag in his hand, using the other to guide you towards the elevator. His hand is warm, even though your back is beginning to sweat a bit. You’re really nervous now, but you try to keep your scent under control. 

Your new life is about to begin, the life of a claimed omega. 

Unless they don’t like you. 

You have to do everything in your power to make sure they do.

The elevator ride seems to take a lifetime as you go up to a high floor overlooking the city. You’ve never stayed in a hotel this nice before. You’ve never even been in a building with this many floors before. 

Bryan leads you down the hall to a door, using the keycard to open it. He gives you a reassuring smile before pushing it open and guiding you through. It’s a suite, possibly the nicest hotel room you’ve ever seen. Bryan leads you to the small living area, the man you assume is your alpha seated on one of the couches. He’s sitting there casually, ankle crossed over his knee, his arm thrown over the back of the couch. There’s a grin on his face, your eyes widening as you stare at him. 

“Phil?” 

It comes out before you can stop it, all training and decorum leaving as you stare at him in shock. His smile widens, showing off perfect white teeth and dimples. He’s a bit older now than he had been back then, but it is him. 

“Hi darlin’.” He says, pushing himself up to stand. “Been a while.” 

Ten years or so. He was your dad’s best friend while he was stationed in Texas. He was at your house constantly, sitting around watching sports and standing in the backyard while your father barbequed. He was always friendly to you, always sitting just a little too close, always hovering. You hadn’t thought anything about it back then. You were too young to understand. 

Now you do. 

You drop your gaze as he approaches, trying to recover from your shock. You still have an impression to make, a role to fill. Calloused fingers cup your chin, lifting your face back up. You stare up into Phil’s bright blue eyes, just as friendly as you remember them being. 

“None of that.” He says softly. “We’re familiar with each other, aren’t we?” 

“Yes, sir.” You say, swallowing thickly. 

A small smile tugs at his lips before he releases you. “Come on, make yourself comfortable.” He motions to the couches. “We've got a few things to discuss.”

Nerves twist in your stomach as you move to the couches, tucking your skirt under you before you sit. The couch is comfortable, your body sinking into the cushion. It's far more comfortable than the chairs and benches at the institute. He takes a seat right next to you, draping an arm across the back of the couch behind you. 

His fingers curl under your chin again, turning your head so you're looking at him. Those bright blue eyes scan your face, taking in every detail.

“Those pictures didn't do you any justice.” He says. Your file is sitting on the table in front of you. “You've always been a pretty little thing.” His thumb traces your jaw, your stomach churning. “Look like your mom more than your dad. That's certainly not a bad thing.” He smirks. 

He holds you there for a moment staring into your eyes. Something tickles in the back of your mind as he stares at you, something instinctual like a warning. He releases you, dropping his hand back onto his lap. 

“It's good to see you again.” He says, the fingers of the hand behind you playing with the strands of your hair. “A lot has changed, hasn't it? I got old, you became an omega. I always knew you would. Your temperament wasn't right for an alpha. Always so calm and eager to please. You weren't rowdy like your brothers. Always such a sweet little thing.” His fingers trail over the back of one of your hands where it's draped in your lap. Your stomach clenches at his touch, something churning inside you, something you haven't felt since the last time you were around him. “You didn't deserve the way he treated you. It wasn't your fault for becoming what you are.”

He's talking about your father. 

“How did you-”

“I was the one he called.” Phil says simply. “Raging and carrying on about his useless child presenting as an omega.” He shakes his head. “So I pulled some strings, promised some favors, and got you into FIOT immediately, with the stipulation that you would be mine as soon as you were old enough.” He grins. “Now here we are!”

You swallow thickly, staring at him. “It was you?”

He nods. “Had to make sure you'd be taken care of until I could come yet you myself. Now you’re here.” His arm wraps tighter around you, the hand that had been brushing yours dropping to wrap around your thigh. You stare up at him as he leans down slightly closer to you. He smells just like you remember. Woody with the rich scent of chocolate underneath. “I will take care of you.” He says, looking pointedly into your eyes. “You'll want for nothing and you'll be happy.”

Will you? 

You break away first, your eyes dropping to stare at the hand that’s gripping your thigh, fingers indenting the skin through your tights. It feels like a threat, a silent reminder of the power dynamic between you, something he won’t say out loud. He’s an alpha, you’re only an omega. He has control over you, he can dictate your entire life now that you’ve been chosen by him. You belong to him, just as he’s wanted. 

He’s been waiting longer than two years. 

“You hungry?” He asks, his entire demeanor suddenly shifting. 

You are hungry. You had left the institute just before lunch, and you had barely been able to eat breakfast because of the nerves. You nod, deciding telling the truth is better than to try to lie to him early on. “Yes, sir.” 

He gives you a grin. “You don’t have to be so formal. You can call me Phil, just like old times.” He finally releases you, leaning forward to grab a tri-fold menu off the table. “Pick whatever you like.” He says, putting it in your hands. “I’ll be right back.” 

He gets up from the couch and you watch him go before turning back to the menu. The prices make your stomach churn. Your family wasn’t necessarily poor, but with so many of you, you certainly weren’t taking very many vacations very often. Your family moved around so much there wasn’t much of a need to take vacations either. 

You’re not even sure what to do, looking at the menu. What was acceptable? What if you ordered something too expensive. With a hotel room like this, you’re not sure you could order something too expensive. You’re not even quite sure what Phil does anymore. You remember overhearing a conversation he had with your dad about joining MARSOC before he disappeared from your lives. Is he still involved with the military? Did he leave and enter a new career field, one that allows him to stay in places like this? 

You might never know. It’s not your job to know things like that. 

You just need to know how to serve your alpha and take care of him, follow his orders and give him pups when he desires them. Be a good omega and do whatever it is he wants. Your wants don’t matter, only your alpha’s. 

“Decide what you want?” Phil asks, appearing in front of you again. 

You jump in surprise, having been so caught up in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed him approaching. You’ll have to break that habit and fast. “Yes.” You say, even though you hadn’t even read through the menu in its entirety. 

You try to stop your hands from shaking, picking out the first thing your eyes land on. You’re not even quite sure what it is or if you’ll like it. You needed an answer and you gave it to him. Just exactly what he wanted. 

That is your job, after all. 

Give him exactly what he wants. 

The bed looks plush and comfortable, larger than you’ve slept on in a long time. The beds at FIOT weren’t too terribly uncomfortable, but you’ve gotten so used to sharing a room it seems strange to be sleeping on your own. 

That’s not the only reason it feels strange. 

“Are you not going to-” 

Phil cuts you off before you can finish, not even needing to know what you were going to ask. “No. Not here.” He says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s for when we’re at home. Besides,” He smooths a hand over your hair. “You’ve had a long day.” 

He stares down at you for a moment, and you almost think he’s changing his mind, deciding he can’t wait until you’re back in Texas. Instead he takes a step back, turning to the dresser your bag had been set on. There’s other shopping bags next to it, things you hadn't even noticed when you walked in. 

You had been too focused on the bed. 

“Bryan picked up some clothes.” He turns back to look at you, his hand trailing down your back. “As cute as the uniform is, I’d rather you be comfortable.” 

You can see it in his eyes. He’s picturing you in it, and not standing before him. It makes your skin crawl. 

“Get some sleep.” He says, moving his hand from your lower back. “We’ve got an early flight tomorrow. You need anything, I’m across the hall and Bryan’s next door.” 

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Thank you, Phil.” 

He grins down at you, dimples indenting in his cheeks. “Of course, darlin’.” 

You stare at the door for a minute after he closes it, holding your breath. You half expect him to come back in, change his mind and decide he’d rather do it here. He could barge in, force you down on the bed and you wouldn’t be able to do anything. You’re not supposed to do anything. 

Good omegas do as they’re told. Good omegas don’t fight back. 

You wish the door had a lock on it. 

You jolt awake as you’re jostled in your seat. You let out a quiet sound, not quite sure where you even are, much less what’s going on. 

“Just a bit of turbulence.” A voice says, pushing your head to rest against a shoulder again. 

Right. You’re on a plane heading towards Dallas. You didn’t realize you fell asleep, your head resting on Phil’s shoulder. He smells like scent blockers, all three of you do. The plane is a cocktail of scents, the chemical burn of scent blocker mixed with the ugly mesh of too many scents in one confined space. Not everyone has the decency to use scent blockers while traveling. You’ve always hated planes for that reason. 

You stretch your legs out as much as you can, your knee bumping the tray lightly. It had been lowered, you assume, at some point while you were asleep. Your book is sitting on it, the book you had been reading before you fell asleep. It’s the only one you own, a worn out copy you stole from FIOT’s library during your first week and never returned. The cover is faded and nearly falling off, the pages yellowed and stiff from how many times it’s been read over the last two years. 

You’d had a brief discussion about it before you descended into silence, Phil promising you all the books your heart desires once you get to his home. Your home. 

It’s your home now too. You’re no longer attached to your family, no longer attached to the institute. Phil is your world now, and you exist solely in his sphere. You’re dependent on him, and once the claim is made and the paperwork is filed, you will be his forever. 

There won’t be any going back. 

Phil will never change his mind. 

The plane jostles again and you grip the arm resting on your leg out of instinct. 

“Easy.” Phil shushes you, his lips brushing your forehead. His hand closes around yours, squeezing it gently. “Haven’t flown much, have you?” 

“Twice.” You say, your fully awake brain realizing you’re still leaning against his shoulder, but you’re not sure you should move. He obviously likes it if he let it happen. Will he get mad if you try to move? Would he reprimand you on the plane, even if you are quite spaced out in first class? 

He hums, resting his cheek on your head. “We’ll go on lots of flights together. I’ll take you all over the world.” 

Would he take you to see your family again? 

They were friends once. He has to at least know where they are and what they’re doing. Would he do that for you? Or is he going to keep you isolated as expected to prevent those bonds from forming again. Your only bonds should be with him and his pack. Not your old pack that you left behind for a reason. 

You don’t know anything about his pack. 

You know he has a beta, Bryan, his most trusted beta, from the looks of it. How many others are there? How many other alphas and betas? Is he head alpha, or is there someone else? You can’t imagine Phil not being in charge. He always seemed to take command of a room, even with other alphas. Even with your dad. 

Are there other omegas in his pack? Or will you be alone, surrounded by alphas and betas? 

Can you even ask him? Or is he saving that for later, when you’re at his home. Would he get annoyed if you asked? Would it ruin his plan that he obviously has laid out? 

Your name being said brings you back to reality, your head tilting to look up at Phil. He’s staring down at you, his eyebrows raised. 

“Welcome back.” He says, and for a second you wonder if you fell asleep again. “Lost in your head there, huh?” 

You swallow thickly. “Yeah. My instructors said I have a lot of strengths, but my one fault is I think too much. Sometimes they’d say I’m sucking all the thoughts out of the room. Though, I think that was less of an insult towards me.” 

Phil chuckles. “Got a lot of things going on in that head of yours. Just don’t let it get you too distracted. Hate for something to happen to you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead again as the plane begins its descent. 

His words almost feel like a threat again, like a silent warning that something will happen if you don’t stop thinking so much. Will he try to fix that habit for you? Will he try to break you of that? Good omegas don’t have to think, they know and they act. An omega with too many thoughts is too independent. Alphas don’t like independent omegas. They want someone to listen and do as they're told, not question their orders. 

You can’t help but sense the silent threat that radiates from him, the undertone of danger that has warning bells going off in your head. He’s been nice and polite and caring so far. 

How long will that last once you��re in the privacy of his home? 

It’s a nice neighborhood. Nicer than you’ve ever lived in, at least. The houses are big, the cars parked outside are nice, the lawns are pristine. It’s all very picturesque, it all feels very...manufactured. 

Phil drives to the end of the cul de sac, pulling into the driveway of one of the two houses facing the rest of the street. There’s an American flag hung up on the porch rustling with the soft breeze. It’s warm outside, something you haven’t missed. It’s been years since you’ve lived in Texas, ten almost. You had been eight years old when your father received his next change of station orders and your family packed up and moved again. 

That had just been shortly after Phil disappeared from your family’s lives. 

Phil pulls into the garage, parking the SUV next to a rather expensive looking classic sports car. You stare at it for a moment, questioning just what Phil does and how much he makes from doing it. You’re not sure you want to know. 

You fumble with the seatbelt as Bryan opens the door for you, blinking yourself out of your haze. He offers a hand and you let him help you out of the car to not seem rude. Phil gives you a small smile as you approach him. 

He cups your chin, staring down at your face. “Jet lagged?” He asks, his thumb stroking your jaw before letting you go. 

Jet lagged, confused, uncomfortable, unsure. All of the above. 

“Yes.” You nod. 

“Come on. I’ll give you a tour and then you can nap.” He says, slinging an arm around your shoulders. 

He opens the door into the house, unlocked, you note. The inside is nice. Clean, pristine, staged looking. You’re not sure if anyone even lives in the house. You can’t help but wonder if Phil bought this house just for this moment. 

“Cleaners come twice a week.” He says as he leads you around the first floor. “This whole space is yours, except for this room.” He says pointing out a door at the end of one hallway. “This is my office. Door’s always locked at all times. No one is allowed in besides me. You see anyone trying to get in, you tell me right away. Understood?” 

You nod. The idea of what could be behind that door has a shiver running down your spine.

“Good girl.” He says, booping your nose. “Now, for the best part.” 

He leads you upstairs, giving you a quick tour of guest bedrooms that don’t look like they’ve been touched, bathrooms far too clean to have ever been used. Why he needs so much space is beyond you. 

No, you know why. 

He leads you down to the end of a hallway, a door looming in front of you. You know what’s behind it. It’s what’s been clawing at you since the plane landed, since the drive from the airport, since you stepped foot in Phil’s home. Your home. 

It’s nice inside. Clean, well organized. It looks like a stage in a movie. The bed is large, larger than necessary you think. The comforter is a deep navy with nothing but the necessary amount of pillows on it. There’s a chair in the corner that doesn’t look like it’s ever been sat in. A TV hangs on the wall across from the bed and a dresser sits between two doors on the far wall. The closet and bathroom you assume. It’s spacious, but not comforting. 

That’s your job. 

“Don’t worry, you can add your womanly touch to it later.” Phil says, stepping up behind you. You can’t hide the way your body tenses as his hands slide up your arms. His breath fans over your ear as he leans down, pressing his face against your neck. “We’re going to make good use of this room.” His lips brush your throat, tongue darting out to lick your scent gland. He hums appreciatively. “Sweeter than I remember, those strawberries.” His arms wrap around you, pinning your back against his chest. “We were made for each other.” 

Your stomach clenches as his scent intensifies, blending with yours. You try not to panic as his lips drag up the side of your neck. There’s no stopping him. There’s no convincing him to wait. 

He presses his nose into your hair, taking a deep breath in. “Get some rest.” He finally releases you. “I’ve got some things to take care of, and I don’t doubt the girls will want to take you shopping.” 

“Girls?” You frown, turning to face him. 

“The other pack omegas. They’re excited to finally meet you.” 

Oh. You haven’t even thought about the pack or how big it is or its dynamics. Everything has happened so quickly, there’s been no time for discussions like that. You suppose you should have that conversation soon. Though, it’s been a long day already and he’s not wrong. You do need some rest. 

‘A good night’s sleep is essential for omegas to do their jobs effectively. No alpha wants a whiny omega.’ 

He brushes his hand over your hair, giving you a soft smile. “Take a nap. You look like you need one.” He presses a kiss to your forehead before he leaves, closing the door behind him. You stare at it for a long moment, half expecting him to change his mind, but you can hear him going down the stairs. You can hear everything in the silence of the house. It’s almost too quiet after the constant noise of the institute. There’s always someone talking, moving around, making noise. Even at night it was never truly quiet. 

Now the silence is almost loud in your ears. 

It won’t be silent forever. 

You stare at the bed, half tempted to just curl up on the floor. He would be mad if you slept in one of the guest rooms. He’d know immediately. You’ll have to brave the bed. Better to do it now than when you have no choice. 

“Look at you!” Hands squeeze your arms. There’s so many scents floating around you, yet it’s comforting. You’re among your own again. “Oh, you’re just a baby aren’t you?” 

Natalie, her name is. You had been introduced in a flurry of excitement, and you had lost track of most of their names. Doesn’t matter, you’ll learn them all eventually. 

Her alpha is Osmond, ‘Oz’ as he’d told you to call him, Phil’s second alpha. Not necessarily a large man, but highly intimidating nonetheless. You’d guess Natalie to be in her 30s, though you’ve never been good at guessing ages. 

“How old are you, sweetie?” She asks, squeezing your arms again. She’s trying to comfort you in your obvious state of overwhelm. 

“Eighteen.” You answer, staring up at her. 

Something flashes across her face, but it disappears as quickly as it arrived. “You are a baby.” She wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, we’ve got a lot to cover and we’ve got some errands to run.” 

There’s a lot of omegas. Phil had finally broken down the pack and its dynamics over a late lunch, even introducing you to a few members on your way to Oz’s house. You had your suspicions that Phil was pack alpha, and you were right. His presence, the kind of power he radiates. You’re going to be the head omega once Phil has claimed you. Natalie has been serving that position, as second alpha’s omega. 

You’re not sure you want to take it from her. 

They’re all older than you, if by only a couple of years. You do feel like a baby in their midst, so unprepared and unsure. It’s natural to feel that way, you were taught. There’s a shift, a change in dynamics, an adjustment period in the pack when a new omega is added. 

Why couldn’t Phil have just been the family alpha type?

“Phil says you’ve known him for a while.” Anna, Marcus’ omega, says. 

You nod. “He was friends with my dad when he was stationed in Fort Worth.” 

“That was a while ago.” Jenny says. 

“About ten years.” You say. 

Silence falls in the room for a moment. It’s a tense silence, speaking volumes of their understanding and the realization of the situation. They won’t say anything. They can’t say anything. 

“Well,” Natalie says, breaking the silence. “We’re glad you’re here. If you need anything at all, you’ve got us now.” She wraps her arms around you again. She reminds you a bit of your mother, perhaps if your mother hadn’t been constrained by the controlling nature of your father. “All omegas truly have is each other, right?” 

The others agree with her, and you can’t deny it. What do omegas really have? Nothing their alphas don’t want them to have. Nothing parents, institutes, anyone in control don’t want them to have. 

All we really have is each other. 

“I mean it.” Natalie says. “Anything at all.” 

They are excited to take you shopping, despite the heaviness of the conversation that had transpired. They spoil you, throwing bags and bags in the back of the SUV, brushing off any concerns about money. Anything you want or need, you get several of them. It’s overwhelming after never getting anything but the bare necessities and what the institute wants you to have. 

Marcus, one of the higher ranking alphas in the pack, follows everyone around like a security detail. You had been concerned upon hearing only one alpha was accompanying you...until you saw Marcus for the first time. He’s big. Very big. Tall and bulky, he’s the perfect specimen of an alpha. Many young omegas’ dream alpha. Marcus is intimidating, letting off a dangerous air which causes most that pass your group to not even give you a second glance. 

He escorts your small group around, offering up no question or complaint. You almost wish he was going to be your alpha, but then again, you know almost nothing about him. You don’t even really know that much about Phil. Most of the things you know are things you overheard from conversations he had with your father. But how trustworthy are those things, really? You hadn’t understood much until now. Now it all makes sense. 

A lot of things make sense now. 

Natalie stands with you on the sidewalk as Marcus and Bryan carry load after load of bags into Phil’s house. Your house. You’re scared for what’s coming tonight. Phil won’t wait. He won’t put things off, he won’t hold off until your first heat. He’ll want to make things official now, stake his claim as soon as possible. He’s waited ten years for this. 

Natalie smiles softly down at you, a knowing look in her eyes. “Nervous?” She asks, picking up on your uneasy energy. 

You nod, trying to stop the tears from pooling in your eyes. Good omegas serve their alphas, no matter what. 

“I know what that’s like. I was scared shitless too.” She laughs quietly. “I think Oz was just as nervous too. Just relax and breathe. Phil will take care of you. That I can be confident about.” Her smile turns almost bittersweet. She knows. She understands. “You’ll be alright. I’ll come by tomorrow morning, okay?” 

You nod, trying to suppress your nervousness. Natalie will understand, though you’re not so sure Phil will. 

You look terrified as you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You bathed an hour ago and yet you still can’t quite bring yourself to leave the bathroom. You smooth your hands over the silk hugging your skin for the thousandth time. You’re shocked you haven’t worn through the thin fabric yet with your sweaty palms. 

Your eyes dart down to the sink, your stomach churning wildly as the bedroom door closes. Phil is back. You’ll have to leave the bathroom soon. You can’t spend the whole night behind the locked door. 

You don’t doubt he’d break it down eventually. 

Then he’ll be angry. 

You let out a long breath, curling your hands into fists to stop them from shaking. You have to do this. This is your job, your duty as an omega. Serve your alpha and make him happy. Be a good omega and do what he says. Obedience is an omega’s purpose. This is always what was going to happen, be it with Phil or with a stranger. Perhaps there is a small comfort in the fact you know Phil. You’re familiar with him. Why would he wait ten years for you just to hurt you? 

The little food you managed to eat churns uncomfortably in your stomach. Phil had treated you to dinner before he’d left again, giving you time to clean up and prepare yourself for tonight. For right now. 

You spritz more scent-enhancing perfume on your skin before you let out a long breath. You try to fix your face, not look quite so terrified, but you’re not sure you can hold it as you unlock the door, turning the knob. 

The light in the closet is on, the door half open. Phil must be in there, likely having to maneuver around bags. You’d unpacked some things and put them away, but you’d nearly had a breakdown when you reached the lingerie store bags. You’re wearing some of it now, the silk robe and little white number your fellow omegas had gotten you. Specifically for tonight, you think. You won’t be wearing it again. 

The closet door opens fully, Phil standing there in nothing but his jeans. His eyes trail your body as you stand there awkwardly in the middle of the room. His teeth sink into his lip, his scent thickening. You’re trying to look anywhere but at him but you can’t help the way your eyes are drawn to his form. He’s just as tall and muscular as you remember, more lean than bulky like your father had been. His skin is pale, though you can’t imagine him spending much time lounging in the backyard by the pool. Under the awning at the grill with a beer in hand as he used to do, that you can picture. 

“Look at you.” He says, turning off the light before stepping fully out of the closet. “All wrapped up like a present just for me.” 

You feel like vomiting as he approaches you slowly. You feel like a rabbit trapped in the sights of a hungry wolf, too afraid to run, too afraid to fight back. You’re going to be devoured and there’s no stopping it. 

You jump as his hand cups your face, your eyes darting up to his. There’s a soft look in them, an attempt at soothing your fear. There’s nothing he can do to make this easier, though, other than just get it over with. 

It’ll get easier. That’s what Anna told you. Eventually your omega will be happy, content with a good alpha and a pack. It’s just an adjustment. That’s why it’s recommended to wait when adding a new omega. Get past the adjustment period before reaching this stage. 

How do you stop an alpha that’s been waiting ten years? 

Most alphas don’t wait anyway. 

“Don’t be scared, darlin’.” He says, lips tilting up in a smile. “I’ll take good care of you.” 

His fingers tug at the ties of the robe around your waist, your heart thudding in your chest. You’re shocked he can’t hear it. It’s pulsing in your ears, nearly blocking out all sound as he pulls the tie free, revealing your lacy lingerie underneath. He lets out a low whistle as he pushes the robe off your shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. 

“Look. At. You.” He says, enunciating each word. His hands slide down your sides, brushing lace and smooth skin. “Can’t wait much longer.” He nearly groans, his gaze darkening. He steps up closer to you, your gaze locked on his. You can’t look down, you can’t stare at the tent in his jeans, you can’t stare at the bulge that’s brushing against your pelvis with every breath. “You ever done this before?” He asks. 

You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. “N-No.” 

“No?” He raises a brow. “Not even a kiss?” 

You shake your head. 

“Pure little thing, all for me.” He nearly growls, pushing his body fully against yours. His hand cups the side of your neck, something tingling in the back of your brain as his fingers brush the sensitive skin on the back of your neck. 

You’re distracted from that tingle though as he kisses you, his lips rough against yours. You’re not sure what to do, but he doesn’t seem to care. His other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you tight against him. Your stomach is churning, not entirely from nerves anymore as his scent completely takes over, clouding your mind. Despite your nerves and hesitation, your omega purrs appreciatively. He smells good, like alpha. It’s exactly what your omega wants, what she’s been craving. 

“Fuck,” He groans against your lips, hands tugging at the lace covering your lower back. “So fucking sweet.” He bites at your lower lip, harder than you're expecting. You let out a quiet nose but that only seems to encourage him. 

He pulls away from you, turning you towards the bed. Your palms fall against the mattress to catch yourself. The comforter has been pulled down, your hands falling against the sheets. White sheets. 

Phil’s hands drag up your back until it reaches the top of the lace. He rips it easily, tearing it down the back before he pushes it off your shoulders. His hands run over your skin as he pushes the lace from your body, his back meeting your chest. His skin is warm against yours, his bulge pushing up against your ass at this angle. 

“Sweet little omega.” He growls, pressing his face into your neck, inhaling deeply. “All for me. All mine, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, alpha.” You say, fingers curling into the sheet beneath your hands. 

He hums appreciatively, nipping at the skin over your scent gland. You can’t help but begin to feel a stirring in your stomach. It feels good, despite everything. Your omega is growing complacent, the promise of what’s coming not nearly quite so frightening. 

It gets easier. 

Phil’s hands rest on your stomach, pushing your body tight against his. “Can’t wait for your next heat.” He groans, pushing his hips against your ass. “Gonna pump you full until it takes, give you a pup like you’ll be begging for. Keep you pumped full, just like your mama, huh. You’ll give me a big pack, won’t you?” 

You’re glad he can’t see your face as he holds you there, your eyes glued to the white sheet in front of you. You desperately fight back the tears blurring your vision. 

“Yes, alpha.” 

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[pampushky]

Foot of The Gallows

trafalgar d. water law/reader - friends to enemies to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, manipulation (not by law)

ao3 link | masterlist | ask away

Trafalgar D. Water Law is a surgeon centuries ahead of his time and is set to be put to death for alleged witchcraft and dark magic, although there’s little evidence besides the fact that his patients all seem to survive, and the pale white splotches that dapple his skin, marking his face with the pattern of a skull. You’re a former childhood friend, now bittered with age and arguments, simply trying to make your living as an apothecary, wanting nothing to do with the man you had once been joined at the hip with. What happens when his closest friend manages to convince you to save his life by invoking a little-used law, saved only for cases where the justice system has failed?

You marry the man you utterly detest, that’s what happens.

Chapter Directory

sunshroom

thunder root

numbing nettle

snowdrop iris

lion's bane

willow tears

[fishfooddude]

Cooking Class

Part of the Six Months universe.

Teaching a cooking class at The Bear, what could go wrong?

The Bear MasterList

Directory

“Nat- you should’ve texted me bout this before planning it all out.” Carmy groaned as Natalie shot him an apologetic smile.

 “Mom brain?” she said, forcing a laugh to follow. She sighed before continuing, “Carmen, it’s one night. It won’t kill you. I guarantee Y/N and Mia will be fine.” 

Carmy rolled his eyes at her and asked if he could use Mia as an excuse to escape this. Natalie shook her head and offered to watch her whenever he wanted. Feeling torn between his responsibilities and his family, Carmy reluctantly agreed to teach a cooking class at The Bear the following night. As he pulled his phone out of his pocket, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing at the thought of having to teach some auction-winning d-bag how to make a signature dish from The Bear’s menu. All he wanted was to go home and snuggle with his girls. He shot you a text ranting about the new commitment before staring at his phone screen, waiting for your response. You disliked the message and sent him a picture of Mia playing in the sand at the park. 

Don’t worry Carm, we’ll survive without ya xo.

He rolled his eyes and pushed his phone back into his pocket before walking back into the kitchen from the office. He watched Syd assign different line cooks to different sections to best utilize their skills. He playfully bumped into her, earning a smack to the shoulder and an annoyed groan, “Paul got us really good seats for the Blackhawks game-” she started to explain only for Carmy to cut her off. He squinted at her, “You don’t like hockey. You could do this class.”

Syd rolled her eyes and ignored the judgment from her coworker-turned-best friend: “I like Paul, though. You watched all the Top Gun movies for Y/N. Love makes you do stuff you hate, Berzatto.” 

That night, Carmy walked through the front door to hear loud squeals echoing through the house. He shook his head and chuckled at the sounds of splashing and your poor impression of an elephant. As he walked down the hallway, his heart skipped a beat as Mia’s laughter became more apparent. Carmy peered into the bathroom and saw Mia sitting in the bathtub with a shampoo mohawk. He laughed and stepped into the room. You looked up at him with a cheery smile, “Hi, Daddy.” you greeted as Carmy slowly sat beside you. He kissed your cheek before turning his attention to the happy-as-a-clam toddler eagerly reaching toward him. “Woah there, princess. Let Mommy finish washing your hair first.” he explained as she shook her head, squealing, “Dada home! Dada home!”

You laughed at the interaction and allowed Mia to attempt to get out of the tub. Thankfully, she was still too little to do alone. Mia glared at the tub's edge, making you and Carmy laugh as she plopped back into the water. She refused to let you finish giving her the nightly bath she typically loved, “Mia, my princess, you can snuggle with Daddy as soon as I wash your hair, okay?” you explained as Mia’s bottom lip quivered. “I can do it, baby.” Carmy offered; he took over before you could accept his offer. You shook your head as you watched Mia happily comply. She already had that man wrapped around her little finger, and you couldn’t help but shake your head, “I’m gonna get her pjs ready.” you smiled and squeezed his shoulder with your still-damp hands.

~

“Please don’t take my sunshine away…” Carmy softly sang as he rocked an almost asleep Mia in his arms. You watched as he slowly set her into her crib before placing her favorite lovie beside her. He ran his thumb against her cheek and whispered, “I love you,” one last time before turning his attention to you. You bit your bottom lip, attempting to suppress the giggles that threatened to spill from your lips. His cerulean eyes looked you up and down as he reached toward your hips. You managed to escape his grip and scamper into the hallway. 

“Where ya goin’, baby?” Carmy teased as you stepped over the threshold of your bedroom. You thought you’d escaped him but squealed when you felt his arms wrap around your waist. Carmy pulled you closer to him and buried his face in the crook of your neck. As he mumbled something you couldn’t hear, you placed your hands on his. You stepped forward, pulling him with you, “Are you smellin’ me?” your question went unanswered as Carmy’s hands squeezed your stomach. 

Carmy let go of your waist, and you face planted onto the mattress. When the weight of the mattress shifted, you rolled onto your side to stare at Carmy. He grinned, “I really don’t want to do that cooking lesson tomorrow night.” 

~

“Hey Carmy, rich assholes are here for the cookin’ lesson,” Richie said as he walked into the kitchen. The restaurant closed after an uneventful lunch service, so Carmy and Richie could clean up and prep for the lesson. “What’re you teachin’ them?” Richie asked, pulling his suit jacket off. Carmy washed his hands one last time and quickly answered that they would make a simple risotto. Richie nodded, “I’ll be in the office if you need anything.”

“Hello, everyone,” Carmy introduced, looking around the front of the restaurant to see what he presumed to be two couples. One was a woman with dark brown hair in a modest emerald green dress around his age who introduced herself as Vanessa. With her was a slightly older man with salt and pepper hair and a trimmed beard who’d introduced himself as Nico. The other was an older, presumed married couple around Donna’s age. The woman smiled brightly and practically shook in her boots to get into the kitchen. She introduced herself as Pearl and her husband, Ernie. He seemed less excited to be there, but Carmy grinned when he noticed Pearl squeeze his hand excitedly. “I’m Chef Carmen, welcome to The Bear. I think you were promised Chef Sydney. I’m by no means as entertaining as her, but I promise you’ll learn a lot about one of our signature dishes here at The Bear.” he took a breath and looked around the room to see the woman biting her lip. Carmy rolled his shoulders back, “Risotto was one of the first dishes Chef Sydney wanted on the menu, and after a couple revisions, we now have our signature risotto alla milanese with slow-roasted seasonal vegetables and beef tenderloin… any questions before we get started?” 

As Carmy walked the group through the cooking process, he couldn’t help but notice Vanessa’s lingering glances. He tried to avoid her as he explained knife technique to the others, but when she brushed against his hip for the third time, Carmy started to pick up on her intentions. “Nessie, can you hand me the onion, sweetheart?” Nico asked, not noticing how close she was to Carmy. Vanessa rolled her eyes and obliged the request.

“So, Chef Carmen, how long have you been a chef?” Pearl asked as she stirred beef stock into her risotto. “Uh, professionally, about 15 years, but it’s always been my thing, I guess,” Carmy answered as he grated garlic for her. Pearl smiled and thanked him before verging into more personal questions. Ernie sighed and apologized for his wife. Carmy chuckled, “Don’t worry, Ernie, mine does the same thing.” 

“You’re married?” Vanessa questioned as she stepped around Nico to be closer to him. Carmy nodded, “Happily married for seven years now.” Pearl gushed at Carmy’s response and started asking about you. Ernie chuckled as he shook his head. “Pearlie, you don’t have to ask every question that pops in that head of yours.” Pearl playfully hit her husband’s chest in response, “It’s not my fault Chef Carmen here reminds me of Robbie- Robbie is my youngest. About your age, he’s in the Navy.” 

The lesson was uneventful, subtracting Vanessa’s obvious flirtation. Carmy was confused about why Nico hadn’t said anything to her. If you were hitting on another man in front of him, he’d say something. Why wasn’t Nico? Carmy pushed the thought out of his head and said his goodbyes to everyone as he walked them through the dining area. As he held the door open, Pearl said thank you one last time, and Ernie practically had to drag her out of the restaurant. Carmy chuckled and invited her back anytime she pleased. Nico had his eyes on his phone as he flashed Carmy a grin before hurrying out of the restaurant. Vanessa, on the other hand, lingered. She looked up at Carmy with big doe eyes fawning a false innocence. Carmy softly swallowed, “Can I come whenever I want?” her voice was low as she looked up at him longingly. Carmy shook his head, “That’s not a good idea.” 

Vanessa rolled her eyes and ran a finger down Carmy’s chest, “Too bad… I want to get you out of that apron sometime.” Carmy awkwardly chuckled in response. She shot him a wink as she walked out of the restaurant toward Nico, who had been holding the passenger side door of their car open for her. He looked Carmy up and down before walking around the car to the driver’s side. 

Carmy locked the restaurant's front door and went back into the kitchen; Richie emerged from the office. “The lesson go okay?” he asked, slipping his phone into his pocket. Carmy shrugged, “Yo, could you clean this up?”

Richie rolled his eyes, “Sure…you okay?” Carmy nodded and went to the lockers, removing his apron as he walked. Richie watched him; something happened, but he was too tired to deal with Carmy’s bullshit. Carmy quickly pulled his backpack and jacket out of his locker before changing his shoes and running out of the kitchen. Richie watched and wondered what was going on in that kid’s head before he started scrubbing the counters.

~

It was almost midnight when Carmy got home. You were in the bathroom brushing your teeth when he came through the bedroom door. “Yo baby, can we talk about somethin?” Carmy asked from the doorframe. You spat in the sink before turning the water on to rinse your mouth and toothbrush. “Everything okay, Carmen?” you asked as you stepped toward him. The look on his face made alarm bells go off in your head, “What did you do?” 

Carmy watched as you crossed your arms over your chest, and he stepped away from the doorframe to allow you to exit the bathroom. You glared at him as he flexed his hands at his sides, “I didn’t do anything- I promise, nothing happened, but at that cooking class, this girl was just… aggressive? She was there with her husband but was very blatantly hitting on me.” he started to explain. Carmy couldn’t look at you while he explained what had happened, “I uh- I didn’t know how to shut it down, I guess. I didn’t do anything with her, and I absolutely won’t because I love you, and I can’t lose you again.” He took a shallow breath and looked up at you. You frowned and let your arms fall before closing the distance between you.

“Carmy. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s okay.” you said as you reached up to rub his bicep. Carmy released his breath and limply wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you against his body, “I love you, baby.”

[starry-hughes]

summer aches

luke hughes x reader

summary: days on the boat in the hot sun can lead to headaches; good thing luke is there to help.

requested: yes!

directory

The summer sun shined down on the boat, the leather seats hot to the touch as the sun positioned itself high in the sky. Luke squinted, pulling the bill of his cap down, giving him some kind of reprieve from the sun.

Jack and Quinn anchored the boat in the middle of the lake, both needing to cool off. They wasted no time, ripping off their shirts and diving off the boat after cutting the engine.

Luke glanced at you, you had Luke’s damp shirt over your head, trying to escape from the sun under the small awning of the boat. “Reapply sunscreen before you jump into that water Luke,” you reminded him.

“Come swimming with me?” he almost pleaded, leaning over and carefully lifting the shirt that was atop your head. He wore a goofy smile on his face, one you couldn't say no to. Your skin was burning, and you were sweating; you should probably cool off.

Within minutes, Luke and you had reapplied sunscreen, Luke still shivering at the touch of your delicate fingers on his back. Your boyfriend dove off the boat, joining his brothers. You made your way into the water as well, swimming around and feeling nice after cooling off.

The sounds of splashing beside you told you that the boys were playing rough again. “Luke you’re going to drown Jack,” you mumbled before dipping your whole head underwater to cool off your body temperature. You felt like you were always looking out for Luke, like a parent. But as Luke would say, you weren’t his parent, just his extremely attractive partner who was just the right amount of bossy.

For a little bit, you felt fine, swimming around, clinging to Luke as he swam around the water with your arms around his shoulders. A throbbing pain came to your head. It could have been from the sun or the lack of water you had drank. “Can you take me back to the boat?” you questioned, needing to get out of the water before your headache got worse.

Quinn chirped you as you got onto the boat and out of the water, the eldest Hughes boy decided you had barely enjoyed the coolness of the lake. Luke swam next to the ladder until you got safely on the boat. “You okay?”

The concern in Luke’s voice made your heart flutter. “Just a headache.”

“Drink some water and eat some of the fruit Mom packed.”

You were thankful for Ellen Hughes, she was like a second mother to you at this point. Which was good, considering you were dating her youngest son. You sipped on the water bottle while slowly eating apple slices. Five minutes after exiting the water, your headache hadn’t subsided one bit, in fact it was getting worse.

The sound of water splashing a bit and the slight movement of the boat told you that someone was getting out of the water and onto the boat. Luke whisked his shirt away from the hot leather seat, leaning over the side of the boat and dipping the shirt in the water. He squeezed the extra water out before coming over to you. “Here, put my shirt on your head. Keep yourself cool.”

You graciously took that wet shirt, the cool lake water making it all a little. “Do you want to go home?” he questioned, searching around in one of the bags containing pain relief. “No, you boys wanted to wakeboard for a bit, I can manage.”

Luke felt bad that you were battling a headache on the boat. A sound of triumph left his mouth when he finally found the bottle of pain relief his mom always packed for them. “Do you want some medicine? It will help the headache.”

Nodding, Luke handed over the medicine which you graciously took. Quinn and Jack climbed back onto the boat soon after. Luke sat behind you, you sat between his legs, and both of you had your legs sprawled out on the seats in front of you while you leaned back on his bare chest, his slightly wet bathing suit shorts giving you goosebumps. Quinn drove the boat. “You need to reapply sunscreen,” Luke reminded as the boat came to another stop as Jack got the wakeboard out.

Your boyfriend gently applied more sunscreen to your body to minimize any chance of sunburn. You weren’t used to him taking care of you like this. “Wanna take a turn?” Jack offered the wakeboard and life jacket to you. “No thanks Jack, (Y/N) has a headache," Luke answered for you.

Jack frowned. “We can go back to the dock, it’s really not a problem.”

“No, no, no! I’m okay, probably just dehydrated. Luke is taking care of me.”

The constant movement and sounds of water just made the headache worse as Quinn and Jack took turns on the wakeboard. You could have cried of joy when the dock to the house came into view. Your body was tired and drained from the hours in the sun and your head still hurting.

“Go up and shower first,” Quinn told you with a smile as Luke wrapped an arm around you to walk with you. Luke got you to his room, letting you pick out a pair of his boxers to use as shorts and a shirt of his. He waited until you got into the shower before going to help his brothers with cleaning the boat up.

You were barely awake on Luke’s bed when he returned with some more water. He told you to drink up and eat some of the snacks he brought up as well before going to shower himself. He didn’t take long, returning to his bedroom, hair dripping wet.

Your own hair was still wet and unbrushed as Luke climbed into the bed next to you. His fingers began massaging your head gently, easing some of the headache pain. “You feeling better?” he questioned. You simply nodded, letting sleep take over your tired body.

[sunvmars]

a quiet hue || s.r.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

*navigation/directory | request box | taglist | masterlist | latest fic

word count: 5.1k summary: desperate for a cure for your blocked creative flow, you take a trip to the roof of your apartment to overlook the city for inspiration. that's where you meet Steve, discovering he's your new neighbor. needless to say, meeting him aids your motivation, and opens up the possibility of something more. warnings: brief almost sexual encounter, swearing, four uses of 'y/n.'

Dull moonlight streams through the open window of your apartment, coating your studio room in a soft white tinge. The faint bustling of the city outside and the hum of your favorite vinyl record provide a constant, soothing backdrop. However, the familiar sounds do nothing to aid your frustration as you stand in front of your easel with a blank canvas on it.

Your brush hovers mid-air, desperate to pick up any color to put down on the clean slate. Yet, when you try to come up with anything to paint, you end up coming up with nothing at all. All inspiration and creativity have been slipping through your fingers like water for the last few weeks. You spent many hours of those last few weeks in your studio alone, and it's starting to feel pointless to even try anymore.

"Come on," you huff in irritation. "Give me something, anything."

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, breaking you out of your concentration. A groan escapes you as you pluck the phone out of the pocket of your painting apron. You crack a smile upon reading the notification, a text you'd gotten from your best friend, Elizabeth. She's urging you, yet again, to introduce yourself to the "hot guy," who just moved in across from you.

Elizabeth lives four doors down from you and has always taken it upon herself to tell you every time someone new moves in. The guy had only moved in last week, but she already insists that you two would be perfect together. How she knew that after only meeting him once, you weren't sure.

You respond with, "Liz, I've been in a creative crisis for three weeks. No time for 'hot guys' right now," before slipping your phone back into your apron. Your attention returns to your pitifully plain canvas as you mentally curse your idea-void brain.

After a few more minutes of nothing but frustration, you finally give up. You step away from your easel and sigh, deciding to go to the rooftop to relax. On most occasions, you would keep trying, but maybe some fresh air and raw sunlight could help you, you figure.

When you step out onto the rooftop, you can't help but be amazed by the view of the city. The skyline stretches out before you in muted blue and black hues, and the moon bathes everything in a cold, white glow. The city's constant motion, the people and cars below, are a stark contrast to the stillness that has enveloped your artistic abilities.

You plant yourself in a chair that overlooks the city in the corner of the rooftop. Over the last two years that you've lived here, said corner has managed to accumulate quite a bit of furniture. Now it's decorated perfectly with an outdoor couch, two chairs, a small table, a few potted plants, and globe string lights that stretch across the railing. The quiet oasis has often provided you with solace, and you hope for it to do just that tonight as well.

Leaning back in the chair, you close your eyes and allow the gentle breeze to caress your face. The cool air seeps into your skin, and for a moment, you feel a sense of peace. Distant noises and the bright lights of the surrounding buildings have become a familiar comfort for you. In fact, it's so soothing that you've gotten lost in thought, not hearing the door creak open or the footsteps approaching you.

"Mind if I join you?" a deep, but kind, voice asks, effectively startling you out of your tranquil thoughts.

Your eyes open immediately and land on the man standing beside you. He's fairly tall with blonde hair that almost looks like honey, and he has crystalline blue eyes that make your heart skip when your gaze meets his.

Instantly, you realize that you've never seen him around the building before. So, at first, you don't recognize him, but he seems familiar. Then it suddenly connects; he's Steve Rogers, meaning that Captain America himself is your new neighbor. And Elizabeth had definitely left out that tiny detail on purpose. She knows you don't care for titles or status, but it's still a little jarring.

"Oh, no, not at all," you respond meekly.

He offers a warm smile as he sits in the chair beside you. "I'm Steve," he says, his eyes lingering on you.

"Y/n," you introduce yourself. "You must be the hot new guy."

Heat makes its way to your face as soon as the words leave your mouth. Your gaze drops to your lap, suddenly feeling nervous under his friendly stare. Steve chuckles heartily, and it puts you at ease a little, a smile growing on your face.

"I'm so sorry, those were not my words," you explain.

When you look back up at him, he has an eyebrow cocked up and a slight smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. Embarrassment crawls back into you as you realize, yet again, you'd said something that was easily misinterpreted.

"I did not mean it like that. I meant that my friend, Elizabeth, said you were hot, not that I did- not that you're not attractive, but-" You cut yourself off with a groan, briefly covering your face with your hands out of mortification. "She has been trying to get me to meet you, in her words, "the new hot guy," since you moved in. She's convinced that we're soulmates or something. Now, please say something before I embarrass myself again."

Steve laughs a soft, genuine laugh, finding your rambling nothing short of adorable and endearing. "No worries, I'm flattered by your friend's enthusiasm," he reassures you, "But for the record, I don't think that I'm the attractive neighbor here."

Picking up on what he's insinuating, you shift in your chair slightly as you speak. "I- I...uhm... Thank you," you stammer nervously.

He hums to acknowledge your appreciation before leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped together on his chest. "So, what're you doing up here by yourself? Just enjoying the view?" he inquires, his attention switching to the city overlook in front of you.

"I guess you could say that. Really just having a creative block, and this is the only place that distracts me from the frustration."

"I get that, it is beautiful out here," he says in agreement. "What kind of art do you make?"

"Out of all the creative hobbies, how'd you know I make art?"

"I just had a feeling. You've got a certain...energy, I guess, that seeps from you."

"The stereotypical miserable and struggling artist energy?" you joke, chuckling momentarily. "I usually just do paintings, mainly on canvas or paper, but sometimes I do little sketches."

Steve's interest piques as he listens to you talk. He sits up some, his head turned to you, giving you his full attention. "That sounds fascinating. I used to dabble in drawing myself, so I'd love to see your work sometime."

A small smile forms on your face. "I'd be more than happy to show you. Once I get out of this little rut, that is," you respond. "Why did you stop drawing? Do you not enjoy it anymore?"

His gaze shifts away briefly, his expression turning more contemplative as he speaks, "I guess life just got in the way at some point. When you're caught up in a world that's moving so fast, sometimes you lose touch with things that used to bring you joy."

You listen intently as he speaks, his words resonating deeper than you can explain. Even though you've clearly led and lived two different lives, you feel a sense of instant connection based on the few words he just spoke. More than anything, though, you both admire and appreciate his vulnerability with you- a total stranger to him. His openness makes you all the more comfortable around him.

"I understand what you mean," you reply empathetically, "sometimes you just need a little spark, something that reminds you how much you love your passion, y'know? Maybe you'll find that soon."

"I hope so," Steve says with an appreciative smile, his eyes locking with yours once again. "Or maybe I've already found it."

"Already? Please do share the secret as to how you did that so fast."

"Well," he starts, "she's sitting right next to me."

His words linger in the air and a warmth spreads through your chest, igniting something that had been dormant for a long time. You chuckle for a moment in an attempt to brush off the nerves pooling in your stomach. After a second or two, you build up the courage to speak again.

"You're quite the charmer there, aren't you? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were flirting with me, Steve," you tease with a playful glint in your eyes.

He responds to your teasing with a chuckle of his own. "I suppose I am being a tad forward, but I just couldn't resist. Is it working?"

Your cheeks feel just as warm as your chest, and you find yourself caught in his magnetic gaze. "I would say it is, but you are my first real conversation in weeks, so take that as you will," you admit, a shy smile spreading across your face.

"I'll take that as a win, then," he replies with an endearing grin.

Time seems to go by quickly as you two continue to talk. Sometimes you both go off on random little tangents, straying off-topic before finding your way back. You talk about what got you into art in the first place, your time in school, and how you ended up in the city. Typically you're more reserved than most, but his genuine curiosity about you makes you feel chatty. It feels like you've known him for years rather than a short hour and a half.

He's more of a listener than a talker, you observe. He mostly sympathizes with you, occasionally sharing related moments from his past, and sometimes he'll briefly mention his job. Nevertheless, you don't mind him hardly speaking of his work, because even though it's interesting, it's not what you care about most. And luckily for you, the simple human under the heroic title is much more interesting, and has more in common with you in terms of interests, beliefs, and hobbies.

Steve sits straight up in his chair and breaks the comfortable silence that had settled, "I think this might be the most intriguing and honest conversation I've had in a while. So, thank you."

"It's no problem, Steve. And thank you for helping me get some of my inspiration back, and for listening to me ramble," you reply softly.

He turns his gaze to you, his eyes twinkling under the lights and his expression warm. "I'm glad I could be of some help. I must say, your company has been the highlight of my day- my month, really. Maybe your friend was right, but I think I was the one meant to meet you and not the other way around," he muses truthfully.

"And I think you may be that spark I needed," you smile, inspiration now running freely through you, "I suppose I'll go try my hand at that canvas again now."

You rise to your feet, eager to see what comes from your newfound muse. "It's been nice meeting you, and I'd love to talk longer, but if I lose this ounce of motivation then I just might so crazy."

Steve also gets up from his seat, a genuine fondness in his eyes as he says, "No worries. It's been a pleasure, but I've got an early morning tomorrow anyway. Would you like me to walk you back?"

"Seeing as you're across the hall from me, it'd probably be an awkward walk back if I said no," you joke.

Steve lets out a hearty laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You've got a good point there. Let's go, then."

You nod in agreement, your smile matching his. Together, you walk back to your respective apartments, grateful for each other's company. As you unlock your door, you turn to face him with a thankful smile.

"Again, thank you. I look forward to seeing you again sometime," you say, pondering on your thoughts for a short second before adding, "I'm usually out there around the same time every evening; if you'd like to come out again tomorrow, I'd love the company."

"It's no problem, truly," he replies, offering you a reassuring smile. "And I'd love to. I'll be up tomorrow to visit you, but you know where to find me if you need me before then."

You hum in approval, stepping inside your apartment. Before you can close the door behind you, his voice speaks up again.

"Oh, and y/n?"

Opening the door fully, you look at him from across the hall, his figure standing facing you in his doorway. "Yes?"

"Thank you for treating me like I'm just Steve and not like, well, a 'hero.' It's a nice change of pace."

A welcoming smile graces your lips as your head tilts slightly to the side, your voice soft-spoken, "Well, that is who you are, isn't it? To me, you are just Steve."

The corners of his lips tug up, and his eyes hold a mixture of gratitude and sincerity. "That means more to me than you know. Have a good night, okay?"

"You too, Steve."

With that, you both close your doors. You return to your studio and throw your apron back on. This time, it's easy to come up with an idea and let your brush ghost over the canvas. Strictly from memory, you paint the skyline from the view of the rooftop tonight. You paint all the stars, the dark clouds, and the moon before stopping for the night.

It all comes naturally until that point because, unexpectedly and ironically, you had taken your own advice.

You found your spark.

The very next night, Steve meets you on the rooftop again, just as he promised. And every night since then for the last three weeks, he'd met you on the rooftop to catch up and share your progress. There wasn't but one day when he didn't show up, and meeting to chat had become like a routine. Because of that, the two of you hardly messaged each other throughout the day even though you had exchanged numbers. Some days, however, he'd text you simply to check in on you.

The man has had an irreversible effect on you that you can't deny; he keeps you level-headed, and he's almost like a muse to you.

After you finished the skyline painting of the night you met, you kept up with the theme. You did other random sketches during the daytime, along with commissions to make money, but always painted some semblance of the night sky when you got home from talking with Steve. You'd decided to turn the paintings into a collection, and last was the piece that completed said collection.

You also decided that you would finally take Steve up on his interest in seeing what you've painted. So, you told him before you parted the previous night to come over around the time you'd usually meet.

Now, it's the night he's supposed to come over, and you invited Elizabeth over after her shift to watch a movie to pass the time. That's how you ended up on your couch, Liz sitting opposite of you with your legs across her lap. You're holding your fourth glass of wine, your hair is messy from laying down, and you've got a blanket slung lazily over your legs.

The fact that Steve is coming over had slipped your mind as soon as Liz put that third glass of wine in your hand. Had you remembered, you would been wearing more than you are. But thanks to the alcohol, you got distracted and forgot to change into more...conservative clothing. Now you're left only wearing skimpy shorts paired with your favorite painting shirt from earlier; a thin, black button-up that's now unbuttoned almost halfway, and your red bra visible underneath.

Contributing to your distraction is none other than Liz. She's currently talking your ear off about her new situationship. And you don't mind at all, taking more interest in her life than the movie.

"Wait, wait, wait," you interrupt her, giggling as you try to piece together your words. "He took you on one 'date' to a car meet in his fancy car, and that's all it took to have you wrapped around his finger?"

Liz chuckles and takes a sip of her wine. "I mean, it's not just the cool cars, or the fact that he drives a Corvette. He's sweet, really, amongst other things," she says with a sly grin.

"Are any of these "other things," including being good in bed?" you question, an eyebrow raised expectantly at her.

She bursts into laughter, her cheeks flushed from the wine and her confession. "You know I'm a sucker for that," she admits as she tucks a strand of her dark red hair behind her ear.

You join in on her laughter while bringing your glass to your lips. "You're shameless, Lizzie," you tease playfully, shaking your head in faux disapproval at her.

Unfazed by your sarcastic teasing, she grins mischievously. "Shameless and proud, my friend."

"And that's why I love you," you smile.

"I know, I love you too," she replies with a yawn, "But as much as I love you, I think I better get going."

You lift your legs, grumbling dramatically at having to move, and swing your legs off the couch. She chuckles at your exaggeration, placing her glass on the coffee table before walking to the shoe rack near your front door. She slips her shoes on and then walks over to the counter to grab her purse. As she prepares to leave, you stretch out your tired limbs, sighing at the feeling.

You stand up straight, walking towards her to offer a hug, your arms outstretched. "Thanks for coming over, Liz. Be careful out there," you say, embracing her tightly.

"I live four doors down, honey."

"Oh, right," you respond with a smile as you pull away from the hug.

"Get some sleep, bug," she chuckles. "I'll talk to you-"

A knock sounds on the door, cutting her sentence short. Her brows raise at you before she looks at the door and then back at you.

"You expecting company?" she questions.

"I guess so," you mumble, hurrying to the door.

When you open it, you're met with the sight of Steve, dressed in his usual casual attire. His hands are in the pockets of his jeans, and his eyes trace over you quickly before his expression becomes slightly flustered.

"Hey there," he says, giving you a meek smile. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"You're not. Come on in," you reply, your cheeks warming as you realize how little you have on. Steve steps in, and you glance back at Liz, who's trying to stifle her laughter with her hand over her mouth, "Elizabeth was just leaving," you say with eyes narrowed in her direction.

Liz clears her throat, still trying to contain her laughter. "Oh, we're doing legal names now, l/n?"

When your eyes narrow at her once more, she finally lets out a laugh. "Alright, alright. I'll get back to 'just leaving' now," she says, slinging her purse over her shoulder, and slipping out of the door between the two of you.

She turns to give him a brief nod, but offers you a smirk, and then makes her way out. She sings, "Have fun," teasingly when she's just out of the door. You can't help but roll your eyes at her, and Steve chuckles.

"Thank you, Elizabeth," you remark sarcastically, closing the door behind her.

Steve speaks as you turn to face him, "She certainly gives quite the introduction."

"That she does," you sigh deeply, "I'm sorry for my underdressed state, Liz brought wine and I completely forgot you were coming tonight."

His gaze rakes back over you. "It is quite the surprise, but I don't mind," he starts, his eyes twinkling with something unknown as he takes in your flustered state, "Besides, you look fine- well, more than fine honestly, so I'm not complaining."

A shiver runs down your spine under his gaze, and you try to suppress a nervous laugh. You definitely hadn't expected that reaction, or that compliment, and it only adds to your nerves. It wasn't him you're nervous about, it's the attention that's unusual for you.

"Thank you," you say with a sheepish smile. "Uhm, I actually wanted to show you something. Follow me."

Steve hums, a smile crossing over his features, and he tries to force his eyes to stay off your figure while he follows you to your studio. He fails, though, and he catches a glimpse of your lower half when you walk. A deep blush tints his cheeks, and he's glad that you can't see it, but an obvious tent grows in his pants.

Upon entering your studio, you catch his flustered expression out of the corner of your eye. "You sure I don't need to change? Seems like I'm distracting you," you tease.

He clears his throat, stammering as he tries to regain his composure, "No, no, you're not... I mean, I just get distracted easily, but that's not me saying you look easy, or that you don't look great, 'cause you do, really, but I- uh, I'm so sorry."

A chuckle falls from your lips at his adorable, but not very common, nervous state. "I was just teasing. It's okay, Steve. Never thought I'd see you all shy and stuttering instead of me, though."

"You just have a way of making me feel... off balance, per-say," he says with a bashful grin.

Again, Steve's embarrassment is a definite contrast to the confident demeanor he usually carries, so you can't help but find the reaction endearing.

"Trust me, the feeling is mutual," you reply truthfully. "Now, back to the matter at hand. I wanted to show you these."

You gesture up at the collection of paintings that litter your longest wall, and Steve's eyes follow your direction. His gaze sweeps over the paintings, which he had missed initially due to his focus being primarily on you.

He takes a few steps closer to get a better look at the art in front of him. Each one displays a different variation of the sky and city lights, the canvases vary in size and tone, and every piece reflects a different emotion. Although they're all of the same sky, some are from different perspectives, and all of the cityscapes have a few differences.

You speak up after a few seconds and break the silence, "So? What do you think?"

He lingers on the paintings out of admiration, taking in every single one of the details of each painting. "They're stunning, I love all of them," he finally says. His voice filled with genuine awe as he adds, "You're incredible, truthfully, and I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you, Steve, but they wouldn't exist without you."

"Without me? What do you mean?" he questions, an eyebrow raised as he turns to look at you.

You smile and walk over to stand in front of him. Your eyes lock with his blue ones. "You're the inspiration for them- all of our conversations, the last few weeks we've met up there. Honestly, you've become my source of inspiration, and I can't thank you enough."

He lets your words soak in with softened eyes. Then his hand reaches out to delicately cup your cheek, and his thumb brushes your skin tenderly. Goosebumps litter your skin the second his hand meets your skin, and you feel your cheeks heat up, his touch making your heart pound in anticipation.

"I'm more than honored," he says, his voice warm and affectionate. "I'm glad I could be of help to you. You're truly talented, honey."

With each passing moment, you can feel your connection deepening, and so can he. The air in the room seems to have become charged with an unspoken understanding of yours and his feelings. His hand on your cheek, the feeling of his slightly hot skin on yours, has nerves pooling in your stomach. After a second, you find yourself leaning into his touch. You even allow your eyes to close for a brief second to savor the moment.

When you open your eyes, you find Steve's gaze locked onto your lips. His expression is one filled with a foreign longing and desire, along with traces of hesitation.

"Y/n," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, "can I..."

Before he can finish, you close the remaining gap between the two of you. Your lips press onto his with your hands on resting on his chest and his hands cupping your face. His response is immediate; he kisses you back softly as a simple exploration of the connection that's been growing for weeks. It's a gentle, tender action, and it's almost like he's testing the waters to see if the newfound attraction is mutual. And luckily for him, it is, and you can feel it in every shared breath.

Steve pulls away to give you time to catch your breath, leaving your heart racing. His forehead rests on yours as he smiles at you. The nervousness you felt has since dissipated, and now it's all been replaced with admiration.

"I've wanted to do that for longer than I'd like to admit," he confesses in a whisper.

"Me too. Is it bad that I'm tempted to ask you to do it again?" you ask, meeting his smile with one of your own.

His eyes sparkle with delight, a light chuckle falling from his mouth while his hand still cradles your cheek. "I was hoping you'd say that," he says, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks.

Once more, he leans down and captures your lips in another kiss. This time, the kiss is deeper, and...hungrier. One of your hands slides up his chest and behind his neck so your fingers can tangle in his hair. In response, his hands drop, his arms encircling your waist to pull you flush against him.

The need that's been simmering for weeks comes to the forefront as your lips move in sync with his. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you part them willingly. Feverishly, his tongue slides into your mouth, the taste of him becoming nearly intoxicating. His hands trail from your waist to your lower back, and he attempts to pull you closer, but there's no more distance between you two to close. Your fingers tug at his hair gently in response, the feeling of his body on yours making your heart beat out of your chest.

Steve's lips move from your mouth down to your neck to leave a trail of fleeting kisses. Your breath hitches, a small whimper tumbles from your lips, and it only pushes him to keep going. His hands roam over your body and caress every curve as he occasionally grabs at your waist or hips. Delicately, his teeth nip at your neck just under your jawline. You whine when he pulls away, your eyes meeting his, your chest rising and falling faster.

"I know. I want you too, honey, but you deserve more," he says softly. "Let me take you out tomorrow, on a real date, and we'll see where it goes- does that sound okay?"

"Tomorrow sounds perfect," you reply with a smile.

He grins, returning your warm energy. "I'll be looking forward to it, but I should probably get going for the night. I'll pick you up at, say, six-thirty?"

You nod in agreement, your fingers twirling strands of his hair around them. "That works for me," you concur. "Let me walk you to the door?"

He hums softly, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead and then on your lips. When he, reluctantly, pulls away, you miss the heat of his body immediately. Your fingers intertwine with his as you walk him out of your studio and to the front door. He unlocks the door before turning around to face you. Just as he's about to kiss you goodbye, you jump slightly, pulling your hand out of his.

"I almost forgot- just wait here," you speak in a hurried tone, heading back into your studio.

You pull out your desk drawer and take out the painting you had sitting in there. Steve's expression turns joyful when you return, the medium-sized canvas in your hands, and his eyebrow quirks up out of curiosity.

"What's this?" he asks.

With a bashful smile, you hand it over to him. "Just a gift for you, a little thank you for helping me."

He carefully takes the painting from you, his eyes lighting up as he gazes at the canvas. It's the painting you did on the first night you met; a beautiful depiction of the night sky from above with a cityscape beneath it, and two figures in the chairs on the roof. To anybody else, it would look like just that, two figures, but he knows it's the two of you. He recognizes that because, well, he has remembered every night since he met you.

His fingers glide gingerly over the brushstrokes, tracing the image admirably. "Oh, honey, this is beautiful. I'll cherish it, honestly, and I have just the place for it in my apartment," he says, his tone appreciative and endearing.

You beam at his reaction, reaching up to place a kiss on his cheek. "I'm glad you like it."

"I love it," he promises, his cheeks tinted a soft pink from your kiss. He leans down and places a quick, but still lingering, kiss to your lips before saying, "Goodnight, y/n, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Steve," you respond, watching him open the door and give you a small smile before leaving.

Once the door is closed, you lean against it for a moment, your heart fluttering with anticipation. After locking the door, you make your way to your bedroom, and your smile doesn't waver even once. All too eager for your date, you don't bother to change out of your clothes. You climb into bed, and it only takes you a few minutes to knock out, drifting off to sleep with a now content mind and full heart.

And unbeknownst to you, Steve falls asleep with the same level of contentment and joy in his own bed.

taglist!

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if you'd like to be to my general taglist, feel free to ask or visit my taglist form to be tagged in more specific fics :)

[fir3ylolol]

sleepless in seattle

pairing: Johnny Cage x Reader

summary: johnny's been filming a new movie, which means you haven't seen him much lately. but he shows up at your door, half asleep and about to fall over

a/n: fluffffff! it's fun to mix it up and not write smut all the time lol. hope yall like this little taste of cute

word count: 909

Ao3

You watch your phone as it lights up on the arm of your couch. You pick it up to see Johnny’s familiar contact photo, a selfie of the two of you at his last movie premiere. You feel bittersweet. It’s been a long time since you guys hung out. He’s been really busy filming for his newest movie, which requires most of his time lately. He took a directorial position, as well as producer and main actor. It’s a lot, but it was his dream opportunity, and he couldn’t pass it up. His text is letting you know that he just got off work and was headed home. It was 11 pm, and you know he got there at 5 am. You felt bad, wishing you could help him more and be there for him. But you send a quick “drive safe, i love you, i miss you” before setting your phone back down to continue getting ready for bed.

It’s been about 10 minutes, as you getting settled in bed. But you suddenly hear a knock at the door, so light you get scared. You slowly walk over, looking through the peephole nervously. But your nerves are immediately eased, seeing Johnny standing there, slightly swaying back and forth. You open the door, ready to welcome him in after missing him for so long. But he stumbles in, falling forward onto you. You brace yourself, holding him up with all your might. “Hi love, you ok?” You quietly say as you strain against him. But he starts his stumbles again, walking to your bedroom with dragging feet. As you lock your door, you start feeling worried again. Not of what’s outside, but of how overworked he was taking this project on. But you shake it off, grab a glass of water, and walk into the bedroom. And there he was, splayed out on the bed, already half asleep. You sigh, setting down the glass and crouching down. One by one, you help him get comfortable, removing his shoes, socks, pants, and shirt. The last of which requires you to flip him over a bit, which you manage to do with little effort.

But you climb onto the bed to your usual spot, and Johnny pulls himself behind you, shuffling over to your side. He latches himself to you, both arms around you and one leg over you. He gets cold very easily, and the lack of clothes certainly isn’t helping. You are well and truly trapped under him, but it’s nice. Warm. You wiggle an arm out and play with his hair, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips. “Long day?” He nods, holding you closer. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry. You know, my day hasn’t been that good either…” Before you realize it, you’ve been talking about your day for a very long time. The good, the bad, even just what you had to eat.

You look down to see his bleary looking up at you, struggling to stay open. “Oh Johnny, I’m sorry, did I keep you up?” He smiles, nuzzling into you, “Maybe, but it’s nice. Comforting.” You kiss the top of his head, and he hums happily. You continue talking, but whispering this time, smoothing down his hair and holding him tight. You watch as he slowly falls asleep, breathing heavily and grasp on you going limp. You take a minute just to look at him, uncharacteristically dark eye bags and disheveled hair. He looks so unlike himself, that you know he needed this. You fall asleep shortly after him, his presence is comforting.

You open your eyes as the sunlight hits them directly. You rub your eyes and look at Johnny, who is surprisingly still asleep. He tends to be a morning person, but as you turn to grab your phone, you see that it’s 10 a.m. He’s slept for nearly 12 hours now, and you don’t want to wake him yet. He needs as much sleep as he can get. So you worm your way out of his grasp slowly, pausing each time he takes a deeper breath. You make your way into the kitchen, starting to make some eggs and sausage. As you pour a cup of coffee, you see a blanketed form shuffling in, sniffling and yawning. “Good morning love, sleep good?” You place a plate in front of him and kiss the top of his head. He smiles up at you sleepily, managing to croak out, “Yeah, I slept good with you there. You’re really comfy, you know?” You sit next to him, taking a sip of your coffee, “I try my hardest to be. Do you have to work again today?” He groans through his bite of eggs, “Ugh, don’t bring it up. I have to be there at 9.” You choke on your coffee, looking at him sheepishly, “It’s…already past 10. I’m sorry, you looked so peaceful!” He pauses, face blank, before placing his head on the table with another groan. He picks his head back up, a wide smile on his face, “Ok, then I’m here today.” You look at him confused, trying to figure out what he meant. “I’m not going in, it’s too late, they’ve probably already sent everyone home. So, what do you wanna do?” You smile, kissing his cheek and whispering in his ear, “Wanna stay home all day and watch movies?” He smiles back at you, kissing your lips. “Fuck yes.”

[cyarsk52-20]

5 Mental Health Resources for People of Color & LGBTQIA+ Communities

BY: Sierra Kennedy

In the wake of the recent election results, many of us grapple with a rollercoaster of emotions. Whether it’s anxiety, relief, fear, or something in between, these feelings are valid and impactful, especially for communities of color, the LGBTQIA+ population, and our allies. In times like these, taking care of our mental health becomes important and essential.

According to The Trevor Project, “the overwhelming majority (90%) of LGBTQ+ young people said their well-being was negatively impacted due to recent politics.”

Fortunately, numerous mental health resources are available to help you navigate these challenging times. The right support network can provide both relief and a sense of community.

Let’s explore some mental health resources tailored to your needs during this emotionally turbulent period.

1. The Trevor Project

The Trevor Project, which caters to LGBTQIA+ young adults, reported a 200% increase in election-adjacent search terms like “rights” and “election” in the days leading up to the final night of the presidential race. The organization, which offers free, confidential support through chat or over the phone 24/7, is also there for you post-election as well.

2. Therapy for Black Girls

This resource is essential for Black women and girls seeking professional mental health care. Therapy for Black Girls provides a directory of culturally competent therapists, blog content, and a supportive community.

3. Trans Lifeline

This peer support service is specifically designed for transgender people of all ages. It offers an essential lifeline staffed entirely by trans individuals and can provide supportive resources and assistance in moments of crisis.

4. Latinx Therapy

Created to destigmatize mental health within the Latinx community, this platform provides bilingual therapists, workshops, and a supportive podcast addressing various wellness topics.

5. National Queer and Trans Therapists of Color Network (NQTTCN)

This network advances healing justice and provides mental health resources specifically geared towards queer and transgender people of color. They help connect you with a directory of experienced and culturally competent therapists.

As if the winter blues weren’t enough, the personal stakes and societal implications surrounding the election’s outcome hit hard for many. Navigating these emotional waters can be challenging, but there are ways to regain focus and recenter. Here are a few ways to destress that you can start implementing today:

Mental health check-ins: Engaging in virtual or in-person discussions with friends or support groups can help process feelings in a shared environment.

Mindfulness practices: Activities like meditation or yoga can offer calming techniques to manage stress and anxiety effectively. Make mindfulness a daily habit for an overall improvement in mood.

Therapeutic writing: Journaling can be a powerful outlet to articulate and reflect on your emotions.

Build a self-care routine: Incorporate activities that promote wellness and calm into your daily life, such as nature walks, reading a new book, or a fitness class.

Remember, taking care of your mental and reaching out for support is a step toward healing. Connecting with the right resources can make a significant difference, offering comfort, stability, and a well-needed community.

How are you taking care of yourself during this troubling time? Let’s chat and pour into one another below.

[kuroppiii]

ㅤthe dishes ᵕ̈        timeskip!boyfie!hinata shōyō        x gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : he ' s back home , finally

📋 content     ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮     ♡ # 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 🐄     ♡ # 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦 🥛     ♡ # ~800 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴

🎶 on shuffle " coming home " - beabadoobee

🧸 directory  ‹ ✩  like what you read ? check out more of my blog !  •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii ─ “ i don ’ t even fw shōyō that that much but i ’ ve been eating up these fics abt having to ldr with timeskip brazil hinata like DAMN ”

it felt so nice.

so nice to finally have his presence so close—to actually have hinata there with you, in the flesh.

you couldn’t help your eyes from being glued to his hands and his newly-tanned arms, flexing as he rinses the dirty dishes under the kitchen faucet’s little stream. his ginger hair was messy from how your hands carded through it earlier once he stepped through the front door and you shared a "welcome back home" kiss, and it fell over his slightly jet-lagged yet focused eyes.

towel in hand to dry the cleaned dishes as he placed them by you on the counter, you took it all in—the sound of the water, the sponge crunching out soapy bubbles, the clinks of fine china, his calm breathing—because it was all real. after so long it was all tangible.

of course, when hinata left for brazil, you two easily managed a consistent stream of texting and calling.

you loved each other, and distance wasn’t going to change that.

but although there was still connection, connection doesn’t always mean contact.

there was no human contact.

and at times it drove you crazy. the pillow on his side of the bed started to lose his scent the closer you hugged it at night. sometimes you could hear the slightest noise from how quiet the house was. the small loads of your laundry alone taunted you every week as you did chores around the house.

you were forced to just imagine—play a frustrating make-believe of what he was doing based on the descriptions that came to you in small grey bubbles on your phone screen. you always found yourself wishing to really see it, though. it just wasn’t the same. it just didn’t feel enough at times.

but then sometimes there were calls—at night when he’d be at a roof bar somewhere in rio, ditching his brazilian volleyball buddies for a little escape. with him leaning over the rooftop railing, his tropical patterned shirt flowing about and letting his toned chest peek at the bottom of your screen now and then. the pattern would blend with the pitch black sky behind him, if his phone connection was getting a little choppy.

his drink barely appeared in-frame of your video call. he didn’t need it. he just wanted a moment with you and to hear your voice—to get drunk off of that—even if he had to settle getting it through his phone.

there would be calls while he’s eating breakfast, reviewing a different café for that morning’s coffee, as his animated comments brought an unwavering smile to your face as you ate your dinner.

but then the the calls would end, and the kitchen scarily got so much quieter. it was just you and your empty dishes, as you stack the pile higher and higher, not feeling compelled to wash them at the moment as you’re falling from the high that was feeling your shōyō’s presence back in your life. even if it was for the briefest of calls.

until he had called you to let you know he’s coming home.

until he had called you when he was packing his bags.

until he had called you the moment he got to his terminal in the airport for his flight back home.

“i just to be with you, right now,” he said.

“you’re on your way. we’ll be together again soon, shō,” you say with a fake front of patience as if you, too, weren’t also barely able to contain yourself. this high remained with you for all 24 hours of anticipation as he made his way across the globe for you. you secretly prayed to every force or god out there that hinata’s flight doesn’t get delayed—that’d he’d be there with you, right on time. you physically could not wait a moment longer.

he didn’t have to call you upon his return, not when he was already at your door.

his suitcases and bags were actually still there, sitting next to the shoes at the entrance.

the first thing hinata did after he dropped his bags was scoop you up and smother you in kisses, his embrace on you so secure you felt like living there in his arms forever.

the second thing he did was go to help you with the that heap of dishes living in the kitchen sink.

“what are you staring at, baby?” hinata’s voice brings you back to the present, “the dishes aren’t going to dry themselves.”

he giggles at his own joke before leaning over to give your lips a short kiss, and your eyes flutter closed as the short moment felt like eternal bliss.

when you open them again, they trace over every detail of his face. you can see his eyes are doing the same, as well.

“i’m just happy you’re home,” you say.

🗒⋆ *. ୨୧⋆｡ taglist : @hatsukeii , @akaakeis ( beabadoobee - ers rise up !! )

[ecohubmap]

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[fluentmoviequoter]

Care Now and Forever (Starting Now)

Part 2 of Care Now and Forever

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!reader

Summary: You faint and Deacon takes care of you. As you wonder how he manages to be exactly where you need him to be, Deacon plans to start forever with you.

Warnings: r faints, depictions of anemia/iron deficiency, brief mention of blood, fluff and comfort galore

Word Count: 1.0k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Yawning again, you glance at the clock and frown. It’s not even lunchtime, but you’re so fatigued you are having trouble staying upright. You stand to refill your water, then lower your hand back to your seat as you grow dizzy. Since the last time you passed out around Deacon, you’ve been better about ensuring your iron levels stay consistent and you are hydrated, but you’re having an off day.

In the kitchen, you get another glass of water and a snack, hoping it will help you feel better and get you through the rest of the day. You check your phone after receiving a text from Deacon promising homemade dinner when he gets off tonight. Before you can reply, your phone rings with an incoming call.

“Hi, Deacon,” you greet. “I was just texting you.”

“Should I hang up and let you finish?” he jokes.

“I suppose I could just tell you. Dinner sounds great.”

“Good. How are you feeling? You sound tired.”

Deacon has a sixth sense about you and your health, so you’re not surprised he can tell that simply from your voice.

“I am, but other than that, I’m all good. How’s work?”

“Slow. Which… Let me call you back? Hicks is calling us over.”

“Sure. I love you.”

“I love you,” Deacon replies before ending the call.

You return to the couch and sit carefully, sipping your water and eating your snack in measured bites. A metallic, coppery taste invades your senses, and your stomach flips as if you ingested blood. After another drink of water, your phone chimes, but you feel off-balance and don’t reach for it, opting to take deep breaths to remain conscious.

A key slides into the lock on your front door several minutes after your head clears, and you furrow your brows as you stand. Deacon steps inside with a bright smile, and you take several hurried steps forward to greet him with a hug. Just before you reach him, you stop and blink once before your legs buckle.

Deacon watches your eyes as he extends his arms. He catches you without a problem and carries you carefully to the couch. Watching your chest rise and fall, Deacon wonders what happened. You were fine earlier; you sounded tired, a symptom of iron deficiency, but you’ve been eating well, staying hydrated, and keeping him updated, so he’s confused about the sudden fainting.

“Hey, you with me?” Deacon asks, gently tapping your cheek.

You hum and squeeze your eyes closed tighter. “Did I faint?”

“Better question is why did you faint?” he counters. “Have you eaten today?”

“Yeah, I ate and drank water. Right before you got here, I got this weird blood taste in my mouth.”

“I’ll make an appointment with your doctor if you want. For now, what do you need?”

You open your eyes, smile, and look pointedly at Deacon's muscular arm resting beside you. He sighs, still smiling, and moves onto the couch to tug you against his chest. Your water and snacks are still within reach, and you take several bites while your senses return.

“Feeling better yet?” Deacon asks.

“I think you’re the magic cure,” you answer with a nod. “Maybe you should just quit your job and stay with me all of the time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier you weren’t feeling great?”

“I thought it would pass, it wasn’t like the last time, just some dizziness and the weird taste.”

“But you’re not actually bleeding?”

“Not that I know of.”

Deacon brushes his hand over your hair and kisses your forehead.

“What do you think happened?”

“Maybe you just missed me so desperately that your body reacted dramatically,” Deacon teases. “Alternatively, you might be slightly anemic or stressed; there are lots of possibilities.”

“You always seem to show up right before something happens,” you muse.

Deacon smiles but doesn’t comment on his ability to be in the right place at the right time when it comes to you. “Do you want me to order dinner?”

“We can cook,” you offer. “I’m feeling much better.”

“Sweetheart,” Deacon sighs. “Don’t jump back into doing too much too fast.”

You nod and grip Deacon’s wrist as you grow dizzy again. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I’ll order the food, you sit here, look pretty, and stay conscious, okay?”

“I can do two of the three, but you have to pick which.”

“Faint and you become a comedian,” Deacon grumbles with faux grumpiness. “Any requests for dinner?”

“You can pick,” you reply. “And, Deacon? Thank you.”

“For?”

“Taking care of me, being here, everything.”

“The care is a given, now and forever, because I love you. I really wish you’d start telling me when you feel off, but I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Your phone buzzes as Deacon makes a call to your favorite restaurant. Unwilling to risk leaning forward, you leave it on the table and watch Deacon. Every little thing he does communicates his care for you, and you’ve known from the beginning that he shows his care in remarkable ways because he loves like you’ve never been loved before.

“Food will be here in thirty minutes,” Deacon says as he returns. “What else do you need?”

“You really want to take care of me?” Deacon smiles because he obviously does, and you ask, “Sit with me?”

Deacon takes the place beside you and welcomes you under his arm. Leaning against his shoulder, you look into Deacon’s eyes and thank him again.

“Will you go to the doctor with me? It’s not fair to either of us that this keeps happening.”

“Anytime,” Deacon assures. “What did you do today?”

“Not much. I got some work done this afternoon but started feeling bad around lunch. You’ll be glad to know I took your advice and rested, drank water, and had some food rather than pushing through.”

“I am glad to know that. However, you keep forgetting the most important advice which is to call me.”

“I think you’re secretly Spider-Man and your senses tingle, so you know to come home anyway.”

Deacon smiles at your phrasing. He doesn’t care that you just compared him to a superhero, but you called your house a collective home, and Deacon thinks the idea of a shared future with you sounds perfect. His promise to care for you forever is just the beginning, and now he wants to start forever with you.

[grandline-fics]

Can I ask for some luffy x femreader angst where they get knocked off the sunny and can't swim? Your writing is so good

DESCRIPTION: You get knocked off of the ship

WARNINGS: angst, comfort, good ending

CHARACTERS: Luffy

WORDS: 1,322

A/N: Who can say no to some angst? Thank you for this request. I hadn't intended it to be this long but I'm happy with the result and hope you are too.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

————————

Nothing is ever straightforward or as it truly seems on the Grand Line, anyone who goes there with that belief are swiftly taught the harsh lessons. If they are strong and adaptable enough then they get another day on the waters. If they aren’t? Then they either join the many ships and skeletons that are scattered beneath the waves or allowed to return to safer seas with their tails between their legs and dreams of adventures and fame broken along with their pride. As much as the Strawhats, and more-so their Captain are impulsive and quick to race headlong into their adventures, they respect the seas under Nami’s strict guidance. “It’s looking clear now but once we cross the boundary of the next island’s atmosphere it’ll most likely change.”

You all nodded at her warning, Nami was never wrong with these things. So when she made a statement like that you knew knew to make the most of the clear skies, bright sun, and calm sea now while you all could. As soon as you approached the boundary you would all be on guard until you knew for certain what the next island would bring you all. You stretched out from your spot on your deckchair and slowly sat up with a slow yawn building in your chest. You could have stayed lounging for a while longer but knew you were dangerously close to falling asleep, something you wanted to avoid just in case the next stretch of the journey required all hands on deck. Needing to stay alert you began to walk around in search of something to occupy you. 

There was no motivation to train in you just at the moment and it was too nice of a day to wander to the kitchen or go below deck to the library or bar. As you casually scanned the ship your gaze zeroed in on Luffy as he perched happily on Sunny’s head, his legs swinging lightly as his body all but vibrated with excitement. Nami’s mention of crossing the island’s boundary soon meant it would only be a matter of time before the island came into view and the next part of everyone’s adventure would continue. You couldn’t help but smile at Luffy’s infectious enthusiasm. “You bounce anymore you could fall into the ocean, Captain.” 

Luffy laughed at your teasing voice and turned to grin brightly at you. Almost immediately he moved his seat to allow you the room to sit comfortably on the lion’s head with him. When you joined him, Luffy’s smile grew wider. Together you both talked happily about what you thought the next island would bring, guessing what there was to explore and see. You only broke the conversation when you felt that the sun had gotten a little dimmer than it had been and felt the ship lightly sway. Had the water gotten choppier? “We should probably head onto the deck. I think we’re nearly in the new territory.” You began as you slowly got to your feet again. The Sunny jolted as it hit a rougher swell of a wave and you swayed but managed to regain your balance. “The water’s changing fast, c’mon Luffy.”

Luffy nodded and reluctantly bounced to his feet. Ordinarily he would have just remained on Sunny’s head until the end but with you here, it made him just cautious enough to prioritise your safety over his lack of thought for his own. Luffy stepped behind you and planted a hand on your shoulder when another rocky wave surged the ship only this one was accompanied with a strong gust of wind. As expected Nami launched into action, calling for everyone to get to their positions as the storm rolled in seemingly from nowhere. “Luffy! We need you to-”

Usopp’s shout was swallowed by a shriek of wind but the beginning of his call was enough to snap Luffy’s attention for the briefest of seconds. At the same time an enormous wave slammed against the starboard side of the ship, showering seawater over you all and with enough force to tilt and rock the ship upwards and sideways at once. With Luffy distracted and the violent lurching of the Sunny, the two of you tumbled. Acting only on instinct you managed to grab a hold of Luffy’s collar and throw him onto the safety of the deck. However you were unable to save yourself and fell backwards into the darkening, swirling waters. 

Luffy scrambled to his feet, yelling out your name as he leant over the railing of the Sunny, eyes desperately searching the violent waves in search for you.You weren’t the strongest swimmer in the crew but even the likes of Sanji would have struggled to break through the surface in water like this. Sharply he turned to his crew who only just realised what had happened. “Jinbe! Save them!” His order was sharp and held none of his usual cheer. The helmsman wasted no time in leaping into the water while Luffy returned his panicked gaze to the water. “Come on…”

The seconds were an agonising wait, drawing out to the point it felt like an eternity. He didn't even know he’d been painfully holding his breath until Jinbe’s figure broke through the water and landed back onto the deck with you held securely in his arms. Chopper reached you first and took you into his care swiftly. When you let out a choking breath and rolled onto your side, Luffy was on you in an instant, hugging you tight and lifting you off the ground. Even when Chopper yelled at him to be gentle and let you go, Luffy only loosened his hold but still kept you in his grip; his eyes were steely and fixed only on you. 

“Luffy…I’m okay. Promise.” You spoke weakly and your hand reached out to touch his cheek, hating to see him so serious. Quickly you pulled your hand back when he flinched at the touch, fearing you’d overstepped with the usually affectionate Captain. It wasn’t your touch that Luffy took issue with, it was that your skin was so cold. Quickly he pulled you to your room and nudged you inside, only now letting your go fully. “You need to change.”

To hear Luffy so insistent and serious was something you weren’t used to but you could see the worry in his face and while you couldn’t speak you nodded and grabbed fresh clothes before disappearing into the bathroom to dry off and change. When you reappeared you paused to see Luffy pacing, a literal ball of nervous energy and biting the inside of his mouth harshly. This wasn’t the Luffy you knew and you could tell his thoughts were spiralling with memories he never liked to dwell on. With a small sigh you set your hand on his arm and pulled him to sit comfortably on your bed before settling down beside him, facing him fully. “Luffy, I’m safe. This isn’t like you.”

“You’re still cold…” Luffy mumbled, his eyes glancing down at your hand on his arm. He hated this feeling that was twisting in his body uncomfortably. Even worse he hated seeing you worry about him. With a frown he grabbed the blanket from your bed and wrapped it around your body tightly before pulling you close, his hands rubbing against your arm and back. Part of him told him it was just to get you warmed up. Another part of him felt it was for his unshakable selfishness of reassuring himself that you’re only safe with him. Then when you sank further into his hold and closed your eyes, Luffy felt himself finally begin to relax. Nothing was ever straightforward on the Grand Line, for one thing it could make a nasty way of making people have a closer look at their feelings whether they had been initially aware of it or not.

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TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld

[tgmsunmontue]

To wake, perchance to dream WIP 1/?

Hangster - Jake wakes up 10 years in the future and thinks he has amnesia. Instead it's a glimpse of what his life could be. When he wakes up right before being called back to Top Gun for the special detachment he's going to try his damndest to make that future come true...

CHAPTER ONE

                Jake wakes up too warm, pinned beneath the weight of someone’s arm and he opens an eye and squints out into the glaring morning light.

                This is not his room.

                He has blackout curtains in his room, not gauzy nets that blow around in the breeze from an open window.

                This is not the couch in Javy’s apartment.

                Nor is it the guest room at the Machado’s home.

                He didn’t drink anything last night, but he’s feeling stiffer than he usually does.

                Something is… not right.

                “Hrmgh.”

                He shifts so he can glance over his shoulder at the owner of the arm and sleepy-mumble and his mouth drops open in surprise.

                Bradley Bradshaw.

                Not only Bradley Bradshaw, but at least half-naked Bradley Bradshaw, spooning him and… wearing a wedding ring. And hopefully maybe pants.

                Fuck.

                He pushes the arm and attached hand away, wiggles away a little and then sees the ring on his own hand and just stares at it.

                What the fuck is going on.

                He’d remember getting married right?

                Surely?

                “Jake… turn off the sun.”

                “You’re the one that didn’t shut the curtains,” he says, and he has no idea what made him say that, but Bradley just groans, pulls a pillow over his head and Jake decides that now is a good time to run for the bathroom.

…            …            …

                He looks old. Not bad, but he’s definitely got more wrinkles than he did when he last remembers looking into the mirror and he’s either got some weird type of amnesia or he’s dreaming or he’s in an alternate timeline. Those are his top three theories and he knew being obsessed with science fiction as a teenager would come in use someday. He uses the bathroom and cups his hands to drink some water from the tap.

                Right.

                Information gathering.

                Best place to start is going to be his phone, if he can find it. Surely he still has a phone in the future and hasn’t allowed anyone to insert a chip into his brain. He dries his hands and tiptoes back into the bedroom, takes in the naked torso of Bradley Bradshaw and okay, he did good if he somehow managed to lock that down, regardless of timeline or potential amnesia. He spies a phone on the side of bed he woke up on, lying on a flat platform type thing, along with a watch and something that looks like it attaches to his ear, which he leaves. He pulls the curtains closed and hopes that buys him a little more time before he grabs a pair of jeans tiptoes back out, carefully closing the door behind him.

                He pulls the jeans on and walks down the hall, phone gripped tightly in his hand and takes in the pictures on the walls. This version of himself and Bradshaw are definitely married, couple of photos that can be nothing but wedding photos. They have lots of people in their lives if the number of photos are anything to go by, although he doesn’t recognize half of them. It’s only just after six in the morning, the clock in the kitchen informs him and he spies a coffee machine and it’s already on, filling steadily and he wonders who turned it on or if these things are automatic now.

                While he waits for it to finish he open his phone, going to contacts and scans through them.

                Abbey. Admrl Simp. Alex. Alicia. Amber. Austin. BamBam. Best Person Ever. Blake. Bob. Brendan. Bryce. Dan. Dave. Dickhead. Directory. DJ. Fanboy. Fritz. Hadley. Halo. Harvard. Hin. Hondo. Jack. JB. Javy. Jared. Jason. Klaus. Kyle. Mark. Matty. Mike. Mom. Morgan. Neil (not Omaha). Nick. Nix. Olivia. Omaha. Payback. Penny. Per. Pete. Phil. Robert (not Bob). Rooster. Sally. Scott. Steffan. Tony. Voicemail. Wayne. Yale.

                There are so many names he doesn’t recognize and he feels his breath coming a little short and forces himself to calm down. Panicking will not help. There are names he does recognize so he will start there. Actually, now that he looks he realizes he recognizes more, but they’re callsigns of other pilots, not friends he’d expect to have in his phone. Except if he has somehow time travelled then maybe they’re his friends now too?

                Javy though, he knows Javy now, and he looks at the most recent messages from Javy and is glad he didn’t immediately call him, because admitting he didn’t know Javy had kids and that apparently they’re under his care… Fuck. Where are they? He swallows down the rising panic again, years of training kicking in and walks down the hall and carefully pushes open the almost closed door he’d walked past earlier and sure enough there are kids in there. Three of them, and he’s not sure what’s the most surprising, that Javy finally got hitched and settled enough to have three kids, or that he apparently trusts Jake to look after them. Jake and Bradshaw that is. Apparently.

                This bedroom is bigger than the room he woke in, but it’s clearly been decorated for these kids in mind and he wonders how often they stay over, to have individual beds. He doesn’t know kids, he was the youngest of four and they were all pretty close in age. He’s been deployed while his brother’s and sisters had started having kids, sees them irregularly at best. But he can probably hazard a guess at ages. Their names are above their beds, two being cribs and he peers in, wonders just how little these children are. Alleisha, James, Brandy.

                Alleisha is in a bed, and he’d put her around six or seven years old, can’t really project her length int height, and being tall doesn’t always equal age anyway. She’s definitely the oldest by far though, the little boy, James, maybe two or three, splayed out like a starfish, thumb lax in his mouth and he looks so much like Javy it makes him smile and something in his gut relaxes an infinitesimal amount. The fact that he looks older, that Javy has kids is making him think he’s got amnesia. That’s more likely than time travel, but he’s feeling a little bit sick regardless, everything unfamiliar.

                He moves over to the final crib and there is a baby, a legit, tiny human, it can’t even be a year old, and it’s eyes are open, watching him quietly and he freezes, wonders what he’s meant to do with it. He’s seen other people do things with babies. Knows the theory. In theory. Okay. He can fly multi-million dollar planes, he can pick up a baby. He leans down, making a shushing noise and he gets a wide grin and a slap to the face for his troubles as he picks Brandy up and cradles her to him. She’s heavier than he thought she’d be.

                Right. What do you do with babies. Diaper change right? Oh god. There’s a change table and he lies her down, looks at the snaps and zips covering the baby and wonders if he should just go and wake Bradshaw up and get him to deal with it. Except this is Javy’s kid. Plus he doesn’t need anyone’s help. He works at the zipper and snaps and finally finds a sodden diaper before he realizes he’s going to need a new one, fortunately located right beneath the change table, along with some wipes. Okay. This is going well.

                He pays attention as he undoes the little tabs, knowing he’s going to have to do the whole thing in reverse, and he has a fucking engineering degree, he can figure out a fucking diaper. Fortunately only a wet diaper and he wipes, wipes again, wonders how many times he’s meant to wipe before deciding that someone else can take the next diaper change. There’s a little diaper pail which he’s grateful for, one hand not leaving her little body, terrified she might just roll off. When do babies start rolling around? Planes don’t move unless you tell them to, she’s moving all limbs independently and with no apparent control, sucking on a fist but thankfully quiet and happy. He doesn’t want to see not-quiet and not-happy if he can help it.

                He takes her out of the weird sack thing, assumes it’s a blanket thing for sleeping and carries her back to the kitchen, desperate for coffee now, and he realizes he’s going to need to feed her. Okay. Javy wouldn’t have left a baby here without food and he opens the refrigerator and sure enough there’s a few bottles already lined up and he grabs one out, the high-pitched squeal that Brandy lets out a clear agreement that he at least is on the right path.

                There’s an electronic bucket type thing beside the coffee machine which makes him think of a mini ice-bucket, it has the same brand logo as the bottle and he wonders if it’s really that simple. Puts the bottle in and presses the button on the front, and it’s definitely doing something, button turning from blue to red. Brandy is almost headbanging in excitement so he again feels like he’s once again picked the right step. While he waits for the button to hopefully change color again and provide a warm bottle he opens his phone again, wonders if he should message Javy and tell him they all made it through the night. Is that something he would do now?

                He opens up the photo gallery instead and okay… if he has amnesia then he’ll just wait to get his memories back. Whenever he’s in a photo his smile is so wide it splits his face. His camera roll is filled with photos of Bradshaw and these kids, and a dog, and some people he doesn’t recognize, but then there is Javy and a woman… he zooms in and heads back into the hall to look at the photos on the wall more closely. Phoenix. Natasha Trace. She’s in a lot of the photos as well and he opens up his contacts again, scans through the names. There’s no Phoenix, Trace or Natasha… but there is a Nix and he opens them as he walks back to the kitchen, hoping the bottle is hopefully done because Brandy is getting less patient.

                Fortunately it’s clearly designed to be operated by either an idiot or sleep deprived parents and the light is now green and flashing and he swirls it and tries to squirt some in his mouth just to check the temperature, Brandy seems horrified at his actions and makes a high pitched squeal of displeasure, struggling to get to the bottle but he doesn’t want her to get a burnt mouth or anything.

                “It’s okay baby girl, I’m not stealing it from you…”

                She makes the same displeased squealing noise, hands reaching for the bottle and Jake wonders if he’s meant to hold her, or get a cloth to cover her or something. Ah well. Problem for future Jake. He hands her the bottle and moves into the living room, settles into the corner of an incredibly comfy sofa and she squirms a little until she’s nestled into the crook of his arm, eyes wide and watching him, both hands clasped on the bottle and he doesn’t resist the urge to place a soft kiss on her forehead.

                He opens his phone again and navigates back to the messages, looking for Nix and then opening the message history. The messages between them alternate between scathing teasing and then more serious things about the kids, he’s sent her lots of photos and he clearly has a lot to do with these kids. To have the bedroom set up like it is, it looks like a permanent thing, except his messages with both Javy and Phoenix are as recent as yesterday, so nothing has happened to them to explain why their kids are here, with him and Bradshaw.

                Fucking hell.

                Bradley Bradshaw.

                Phoenix he can kind of get his head around in a way, especially if she’s married to Javy. Bradshaw on the other hand, he doesn’t know if they’ve managed to exchange any casual civil words with each other. When flying they simply seem to rub each other the wrong way and when not flying they really rub each other up the wrong way. And yet here he is, apparently married to him and looking after his best friend’s kids. What has become of his life? In another world he’d definitely have made more than one pass at Bradshaw, but he’d never got even the slightest inkling that it would be welcomed, let alone reciprocated.

                And yet here he is.

                He glances down and startles, Brandy has finished the bottle, is sucking in air and he knows enough that that can’t be good so he takes the bottle from her, which she gratefully allows him to do. Then a dog appears, looks at him and gives a soft whuff before settling on the floor just near him and Jake wonders if the dog is his. He doesn’t want to move, Brandy apparently content to simply lie with him, the dog as well and he’s wondering if he needs to let it out when he hears footsteps approaching and he twists his head.

                “You look good like that…” Bradshaw says, and he’s almost upside down, smiling at him softly, like he expects Jake to say something back and he has no idea what it might be.

                “Morning…”

                “Morning…” Bradshaw replies, giving him a weird little smile like Jake didn’t say quite what he expected. “Thanks for letting me sleep in…”

                “You’re, uh, welcome…” Jake says, shifting and standing up because he feels too vulnerable lying on his back on the sofa with Bradshaw sort-of looming over him. Of course, now he’s got an even better view of Bradshaw and he can’t help but look his fill, Bradshaw in nothing but low-hanging sleep pants and looking sleep-tousled. He also looks older, maybe in his mid-forties, but he’s still firm and smooth and Jake wants to lick a stripe over his stomach. Nothing wrong with his sex drive at least.

                “And this is why we don’t have kids ourselves. Get your mind out of the gutter Mr Bradshaw, we’ve got kids today and cannot go back to bed…” Bradshaw says, moving close to him and taking Brandy from him and he lets her go, misses the warmth of her tiny body.

                “Pity…” he says, and finds he means it, because even if he’s freaking out about this weird waking-dream he’s in, Bradshaw is still a certified snack and Jake wants him. And apparently he took his name when they got married. He’s not surprised he was willing to give up Seresin considering how little he cares for it even now.

                “I’m sure you’ll make it up to me tonight. And tomorrow morning if you’re feeling athletic enough.”

                “When am I not feeling athletic enough?” Jake asks, because he can’t imagine his personality is that different even if he can’t remember time lapsed.

                “Mmm, there’s that fighting spirit. Like it when you feel like you have to prove a point.”

                Then Bradshaw is kissing him, his fingers sneaking under his shirt to stroke Jake’s bare skin and he feels his entire body erupt in goosebumps, suddenly hyperaware, every little hair on his body standing on end and seemingly aching for attention. He’s not used to this, not used to someone who just touches him and moves him like they know exactly what to do and god it feels both terrifying and exhilarating.

                “Come on, we better get breakfast going for trouble one and trouble two…”

                “Yeah, course,” Jake agrees, because he’s the one out of time and place and he’s going to need to figure out a way to break that news to Bradshaw and a little more time sounds good. Regarding breakfast though, fortunately Bradshaw seems to be the one that makes it, but he watches carefully which cupboards and drawers have what items, his mind racing trying to figure out whether he’s suddenly going to remember everything in a rush, or have it trickle through.

                “Morning uncle Jay…”

                “Morning,” Jake replies, knows the greeting is for him because he’s also getting a hug to his side and he likes being called Uncle Jay, wants to hear it all the time. God, no wonder these kids have a bedroom here if he’s already this much in love with them all. Best case of amnesia ever. He needs to figure out how to let Bradshaw know about that too, not to freak him out, but just to let him know, because he should probably get checked out even if he does feel fine physically. The fact he’s missing a chunk of time isn’t normal. Of course, there is the chance that he’s still dreaming, but his dreams have never seemed real like this.

                Or as domestic.

                Or as detailed.

                The dog makes another quiet whuff and he can hear the front door opening, but it’s clearly someone with a key and he has to stop himself from freaking out that he’s going to have another person he doesn’t know enter his new reality.

                “You two wearing pants?” a woman’s voice calls out and Jake catches Bradshaw’s eye roll.

                “Jesus Amelia, of course we’re wearing pants, the kids are here!”

                “Well, I have to ask.”

                “It was one time, and you didn’t knock…”

                “And I’m still getting therapy for it,” a woman apparently called Amelia says, pulling a face and Jake doesn’t know whether to smile or say something or… okay, he’s being hugged in greeting and he hugs back, swallows back the automatic nice to meet you because he clearly knows her already, even if he has no fucking clue who she is. She’s definitely younger than him and Bradshaw though.

                “Aunty Amelia!” Alleisha says, and Jake feels a spark of jealousy at the joy and excitement in her voice, directed at someone else, and then reminds himself the love and affection are not a finite resource as he watches Amelia hug Alleisha, then James and then slaps Bradshaw on the ass, making him squawk. She just laughs and takes Brandy from Bradshaw, and the baby just goes happily. Jake is so confused.

                The dog paws at him and whines, and he glances down and pats her; she’s definitely his, with the way she’s hovering near his side. Bradshaw is looking at him with a raised eyebrow though when he looks up from paying her attention, but goes back to setting out bowls and glasses of water, cuts up fruit and slides another cup of coffee across to him with a soft smile. Jake smiles back, wonders when he might get a moment alone with him. His phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out.

Best Person Ever>> Stop staring at his ass. You’ve been home for two weeks. Honeymoon period should be over.

                He glances up and Amelia is smirking at him, and he doesn’t know where she fits into all of this, who she is to them, other than someone he has in his phone as Best Person Ever and judging from her smirk he wouldn’t put it past her to have changed that herself. He shoves his phone back in his pocket. If he’s been home for two weeks then he’s probably been deployed, which means he’s still in the Navy. That settles some of the uneasiness in his gut, not everything in his world is that different then. And this is what he comes home to. That’s pretty fucking cool.

                They eat, Brandy being placed in a highchair that materializes from the laundry and she’s given some slices of banana to mash up, which is gross and horrifying to watch. The expression on his face must be amusing, because both Alleisha and James are giggling at him, and even Bradshaw is hiding a grin, but he gets up and brushes a soft kiss on his forehead, murmurs something about every time and he wants to know what the hell he means. Amelia is also eating breakfast, making herself at home and wiping at James’ face and even though he has no idea who she is it doesn’t feel wrong that she’s here and part of their domesticity.

                “Right, I’m taking Lady Alleisha and Knight James to their swimming lessons. I’ll be back after we’ve visited the library… We might also swing by a playground on our way back.”

                Bradshaw is nodding like this is the standard routine and Jake just smiles, because the kids are happy and excited and now he has his opportunity to talk to Bradshaw. Tell him that he’s not… well. Can’t remember anything.

                Yeah.

                This is going to be awkward as fuck.

CHAPTER TWO

[tedwardremus]

Perspective

[This is a continuation of A Decent Bloke. I just couldn't stop Lily and James talking about wizarding politics.]

Underneath the grand willow tree on the bank of the lake, the air was thick with the scent of crisp autumn leaves that layered the ground as Lily dropped down unexpectedly next to James Potter, who was engrossed in a Quidditch magazine. Startled by her sudden appearance, James looked up and greeted her with a quizzical, "Alright, Evans?"

Lily cut straight to the point. "What is the Sacred Twenty-Eight?"

James set aside his magazine and raised an eyebrow in surprise as he turned to Lily. "The Sacred Twenty-Eight?"

Lily took a deep breath, she was nervous about asking questions that seemed so obvious to people who grew up in the wizarding world. Severus had always told her it is important to act like you belong, to not show ignorance. "Yes, in the library the other day, you mentioned your family was excluded from all this twenty-eight nonsense and I don't know what that meant. So what is it?"

"It's a load of rubbish," James declared, looking away from Lily and grabbing nearby rocks that he began absentmindedly tossing into the lake. Lily watched the ripples form from the contact with the water expand across the lake into large circles and then fade back into still water, "The Sacred Twenty-Eight, more formally known as the Pure-Blood Directory if you'd like to look it up in the library, was created by an arsehole named Cantankerus Nott at some point in the 1930s. It is a record of which families in the British Wizarding World are considered 'pure-blood'."

"So it's like an official directory? Is it managed by the Ministry?"

"No, it's not official in any government sense. Though some families stupidly consider it an honor to be on the list. It is basically just another way to perpetuate pure-blood supremacy. Some families won't even associate with someone unless they can tie their family back to the list.

"But no family is really pure-blood," James continued, tossing a small rock between his hands before throwing into the dark depths of the lake. "Take Sirius, for example. Anytime a member of his family marries a muggle or muggle-born they are literally blasted off the family tree. They pretend they never existed. But just because you pretend someone doesn't exist doesn't change the actual reality or history of your family. You know Ollivander's in Diagon Alley? His mother was a Muggle-born, yet their family is still on the list too. It's all about power and keeping elite families in line."

"If no family is actually pure-blood then how can the list have any authority? "

James paused in his rock throwing while he looked at Lily, the autumn sun reflecting gold in his hazel eyes. Lily liked noticing the different colors in his eyes. "Ah well, it's all propaganda, isn't it? People like to confirm their already preconceived ideas, especially if it validates their sense of superiority... or fear. The two kind of go hand in hand I guess."

"My dad, he fought in the Second World War, and he never really talked about it. I think it upset him, the things he saw. When I found out about magic I never imagined the same issues that sent my dad to war and left him a bit haunted would exist here. The wizarding world is so small. It seems counterproductive to separate us into this, I guess caste system you could call it. If the goal is to exclude people like me from the magical world how do they expect to create a workforce or support their economy?"

Talking about this kind of stuff to James was different than talking to Severus. Severus always gave short, clipped answers and was quick to change the subject. James was always long-winded and excitable. Severus told her facts. James gave her explanations.

James, Lily had noticed the past couple of weeks, was also different than the James she had rowed with after their OWLs. She couldn't put her finger on it since he was still loud and overly confident but there was something about him that changed over the summer.

Maybe she was the one who changed over the summer.

Maybe they both did.

"Well, only the most extreme pure-blood supremacists seek to purge the world of what they considered 'impure.' However," James explained, picking up tiny rocks once more to toss into the lake, "Most people merely uphold societal norms and unexamined prejudices. Not that those biases are any better mind you."

"But you aren't most people. You don't think wizards are better than Muggles?" Lily questioned.

"No," James asserted. "People can be smart or dumb, decent or nasty, and it has nothing to do with being magical. The problem is that most pure-bloods live totally removed from the Muggle world."

"You think we need to get rid of the Statute of Secrecy?"

"No, well I don't know. I do think our community could benefit from more exposure and relations with the non-magical world. The problem is the supremacists argue the statute should be abolished so they can rule over the muggles." James tossed a rock high in the air before catching it and throwing it into the lake before he continued. "I haven't worked it all out, to be honest. I just know things need to change."

A year ago, watching James toss rocks into the lake while she tried to have a serious conversation would have annoyed her but as she watched him closer she thought perhaps the distraction of doing something with his hands was helping him concentrate, to articulate his thoughts better. "My family lives in a town with Muggles, goes to church with Muggles, we buy produce and eggs from Muggles at the market. My parents even hang out at the local pub with Muggles. They are my neighbors, not my enemies or my subordinates."

Lily realized all of a sudden how close they were sitting. His scent, a mixture of wood polish and sage, filled her senses. Their hands were almost touching, and she pondered whether he could hear the pounding of her heart. Just as she considered reaching out to see if playing quidditch had caused rough callouses on his hands, James moved his hand to throw another rock into the lake.

Lily picked up a rock herself and threw it where James' had landed, the sun reflecting through the ripples. "Do you want to meet in the library again? Maybe you can help me with more NEWT history work."

"I'm not taking NEWT-level history, Evans."

"Yes, but I like hearing your perspective."

They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, watching the ripples fade across the lake as the water became still once again.

James got up from his place under the tree and turned around to offer a helping hand to Lily. His hands were soft. He smiled at her as she allowed him to help her up, "I like hearing your perspective, too."